darkitysnark

I have a freaked out/intrigued by response to spiders. I'll watch them for hours from a safe distance. It's the flying cockroaches that make me shriek, flail, and go into a berzerker rage. And I've recently gotten into bubble baths with the LUSH bubble bar slices. Mostly hot toddy and ruby red slippers. There's something sort of wicked about bathing in reddish water. We are contemplating a garden tub for two in the second bathroom of our soon-to-be house. The Mister takes baths almost as often as I, only his are usually more for muscle therapy purposes. But with a tub large enough for both of us.... well, maybe he could swing a little recreational use too.

I think I have a Diane. I've got a crap recording of "In Your Eyes" in a cappella. So very pretty. (Even with the crap!) Though I've been with The Mister for (whoa) eight years now, I think we're still defining our roles in and outside of the home in relation to each other. A lot has to do with both of us being in career limbo. Moving and spending a year in a tiny apartment also hit a "reset" button on our nesting. Now with the house looming (closing is in less than two weeks!) and a somewhat stable job situation, I'm curious to see how things shape up.

There was going to be a rambling, philosophical response about spiritual callouses and using one's awareness as the pumice stone to keep one's hands sensitive enough to feel the soft and supple along with the sharp and ragged... But then you mentioned whiny-pants, which evoked whiny-panties, and I'm at a loss to draw out the conclusions of my metaphor. Maybe it's numbness/cluelessness isn't the answer, but just a break. Small pockets of silence taken like a vitamin. I've personally sunk so deep in my pocket I need to get back out. Like taking too much vitamin C, my bloodstream is saturated by my reclusion, and now I'm just pissing my life away. Erg. That metaphor sort of ran away, didn't it. Panties!

Oh man, the Thomas Dolby concert was AWESOME. Even if "She Blinded Me with Science" is the only song you know, Snarky highly recommends this! There won't be any body slamming or sweaty zeitgeist communion, but there will be a definite bond of geekitude, nostalgia, and just "ain't it cool" gee-whizzedness. And now Snarky has this song stuck in her head: "One of Our Submarines" One of our submarines is missing tonight Seems she ran aground on manoeuvres One of our submarines A hungry heart To regulate their breathing One more night the Winter Boys are freezing in their spam time The Baltic moon Along the northern seaboard And down below The Winter Boys are waiting for the storm Bye-bye empire, empire bye-bye Shallow water - channel and tide And I can trace my history Down one generation to my home In one of our submarines One of our submarines The red light flicker, sonar weak Air valves hissing open Half her pressure blown away Flounder in the ocean See the Winter Boys Drinking heavy water from a stone Bye-bye empire, empire bye-bye Shallow water - channel and tide Bye-bye empire, empire bye-bye Tired illusion drown in the night And I can trace my history Down one generation to my home In one of our submarines One of our submarines One of our submarines One of our submarines is missing tonight Seems she ran aground on manoeuveres One of our submarines Today Snarky's wearing what's left of her Tombstone/Sweet Cove SN combo from last night and the zesty fragrance of Pangea Organics Chilean red clover with geranium & grapefruit lotion (she got a free sample).

Saturday Darkity shed her winter skin and flitting among the flailing hippies at an Earth Day festival. She danced to retro-gypsy marching band music and rode a choo choo train. Sunday she spent most of the day indoors (for shame!) filing away the stacks of paperwork drifting about the apartment. During a supply run she stepped in to the 3-D gallery/museum and saw a book of 3-D pinup girl posters and thought of minilux. The whole time, in the back of her head, she could feel the clicks, whirrs, brass hits, and staccatto drumbeats of a synthesizer punctuating every step. Bree-bop Bee-Whoop!

See, I didn't have that gut-level attraction with The Beats on account of first getting into this guy's stuff: No sex appeal at all. No siree. Bukowski = the opposite of teh sexy. (Though I agree, Kerouac was definitely nice to look at in his prime.)

Darkity never really got in to music. Even as a fledgling hedonist, she has managed to neglect that one of her five or six senses, hearing. She listened to talk radio when her contemporaries were tuning in to the 80's oblivious bubblegum pop and/or nihilistic (yet also oddly poppy) electronic underbelly. She did manage to catch a bit of that hair metal infection like everybody else, though. Then she met The Mister, who as an opening salvo to their courtship, compiled six mixed tapes to express his past, present, and possible future. He has been instrumental (har-dee-har-har) in opening up her ears to the world of sound. Still, even with his admittedly diverse tastes, she finds herself floating passively along in the wake of whatever catches his interest and can't help but feel... a bit lost and sort of back where she started, musically. Tonight the Snarks are going to see Thomas Dolby perform. Besides his one song she can think of ("Sah-sah-SCIENCE!") she couldn't remember anything else by him. After The Mister's hilarious recreation of "Europa" she's still stumped. They have one album (probably a best of) that she will cram with before heading out tonight. Later in the month they will also see Sigur Ros (whom they have seen before, to great effect) and The Editors. Darkity suspects that the audiences will get progressively younger at each concert. The Snarks are now in a city known for its diverse and rather indy music scene. The pace of trends here (in fashion/lifestyle/food as well as music) is breakneck, yet oddly retro. Darkity wonders if she'll ever get the hang of this.

Aging geeksters (geek + hipster, yeah?) were out in force last night. It was soo much fun. Thomas Dolby had a big ol' display up with chopped up edits of his old videos (SCIENCE! >wink<) spliced in with live footage from two cameras pointed at his pretty bald head and another microcamera attached to his glasses (so that we could get a Thomas-Eye-View of his electronic tinkering). Very, very cool. In a geekster sort of way. The Snarks saw them a few years ago at The Tabernacle in Atlanta fully expecting to fall asleep (they had fallen asleep previously at a Modeski, Martin & Wood concert at the same venue, so it was possible) but Sigur Ros? ROCKED. Granted, it was in a sort of trance-like way... the Snarks were RIVETED. Huuge scrim set up to cover the pipe organ (The Tabernacle is a converted ginormous auditorium style church) upon which they projected all of this dreamy imagery that almost told a story. Even not knowing any of the words, they were all transfixed. One of the few concerts where Snarky left more invigorated than when she arrived. Edited to stick to that whole Bob Dole thing.

I'm so completely taken with the concept of whiny panties now. A deceptively resilient mesh delicately embroidered with gothic lettering spelling "waaaaaa!" across the cheeks. Snark can sometimes be food for the soul. Too much saccharine is bad for you! Snipe away!

Ugh. I work in a factory. I wear Goodwilled Esprit boots. With gel insoles. If my shoes make me taller, it's because I'm pulling a frankenstein with the platform soles. Rrrrrr! Arrrrgh! But there was a time when I was queen of strappy, spiky shoes. I think I was compensating for my shortness. But that time's long gone. Even when I'm dressing for myself, I skew toward bubble-toed comfy shoes. Heck, clean flip flops are considered dressy around here in Portland. I'm serious! That and the unexplainable "teenaged urban eskimo" look (Furry suedey boots with stretch jeans tucked into them?! I missed that fashion boat.) Edited to add: OK, apparently I have some pent up shoe rage or something. I meant to comment that I miss my sexy shoe days, but not enough to wear them again. I've become afraid of heights.

I'm glad to see you expanding your voice into the blogs here. I've turned into an exhibitionist recluse, so this is my only way of exposing myself to unsuspecting strangers. I... can't imagine what you've gone through nor what you are going through with your mother. My mother is recovering from her third bout with breast cancer, and that was enough to knock me off course and into deep, fatalistic introspection for a good long while. As for feeling old: I've always felt aged. Not really old, not really experienced... just sort of world weary. They say that there are those that are born with old souls, and there are those that are eternally youthful. I think I've always been middle aged. Looking forward to reading your thoughts!

Popular theory stated that Spring had indeed Sprung, but she couldn't help but feel mild bemusement tinged with her sense of personal tragedy as she looked out over the river during her morning commute. Or at least, what she could see of the river. There was a solid, wintry gray wall of fog taunting the entire city from about halfway across the bridge. The repressive haziness continued all the way north to her workplace. She couldn't see the tender Spring colors asserting themselves in the landscape. Her fellow commuters had all sunk back down into layers of woolen browns, blacks, and grays. Shockingly pale kneecaps, anklejoints, and collarbones retreated back into the warmth of cavelike clothing. The weathermen all promised a return to sun, to life. She warily eyed the flat sky and felt the smallest flicker of hope. She's wearing Midnight Mass to match the weather.

but Ani's, like, awesome and stuff. (Also, much better looking bald, or at least that's what Snarky surmises.) Gwarsh. Call it Murphy's Law of Speaking Ill of the Weather, call it whatcha like, but it is freaking sunny and near seventy degrees outside right now as Snarky types this up... in her windowless "work area", bathed in harsh fluorescent lighting. She dares not wander into the front hallway lest she get a glimpse of what she currently cannot have. Thankfully, it will be hers in about half an hour.

(the closest to swooning that I can get on here) Beautiful! I'm especially enamoured of cummings' take on romantic posessiveness, and the Stevens poem begs to be read aloud. I'll parry with my own most favorite love poem by Alexander Pushkin. When I first read it in high school I only saw the surface melodrama. Now that I'm older and (hopefully) wiser, I can see that my affinity to this poem was a foreshadowing of borderline destructive co-dependency to come... I loved you; even now I may confess, Some embers of my love their fire retain; But do not let it cause you more distress, I do not want to sadden you again. Hopeless and tonguetied, yet I loved you dearly With pangs the jealous and the timid know; So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely, I pray God grant another love you so. I now think of it as the "I CURSE you with my love!" poem.

Why, you've been here all along, of course!

The Snarkys are addicted to HGTV. They watch famlies in their intimate spaces, delving up the tender secrets of their everyday lives to intruding strangers. They watch as these odd bedfellows work in sweaty, dusty, passionate union to create something better with their homes. The Snarkys dream of doing it too. They are beginning to believe that this might become their backdrop. Cue bamp-chicka-bamp music: Where all the magic happens... But wait? What's behind this little hobbit door? Secks-SAY!

Snarky needs to find that Gothic Martha Stewart site again. She is a "don't-it-yourselfer", but has aspirations of self-contained home improvement.

Ninjas and werewolves and farting aliens, oh my! It had been so long since I've watched Doctor Who regularly, it took me a while to get back into the silly goofiness of things. Your advance buzz on the tenth Doctor is promising. Since I'm a season behind, I'll continue to crave me some CE... (I have a jug-handle ear fetish. ) but look forward to DT too! And remember... chocolate is medicinal, and pizza contains all four food groups!

I'm an unapologetic Battlestar Galactica fan, and her character (President Roslyn) is one of my most favorite. Strong, gorgeous and fierce (in the lioness sort of way, not the America's Next Top Model sort of way), able to stand up to all the military-testosterone-laden-types (women included) without losing her grace. Well, and she has awesome hair in the show. ...and now I have to add "Passion Fish" to my list. Strathairn hasn't aged well at all, but maybe he can sort of slide into the intellectual side of the same cragginess that Robert Redford has commandeered. Everytime I think of male actors of a certain age who start having work done... I think of Mickey Rourke. That should never happen to anyone else. Ever. As for the hair... I have very thin, but very superfluous hair. It grows quickly and turns any crappy hair cut into an indistinct shaggy bob, no matter what. The hitler bangs are already less... fascist? Better.

Gorgeous! I can see your personality in the groupie picture! (Not sure if that says more about you, or me by who I think you are...) I'd vote for a cross between Frances McDormand and Mary McDonnell. Oh, and Brandi rocks, definitely a keeper. I'm still looking for a replacement for my last hack-job "artist" who did this to me: I call them Hitler Bangs because they are THAT BAD. minilux, neat specs! And while I understand the brilliant smile on your face, I can't help but feel badly for our paramour... who seems to be preoccupied with the tenuous hold he has on your leg there... or maybe it's just the depressing lack of cowbell in our current aural landscape?

Snarky didn't mean to be obscure. These pics are of the converted attic/master bedroom suite of the house they're trying to buy! Eeee! The Snarks have never had an honest to goodness grown up WOW bedroom before. And yes, that is cheesecake courtesy of the authoress. It was so difficult for Snarky to not just blurt out WE'LL TAKE IT the moment she spotted the first little arched opening into the doggie hidey hole. The previous owners made a half bath just to the side of the bedroom... with enough room for a garden tub. The Snarkys' minds boggle at the possibilities.

Hee. I just figured there might have been a recent aberration in the Shepherd genes or something... or maybe they were programmed to start to want to wander after so many generations or something... I don't get people who abandon their cats either. Ours are spoiled rotten and had more expensive plane tickets to Oregon than we did. My favorite aunt has a basset/beagle mix named Buddy. He is the most soulful dog I've ever met. Also shockingly quiet. Thank you for feeding the kitties! PS lovin' your birdie's name. Hee!

So.. uh... I'm a cat person... maybe y'all can explain this.. do German Shepherds get lost that often?

Snarky's still in that purgatorial "will they or won't they?" place, but the expected immediate dismissal of the Snark's addendum to their offer on the house did not happen. So they've entered a counter-counter-offer suggesting a credit for all the little fixes they listed on the addendum. She hasn't dared to look at the 70+ photos she took of the house during the home inspection. She's been trying to let go already of all the future days she was projecting into all those fanciful rooms. It didn't help that Snarky had the whole day off to wallow and sulk. She did manage to get out for a walk to the library (and, ahem, the LUSH store) but now she's back at home with an hour to burn before The Mister makes it home. Must. Be. Strong. Don't look at the pictures! She's going to go and knit in a corner.

I spoiled myself and went to an updated Doctor site and saw that CE is not the most recent Doctor. I think the buzz is good for Tennant, though. Ah well, us that are in the states can lag behind and wallow in CE numminess in the meantime.