This is far from an original thought, but if you're wondering about the origins of America's obesity epidemic, look no further than the fact that you can have lunch at McDonald's for $2. This is about as cheap as food can possibly be. You can't have a PBR for $2. (Occasionally you'll find one that cheap, but it's remarkable when you do, and you've still got to tip the bartender a dollar.) I saw a diagram once—I guess it was a triangle?—and it was like, "Cheap, Tasty, Healthy: Pick Any Two." That's about right...
|"Initially, Grimace was the 'Evil Grimace,' with two paris of arms with which to steal milkshakes." (via)|
Why is the 10 so trafficky? I'm not complaining*—I'm sincerely curious. Is it just that there are so many darn people?
|Most traffic jams are caused by superpowered computer monsters.|
I was in Santa Monica (mascot: "Pac-Man tripping balls") because I've been temping. I have been making hundreds of dollars, literally hundreds! It's nice to make money, although I keep having to remind myself that these days (in which I haven't been able to work on my writing) are not "wasted." [IMPORTANT NOTE: "wasted" was not a pun.]
|Am I late to the game as identifying this as a drugged-out Pac-Man? If so, I am ashamed. If not, I am proud, as proud as a cat dropping the mangled remains of some horrible rodent at your feet. Praise me!|
I've been enjoying this album a few years behind the curve:
My appreciation can be explained only partly by my having just seen Feist do a guest appearance at a Grizzly Bear show and only partly by my recently having been praised very satisfyingly for a Feist cover that is probably the best thing I've recorded since I started fucking around with that shit again and only partly by my wanting her to be the mother of my child—also, it's just good! I was thinking (in the car, on the 10, in first gear—see above) that I'd maybe make music like this if I were a girl. How much of that thought is just a mindlessly misread duplicate experience† of the pride I felt about that cover I did I leave to you to determine.‡
|Part of what's going here is these two want to be each other. (via§)|
* I don't mind traffic. I don't like being late, and traffic can cause or exacerbate that, but traffic per se—meh, no big deal. I sit in a comfortable seat and listen to music that I like. This is especially true in an earthly paradise.
† This is one explanation I've heard for déjà vu: some kind of discomfort causes you to look at the present moment all askew in a way (an alienated way, I'm guessing?) that confuses you and makes you mistake current perception for memory, hence the duplicate effect. I don't know.
‡ Also—and I've sort of been meaning to write about this and maybe still will—whenever I imagine what it would be like to be a girl, I think I actually just end up fantasizing about what I want women to be like—just displaced sex fantasies, essentially—which makes a certain kind of sense! (Jeez Louise, I was going to link to the post I was sure I just must have written about how on a certain level we want to be the person we fuck [and want to fuck the person we want to be], but it seems like maybe I never wrote that! Did I never write that? It's like my favorite theory ever. I'm stunned. Stunned! To do: onto the to do list.)
§ NOTE: Not Safe For Work World is not safe for work.