Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Manustripped

The schools now, it's all about self-esteem in the schools. Build the
kids' self-esteem, make them feel good about themselves. If
everybody grows up with high self esteem, who's gonna dance in our
strip clubs? What's gonna happen to our porno industry? These women
don't just grow on trees! It takes lots of drunk daddies missing a lot of
dance recitals before you decide to blow a goat on the internet for fifty
bucks. And if that disappears, where does that leave me on a friday
with my new high speed connection?

-Lazy Boy - Underwear Goes Inside the Pants

I'm only somewhat sad to say that I rather enjoy that boy's cynicism at the moment.

If any of you decide to watch Laurel Canyon, which is really an excellent movie in its own right (with incidentally some pretty hot girl-on-girl action), pay close attention to the scene where Christian Bale is going down on Kate Beckinsale and you'll notice that her stomach has this adorable little hollow in the middle, kind of like the one on her back. Yeah, I want that hollow in a big way. That girl is insanely hot, especially when she's a vampire with a gun.

I hate job hunting. It reminds me way too much of prostitution. All this stuff about "assets," and "selling yourself," and "putting yourself out there," and "playing up your best attributes" makes me a bit nauseous. All I can imagine is standing on a street corner downtown in boots up to my knees, with really bad hair and too much makeup.

I also hate the term "networking." It should be called "exploiting personal relationships for professional gain." I don't ever want to get to know someone as a means to en end. How tedious.

Does anyone actually enjoy job hunting?

I've gotten a few callbacks. One was from an academic writing job informing me that I'd failed to attach my resume to my email. That's pure, unadulterated brilliance right there. Another was from a temp agency who asked me if they could enslave me for a minimum of 4-6 months with no guarantee of a stable wage or even part-time hours. Thanks, but no thanks. And yet another was from a bartending company asking if I could come in for an interview. That I can probably do. A big part of me wants to just do something fun and brainless so I can write in my spare time and have enough willpower and intellect left to do it. That photo to your right pretty much sums up how I feel right now.

I've fallen back in love with Ani Difranco. Yeah, I know that's a huge fucking cliche. It's mainly because of this photograph, which reminds me a bit of myself when my hair was purple. That and I relate to her a lot since despite never having claimed that she was a lesbian, all her lesbian fans went ballistic when she went and married a boy. The prospect of people going ballistic over my personal life is one of the main reasons why I would never want to be an [insert supposed sexual orientation here] icon. I'm all for supporting the queer community, but not at the expense of artistic integrity and a little fucking privacy in my personal life.

I read over my chapter for the first time last night. I didn't hate it, and this poses a serious problem. Now I need other people to tell me it's bad, because usually I am my own worst critic and will tear something about if it's not 150% perfect by my completely arbitrary standards. I do wish it was funnier, and I wish I had any ear for dialogue. Maybe it should be longer. I don't fucking know.

I'm irritated that the sun's come out. Now I have to do something outside today rather than continue to sift through newspapers and Craigslist in a vain attempt to sell myself.

Fuck it.

My parents have been calling me every twenty minutes from the island to remind me of what I'm supposed to be doing with my time. I threatened my dad by telling him I was going to apply to be an escort. I even read the ad out loud to him. He laughed, but I think he was essentially unamused. There's something about picturing your daughter wielding a whip and fucking for money that probably disturbs most fathers who aren't sickos themselves.

I would be the worst prostitute in the world -- bored, irritated, verbose, and not at all interested in anal sex.

Maybe I could do it if I was just really dykey like Michelle Tea and didn't give a shit about men. But any way I try to think about it it makes me nauseous. Hayley told me she would work as a prostitute without any moral qualms. I guess that says a lot about her.

This is too long. See what I mean about verbose? Hopeless!

-N

by Nome at 1:58 PM
10 mews

    Welcome. This is the humble chronicle of my life & my thoughts on the world as I see it. If you know me in real life and want to keep my trust, PLEASE ASK BEFORE READING! I'm not accountable to you or to anyone else for what I say in these pages. Comments are much appreciated, but but insults and personal attacks will not be tolerated. Please respect privacy and anonymity - nicknames or pseudonyms only. This is my space to be an adult - kids should go elsewhere. Thanks, and enjoy.

    About The Nome
    A NOT VERY SUBTLE WISHLIST
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    I Will Not Be Silenced


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