1.
Smoke from lone fire.
Awa leaps from smooth water.
We are not alone.
2.
Standing in lo'i.
Gabby sings Hi'ilawe.
I am cemented.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
PODS of Happiness
I pod
n
o
t
e
s
of music
at your finger
t
i
p
s
I phone
so
you
donʻt
get
l
o
s
t
time-space-direction-memories
I books
look
so
s
m
o
o
t
h
I pods of happiness
guilty
pleasures
at
your
finger
t
i
p
s
n
o
t
e
s
of music
at your finger
t
i
p
s
I phone
so
you
donʻt
get
l
o
s
t
time-space-direction-memories
I books
look
so
s
m
o
o
t
h
I pods of happiness
guilty
pleasures
at
your
finger
t
i
p
s
Bogoshpere
Our blog is a bog
of disparate voices
in the wee hours
of the morning and night.
It's
questionable poetry,
a metaphysical yearning to know,
a love story,
a leftist critique of stupidity,
and it may be
damp keys jingling in a bag
or pocket.
of disparate voices
in the wee hours
of the morning and night.
It's
questionable poetry,
a metaphysical yearning to know,
a love story,
a leftist critique of stupidity,
and it may be
damp keys jingling in a bag
or pocket.
No Fences
I don't believe in
fences or fiends.
I don't own a
iPad or iPod.
I don't
tweet or text.
I don't use
Microsoft or MacOs.
***
I believe in
freedom and friends.
I own a
computer and Creative-Micro-Zen.
I
call and converse.
I use
Lucid Lynx.
I do because it's
better.
fences or fiends.
I don't own a
iPad or iPod.
I don't
tweet or text.
I don't use
Microsoft or MacOs.
***
I believe in
freedom and friends.
I own a
computer and Creative-Micro-Zen.
I
call and converse.
I use
Lucid Lynx.
I do because it's
better.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
It's so muggy today that my keys are clammy.
My first contribution! That's it: the title. I can only be creative in status messages, but I wanted to hurry up and post so as not to build expectations.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Achieving the Dream
Well there are many dreams to be achieved. At the end of the semester dreams smell of graded papers, portfolios, evaluations, and vacation. Summer school, that dream from the beginning of Spring semester, turns into the nightmare of reality...A dream you have no option but to achieve.
My dreams are lined with short papers and intimate end of semester projects. It seems so interesting and manageable, today. I will also be achieving the dream of falling in love with Maui again. Maui is recently on my mind and in my datebook. I have had a few brief stints there in the last year. Each one ended with a kalua pig/mexican kind of dish and a beer. No margaritas allowed at the Maui airport bar, the Aunty behind the counter is quick to warn you of the airport malihini price. This is the same Aunty that will tell you when your airplane has landed and alert you to the last, last minute sip before you miss your plane.
As I write this I recognize this Maui circle of dreams to be achieved. My Achieving the Dream relationship actually began on Maui when I was sent to a Math meeting. It is a blurry recollection, maybe this is because I was in a Math meeting and I am an English professor. Not to mention the fact that I took Math 4 times just to pass basic college math, which would make me the perfect audience for a meeting about achieving dreams in math. Anyways, in that meeting, Math and Maui crept back into my life and 7 months later here I sit with Maui in my datebook twice in 2 months.
Maui is mysterious and I donʻt say this because of the price of the airplane ticket there. Not to mention the inconsistency between dollars spent and miles earned. I have yet to learn the true mystery of Maui but I hope to in the upcoming week and months. I will keep you updated with Maui on my mind and I will be opening up my heart to Maui...stay tuned and keep achieving the dream!
The Universe is wonderful when you let it be.
My dreams are lined with short papers and intimate end of semester projects. It seems so interesting and manageable, today. I will also be achieving the dream of falling in love with Maui again. Maui is recently on my mind and in my datebook. I have had a few brief stints there in the last year. Each one ended with a kalua pig/mexican kind of dish and a beer. No margaritas allowed at the Maui airport bar, the Aunty behind the counter is quick to warn you of the airport malihini price. This is the same Aunty that will tell you when your airplane has landed and alert you to the last, last minute sip before you miss your plane.
As I write this I recognize this Maui circle of dreams to be achieved. My Achieving the Dream relationship actually began on Maui when I was sent to a Math meeting. It is a blurry recollection, maybe this is because I was in a Math meeting and I am an English professor. Not to mention the fact that I took Math 4 times just to pass basic college math, which would make me the perfect audience for a meeting about achieving dreams in math. Anyways, in that meeting, Math and Maui crept back into my life and 7 months later here I sit with Maui in my datebook twice in 2 months.
Maui is mysterious and I donʻt say this because of the price of the airplane ticket there. Not to mention the inconsistency between dollars spent and miles earned. I have yet to learn the true mystery of Maui but I hope to in the upcoming week and months. I will keep you updated with Maui on my mind and I will be opening up my heart to Maui...stay tuned and keep achieving the dream!
The Universe is wonderful when you let it be.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Bog births a possible novel. Let the world domination commence!
Well, I was attempting to write yesterday, and the start to a chick-lit romantic-comedy type of novel fell out. Don't ask me why...could be all that trash I've been reading for the past three years. Anyway, I have no idea if it is readable, interesting, or remotely non-sucky. So, here it is. Let me know if it sounds like anything that would make you want to read further. Comments and suggestions needed. Thanks!
Chapter 1
It was becoming alarmingly difficult to drag herself out of bed. She'd set the alarm the night before in a Ben and Jerry's fueled fit of optimism, but the world looked different in the cold Chunky-Monkeyless light of day. She used to have a timed coffee maker that would seduce her into wakefulness with its dark, comforting, Colombian roast perfume. Nose in the air, she would sleep-walk to the kitchen, rarely forming any conscious thoughts until she was half a cup in and braced to face the day. But then, she used to have a lot of things.
She used to have a cat. The thought made her whimper and roll over into a pile of pillows, throws and jumbled sheets she'd build up on the opposite side of the bed. Unfortunately, that brought her face to face with a pile of cookie wrappers and bills she had apparently brought to bed the night before. That meant Ben and Jerry had probably been chased with something stronger, and, sure enough, an empty bottle of Kahlua lay on the pillow. Such a girl drink, a disgusted internal voice complained. At least get wasted on a real form of alcohol. I thought you were supposed to be a writer.
"Fuck you," she told the voice. Having greeted the morning, she stumbled toward the bathroom to pee.
Ch. 2
The Day Which Must Not Be Named began like any other day. Bird's sang, cats meowed, coffee wafted. A thought niggled in the nether regions of her brain, and toward the end of her cup of magical elixir, it surfaced. It was a good day--Launch Day. A hurdle that normally would have sent her into fits of twitchy panic instead brought a triumphant smile to her lips for the singular reason that she was ensured success.
She had discovered a prodigy. Simple as that. The manuscript had landed on her tiny desk at Moulton Brothers Publishing, and it had glowed in the way only a true story filled with horrendous suffering, abuse, and ultimate triumph could. It screamed Take Me to Oprah yesterday, you fool! And she certainly would. But first she had to launch it, and probably get promoted in the process. She marvelled at her good luck and decide to break out the new Gucci handbag, so new it was still in the current month's ads, she had received as a "no-reason" gift from Marcus the week before. If her colleagues at the publishing house were going to be shooting her with poison darts of jealousy all day, might as well give 'em both guns. She loved Marcus. He understood things so well.
He would come running in the door any minute, fresh from his morning run. Actually, he should have been back fifteen minutes ago. Where was he? Then she remembered with a frown that he hadn't made it home the night before. He had phoned to let her know he'd been stuck at the hospital with a patient who he wasn't sure would make it through the night. She loved how much care and effort he put into his job. But, seriously, how insensitive of someone to go and try to die now, removing the opportunity for a good luck kiss on the morning of her career changing victory. Well, she'd just have to surprise him at the hospital after the launch and make him take her out to dinner to celebrate. Mood buoyed, she went back to her room to don the outfit she had bought weeks in advance at a sale at Barney's. She had left a sizable chunk of that month's salary there in a fit of celebratory zeal, but, hey, she needed to look to part of overnight publishing success, didn't she? Besides, her burgeoning promotion would cover it, she was sure.
Chapter 1
It was becoming alarmingly difficult to drag herself out of bed. She'd set the alarm the night before in a Ben and Jerry's fueled fit of optimism, but the world looked different in the cold Chunky-Monkeyless light of day. She used to have a timed coffee maker that would seduce her into wakefulness with its dark, comforting, Colombian roast perfume. Nose in the air, she would sleep-walk to the kitchen, rarely forming any conscious thoughts until she was half a cup in and braced to face the day. But then, she used to have a lot of things.
She used to have a cat. The thought made her whimper and roll over into a pile of pillows, throws and jumbled sheets she'd build up on the opposite side of the bed. Unfortunately, that brought her face to face with a pile of cookie wrappers and bills she had apparently brought to bed the night before. That meant Ben and Jerry had probably been chased with something stronger, and, sure enough, an empty bottle of Kahlua lay on the pillow. Such a girl drink, a disgusted internal voice complained. At least get wasted on a real form of alcohol. I thought you were supposed to be a writer.
"Fuck you," she told the voice. Having greeted the morning, she stumbled toward the bathroom to pee.
Ch. 2
The Day Which Must Not Be Named began like any other day. Bird's sang, cats meowed, coffee wafted. A thought niggled in the nether regions of her brain, and toward the end of her cup of magical elixir, it surfaced. It was a good day--Launch Day. A hurdle that normally would have sent her into fits of twitchy panic instead brought a triumphant smile to her lips for the singular reason that she was ensured success.
She had discovered a prodigy. Simple as that. The manuscript had landed on her tiny desk at Moulton Brothers Publishing, and it had glowed in the way only a true story filled with horrendous suffering, abuse, and ultimate triumph could. It screamed Take Me to Oprah yesterday, you fool! And she certainly would. But first she had to launch it, and probably get promoted in the process. She marvelled at her good luck and decide to break out the new Gucci handbag, so new it was still in the current month's ads, she had received as a "no-reason" gift from Marcus the week before. If her colleagues at the publishing house were going to be shooting her with poison darts of jealousy all day, might as well give 'em both guns. She loved Marcus. He understood things so well.
He would come running in the door any minute, fresh from his morning run. Actually, he should have been back fifteen minutes ago. Where was he? Then she remembered with a frown that he hadn't made it home the night before. He had phoned to let her know he'd been stuck at the hospital with a patient who he wasn't sure would make it through the night. She loved how much care and effort he put into his job. But, seriously, how insensitive of someone to go and try to die now, removing the opportunity for a good luck kiss on the morning of her career changing victory. Well, she'd just have to surprise him at the hospital after the launch and make him take her out to dinner to celebrate. Mood buoyed, she went back to her room to don the outfit she had bought weeks in advance at a sale at Barney's. She had left a sizable chunk of that month's salary there in a fit of celebratory zeal, but, hey, she needed to look to part of overnight publishing success, didn't she? Besides, her burgeoning promotion would cover it, she was sure.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Taking Root
Wai'ale'ale streaks beneath.
Powerful tradewinds send me reeling
into the jetstream.
I rise, I fall, but never touch the earth.
Kolea birds trail me.
The exhilaration of flight is too powerful.
Overwhelmed with excitement, I'm ecstatic,
blind with glee.
Looking down I see the proud green valley
has given away to flat bulldozed plots.
I see roofs, buildings, cars like ants below.
Then...
The wind and the gift of flight is no more.
I flutter downward--peaceful at first, but then,
I plummet.
Has some almighty being stopped taking a breath?
Crashing, I'm embedded in painted bark.
I know not where I am.
All I know is that I'm dying.
When the rain comes, I will rise again.
Powerful tradewinds send me reeling
into the jetstream.
I rise, I fall, but never touch the earth.
Kolea birds trail me.
The exhilaration of flight is too powerful.
Overwhelmed with excitement, I'm ecstatic,
blind with glee.
Looking down I see the proud green valley
has given away to flat bulldozed plots.
I see roofs, buildings, cars like ants below.
Then...
The wind and the gift of flight is no more.
I flutter downward--peaceful at first, but then,
I plummet.
Has some almighty being stopped taking a breath?
Crashing, I'm embedded in painted bark.
I know not where I am.
All I know is that I'm dying.
When the rain comes, I will rise again.
Use the force...I like to call it the Universe...she calls it Bob
Here we are under the force using this blog to explore the bog, many years after graduate school. Really this all started because of the force to write. We stand in solidarity under this curse. This is the writing circle of being professionals...professional students, academics, bar hoppers, restaurant diners, dessert consumers, balancers. Balancing all aspects of life like work, ohana, friends, studies, pleasure, and business.
It is the typos of life that have brought us here under our group name and blog venue. We hope to exercise the need to write, with the creativity of the universe, while keeping our humble disposition through various misuse of the English language and punctuation system.
Bear with us as we get started and the creative juices begin to flow. We promise bits of genius that will be worth your time. If not, the follies and joys of our life might make you laugh or smile.
I hope that the tea times, awa sessions, and happy hours of your life lead to a circle of friends who share the same passion as you...Call it the force...I like to call it the Universe...Eve calls it Bob...None of us can deny this undercurrent of life, here in the Pacific itʻs just that much stronger.
It is the typos of life that have brought us here under our group name and blog venue. We hope to exercise the need to write, with the creativity of the universe, while keeping our humble disposition through various misuse of the English language and punctuation system.
Bear with us as we get started and the creative juices begin to flow. We promise bits of genius that will be worth your time. If not, the follies and joys of our life might make you laugh or smile.
I hope that the tea times, awa sessions, and happy hours of your life lead to a circle of friends who share the same passion as you...Call it the force...I like to call it the Universe...Eve calls it Bob...None of us can deny this undercurrent of life, here in the Pacific itʻs just that much stronger.
Wasss Up Linda Lingle?
So I guess I get firs crack at dis blog. Shoots den.
Dis is one new endeva fo me cause I neva wen write one group blog befo. Bumby, we gotta figah out who goin be da luna (you know? da boss).
But fo now, I jus like da space on da lef side of da page match up wit da right. Too bad I feel dat way, cause dat means I gotta post someting.
Ass okay, cause I get someting I like write about. I seen 'em on some of yoah guys' Facebook pages ladat. Yup, it's da whole issue of Linda Lingle arressing people who she no agree wit. If you been following da news, you know what I talking about. Da gov, she wen tell da sheriffs fo go arres da parents and concerned citizens who was making small kine peaceful sit-in because she no like help diffuse da whole furlough issue.
She only tell no moah money, no moah money everytime. She tell, no can do nottin cause da teachas and da HGEA guys too greedy and no care fo da kids. Who she foolin? She's da one who wen propose furloughs in da firs place. In fac, if I rememba corectly, she wanted moah days den get now. How she can sit behin her koa desk and tell it's da teachas fault?
No make sense her plan anyway. She like only da teachas and essential staff fo go back school, but all da oda guys suppose to stay home. What is essential staff anyway? Who goin make dat determination? Isn't everybody working at the school essential in some way? Maybe get some guys no need come on dose days, but I tink mus be one really small group.
Anyway, I stay goin off track. Why she gotta arres people fo disagreeing wit her? What dose guys was goin do? What kine treat dey pose?
Maybe was workin. Wonda if she stay feelin little bit guilty everytime she look dose guys. Dass probly da reason why she no like dem over dea. Bumby, everyting come real. Real kids faces looking at her. Real parents who care dat dey kids no can go school. Easy fo tell one camera dat no moah money so da kids gotta stay home, but try tell dat to one parent standing in front you.
Den again, maybe she no care. Maybe she cold blooded enough fo tell parents anykine. I donno. I no can figah what she tinking. If I was braddah Duke, I would be puttin some distance between me and her. I donno know how braddah tink he get chance. But den again...Lingle had win two times. But befo, she neva show her true calahs. Now, erredbody know where she stan--wit all da oda radical conservatives. I tink she wen sped too much time wit Sarah Palin. Moah bettah she resign and go drink tea with all da tea party guys too.
Dis is one new endeva fo me cause I neva wen write one group blog befo. Bumby, we gotta figah out who goin be da luna (you know? da boss).
But fo now, I jus like da space on da lef side of da page match up wit da right. Too bad I feel dat way, cause dat means I gotta post someting.
Ass okay, cause I get someting I like write about. I seen 'em on some of yoah guys' Facebook pages ladat. Yup, it's da whole issue of Linda Lingle arressing people who she no agree wit. If you been following da news, you know what I talking about. Da gov, she wen tell da sheriffs fo go arres da parents and concerned citizens who was making small kine peaceful sit-in because she no like help diffuse da whole furlough issue.
She only tell no moah money, no moah money everytime. She tell, no can do nottin cause da teachas and da HGEA guys too greedy and no care fo da kids. Who she foolin? She's da one who wen propose furloughs in da firs place. In fac, if I rememba corectly, she wanted moah days den get now. How she can sit behin her koa desk and tell it's da teachas fault?
No make sense her plan anyway. She like only da teachas and essential staff fo go back school, but all da oda guys suppose to stay home. What is essential staff anyway? Who goin make dat determination? Isn't everybody working at the school essential in some way? Maybe get some guys no need come on dose days, but I tink mus be one really small group.
Anyway, I stay goin off track. Why she gotta arres people fo disagreeing wit her? What dose guys was goin do? What kine treat dey pose?
Maybe was workin. Wonda if she stay feelin little bit guilty everytime she look dose guys. Dass probly da reason why she no like dem over dea. Bumby, everyting come real. Real kids faces looking at her. Real parents who care dat dey kids no can go school. Easy fo tell one camera dat no moah money so da kids gotta stay home, but try tell dat to one parent standing in front you.
Den again, maybe she no care. Maybe she cold blooded enough fo tell parents anykine. I donno. I no can figah what she tinking. If I was braddah Duke, I would be puttin some distance between me and her. I donno know how braddah tink he get chance. But den again...Lingle had win two times. But befo, she neva show her true calahs. Now, erredbody know where she stan--wit all da oda radical conservatives. I tink she wen sped too much time wit Sarah Palin. Moah bettah she resign and go drink tea with all da tea party guys too.
And sometimes we call it Bog...
[Note: The following history is fully unauthorized and only quasi-sane. Resemblance to anything objectionable is purely coincidental, unless its true. As always, other members of the Bog are not to blame, unless they want to be...)
Born of murky origins, the group writing experience known as Bog burst forth upon the blogosphere fully formed, though not necessarily fully coherent. It was only a matter of time before it took over the universe. Some point to its shocking 100 million follower benchmark as the flash point for its shocking influence upon pop culture and society as we know it. Other cite the members' appearance on Oprah tauting the printed version of their work Bog: You Know You Want It. In this much-analysed appearance the queen of daytime tried to woo The Pidgin Pen over to Harpo in a Yoko-style attack. Her bid to usurp his power was unsuccessful and resulted in the group developing their own talk show, Welcome to the Bog, as a tool to disseminate world peace. Side projects parked each member permanently on the New York Times Bestseller list, made their front row appearance at the Oscars an annual occurrence, and, of course, we need not go into the unfortunate uproar at the Grammies. Unsubstantiated rumours of wild bacchanalian parties and stints at various rehab facilities swirled among the success, born (mostly) of jealousy and those hoping to ride the coat tales of talent. But through all the highs and lows, each cited the Bog as the method of maintaining their sanity in the midst of insane success.
Many have tried to emulate the Bog's victory over all things not nice with little success. In an attempt to deflate the niche industry of tell-alls and exposes that has developed over the years, I offer forth the following Proustian Questionnaire. Our followers are hungry for scraps, so throw 'em a few answers if you are in the mood. (Mental note: Invite some followers.) Those of you who have already answered a few for Vanity Fair may want to choose new ones. Members are welcome to participate or opt out as their soul guides them, and, as always, to make up questions and answers they like better than the truth. However, in the spirit of keeping the mystery alive, please do not reveal simply everything, thus pandering to the culture of self-exposure and voyeurism that surrounds us. If we don't leave something for Kitty Kelly to make up she won't write the book, guys.
Love,
Eve (of Destruction?)
WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT STATE OF MIND?
Tenuous
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE OCCUPATION?(WAY OF SPENDING TIME)
Propagating world peace. That or painting my toenails and watching Anthony Bourdain.
WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST FEAR?
Fear.
WHAT HISTORICAL FIGURE DO YOU MOST IDENTIFY WITH?
Marie Antoinette and the Apostle Paul
WHICH LIVING PERSON DO YOU MOST ADMIRE?
Ma mere
WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE FICTIONAL HERO?
The Bionic Woman
WHO ARE YOUR REAL-LIFE HEROES?
They go nameless
WHAT IS YOUR MOST TREASURED POSSESSION?
Love
WHEN AND WHERE WERE YOU HAPPIEST?
I'm hoping it hasn't already happened...shit, did I miss it?
WHAT IS YOUR MOST OBVIOUS CHARACTERISTIC?
B.S.
WHAT IS THE TRAIT YOU MOST DEPLORE (HATE) IN YOURSELF?
Lack of faith
WHAT IS THE TRAIT YOU MOST DEPLORE IN OTHERS?
Poo-poo-headedness
WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST EXTRAVAGANCE?
Tasty items
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE JOURNEY?
The drive to the bank. The armored truck doesn't deliver.
WHAT DO YOU MOST DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR APPEARANCE?
Yeah, right.
WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER THE MOST OVER-RATED VIRTUE?
Virtuousness that becomes sanctimoniousness
ON WHAT OCCASION DO YOU LIE?
Wouldn't you like to know?
WHICH WORDS OR PHRASES DO YOU MOST OVER-USE?
The four letter ones...
IF YOU COULD CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOURSELF, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
You mean besides superpowers? Add a tail. (Thanks, Craig.)
WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER YOUR GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT?
Bog, of course.
WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE?
Earth
WHAT IS THE QUALITY YOU MOST ADMIRE IN A MAN?
Good humor and a good heart.
WHAT IS THE QUALITY YOU MOST ADMIRE IN A WOMAN?
Tact.
WHAT IS IT YOU MOST DISLIKE?
Not-nice stuff
WHAT DO YOU VALUE MOST IN YOUR FRIENDS?
Friendliness. And a wicked-cool sound system.
HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO DIE?
Forgiven for everything...
IF YOU WERE TO DIE AND COME BACK AS A PERSON OR AN ANIMAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IT WOULD BE?
Seriously, I have to do it again?
IF YOU COULD CHOOSE AN OBJECT TO COME BACK AS, WHAT WOULD YOU CHOOSE?
The violin of a virtuoso. Play me baby...
WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO (WORDS YOU LIVE BY OR THAT MEAN A LOT TO YOU)?
Cut 'em a break and hope like hell they do the same for you.
WHO HAS BEEN THE GREATEST INFLUENCE ON YOU?
Not so easily influenced.
(Ok, so forgive me for answering them all...for some reason I found talking about myself to be inordinately entertaining. Go figure. The bog thanks you for your patience.)
Born of murky origins, the group writing experience known as Bog burst forth upon the blogosphere fully formed, though not necessarily fully coherent. It was only a matter of time before it took over the universe. Some point to its shocking 100 million follower benchmark as the flash point for its shocking influence upon pop culture and society as we know it. Other cite the members' appearance on Oprah tauting the printed version of their work Bog: You Know You Want It. In this much-analysed appearance the queen of daytime tried to woo The Pidgin Pen over to Harpo in a Yoko-style attack. Her bid to usurp his power was unsuccessful and resulted in the group developing their own talk show, Welcome to the Bog, as a tool to disseminate world peace. Side projects parked each member permanently on the New York Times Bestseller list, made their front row appearance at the Oscars an annual occurrence, and, of course, we need not go into the unfortunate uproar at the Grammies. Unsubstantiated rumours of wild bacchanalian parties and stints at various rehab facilities swirled among the success, born (mostly) of jealousy and those hoping to ride the coat tales of talent. But through all the highs and lows, each cited the Bog as the method of maintaining their sanity in the midst of insane success.
Many have tried to emulate the Bog's victory over all things not nice with little success. In an attempt to deflate the niche industry of tell-alls and exposes that has developed over the years, I offer forth the following Proustian Questionnaire. Our followers are hungry for scraps, so throw 'em a few answers if you are in the mood. (Mental note: Invite some followers.) Those of you who have already answered a few for Vanity Fair may want to choose new ones. Members are welcome to participate or opt out as their soul guides them, and, as always, to make up questions and answers they like better than the truth. However, in the spirit of keeping the mystery alive, please do not reveal simply everything, thus pandering to the culture of self-exposure and voyeurism that surrounds us. If we don't leave something for Kitty Kelly to make up she won't write the book, guys.
Love,
Eve (of Destruction?)
WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT STATE OF MIND?
Tenuous
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE OCCUPATION?(WAY OF SPENDING TIME)
Propagating world peace. That or painting my toenails and watching Anthony Bourdain.
WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST FEAR?
Fear.
WHAT HISTORICAL FIGURE DO YOU MOST IDENTIFY WITH?
Marie Antoinette and the Apostle Paul
WHICH LIVING PERSON DO YOU MOST ADMIRE?
Ma mere
WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE FICTIONAL HERO?
The Bionic Woman
WHO ARE YOUR REAL-LIFE HEROES?
They go nameless
WHAT IS YOUR MOST TREASURED POSSESSION?
Love
WHEN AND WHERE WERE YOU HAPPIEST?
I'm hoping it hasn't already happened...shit, did I miss it?
WHAT IS YOUR MOST OBVIOUS CHARACTERISTIC?
B.S.
WHAT IS THE TRAIT YOU MOST DEPLORE (HATE) IN YOURSELF?
Lack of faith
WHAT IS THE TRAIT YOU MOST DEPLORE IN OTHERS?
Poo-poo-headedness
WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST EXTRAVAGANCE?
Tasty items
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE JOURNEY?
The drive to the bank. The armored truck doesn't deliver.
WHAT DO YOU MOST DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR APPEARANCE?
Yeah, right.
WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER THE MOST OVER-RATED VIRTUE?
Virtuousness that becomes sanctimoniousness
ON WHAT OCCASION DO YOU LIE?
Wouldn't you like to know?
WHICH WORDS OR PHRASES DO YOU MOST OVER-USE?
The four letter ones...
IF YOU COULD CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOURSELF, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
You mean besides superpowers? Add a tail. (Thanks, Craig.)
WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER YOUR GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT?
Bog, of course.
WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE?
Earth
WHAT IS THE QUALITY YOU MOST ADMIRE IN A MAN?
Good humor and a good heart.
WHAT IS THE QUALITY YOU MOST ADMIRE IN A WOMAN?
Tact.
WHAT IS IT YOU MOST DISLIKE?
Not-nice stuff
WHAT DO YOU VALUE MOST IN YOUR FRIENDS?
Friendliness. And a wicked-cool sound system.
HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO DIE?
Forgiven for everything...
IF YOU WERE TO DIE AND COME BACK AS A PERSON OR AN ANIMAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IT WOULD BE?
Seriously, I have to do it again?
IF YOU COULD CHOOSE AN OBJECT TO COME BACK AS, WHAT WOULD YOU CHOOSE?
The violin of a virtuoso. Play me baby...
WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO (WORDS YOU LIVE BY OR THAT MEAN A LOT TO YOU)?
Cut 'em a break and hope like hell they do the same for you.
WHO HAS BEEN THE GREATEST INFLUENCE ON YOU?
Not so easily influenced.
(Ok, so forgive me for answering them all...for some reason I found talking about myself to be inordinately entertaining. Go figure. The bog thanks you for your patience.)
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