Sinister: michiko kakutani + my searing crush

Kevin Hyde kmhyde at xxx.edu
Tue Jul 15 17:52:53 BST 2003


Hi everyone, 


If I were to ever find myself in a hardcore band, perhaps even waking up
onstage in medias res, I would perform a slow burning ballad to the
woman named above, in the subject line: the New York Times literary
critic who is not only an excellent writer, but whose septi-syllabic
name is a veritable palatal workout. I find her occasionally inscrutable
and hostile manner to be one of the most attractive things, and heck,
why not? Who wouldn't love a girlfriend like that? I think she's also
like 50 though, so, uh, it might not work out. Although, given recent
lyrical trends in Liz Phair albums (and I can only assume that Michiko
is a raving LP fan, probably has like "Exile in Guyville" glued into her
Technics), maybe she's "beginning to think young guys rule". Hot, baby,
hot.

Other Kevin (to whom I am known as 'bastard idiot Kevin') said he would
kill babies if he had his druthers. Oh, wait, no, I'm confusing him with
someone from the Godspeed You! Black Emperor mailing list. Other Kevin
actually mentioned the afternoon email coma syndrome, which is a great
great thing. Customarily, I'll come back from my one-hour lunch break
and sit down and, as my brother likes to say in reference to bands like
Phish, "just fucking jam". I wrote an email to the manufacturer of
Listerine the other day, in hopes that they might let me know what the
name of the actress who appears in the swishing-around-in-her-mouth
commercial is (my roommate and I had decided to write to her c/o someone
and let her know that she was, in fact, the apotheosis of the phrase
'cute as a button'). The email I got back, which was surprisingly
ungrammatical, informed me that Listerine could not divulge the personal
information of this actress, and besides they didn't know anyway, and
then went on to sort of clumsily imply that I was an asshole for even
wondering in the first place. Hmmm.     

When does one become a lurker? I mean, it really rather seems like one
of those adjectives that are logically ambiguous, much along the same
lines as 'bald'. Is one post per year a lurker? Although I suppose you
could just say something like 'posting not once in a calendar year'
merits a membership in lurkerdom, I'd imagine that's the only brute
discontinuity that exists. Anyway, hey, what if there are people on this
list who have taken a vow of silence? I was wondering about this, with
brow intensely furrowed, because of the monks shown in the amazingly
wonderful and blasphemous AOL commercial, who IM each other back and
forth like pre-prom dateless teens. Does this actually happen? In case
you can't tell from the above two paragraphs, I'm as vulnerable as an
eight year-old on sodium pentothal when it comes to the suggestive
nature of television commercials. Real point being though: lurkers,
hello. You are people too, I know, I know.

Have been playing loads of badminton lately. Will extend offer of
marriage to any girl who can and does smoke while playing badminton,
this way I can feel justified in saying publicly something like 'take
that out of your mouth and hit that 'cock back to me', which I have been
known to quote in places like, oh say, my high school yearbook. 's true.
Anythough, seriously, I do love me some badminton, and will suffer gross
indignities to play it. 

This being by far the most inconsistent of my
already-pretty-much-fiercely-uneven posts, I'll non-sequitur end it on
the same note I finished my senior paper in philosophy: "and thus, after
so much struggling and wasted debate, the problems of ethical language
are, finally, reolved." Xxx hubris and comma action, whew. 

Oh, and thanks to Kim Girton for preparing the (middle) East Coast to
picnic the holy hell out of itself. We will report back so hard, it'll
be Rashomon, email version. 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Hannah Brown mentioned 'Soft Pink Truth' and I almost wet myself, this
album is so ruthlessly good, really. Laura Llew spoke of Prospect Park
in conjunction with tickets and cat masks and poetess recluses. Re:
which I saw something on a website once that went like this- 
GIRL: Hey, I'm feeling, um, a little Emily
GUY: What's that?
GIRL: Dick in, son.


It's shake and bake, and I helped, 

xoxo, 

Kevin


   

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