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mood |
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music |
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The Mamas and the Papas "Monday, Monday" |
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I made the decision to post my journal on Facebook -- which is obviously nothing short of monumental. It's like Ronald Reagan approaching the Deadjournal and declaring, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this HTML."
Yeah, for two seconds I wondered, "Man, what if I say nasty shit about someone? All of FB will know!" But then I realized that whatever happens, I get more attention. Problem-fucking-solved. Holler for middle-child syndrome, lambs. Don't get me wrong; I weighed all the pros and cons of my decision -- but again, my potential fame takes precedent over rationale. It's called priorities.
In addition to weighing pros and cons, I also weighed myself. But that's bulimia for you.
Also, I just think the Deadjournal format looks so, say, retarded, that reposting everything in a cleaner blog format legitimizes the whole operation. Don't let that admonition fool you, however -- I solemnly promise to indundate you with bitching, screaming, caterwauling about the awful gay men I'll inevitably crush on, and Lite-Brite tributes to Madonna videos. Only 40 more pink pegs in place, and my "Louis Visits 'La Isla Bonita'" screen will be finished. I'll post a link once the Smithsonian finishes the appraisal.
I seriously tried to start a whole new blog with zippier, vid-filled entries, but God, I couldn't just let this old bag die. She's too sturdy a warship -- and some day a nice young man will buy her, rip off the sails, and turn her into a rightful gentleman's club. For now, however, she's still my 6-year-old darling. I will breast-feed her until love is illegal.
All these Iowa bitches are dominating my life right now -- Jess, Mattfrench, Kiki, Sarah Michaelson, Lindsay, the Not-Ready-for-Press-Citizen players (Anna, Susan, Meryn, Colwell, other DI folkies). You'd almost think I enjoy myself with them. And that's, of course, illogical -- since I've sworn exclusive companionship to my latest iTunes download: "Sh-boom" by the Crew Cuts. UM, it's from the non-existent soundtrack to Clue, fuckers. Where is culture anymore? Where is dignity? Where is Lesley Ann Warren's acting wizardry?
Writing this entry is feeling sort of like applying for jobs, in that I'm-seeming-to-write-full-sentences way. Pretty sure Entertainment Weekly plucks its new crop of writers directly from Facebook posts. National magazines are invited to interrupt this entry with job offers at any time, btw.
Something I've been thinking about: putting together a Letters to Louis blog compiling all my DI advice columns of yore. Then you can read the unedited, unsanitary original versions. Pretty spicy idea, no? Sounds wet-the-bed worthy to me.
Alright, I have a meeting with journalism professor Don McLeese at 10 a.m. tomorrow, so I have to rehearse all my best Lucinda Williams references now. Love you guys, thanks for reading along -- and if you're a Facebooker stumbling upon this cave of wonders for the first time, let me assure you: If you read this whole entry, you're gay.
Xoxo, beautiful people,
Louis
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