lucyshoe66: (record)
One of my favourite songs of 1980 (though this video is from much later obviously)

lucyshoe66: (record)
I feel asleep on the couch last night and was dreaming about a trek to antarctica with an awesome soundtrack, and then suddenly woke up to David Letterman, wich I haven't seen in years, and found the music wasn't actually the product of my brilliant brain afterall, but was instead this band I've never heard of - TV on the Radio.

I'm finding this YouTube thing very handy. God, Dave is such a dork though.

Enjoy! Good morning!

An art meme

Oct. 6th, 2006 10:21 am
lucyshoe66: (curious g)
Shamelessly borrowed from [ profile] dampscribbler:

The first five people to respond to this post, will get some form of art, by me, about them. I make no guarantees about quality or type, but I will assure that I will give it good effort.

The only catch, of course, is that if you sign up, you have to put this in your own journal as well.


Mar. 30th, 2006 10:15 am
lucyshoe66: (Default)
Ms. Jadis,

Gmail isn't allowing me to read my email from work the last few days, so while I can see that you've sent something, I have no idea what it says. I'll pick it up at lunch!
lucyshoe66: (restaurant from back)
This would be one Duke of erislovererl's birthday.

Happy birthday, Deren! I shall celebrate this Day of Wick in your honour.
lucyshoe66: (chopsuey)
Stolen from [ profile] vix1. Go to this link and pick 5 or 6 adjectives from the list which you think describe me. It matches your choices against my own and anyone else's, for what purpose, I don't know, but it's still kind of fun.

Fun, I said! Do it!


Jan. 5th, 2006 12:53 pm
lucyshoe66: (Default)
LiveJournal Haiku!
Your name:lucyshoe
Your haiku:wasn't up to it.though
good god gary oldman's hair
did its level best
Created by Grahame

je m'amuse )
lucyshoe66: (Default)
This Is My Life, Rated
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

I do love how it assumes that because I'm single I'm not happy with that (Don't despair! it said). Well, I guess it does come from E-Harmony, so what would I expect? I predict that if my love score was higher, everything else would have taken a nosedive!
lucyshoe66: (Default)
This is the most freakishly jadis_eocjadis_eoc-obsessed meme quiz I've ever come across. It might be the ONLY freakishly jadis-obsessed quiz I've ever seen. But if you've ever met me, you're in here too. Clearly I need to meet more people!

1. Go here.
2. Pass it on.
my answers )


Aug. 18th, 2005 07:46 am
lucyshoe66: (Default)
I have no time to write and things to say. I'll probably forget half of them by the time I get a moment.

For my later reference then:

SMart Cars in Victoria (SWATCH, Mercedes)
Kabbes -- is there room for a dog in them?
Empty pool again - no FCG
Love Handles - shrinking!
Erislover - GREAT GOD of GOODIES

Actually, you can probably glean enough information from that to know what I was going to say. Just imagine those points with about 10,0000 BLAHBLAHBLAH's interspersed throughout.

Morning, all!
lucyshoe66: (chopsuey)
For the first time in my entire life I bought some Ben & Jerry's ice cream (Half Baked, if you're curious) thinking I couldn't live my entire life and then die knowing that I'd never even tried it. Then when I got home I remembered that I was probably thinking of Haagen Daaz ice cream (which I've also never tried in any permutation or combination of flavours) so now I'm thinking the B&J is probably not a big deal. I'm still curious though. Maybe next shopping trip I'll remember the HD so I can compare and contrast.

So what happens if I think neither is any better or worse than the regular inexpensive Chapman's Ice Cream I usually buy? Devastation? Disillusion?

Either way I can't try it right now because of the whole delayed gratification neuroses I've got going on. Instead I'll eat the doggie-bagged fajita-wrap from last night's dinner at McGuiness Landing. No surprise there, at least.

lucyshoe66: (Default)
1. the age you were on your last birthday: ...

2. Your favourite colour: ...

3. Your middle name: ...

4. The place you lost your virginity: ... Seawater not included.

5. A bad habit of yours: ... There may have been pigs involved. I can't say for sure.

6. Favourite vegetable: ..., but this isn't quite what I had in mind

7. Favourite animal: you were expecting anything else?

8. Where you live: ... It's a modern kind of city.

9. your last name: ... No relation.

10. The one you love: Like I'd tell!
lucyshoe66: (Default)
Suddenly I can't get either out of my head and I'm pretty sure it's [ profile] missfran I have to blame for both.
lucyshoe66: (Default)
I don't have what my parents call "faith". Nominally I was a Protestant Anglican until I was old enough to realize that this isn't something you are born into and then must carry through the rest of your life unquestioned. By the time I had even a vague understanding of what "faith" was (and I'm still not entirely clear), I don't think I had any. Or if I had it, it wasn't in the sorts of things that were accepted by my non-churchgoing but nonetheless Christian by upbringing parents.

I remember as an 18 year-old having an argument with them about it. They were insistant that faith was something that I might cast aside now, but would clamour for some day in the future. It was a little prescient that my father said this to me all those years ago because in a way it has become true - for him. My parents were very, very casual Christians - we went to church up until the time I was 8 or 9, after which Jeff and I revolted against the indignities of Sunday School and my parents came to the conclusion that not only were we too difficult to deal with on Sunday mornings, but that there were probably a lot of things they could be accomplishing around the house and garden in the time they had regularly been devoting to the Sunday morning service. So we stopped.

One of my best friends was Catholic (margie, the one who prayed over our broken washing machine and could fit her fist (and an orange) into her mouth - though not at the same time) and the other was Greek Orthodox and my very best friend was Dutch Reform. They all disappeared for lengthy periods on Sundays and sometimes even Saturdays, and what they did with that time was a big mystery to me. Even when we were going to church, the service was a little over an hour at most. Whatever their religions dictated to them seemed unweildy and intrusive to me even as a little girl, but it was also elusive and mysterious and I was a little jealous that I didn't know what I was missing. I remember Margie making us all kneel down in my driveway to pray for Cat Stevens - something which embarassed me terribly and made me feel silly and resentful and "bad" because I didn't want to, but then also "powerful" as if we were practicing magic. Allison wasn't allowed to go to the cinema with us on Sundays, and if we were playing at her house we would not be allowed to use scissors to cut out pictures. When I ate over at their house I was made, as the guest, to say Grace, and the only one I knew, which we only used in our home on jokey occasions (Good bread, good meat, Good God let's eat) I wouldn't have dared to repeat at their table. Instead I was coaxed line by line by her mother in some long and serious prayer which again made me feel both strange and embarassed and resentful. Georgia's religion seemed the most fascinating to me because the entire family looked so festive every Sunday, as if they were travelling to a very fancy party every Sunday morning instead of a boring sermon. For years I imagine that the Greek church must be filled with music and dancing and bazooki players.

I made a stab at becoming (or acting more like) a Christian once. It was the year after my terrible highschool boyfriend, when I found what I thought was the perfect antidote - a devout Baptist boy. He dragged me along to youth nights at his church and introduced me to the enormous social scene that I had never realized surrounded the religion. He "assigned" me readings from the bible and encouraged me to ask questions and would write out long essay-like answers for me. He introduced me to his pastor. He was, to me, a shiningly good person, which coming directly on the heels of a relationship with a destructively bad guy seemed like all I could hope for. The great irony of this was that at the time my parents became very perturbed at my devotion to the bible and to going to services with him and so on and yelled that I should stop pretending I was something I was not and that I wasn't raised to be that kind of Christian. Things turned sour with Peter the Baptist. He wouldn't go to school dances because rock music was da debil. That, above all, shocked me more than anything because he looked so normal. I'd never heard of anyone outside of books and old movies who thought like that. We argued a lot about music, with me trying to point out how harmless lyrics were and he saying that it didn't matter because Satan was behind the music ultimately. I even tried to get him to accept Amy Grant as an acceptable musician and he said she was the worst of all because while she had once been a Christian musician she had abandoned it for fame and money. The bigger deal though was insistence that I would have to devote the rest of my life to praying for forgiveness for having been a whore to my last boyfriend. He told me I had deserved the beatings I had received from him because I myself was completely evil, and it was one of the worst things anyone has ever said to me. But still I wanted so much to be good in his eyes that for a while I bought it. The end of my association with his religion came one night at the Youth Ministry when the pastor showed a movie about the evils that non-Christian teens immerse themselves in (you know, sex, smoking pot, etc) and damning them all to Hell unless they atoned for their sins. My flip switched and it was over for me. After the film everyone had to close their eyes and then raise their hand as they came to accept Christ. I refused to do it, and the Pastor kept insisting over and over that anyone who didn't raise their hand was doomed to hellfire. I was practically shaking I was so angry, but not as angry as Peter beside me who had realized I was the hold-out and who was poking me, demanding that I raise my hand too. That was the end of our relationship, more or less.

By the end of my teens I had decided once and for all that religion wasn't for me. Eventually I figured out what I did have faith in: an arbitrary and accidental universe, the meaninglessness of existence excpet for that which I decide to attribute to my own life, and the finality of death. These are the things that comfort me. Especially when my life has gone through long periods of badness, the finality of death has been the thing I clung most tightly to. I could hardly wait. Strangely, now that my life is good, it still holds comfort for me. I think of my grandmother at Christmas dinner turning down a third helping while saying, It was lovely, but I've had enough. Any more would spoil it."

As an adult I've called myself an agnostic and then an atheist, and again an agnostic and so on back and forth for years. Lately I haven't been calling myself anything because I'm not sure a descriptor is something required to describe an absense. I'm also not a criminal, but I don't feel the need to describe myself that way.

Still I don't want to be arrogant in my non-belief. If religion -- whatever religion -- works for someone, I think that's great. If it explains the universe in a way that makes sense to them, if it offers them comfort in their darkest hours, if it provides a sense of community and purpose, if it fulfils a spiritual need in them, if it gives them faith that everything we're doing here on earth has some ultimate meaning and promises them everlasting peace and joy when they've shuffled off this mortal coil, I'm glad they have it. I no more want to convince anyone that my (non) beliefs are the real way and the truth and the light, than I'd want someone else like Peter the Baptist try to convince an already emotionally battered young girl that she was evil and deserving of whatever pain she was suffering because God says so. Dismissing someone else's beliefs or non-beliefs as intellectually sub-par or crazy or stupid or weak is as ignorant to my mind as any other kind of blanket condemnation I hear directed toward a person's sexuality or lifestyle choice. Condemning religion as being repsonsible for fostering a mindset that would excuse anything bad as being "God's will; and good is good, therefore this evil act was okay!" is simplistic and as stupid as condemning atheism as being responsible for fostering a mindset that would excuse any evil act because "there is no ultimate authority, everything is chaos so whatever goes, goes!" Sure bad things are done by people in the name of religion and also by people who believe in nothing. It's not the religion or lack of it that causes or excuses evil that happens, it's the people. And if someone hacks up their children because "God wanted me to and they'll be happier in heaven anyway" that's not the religion talking, it's the mental illness.

Religions are all interesting. Everytime I learn some other arcane (to me) fact, like the existence of the Sabbath Elevator zetteZettie mentioned yesterday, I'm fascinated. My thoughts don't automatically go to "how stupid these people must be to be too afraid to push a bunch of elevator buttons" anymore than I think the people who look for meaning through God's greater plan are deluded idiots.

So be it.

dog days

Jul. 18th, 2005 01:46 pm
lucyshoe66: (cape cod)

I let Cody out as soon as I got home and asked him if he was feeling better. He wagged his tail, so I thought all was well.


Two new bilous stains, a 3 inch spot of recognizable dog food (Chew! Chew! I plead with him) and FIVE huge water stains. At first I thought he'd peed his way right across the room, because they all seemed to be connected by way of rivulets and isthmuses (?) but they were too clear. His water dish was drained so since he's barely been eating lately, I guess once he emptied his stomach, he just kept drinking and throwing it all back up again.

Poor doggie.

Oh well, I can't put off the shampooing any longer. There's literally no avoiding stepping in one of those spots.

That's all, carry on!

The icon is me vomiting out the window at the smell in there.


Jul. 15th, 2005 01:18 pm
lucyshoe66: (Default)
I am such a slacker. Rene told me at 10:00 am she was taking a half day vacation this afternoon, and because I'm terribly impressionable I asked for it too and was out of there an hour later. In my defence though, I finished and submitted my law assignment since I've been home.

Then I uploaded a few more pictures, and so now, in very random fashion, I present the last week or so of my strangely unpeopled life.

I think I mentioned in my journal that on my way to work one morning this week I saw a dog with his head stuck out the sunroof, checking out the state of the world. Too bad I couldn't get a picture of the car in motion because his ears were flapping all over the place in the wind! Nice doggie! )

Next up we have my much maligned (usually by me) and barely mentioned cat, Churchie. I caught her in a sweet moment, most of which coincidentally coincide with her napping hours. Now tell me you don't want to rub that tummy! )

Go on! Touch it, she loves that! )

Here I would just like to point out that the two butterfly gardens I planted this spring have officially attracted their first butterfly )

Hey! Remember how excited I was about eating my first meal from the garden? The beets, spinach and beet greens? Here they are for posterity: )

Speaking of my vegetable garden, I wasn't kidding when I said the butternut squash are taking over. Here you can see them rampaging like mongol hordes over my spinach, beets and carrots, and having laid waste to everything else in their path, now attempting to crawl over my back lawn! Veggie Wars! )

For the sake of comparison, this is the difference 12 days can make )
lucyshoe66: (Default)
Okay, which one of you punks recommended Criminal Law to me? Up against the wall - NOW!

Man, that was a stinky movie. I taped it Monday night figuring I could watch it when I was in the perfect mood to sit back and be psychologically thrilled. Well, I was in the mood last night. The movie, unfortunately, wasn't up to it.

Though good GOD, Gary Oldman's hair did its level best to scare the bejesus right out of me! That's some startlingly floppy 80s hair right there.

I realized a quarter way through, when I finally clued in that Kevin Bacon's psycho killer character's name was Martin Thiel, that this was the criminal masterpiece that Paul and Karla watched over and over with such reverence, and which inspired Bernardo to legally change his name to Paul Teale. Interestingly, there's one oft-printed photo of the usually clean-cut and preppy Bernardo on his way to or from court with this atrociously floppy hair that now makes me suspect he was modelling himself after the Gary Oldman character. Crazy killers have crazy hair.

But anyways, the movie. I hate movies whose entire premise is so illogical that I just can't clear the suspension of disbelief hurdle. First of all, Oldman plays this hotshot defence attorney who intially gets serial rapist/killer Bernardo Bacon off because he convinces the jury that the eyewitness must have been mistaken about her identification of him because on that very same day she ran out of diapers that she could have sworn she had in her cupboard. But she was MISTAKEN! A-HA! Not.

Then, when he realizes that he probably just helped set free a CRAZY KILLER, and when the CRAZY KILLER sets about dropping clues on his head to his crimes like so many raining anvils, instead of, oh I don't know, just turning what he knows over to the authorities, he decides to defend him AGAIN after a new round of murders so that he can trick him into revealing his guilt. Or something. In the meantime, there's some homoerotic glances between the two while Oldman ends up violently screwing the room-mate of the last victim while picturing Bacon superimposed over her face and even though he comes about an inch from ramming his fist through her head, she apparently likes it rough enough that she just smiles gently at him, like, was it good for you too? and then she disappears altogether after she and Bacon meet up and he goes after her, she beats him up and that's the last we see of her.

Anyway, you'd think Oldman would worry at least a little about the possibility of being dis-barred, but he seems to be on a mission of truth. Oh, and even though he's apparently been a legal shark for a number of years (he was a prosecutor before turning to the defence side) he is reduced to tears by the realization that justice and law are two different things. Of course he has a dying mentor to impart this valuable knowledge to him from his deathbed. Better if he had imparted some style tips, but whatever.

For my opinion on the crappy dialogue, please see the subject title. I will say no more.

It rained a lot in this movie. And hard. It actually stormed that hard for a while in real life last night, which was very exciting to watch, but made me think it was a little unreasonable that in a veritable monsoon of a thunderstorm, at 11pm, there would actually be people out running their dogs around a creepy park, let alone that an attorney would agree to meet a former client down by the bridge, slipping and sliding in the mud endlessly looking for someone who obviously didn't show instead of just saying "fuck it" and heading back to his car. But I guess it was all very atmospheric. Also, everytime the door of the courthouse opened at night, this flood of light would emerge like a beacon. The place must have been lit with kleig lights!

Okay let's wrap this baby up. Not that I'm trying to ruin the ending, but Bacon is shot dead. Shocking, I know.

On a happier note, Kevin Bacon is very good as the priviledged and preppy killer. And he's so young! Given that the last film I saw him in was The Woodsman, it was quite a shocking contrast. Took me back to the days when I used to watch him as the alcoholic, babyfaced teenager on Guiding Light. So cute. Strangely though, I find him more attractive now that he's eroded a bit with age. I think it's Hugh Grant syndrome. Dissipation wears well on the formerly boyish. Keep that in mind, boys.

[ profile] geobabe1!

Jul. 15th, 2005 07:32 am
lucyshoe66: (cape cod)
Happy birthday geobabe1Lise! Don't let the twins eat too much Birthday Pie!
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