Moot Point

As they pull up to the restaurant, we catch a glimpse of a sign that reads: The Buzzing Sign Diner. The lettering is neon; the sign is buzzing. The gag is built on the hoary cliché of old-time Hollywood that every grimy diner has a run-down, buzzing neon sign out front. The sign’s message refers to its own condition, and that condition refers to a phenomenon that’s a stereotypical element of old movies. It’s a deconstruction of a deconstruction of a cliché. This incidental detail serves as a concise, workable summary of what’s meant by the term ‘postmodern.’

From Planet Simpson by Chris Turner, quoted in a Globe and Mail Review

Comments section:

Posted by J @ 10/26/2004 10:13 AM PDT
I wish Brenda would write a new blog so you guys would stop discussing post-modernism.

Posted by Brenda @ 10/26/2004 05:50 PM PDT
So do I.

So I’ve been totally meaning to write about my amazing weekend in Kingston, but I’ve been too exhausted from my amazing weekend in Kingston to actually write about it. The following isn’t, like, the best thing that happened or anything, but I think it is the most exemplary: walking away from the actual homecoming football game, we passed this one little yard-concession stand, offering things like Lemonade and Chips. The last item on the menu was Beer, but it was already sold out. Manning the stand? A precious little girl who looked about four.

There’s really so much of more interest about my amazing weekend in Kingston (like all the people I met, stuff we actually did, pancake kegger, donair poutine etc. etc.), but I’ve been so exhausted from my amazing weekend in Kingston.

I got home to find out my phone somehow got broken in its weekend of sitting in my bag because there’s no reception in Kingston. So I spent my precious after-class hours going to the mall to get it fixed. The handset’s under warranty, so it didn’t cost anything.

So of course I had to celebrate by buying boots I can’t afford.

PS I had a small part in the Kenny Rogers story over at Blamblog. Nothing like the smell of etc etc.

I feel I’ve been remiss with the pop culture opinions lately.
I really feel like I need to post the Lindsay Lohan Boob Song. It’s kind of horrible, but surprisingly catchy. (The indierock handclaps get me every time.) (Which I found on Defamer.)
Has everyone seen the new video? So bad. Or is it? There’s about 10 seconds of her in a cage, clearly symbolizing her feeling trapped by all the rumours startin’. And then a lot of her dancing around in lowcut shirts, clearly symbolizing her courting public attention by being trampy. It ends ambiguously, as she flies off in a helicopter, as she rises above the pettiness of the rumour mill, but does so in an enclosed space. When she throws the camera with the pictures of the hot boy off the helicopter, it seems to reveal her understanding that she must throw away normal life (including romance) as long as she is in the spotlight, but at the same time, the pictures no doubt refer to the paparazzi photographs that make her life so difficult.

Also, I have to say, I’m kind of liking Xtina’s new look. It’s not really Marilyn, and she still wears too much makeup. Remember when Britney came out and everyone started comparing her to Madonna? I think Xtina’s following a much closer path. Only postmodern. She does the shocking thing, (Madonna wishes she thought of “Dirrrty”) and now she’s doing the retro sexpot thing. (But her concept of “retro” is pretty vague. The video for her new song with Nelly is a prime example. I dig the song itself (but it’s no “Dirrrty”), but the video is all over the place. She’s a fifties-style movie star, very Mariynesque. She’s wearing flapper clothes. But with a hat and veil that feels really forties. And he’s wearing a zoot suit. The aesthetic is all over the place. Pick an era, Christina.
That said, I hated the video for “Dirrrty” when I first saw it, but now I think it’s a postmodern masterpiece. It’s amazing if you think of it as pastiche.

I don’t have anything new that’s happened to me, except that if you like movies, you should go see something by Samuel Fuller while they’re showing his stuff at the Cinematheque, because he is my new favourite director.

Though I really felt that I should mention that when I went to Ottawa, I rode on Train 48 and everytime I looked at my ticket or they did an announcement for new people who were boarding, I would sing “Nana na na na traaaain.”

Dear Bathroommates,

I have noticed some gross toothpaste gunk appearing on my bath towel. I’m not really sure why one of you has decided you should use my towel for toothpaste absorption-type purposes, because, I assure you, that’s not why it’s there. I respect your stuff and ask only that you do the same for mine. If you need to use my hand towel for hand-drying purposes, that’s fine, and I don’t want to accuse anyone of anything, but if you’re using my bath towel, which I use for bathing, to absorb toothpaste, or anything, please stop. Thanks! -Brenda

(It is slightly bitchy, but I’m pretty sure one of them is using my bath towel to wipe out the sink. I know they’re firstyears, but seriously, who does that? So gross. I wonder how long this has been going on.)

You’d be so proud; I spent some actual time cleaning my room tonight. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s actually getting close to liveable. You can actually see the floor and stuff.
I still don’t know what to do about all my crap though. So many papers. So many clothes.

Also, you’ll be relieved to know, I found my snake necklace. It was under some books and magazines and newspapers. Much like everything I own.

Don’t be deceived, my room isn’t actually clean, but I’ve made definite progress.

I found a skirt on sale at the Gap today. $25. It’s brown and soft and knnelength and has a kickpleat. I was going to buy underwear so I could avoid doing laundry, but who can turn down a $25 skirt? I saw it weeks ago and kind of liked it, but not enough to spend $70 on it. It does kind of look like the sort of thing you’d wear if you were a girl. Which isn’t a look I’m going for, it just seems to happen.

I didn’t go over to see the old floor. I really should stop by soon. I miss those kids. I haven’t hung out with them since the first week of school.

I was reading through this notebook I was using as a journal for awhile last year, both before Tim and I got together and after we broke up. (Not while we were together though. Tim had given me a real journal early on in the relationship. I stopped using it because I really needed to cut him out of my life for a while to get over everything.) These were both pretty lonely times in my life, for different reasons. A lot of it was really badly written. I have no recollection of writing any of it. There was one totally hypothetical paragraph I wrote probably a year ago that started off something like: “I’ll know him because he’ll notice the way I eat blueberries when no one’s looking.” (I’d have liked it less if I’d actually written “sandwiches,” because that would have been too perfect. I don’t trust perfect things.)

Thanksgiving was kind of crappy, but seeing my family was good, but blah.
Today was good because of the new Bitch and otherwise sort of a wash.

So Thursday, I was basically in a really bad mood. Like, really bad. Like the kind of bad mood that only comes once a month, if you know what I mean. Like, freaking out because I had to go to the library to print out my school schedule to get an ISIC card and this would obviously ruin the laidback but romantic plans I had for Alex’s and my 6 month dating anniversary, observed.
Like, crying.
Alex goes “Sit down, you’re flailing.”
(Let the record show that I was in fact flailing.)
“I’m sorry, I feel so bad, I’m ruining our anniversary.” I wipe away tears, trying to calm down.
“I was going to give you this later…” he said, while pulling a small, giftwrapped box out of his bag.
Jewelry-sized.
“I feel so bad. I didn’t get you anything. Well, not really.” (I did have a U of T Nalgene bottle that I’d picked up at the bookstore last time I was there because he’d mentioned he wanted one, but it wasn’t meant as an anniversary gift.)
“Well,” he said, “I’m very nice.”
I opened the box. On a fine chain, a little heart-shaped diamond necklace. You know those ones.
White gold. And diamonds. No one has ever gotten me something this nice before.
…
“So, no moping.”

I am so spoiled.

The actual anniversary was Friday, but Thanksgiving trips mutually prevented us from going out on the actual Friday night. (Laidback romantic plans: shop at H&M in the afternoon followed by leisurely dinner, before getting scandaled up.) And yes, I know I have said publically that 6 month anniversaries are lame, but at that point it had been a while since I had maintained a relationship for 6 whole months and I had forgotten what an accomplishment it is.

Oh, so the scandalous party:

I saw one girl wearing shorts that covered less than some of my underwear. Most girls just interpreted scandalous as “really skimpy,” except Lauren and Carrie, who wore Bush-Cheney 2004 signs.

Not to keep you in suspense any longer, I wound up buying a red miniskirt at H&M (it was $15 I would have bought it anyway) and fishnets (which I also would have bought anyway but wouldn’t usually wear with a red miniskirt). I wound up wearing them with a black top and Alex’s tuxedo jacket. So I was slutty, but my outfit had a point to it, as opposed to being the least I could possibly wear.

Alex’s idea of scandalous? A vertically striped shirt with a – wait for it – diagonally striped tie. I know.

Anyway, it was my first Trin party and I’m glad I went.
The whole rest of the day was started off bad but then got so good. I would love to write about it, but I have a train to catch.

So apparently there’s some Trin party tomorrow and since I’m all about socializing, we’re doing that and seeing the Silver Hearts next week (as they are at the 360 every Thursday this month).
Unfortunately, this is the Dress Scandalously party.
I am the kind of girl who lusts after argyle and tweed and shirts with collars and sweatervests. In other words, I have no clothes that anyone would consider scandalous whatsoever.
Unless it was 1850.
Which it fortunately isn’t.
Seriously though, how do you dress scandalously? It’s such an abstract assignment and I am at a loss.

I have had my new planner for two days now, so I can confidently say it is CHANGING MY LIFE. This year my main ambition is to be neater and more organized and use my time better. My planner is ideal because it has a page for every day, with a little hourly schedule space at the top and room for lots of notes underneath so I can write to-do lists.
It amuses me that the page inside the cover says “THE NOTE BOOK FOR THE MODERN STUDENT.”
Finally someone made a note book for me!
Also, there is the joy of writing down plans that involve fun. After spending a day writing down lists of homework and reading, I was so happy to write, in big block letters on Thursday’s “Priority” space: 9PM SILVER HEARTS 360.

The Silver Hearts are killer live. I saw them with my brother at the Calgary Folk Fest not this past summer but the summer before. (I missed them a couple of times this summer because of my stupid job.) They played the Sunday afternoon, so I had been talking them up all weekend. They took forever to set up and we were sitting there under the blazing sun, and I was totally worried they somehow wouldn’t be as brilliant as I’d remembered them, which was a possibility because I was probably drunk that night. Long story short, at one point looked over to my very music-literate, snooty brother and his jaw had LITERALLY dropped. (This was at the point when the one guy was playing the piano with one hand and the trumpet WITH THE OTHER HAND AT THE SAME TIME.)
So I will have something to look forward to while I write my essay.