Check the plethora of photos of the protests at the Republican National Convention in NYC.

Simply gorgeous.

standards & practices

I just wanted to point out a very important thing will never, ever in five million years be loaded onto my new iPod. Which of course is Lenny Kravitz. This will not happen. Never the twain shall meet. My ipod --> Lenny Kravitz? Nope. Not gonna happen. Not ever. Ever. Never.

I was locked
Into being my mother's daughter
I was just eating bread and water
Thinking nothing ever changes
And I was shocked
To see the mistakes of each generation
Will just fade like a radio station
If you drive out of range

-Ani DiFranco

dancing in our heads

I don't need graham crackers, I don't need milk. Just give me the nap.

It's high time our culture embraced the institutionalization of the nap. The siesta.

Imagine:

You get up early, while the air is still swimming in night-ness. You go about your day, picking up steam around nine or ten o'clock. You get into the feeling of the day. You produce, you create. Then, about three or four o'clock, all that focus starts to catch up with you. You slow down a little bit. Rather than being irritated by this, you're pleased. It's siesta time.

You go to your bedroom/designated nap room. You take off your clothes and have some room-temperature lemon water or tea. You enjoy being in the dim, with just a touch of late afternoon sunlight coloring the room. You enjoy being quiet, being where other people are not. You splash water on your face. You breathe. You lie down and everything feels soft. You relish the sheer pleasure of being horizontal, of having no pressure put upon your body. You let the day go, and before you realize it you have fallen into sleep, that strange, hard, mid-day sleep that is so good it can only last thirty or so minutes.

You wake up, and feel that your body is made of lead. It is a wonderful feeling. You start moving slowly, slowly. In a few minutes your heartbeat quickens and the events of the day come back to you. You begin thinking about what you've done, and the things you wish to still do before the day is over. You get dressed, down the rest of your beverage, and return to the world, renewed. Ready to finish tasks and then to enjoy an evening meal. You stay up just a little later and enjoy the night and the people in it just a little more because your body has been replenished.

Doesn't that sound great? It's very F. Scott Fitzgerald. It's romantic, and it's also healthy for your mind, body and spirit.

And, while I would prefer to take many of my siestas alone, one should not discount the luxury of a siesta taken with a lover that comes complete with mid-afternoon shag and post-shag snoozing. This is a lovely amendment to an already satisfying tradition.

We need to get on this train, I say. War? Pain? Cruelty? Nah, forget it. It's nap time.

vegas, baby

We came. We saw. We are in recovery.

I wish I had pictures of the inside of the limo. It had blinky neon lights and the coolest, cheesiest bar I've ever seen. It was so long I could barely see Randall sitting down at the end. Ok, maybe there were other reasons I couldn't see him.

I wish I had pictures of Randall drenched in sweat, dancing at the club. When normally he does not, not, not dance at all. Epic.

I wish I had pictures of the performers in Zumanity, particularly the two lovely ladies who swam around in a giant bowl of water, seducing each other and performing such acrobatics that I could hardly breathe. At one point, one of them did a handstand over the other one and then ended up basically with the other woman's face between her legs. It was a sight, a sight indeed.

Lorie was mad with the puns - the entire trip! She made more friends in four days than I think I've made in my entire life.

Boobs, boobs, everywhere boobs. Some of them even real. Sequins we saw for sure. I think we even saw a klingon- she had a very small dog with whom she had a strange relationship. I never quite made it over to the craps table like I'd been hoping to. All told, a brilliant time was had by all. Unfortunately, the most brilliant things I cannot repeat here or anywhere. Some of them were captured on film, but will be kept safely in the classified files.

A most successful trip into debauchery by all accounts.

of great importance

I'll tell you what I don't like. I don't like praying mantises who think they can just waltz into my bathroom. (Of course this is an expression; however I think that could be a very riveting addition to Fantasia 3: The Waltzing Mantises.)

I don't like it when people use the word "ultimately" in the last sentence of any essay or article.

I really really don't like any kind of music that specifically states it is for adults in its title. Adult jazz, adult alternative. Shiver.

I really do like, though, that the British use the phrase "push chair" instead of "stroller."

I don't like, however, celebrities who think they sound cool and in interviews they all, all, use meaningless quotes in place of adjectives or direct objects...

"Well you know it sort of becomes this thing of, 'How do I do this?' And I start getting really unsure of myself and how people are going to perceive it and it becomes very 'What is going on here.' Do you know what I mean?"

I'm sure, Mr. Fancy Actor Man, I would know exactly what you meant if you actually said something.

People just don't get that good language is important and stuff and blah blee blah.

poet laureate of nascar

"This ain't no rag, it's a flag and we don't wear it on our heads. It's a symbol of the land where the good guys live. Are you listening to what I said?"

So goes the apparent country hit written after September 11.

*scatching head* Gracious, I can't imagine why people hate us.