Actually, that's a big lie. I just wanted to get to use the cool
"O". There's no story, or rather there is, there are millions of them,
but I'm not putting them up here. I used to have them around, but then
I decided that it annoyed me. This is my theory: art should be
But I am still writing in white on a black background in order to
demonstrate that I am fully aware of the futility of modern society.
I gave myself to sin I gave myself to providence. óB&S
Speaking of the futility of modern society, what's happening? AOL
buys Netscape. The world ends. I liked the internet better when it
was a conspiracy of embittered college students. Before my parents
and my five year old cousin got online and Congress started worrying
about their virgin eyes.
No honestly, though. Welcome to my webpage. My name is Carlynn. No,
it isn't a typo. Although my aunt's name is Sahra, which is in fact a typo,
except it's legal. My grandfather was Swiss. He spelled it wrong on
her birth certificate. His name was Carl. I am named after him.
I am 21 years old. Which means I am old enough to buy intoxicating
beverages everywhere except Saudi Arabia. Which, frankly, doesn't
worry me. Because there is relatively little chance that I will ever
visit Saudi Arabia, and if I did, liquor would not be among my driving
motivations. Although I very much want to go to Egypt. I had a
friend who lived in Egypt, and she had her high school graduation at
the Giza Pyramids. Her name was Alicia Luguri. I would imagine that
her name is still Alicia Luguri. However, she has dropped off the
planet, which is unfortunate for all concerned. You know how it is.
On my old homepage, which is currently regrettably inaccessible, since
my brother forgot to pay for the AOL, I had a huge diatribe about my
hair. That was a year and a half ago. But I wanted to update
everyone who remembers those days, and who were so supportive in their
concern. I've got this great stylist now. His name is Beglar, and he
works at George's salon on 86th and York. Very highly recommended.
Beglar is actually my mother's friend's hairdresser,
and because my mother was not impressed with my home-dye experimentation
she made an appointment for me with Beglar and talked to him on the
phone for a solid twenty minutes beforehand, giving him instructions
about what she wanted done. This was in September. And frankly, I
was a little worried. Because the whole time Beglar was doing my hair,
he kept talking about how important it was to please la mama. And I
was like, look, this is not la mama's hair. But he did a fabulous
job. It's a nice compromise I think. Blonde highlights. Civilized,
to please la mama, but thank god not my vomitously awful natural color.
This is what I've never understood. I have the same color hair as my
mother. But she has been dyeing hers blonde since she was sixteen.
So where does she get off telling me to keep it natural?
Of these and many other inexplicable aspects of modern life, Lord
make us relatively but not excessively tolerant.
So right. My name is Carlynn, and I attend
Princeton University, which
is located, coincidentally enough, in Princeton, NJ. Now look, I know,
I made up some of those Jersey jokes. It isn't that bad. Like,
not all of it looks like the stretch of I-95 between Bayonne and
Elizabeth. Yeah the Garden State.
I was born in
by accident. The Portland, Maine, part. Not the being born part.
Don't even start with me. Currently in the Portland headlines:
- Cod Fishermen Face "Devastation" - Portland
- Red Tide Theory Unveiled - Orono
- Boy Attacked By Dog - Naples
- Eastport Death Investigated - Eastport
Maine is a surprisingly happening place. And their senator's name is
Olympia Snowe. Which as Tristan just pointed out, is a pretty damned
cool name. However, it's not quite as happening a place as where I
was raised, namely New York City. Which is the place to be. As it
were. Not that I will ever live there again, but whatever. Just
because it isn't my spiritual home (a dubious honor which goes to
London, where I lived for three months when I was nineteen) doesn't
mean that I am unable to recognize that objectively it is the height
Here is an annoying graphic:
Like, you know what. I hate angels. They are so tacky. Like,
religion is (or at least ought to be) between you and your god. I
personally don't give a shit about your god. I don't want to tell
you about mine. So there.
Today's date is Friday, December 4th. Today's temperature was 70
degrees. Today's question is how did Stuart Murdoch get such an
incredibly beautiful voice, and why do British singers have much
prettier voices than Americans. Tori Amos couldn't hold a candle to
Thom Yorke, Stuart Staples, or Stuart Murdoch.
Although Cornflake Girl is still a good song.
That was an allusion to Reality Bites. Vaguely.
Where do we go
the words are coming out all weird
Where are you now when I need you?