Wow--I have not looked at this blog in AGES. Its kinda cool to me...looking at my old posts and words--maybe I will start blogging again. Yah, when I'm 40 or something I will REALLY feel nostalgic for this time right now. ;)

switichin' this shit up...

http://web.mac.com/bubblegumandbeer

So, ok...finally switiching the blog to my .mac account. I was thinking, as I was saving my old blogs onto the new account...why bother with it...?

And I dont have a really good answer for it other then I got the membership to .mac and I havent used if for anything. Also, there is no website I have to go to to write the blog. So I guess its cool.

So yeah, no more blogger for me. I dont know how long the new blog will last, and I will probably be changing it frequently for awhile because I am not really happy w/ the way it looks....blah blah. I actually started to make a whole website w/ .mac, so I guess I can waste even more time on pointless things.

Heres the new site. Update your shit if you care to.

http://web.mac.com/bubblegumandbeer

And BTW: During the transition from pc to mac, I really hated the fucking thing. Really hated it. But after learning all the cool shit I can do w/ it, I highly recomend anyone getting an apple. I dig it.

c-Lo Over and out.

The Mike Patton obsession

So, going along with the whole theme of having a not fun summer learning caselaw about computer rights and algebra, Corinne retreats into her head...

Ok, so now its story time. There is this guy Mike Patton (you might know him as the singer of the defunct band Faith No More), and I am in love with everything he is about. Now here is the story behind this, which needs to preface the retelling of the highlights of my day, which revolve around Mike Patton. So I was living in San Francisco in 2000 and I started dating this guy I work with who was a M. Patton superfan. He would always talk about him, and I would reply, "oh yeah, the guy from Faith No More...that band was alright..." They had, I think two "hits," that I recalled, but other then that, I could care less about the guy. So anyway, "celebrities" would come into the store every so often (Virgin Megastore). Everyone there was pretty cool with eachother, so the first floor would call someone on the second floor, who would call someone on the third floor, who would call someone else back on the first floor (and so on), if and when someone came in. The guy I was dating (I will refer to him as "J") had to quit working there, but he was convinced that someday Mike Patton would come walking in the store and he would have missed his chance to finally meet the guy (Mike Patton lives in the Bay Area). He made me promise that if said event ever occured, I would attepmt to call J on the phone, or if not possible, at least get Patton to sign something. "Sure, yeah, great, whatever..." I said--knowing at my cynical core that this would never happen.

So then months later, I was at work. It was a slow--middle of the week/day kinda thing, and I was pretty much the only person on the third floor (which was the DVD/movie/book floor for anyone who cares), and there are a few customers. I notice as I am restocking DVD's that someone has walked up to the counter to pay for his items, and I mosey to my register. I didnt look the guy in the eye as I grabbed his stack of 12 or so DVD's. I think about how nice it must be to buy a bunch of useless crap at ones lesisure--still not looking at the guy (as is typical customer service as far as I'm concerned--why do I gotta look at yo face?). About the third DVD, which was Rosemarys Baby, I think I asked the guy something to the effect of "Did you find everything ok." And who do you think is standing in front of me...oh you're a quick one. Mike fucking Patton. I recognized immediatly because of all the pictures J had shown me. SO now I become a moron. He looked pretty damn hot in the pictures I had seen of him, but the live version was WAY better. I began trying to maintain my composure as I continued to ring him up. Again, let me reiterate--the guy is beautiful. I didnt know what to do. "J is gonna be so fucking pissed about this." I had to do something. I tell Patton his total, he hands me money, and as I hand him change, I finally manage to get out the sentence, "I'm sorry, but could I please get your...autograph--for a friend." As the words left my mouth, I felt like the worlds biggest douchebag. But I will never forget, he looks at me surprised--like he couldnt believe I had recognized him. "Oh--yeah, sure," he says, so nice I think I might blow my brains out, "Whats his name." Patton actually signs J's name and everything, gives me a smile, says thanks, and walks to the escolator and out of my life.

I love that memory.
After that day, I started to actually listen to Mike Patton's music, and it WAS really good. They guy has a phenomenal voice. He is actually a pretty respected vocalist and has been involved in SO MANY diffrent bands/projects/records since fucking Faith No More--and continues to be. There is a bit of a cult following for the guy. He can sing the shit out of anything, and he arranges/produces pretty much everything he puts his name on. Did I mention he is the hottest guy on the planet as well?

Needless to say, J almost cried when he heard the whole story...which I hung over his head in mocking superiority untill we broke up. I always told him that should we split, I was taking the autograph with me even though it had J's name on it. Unfortunatly, I left in a hurry and the fucker still has it.

Back to the present....this is a long post, so I leave with this: Came home, flicked on myspace, and there is a video of M. Patton on the front page. Kismet--I didnt know a new Patton project, Peeping Tom, released a record June 30th. Two seconds later, it is downloading on my computer, and now playing in my ears. The album rocks, and no one on iTunes had a bad thing to say about it. So you should buy it. Everyone should buy it. The guy rules.
Look at the picture--if you happen to see him, tell him I said hello.
c-Lo

skippin skool, art deco style

So right now I'm diggin on Art Deco...but in paticular an artist named Tamara de Lempicka. I stumbled across this picture on the net, and looked her up. Her paintings are pretty awesome...So I figure I would put one up so whoever reads this will get some culture. Or not, depending on your taste I guess.

Anyway, Its fucking hot. But I am trying really hard not to bitch about it. Really hard. I hope people dont start killing eachother.
Summer skool blows. I am doing ok in math, which is really shocking. I guess when you've taken the class three times, you get lucky or something. Morning class is boring. Learning alot of things about "computers and society," that I never wanted/needed to know. The guy teaching it is really nice. So it makes me feel bad. He actually told us he didnt have an attendance policy, which was an unfortunante mistake on his part. Its only been a week, and I know my dilligence is about to give way to fucking the class off. He makes it pretty easy, all the lectures and assingments are on the web. Again, the guy is just too nice. This is summer skool for fucks sake, why would we be there if you make it so easy for us not to be?

Its gonna be fucking great when I am a teacher. I want to be hated. I want high school kids to talk massive amounts of shit about me. And make up horribly offensive nicknames for me that I will overhear in the halls and laugh maniacally at, then give them a pop midterm, no notes. I am considering an attempt at bringing back "cypherin,'" (sp?), in which I will make students memorize outdated limerics and pages of the Iliad and then perform then in front of the whole class. Its gonna rock. This might not work if I decide to teach in a prison, which I am contemplating. I really dont want to get shanked or anything.

Time to do some skool work. Or maybe writing. I hope everyone is sweating thier ass off with dignity and grace.
I'm out.
c-Lo.

PS: c-Lo isnt just some clever nickname in mimic of J-lo....those are actually my initials people. So get off my ass.

wow...i still remember the password.

So yeah, blog. No time to do it. I will attempt to start again. It was becoming a nice, ritual before attempting something of actual impotance...writing, homework, sleep....but yeah, you know the drill. I feel constantly rushed...the stupid thing is, I think I am the only one who is actually rushing me. Nobody else really cares what the hell I am doing. Or do they...?

Well, since I'm not even into this now, I will just leave anyone who is actually gonna check on this with a few parting shots:

Things I am doing now:
Summer Skool: Math and "Computers and Society," which is for stupid upper division science requirement. I'm gonna write my final paper on artifical intelligence/robots. Specifically, I would like to analyze The Jackson Five's inventive, "Dancin' Machine," in hopes that said machine would someday save humanity. Or maybe just Tito. Is Tito dead? Or is he, in reality...the Dancin' Machine?

Reading: About 10 pages left in Chuck P.'s "Haunted." Its pretty intresting. People say it wasnt that good a book...while not his best, I do think it was pretty damn intresting. Compared to the crap I have to read in my lit classes, it was fucking "kewl."

Music: Nothing new to report. Downloaded on a whim today, a few Police songs for reasons I dont know. I was in the mood to hear that one song, "a do do do, a da da da." Its fucking catchy. Also, got new strings for both guitars, so there is tons of ROCKING going on between bullshit hassles, along with broken, aching fingers. For those of you in the know, I am trying to stretch my four fret reach limit to that fifth fret to play this bitchin blues song, but its killing my hand.

Everything Else: Um....Carlos died, that asshole. So that was fucking dumb. Uh...thats all I can think of.
And oh yeah, I have fixed the link to JB/FTW site...because I was notified that I still had the link going to the OLD SITE, so yeah, thats fixed. Like anybody clicked on it anyway JB. Jesus.

All for now
c-Lo out.

Annoyed? Disenchanted? Snotty? Not I!

What's On the Mind Agenda: Madeline Kahn, Dorothy Parker (left), and Vodka Tonics
Whats Not: Street sweepers, 19th Century Literature, and red wine.

Nothing much to say. Still putting up with school problems (ppwk, transcripts, financial aid foul ups, and a genneral lack of synchro watches). The only thing really worth mentioning is Dorothy Parker...an author I read about a year ago, then forgot about, then rediscovered again this week. While she wasnt terribly sucessful, I really dig how alot of her writing is so...i want to say "hateful," or "bitter," but thats not really what it is. Oh well, I leave for whoever cares to read these to decide. Corinne OUT.

One Perfect Rose
A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet --
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret:
`My fragile leaves,' it said, `his heart enclose'.
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

Coda
There's little in taking or giving,
There's little in water or wine;
This living, this living, this living
Was never a project of mine.
Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is
The gain of the one at the top,
For art is a form of catharsis,
And love is a permanent flop,
And work is the province of cattle,
And rest's for a clam in a shell,
So I'm thinking of throwing the battle ---
Would you kindly direct me to hell?
-Dorothy Parker

rat tat tat tat....

Is the sound of a gun...according to Teresa's boyfriend, Geneo.

So I found this old picture of me and my homies, and i was all bumed out because I forgot that I use to wear this fishing hat all the time back then, and i dont have it now.
Stupid to get all depressed over a retarded looking, presently quite unfashionable, fishing hat...but i digress.

drank some wine, planned out next semesters classes, as well as back ups...orientation tomarrow, which will suck because i hate the fucking hoops you must jump through to be all "up in the club" when it comes to college.

plus, i cant ever fucking sleep, ever. it has become utterly stupid...but this should be quite obvious when it comes to the pathetic and irony filled piece of suck that is my pitiful disgrace of an existence.

frank sinatra is cool though. so yeah, i will pretend to be frank sinatra tomarrow...and for the next couple of months, or however long my memory will grab onto the thing. I already have a cute "here's looking at you" kinda gesture. so yeah, blah blah blah....fucking fishing hat...i should just go buy another one and become a hermit or something. or something.

"She'll have no crap games with sharpies and frauds
and she won't go to Harlem, in Lincolns or Fords
and she won’t dish the dirt, with the rest of the broads
That’s why the lady is a tramp"