2001 • 2002

October                   

 

[ week 40 | 52 ]

(mine, however)

Run that sucker at six!—Rumors of its death have been greatly exaggerated—

September                    

 

[ week 39 | 51 ]

(one leg at a time)

Riches have never fascinated me, unless combined with the greatest charm or distinction—

[ week 38 | 50 ]

(no damn saddle)

Billy and Chuck didn’t get hitched, and I’m not feeling too good myself—You need any help carrying those?—Things I’ve meant to do, and yet—A biting something of fragility and non-perpetuity—

[ week 37 ]

(a septembral lacuna)

 

[ week 36 | 49 ]

(we hold these truths, right here)

Who knew?—A fortnight of years ago—

August                    

 

[ week 35 | 48 ]

(onesies)

Happy fuckin’ birthday—The return of Blakely St. James—Yo—

[ week 34 ]

(an August lacuna)

 

[ week 33 | 47 ]

(politesse)

Art, being a gift—

[ week 32 | 46 ]

(calling Godwin’s on O’Reilly’s ass)

The summer of missing girls—Steam engine time—Gentlemen pervert—Suck this through your skinny pipe—

July                    

 

[ week 31 | 45 ]

(tighty)

A smattering of inconsequentialities—In the interests of equal time—

[ week 30 | 44 ]

(Lolita my ass)

Propers (belated)—Salon, licked and ticking (yet)—Tadpoles and Lolitas—

[ week 29 | 43 ]

(giggling prodigy meets pop)

Isn’t there a war on terrorism to fight, or something?—Some philological and, perhaps, epistemological questions raised by consideration of what some are saying may well be the Next Big Thing—True porn clerk stories—

[ week 28 | 42 ]

(honoring; cherishing)

No harm, no foul—Permit me my geekishness, as I permit the geekishnesses of others—Getting our war(s) on—God bless you, Vinnie Tesla—A half dozen of the other—

[ week 27 | 41 ]

(Tijuana Gospel)

Oh, that wacky Bruno—Cute as the dickens—While we’re on the subject of sex and comics—

June                    

 

[ week 26 | 40 ]

(liking the cigar)

Honk! Honk! (Okay, maybe it is just me)—

[ week 25 | 39 ]

(marmalade thighs)

Eric Raymond is a tit man—Well, at least someone finally got around to talking to Veronica Caine—Sour—

[ week 24 | 38 ]

(LA)

Dancing with myself—

[ week 23 ]

(an unfortunate lacuna)

May                    

 

[ week 22 | 37 ]

(gamma girl powers, activate!)

That seeming to be most which they indeed least are—Saucing the gander—Et in Arcadia ego—

[ week 21 | 36 ]

(don’t let’s start)

Chunky soles—

[ week 20 | 35 ]

(unsafe at any age)

I will show you smut in a handful of links—Now these are the Supremes I know and fear—

[ week 19 | 34 ]

(sex? bang!)

Management humbly suggests—The requisite Buffy post—How it blew, in somewhat more detail—

[ week 18 | 33 ]

(not having to pack being perhaps overrated)

A suitable epitaph—Hot girls and glittering clits—

April                    

 

[ week 17 | 32 ]

(musselmen)

Cheesequake!—Problematic codes (an ode to “squick”)—I’m (close to) being ready for my close-up, Mister DeMille—Performance anxiety—So that’s what was up with the whole Beethoven’s Ninth deal—Batten the hatches, it’s Hurricane Klez—

week 16 | 31

(hebephobia)

Anything can be sexualized—Outright theft—More thievery—Getting wood—Free speech, 1; Ashcroft, 0—Oh, right, almost forgot to mention this—Every now and then—Faking it—

week 15 | 30

(rendering unto Cæsar)

The Old Man and the internet—Might as well face it—Bring the noise—Your daily moment of activism—Give a little more, while you’re at it—

week 14 | 29

(lippy)

George got back—Minora, majora—Vogue, on the other hand, does not have back—Labial nation—Fuck tha theocracy—Y’all did realize that when I said “theocracy,” I wasn’t being hyperbolic, right?—Downtime—Return from downtime—

March                    

 

week 13 | 28

(brotaney)

Well, fuck—Weeping for the youth of today—Ballot-stuffing—C’mon, people (or, an Update)—Do you, uh, Yahoo!?—

week 12 | 27

(sexy phlegm)

Naïveté—

week 11 | 26

(hemline neurosis)

What to do, what to do—Those wacky Victorians—Swell—Blame it on Anita—

week 10 | 25

(sermonizin’)

The Mark of Cain (demo tape for a sermon)—Surrender, Dorothy—Bowl?—Bring on the pitchforks and torches—Book report—

February                    

 

week 9 | 24

(Cyril Connolly?)

Semi-annual—Verb. sap.—Why, yes—A weather report—Jobs; clitorides; the difference between .007 and .008; namechecking Vollmann; rebel angels; Pornotopia; the natures of heroes and grad students; always close with a bang—Technical details—Reefer madness—Ich bin von Kopf bis Fuss auf Liebe eingestellt—

week 8 | 23

(seigneur droit)

The exhausted rooster—Canada smash!—A braver man than I—An evil thought concerning John “Hooters” Ashcroft—Well, what did you expect in an opera? A happy ending?—It’s, you know, about the benjamins—

week 7 | 22

(assault, I tell you)

Singing for sharks—It remains to be seen—Oddments—Return of the Fucking Machines— Again with the Salon—Glub glub—By the way—Clitoral gratitude—

week 6 | 21

(an embarrassment of clitorides)

Clearage—An unexpected hardship of unemployment—Suddenly much less interested—Am I glad we’re not in Kansas anymore—Giving up the love—Further bulletins, warranted by events—

week 5 | 20

(Titicaca)

The Great American Boob—The work in question—Oh, that’s all it was— À la recherche du temps perdu —Fish? Check. Barrel? Check. And my shotgun’s around here somewhere—Sex and politics—Tonic—Talking back—

January                    

 

week 4 | 19

(John “oogy” Ashcroft)

Mailbag—How will you celebrate?—Oogy—For all your medieval Irish literature blogging needs—Like I haven’t got enough to read already—Sundries—Overreacting continues—Ping Heather! Naked Spike!— Fingersmith— The man has a dirty mind—

week 3 | 18

(something streaming)

Briefly—Reacting overly—Speaking, as we were, of the perv zombie—Mark Twain was a hottie—The sort of thing you’re interested in, if you’re interested in that sort of thing—Cuyahoga, falling—An important question posed by the first episode of Blue Submarine No. 6 —Type porn—Well, phooey—In the wake of the pretzel—

week 2 | 17

(lolitapop politics)

For the record, then—Phenomenally good—Parse this—Premature gratification, or, Fucking machines, take two—Fucking Machines III: Bringin’ the buzz—Speak for your own damn self—Damn straight I’m bent—Yours is a Very Bad C&D Letter—A quickie— Beauty is youth, youth beauty—Props—Overreaction, indeed—

week 1 | 16

(bhangracruller)

Where I’ve been; what I’ve been up to—One more year—What I learned today—Not, however, known for its English department— “Fritz” Heisenberg—It’s official—Cockroaches—Fucking machines—