Itinerantdaughter's Blog

I transcribe interviews for a documentary film company for extra dolla dolla dolla billz, and while they make me sign a non-disclosure agreement so I have to be slightly coy about it, I wanted to share with you the following:

A semi-prominent author and historian commenting on the subject of an upcoming documentary, a former Hollywood actress.

“But she was so young.  I mean, she was thirty six… who knows who they are at thirty-six?”

This is excellent news, because I thought 30 was the cut-off for self-exploration, narcissistic inclinations, senseless neuroses and the like!  Now I learn I have at least an extra SIX YEARS before I have to start feeling sad about the fact that I’m not really “together.”  Big sigh of relief!  And this woman is an ACADEMIC, so you know it’s true.  Rejoice with me, children of the Me Generation!  Your second adolescence shall continue!

Not to distract from my BRILLIANT hipster limerick, but I had to share this:
So the Zurich Airport, not surprisingly, is freakishly clean and home to little other than chocolate and watch outlets. The voices over the loudspeaker are staunch and sound as if the speaker is much more comfortable using German. It feels slightly like you’re in a machine a little too well-oiled, and that before you know it you’re ready to give up any political views in favor of being a stoic Alps-dweller nibbling on some Toblerone. But there was one flaw in the pristine system, and that was this: their airport train, which is, of course, sleek, spotless, and rapid, has a soundtrack of sorts that plays while the train is in motion. Basically it’s a siren, cars whizzing by, etc. –– stuff that’s supposed to make you feel like you’re on the road. But out of nowhere, at one point, is one very loud cow mooing. And right there, we’re thrown back into the Uncanny Valley.

The Dice Man by Luke Rhinehart

“Few novels can change your life.  This one will.”

Bored psychiatrist Luke Rhinehart lives with his wife and two children in their apartment in Manhattan.  Dissatisfied with both Western and Eastern philosophies’ alternate embrace of the meaningful and the meaningless, Luke is forever changed when he finds religion through a simple roll of the dice.  Rhinehart and his patients soon find that the only path to salvation is in letting the dice decide.  Rolling his way through sex, drugs and therapy, Luke spreads his new religion with a hilarious combination of evangelical fervor and moral depravity, turning his life –– and the world –– on its head.  Once you hand your life over to the dice, anything can happen.

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This reminds me of a much more extreme version of my decision-making process sophomore year of college, during which I decided all yes or no quandaries by flipping a coin… lasted about a week.

Some 99%’s will be breaking in to the former Beatrice Inn (axes required –– that shit is boarded up good) armed with bottles of Wild Turkey and bongos and create our own egalitarian dance party, careful to avoid stepping on any rusty nails.  Attire: festive.