louche \LOOSH\, adjective: Of questionable taste or morality; disreputable or indecent; dubious; shady.

The epitome of epiphany strikes again
(just hold me)
The embodiment of effectuation.
(just scold me)
She’s thriving.
(just mold me)
Catharsis vs. Narcissus the battle begins
(just…me)

Far be it from me to copy the likes of Britney Spears, but alas, I am digging in the archives for my “Best Of Alpha The Great” montage. Today, I’ll bring back an oldie but goodie from the Archives De’ Alpha The Great. This ditty is among my favorites… but don’t go thinking Muse is out to lunch or anything, she’s right here. It’s just that, this morning has been a lot more than pleasant, a bit less than extraordinary, and just about lovely.

Why you ask?

Hm, it seems the stars are in alignment today, and the gods have blessed me with bliss. No particular reason. Maybe it was Mr. Sun licking my eyelids, or perhaps the fact that traffic seems much more pleasurable when Janis Joplin is whispering in your ear. Or maybe, this is how it should be… bliss, for no apparent reason.

So, I’m taking you Back, because Front just got another gig. Even more apropos is the fact that this was birthed last November (who said life wasn’t cyclical?):

And then they danced...
Because sometimes their mood was blue in hue
And sometimes the gray was used in lieu
And always they seemed to have a muse
Even when it rained.

They felt like crimson
Or maybe brown
As their feet floated
Across the ground.

Lovely.

But they didn't know how
And they didn't know why
But they decided to dance
Instead of to cry.

posted by Alpha The Great : 11:02 PM Saturday, November 08, 2003

Inner monologue of a cornflake:


2.3: “You’re fortunate, you know. I mean, you were born ‘you’ and not someone else. See that guy over there begging for your food scraps? That could have been you.”

Half Past Nine: “So maybe I had a bad day.”

2.3: “See that girl on the screen screaming while bombs go off in her back yard? That could have been you.”

Half Past Nine: “And maybe the week hasn’t been going so well.”

2.3: It’s just that, we take it, ya know. Life, that is. And we complain about what we don’t have, and what we do have, and what we should have. But it only gets better when you realize who we are.”

Half Past Nine: “But what’s the point…”

2.3: “Question mark.”


…because sometimes life doesn’t make cents.

Careless, like the whisper
I dropped you.

Shedding tears
Holding back the years
Your missing.

Drain, you claimed
I’m to blame

I miss you.

P.S. my bracelet fell in the toilet

For my next number, I will be chanting a guttural solo from the bowels of my mindscape...

LA LA Land:
Hm. Here in the world of stars, everyone is dumb. And by dumb I mean “not smart”. (SEE ALSO: Ignorant; CARBON COPY: Unapprised) It appears the majority of people should own stock in chapstick, because all they do is kiss asses all day. Here, just might be, the Ass-Kissing Capital of the world (get your license plates today!). Leave it to me to generalize a whole population (can we say, BIASED?), but methinks I might have hit the nail on the head (insert old-school adage here).

New York (abdomen of coolness), I don’t miss your weather, or your snobbery. But I do miss the “realness” of your personality. You are genuine (most times). You feed me mentally, you keep me grounded, and you excite my being.

California (Fingertip of Feign, Pancreas of Unreality), it’s hard to have a bad day when the sun is shining on your should blades. I can get past your nepotism and your egotism, as long as you continue to entertain me. And by entertain, I mean: show me another story. Muse really likes it out here, the boys, the nightlife, the… always something to watch-ed-ness of it all. Alpha The Great is indifferent. It’s not home, maybe that’s why it tastes so sweet. But where is home? Hm… I’ll let you know when I get there.

So where’s this all going. I don’t know, Muse is taking a lunch break, and Alpha The Great is on vacation. Stick around for the punch line (because the soda fountain just got crowded).

Dearest Alpha The Great,

This is the last time I let you run me ragged. You boss me around, pushing me to my utmost limits. You use and abuse me. You do not let me replenish when I need it. You make me run on empty. You gave me less than 2 hours of rest last night. You ate chocolate candy all day, instead of nourishing me with substance. You filled me up with caffeine and stimulants. You don’t let me exercise. FUCK YOU, ALPHA THE GREAT.

Love,
Your Body

That kiss.

The moment you put it on paper, it’s gone.
The second you describe it to your friends, it dies.
The minute you sing it in your car, it expires.

That touch.

Try to remember its path.
Try to retain its emotion.
Try to preserve its energy.

That look.

He’s peering right through you.
He’s viewing your every move.
He’s seeing everything that you do.
Intimate portraits of you, displayed in the lens of his mind, or at least that is what you hope.

And maybe, this time, it is about you, instead of me…

Yeah, that’s right (she said), like strawberry pumpkin pie…

My reflection in the mirror scared me. Who is that haggard looking individual staring back so gauntly? Sleep Deprivation is a female dog named, Bitch. Sunken eyes, like treasure chests. Slumber (it haunts me)

Eyes of glaze
Mind of haze
Soul of craze

Exhausted. Likethatoldmufflerthatusedtoshootsparks.

So maybe she’s not cut out for this party lifestyle anymore (she’s dancing)
But the nightlife beckons…

Don’t get me wrong, I love porn as much as the next gal (ahem)… but, watching porn with co-workers? Perhaps that was a little awkward.

So I am temping at 20th Century Fox (an amazing company, I might add), and they have screenings every Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday of movies currently in theatres and classics from the Fox vault.
Motorcycle Diaries , Wimbledon , Sideways
all amongst the movies I have had the pleasure of viewing for free. But last night, I must say, I was rather shocked. They were showing the movie A Dirty Shame and let’s face it, I’m pretty darn liberal, but this movie made me want to take a shower to cleanse my soul of the filth I viewed.

-Naked ugly fat people, doing the nasty on the street
-The prolonged use of the word sexin’
-Crooked yellow teeth (um, yeah, that is what disturbed me most)
-A man getting off from defecating
-Really bad acting
-Semen spewing onto the camera lens
-Big hairy gay men rubbing up on each other
-A man jacking off while eating a used tissue

SEE ALSO: Syphilis
CARBON COPY: Gonorrhea
BLIND CARBON COPY: HIV

Perhaps in the confines of my own home, such a movie would not have warranted a second thought (as I most likely would have turned it off after the painfully ruinous opening which contained the worst acting I’ve seen since the Bush/Kerry debate). But I was trapped. Fox employees surrounded me as I sat by myself watching the utter debauchery unfold.

I laughed.

More so because I couldn’t help but think how desperate the actors/actresses must have been to agree to such an obtuse tale.

… and suddenly, she felt like Shakespeare’s crumpled up condom wrapper.

The glamorous people of never… where
And no wear
You know the place
What’s in your soul means less than what’s on your sole
The “always” people
always…
complaining
feigning
regaining
what was lost in the script

The Counselors Of Fake
And everyone’s a hero
And everyone’s a zero

I think I met you yesterday and yesterday and yesterday again for the first time
And even the pigeons need to sign a contract to eat in this town
Here doesn’t exist beyond,
Your… let’s talk about the weather.

So high, elated, at the thought of who
Goodbye, created a different mindset (askew)
Muse: Meet your soul mate, Gadabout…he’s bored
Maybe, you should take him to a football game.

Life: Rip my aortic valve out and tear me a new love hole.
Perhaps, you could feed my feelings to the lions.

Love: Throw my autonomy in the shredder.
Perchance, you would buy me another heart.

New York: Untie my shoelaces.
Conceivably, you stood for my indifference.

So now what?

wandering woman
the streets create you
you’re walking
who’s talking
about you… don’t see
they stare
matted hair
lethargic is your gait
all the time to wait
your scaring.

turned away
they say
wandering woman
you’re different

the streets don’t sigh
the streets don’t cry
i watch my bag, in your eyes

less home than home… less
trust is your antithesis
you’re suited (if soot were armor)

i’m staring

Glamorous for a moment
she thought
and the red carpet wore a veneer of disguises
it wept
the color of heart
devastated.

suffocating
3-D like pictures
vanity’s elixir…pink nail polish
and haze
strawberry malaise
all in a daze work.

And the red carpet lies
And the red carpet tries
And the red carpet buys

(it’s sullied)
Sunshine and Smog were arrested
Democracy put up bail

but the carpet was her sanctuary
(she’s tiring)

scarlet bolster of her soul, it haunts her.

Too much coffee, I feel restless.

Black tar elixir of my being
It consumes me
My energy source, fooled me once again

SEE ALSO: The Antichrist of Stimulant
CARBON COPY: The Archenemy of Depressant

and Muse is being tricked (it’s a guise)
dis
cover

seven cups of acid rain in my system… and still I close my eyes.

Bittersweet,

like candy coated memories
Fond of the cent of money.
Maybe we shouldn’t be here… driven
by
what makes
and takes
and forsakes
my eternity.

Today, I’m feeling rather: Muse, bring me another aspirin.
Too much bass in my song
all along
Where’s that old record I used to play?

Mr. King (B.B. that is) play me another riff.

I remember that painting, of the couple dancing…their hew was blue
But the lens was dirty.

Another
Laugh
Portends
Her
Allegory

But don’t think this is about you, it’s not.

In her final bravura, the curtain closed before she could bow.
She’s back
(and sometimes you don’t need an ending)

Election: the erection of a modern day rEaLiTy bites
Sound fights
Ballot’s Right, to a fair selection.

Billions spent
Need to repent
Your future went… when they elected a plant for president.

Bush-wacked
Kerry-slacked
Another democracy shifted, without the Fed (that is).

Sitbackandrelaxwithyoursoylatteandcornmuffin…
Lax… we were
a…sleep I concur
additive of lies
…cause your country just went down the shitter.

So, there’s this boy, right… and you know there is danger whenever Alpha The Great starts out like that, but our humble narrator can’t seem to keep Muse quiet.

Suddenly, falling in life with like is better than tripping on love with living.

And by love: I mean two squares shooting rubber bands at the moon’s freckles.

So, she digs him, right. And she usually loves to like, but liking never felt so…

Mesh like bag
Jet like lag
Cough like gag

Diminishing.

Muse, pour me a cup of tea with honey, it’s going to be a long night.

Some
Times
Eccentricity
Vindicates
Everything

And she’s the Queen of the Antonym of Normality’s Overbite…again

Alpha The Great’s three week anniversary. Hm… ‘Twas only 21 days ago that I made the transition from New York (abdomen of coolness) to California (object of my desire).

A Celebration.

So I’m at the crux of this novel called, “Alpha’s Existence” and it feels like cherry blossoms dancing on my eyelashes. New job, new life, new…it’s that old New & Improved variety of advertising that has befallen my subsistence.

Perhaps it’s that Sylvia Plath book I’m reading, or maybe that movie about the guy called Mediocrity, but for some reason my coffee this morning tastes sweeter than it ever did in New York (thorn in my side).

I’m alone out here, ya know.

And by alone, I mean surrounded by hype.
And by alone, I mean bounded by types.
And by alone, I mean encircled by…

It seems that Muse is brewing a pot of Mull Over stew. She’s hungry. We’re similar, you know. Muse & I, that is.

So let’s see where this leads, better yet, let’s see where I take it.

Life’s pension plan just funded Seclusion’s wedding.

Billowing silhouettes of unadulterated “being” captivate me once again. Like a straw hat made out of memories. It’s too much.

So, I moved to California...love it here.
FACT: Met tons of celebs already
FACT: Invited to the hottest parties already.
FACT: Met myriad cuties already.

P.S. It's only been 4 days since my arrival, LA will never be the same.

No time to update on all that is Alpha.

To the guy sitting in the next cubicle at work,

Please stop printing out the words of wisdom, quotes, words of encouragement, etc. and giving them to me. My desk is getting cluttered, and I refuse to hang up those retarded sayings and stories. The little poems and ditties you thrust upon me usually suck, are repetitive, and are things that everyone should have instilled in their being without reading them.

That binder you keep that includes inspirational stories and whatnot is fine if you want to reference it every once in while… but everyday? Don’t you think that is a bit excessive? I mean, if you have to remind yourself everyday that “YOU ARE SPECIAL” or “YOU ARE NOT THE MONEY YOU MAKE” or “THINK POSITIVE TODAY,” then maybe you should just throw in the towel, and give into pessimistic viewpoints.

I wouldn’t even say anything, as I am not one to judge, but the fact that you print out a copy for me nearly everyday and put it on my desk, and say, “Look how enlightening this one is,” leads me to my final plea. YOU ARE WASTING PAPER. I come in to work everyday with a smile on my face, and I don’t have to look into any binder to put it there, or at some ranting about having ‘good habits’.

I feel sad for you, fellow worker-bee.


P.S. And for the UMPTEENTH time, I do not want to purchase Pre-Paid Legal Services, NOR do I want to attend a seminar on how to manage my money.

Sincerely,

GirlWithTheTanSkinSmiling

Stacie

Um, is it just me, or is there a striking resemblance between me and the chick who just got fire on The Apprentice, Stacie J?

http://www.jillann.com Give Jill some love, she was one of the nicest celebs (or semi-celebs) I've met in a while

I'm not sure you all know about my unhealthy obsession with Woody... Soon-Yi look out.

New York,
My part time lover in this one night-standing… room only

Abdomen of coolness
Thorn in my side
I’ll miss you.

New York,
Girl with the tan skin, smiling.
Several times over… cast

New York… invisible girl returns
She’s gawking
She’s walking
Non Penetrate able
She misses.

Ode to the one I love
And loathe
I’m listless.
You left me here alone.

Do me a favor; blow out my candles, New York.

Lights out
Towers down
Transit strikes
Protest rights
I was there to hold your hand, New York.

I must bid adieu…

Curtain subsides, my final number.

Monoglyceride of my soul
Nadir of my being
Tempestuous storm cloud of my laugh

The city of ardor, the city that abhors… I’m your homeless veteran.
Reconcile me.

Just like my old keyboard… ENTER = RETURN

Maybe next year.
Farewell, or shall I say. Fair…well?
New York, spit on my face, so that I won’t miss you so.

Here's a post from an old friend... read her blog, I dig it:
http://brynasoutlet.blogspot.com/

Saturday, June 26, 2004
I recently switched jobs, so it's been a while since I wrote last. (plus I didn't have anything to complain about!)PROTESTERS!Please wake up and smell the coffee... Protests are definitely the lamest way to get your point across. Protesters have some novel ways to do these things... none of which are effective.

One- The Anytown USA, stand on street corners and hold banners. Wow. This is the best you can come up with? The only people that are going to see it are the everyday people who have seen you protest every week. Wait, let me rephrase that. Every-good-weather-week protest. Wait, let me rephrase that. Every-good-weather-only-on-the-weekends protest.

Two- The New York City protests. Hundreds of people banning together to protest every political whatever that is going on. This is great! One of my favorites. Ban together to make New Yorkers angrier because now they have designated streets they can't drive on because of your precious protest! More traffic created because of a protest. Point well taken!

Three- The Washington, D.C. Protest. Hundreds of Thousands of people banning together to get your point across. This may be the only one that makes it onto the news so, one small step for man... one large leap for the banner that has an x through George Bush's face with a whitty line above it...

All in all, what I am saying here is "What good does it do?" The head of the military never said, "Turn around the troops guys. There's hundreds of people causing traffic in NYC by laying on the street!" or "You're right... let's solve this anti/for abortion situation right now. The one millionth protest just happened in Anytown, USA!" So, don't waste your time. Come up with something that has credibility, write to the senator, come up with an actual solution or at least some ideas, or just stay home.

10:31 pm, I turn on the nightly news, channel 5. Topic: The aftermath of Florida’s hurricane. To my utter disgust, the discussion at hand is not about the individuals who lost their lives. It’s not about how many people lost their homes, their memories, their livelihood. It’s not about how we can volunteer our time or money to help victims. What are they discussing, you ask? (pan camera left to newscaster)

Newscaster: “Is it true that J-Lo lost her boat.”

HER FUCKING BOAT. Welcome to THEUNITEDSTATESOFFUCKINGAMERICA

Will somebody please wake me up from this nightmare… folks, I think we’ve reached an all-time low point in history. Excuse me while I vomit on my television set.

Two things you NEVER want to hear when you are sunbathing at the community pool, “Hey, I bet I can guess your weight,” and “I bet you weigh a lot more than you look.”

Yeah, so this goes down in the Why Do I Attract Such Strange People archives. I’m sunning at the pool, reading the book of the day (She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb) and this jolly looking red-haired old man taps me on the shoulder. I look up from my reading bliss and the man standing before me apologizes for bothering me, and says he noticed me getting out of the pool, and wanted to guess my weight. He explained that he used to guess peoples ages and weights for a living at an amusement park, and I am the type of person he can never really guess correctly.

Hm. I looked deep into his eyes, searching for a hint of psychopath or a tad of pervert. His eyes read “genuine.” I am sure he just wanted someone to talk to anyway, an analgesic to soothe the bighting pain that life sometimes emits. I bet people never give him the time of day, unsightly looking man that he was. Pudgy eye sockets and patches of sparse fiery red hair (SEE ALSO: the antitheses of clown; CARBON COPY: WifeLeftHimUnemployedJustTryingToSurvive).

So, he asked me if I minded if he guesses my weight. Being a person who finds herself mixed up in the weirdest situations imaginable, of course I go along with this man’s pleas

After an awkward moment of him gawking at my bikini-clad body, he guesses 157. He missed the mark. In the industry, we would call this “failure” with a touch of “defeat”. I let him down gently, with the news. He laughed. I smiled. “See, what did I tell you, I always have a hard time with your type.” Isn’t that the truth (I think to myself)… and I continued reading.

The war begins. Do you still want to go to the movies? How was that show you went to the other day? What’s that? You say that day salon gives the best massage
…keep me informed.

Women, men and children pillaged, suffering, raped of existence. Did Puffy Combs buy that new car? Did Ashton really wear that to the VMA’s? There are ten celebrities stuck on an island
… let me know what happens.

Chaos, death tolls, and innocent lives lost. Have you tried the Moo-shoo pork roll and the Caesar salad side? How much will that be? I need to go walk my dog
…fax me the information.

Three countries have just been bombed off the map. Does this bracelet come with a warranty? Are you still dating that guy? There is a fly in my coffee
… let me know how it turns out.

Our world will never exist as it has before. Are you going to eat that? Did you get a babysitter for Saturday night? That obese man who sued McDonalds just won his case
… send it to my email account.

Democracy eats its prey, dictatorship reigns supreme, United States strikes again. Did you want some fries with that? Did Whitney Houston really break up with Bobby? That cute little place on the east side is still open, let’s go
... call my cell phone.

Maybe that’s why they don’t like us. War. Wake up.