Don't drone and drive. Don't drone and clone. Don't drone and moan. Don't drone and groan. Now I really better order something. The only thing I know about Hollywood is that it doesn’t know me. Movies, that is. Let me rephrase that: the only thing I know about Hollywood movies is that they don’t know me. I feel like the number of queer spaces where you can truly offer scathing opinions is dwindling so fast. I’m worried that soon there won’t be any left, and then what will be the point of queer? Another version of groupthink posturing as progress, that’s not what I’m looking for. When I say scathing opinions, I mean honesty. I mean saying what you think, not as a power tool (or a tool for power), but as a way of opening up the possibilities for connection.
What You Don’t Know About TV’s Top Women. President Obama says he’s never met anyone who would prefer an unemployment check to the “pride” of a job. Proving, once again, that he needs to get out more. I still don’t understand why anyone would be excited that Stephen King is anywhere. Doctors always like to make sure that they’re not sure. The Amtrak employee on the phone tells me my train is running all kinds of late. Off the rails doesn’t sound quite as good when thinking about train travel. My train is running about 12 hours late, and the bloating right now, why is the bloating in my guts so horrible right now? I took a nap because I couldn’t think, but now I can’t think. If there’s an internal server error, maybe it’s my life.