About Claire L. Wasmund
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thumbs-up, I'm still right. Good work, Claire.
Scotland? I think I saw the thumbs dip an inch.
You're kidding me. "I did it. - Eamonn". I didn't even know that was an Irish name, I'm shocked.
Fernando from Mexico agrees, he's shocked.
If I didn't know any better I'd say Eamonn, an authentic Irishman, punched through my wall.
... If you say so, Fernando, let's not be too hasty.
But maybe I'm reading this wrong. Maybe this wasn't a terrorist attack and "coolaboola" isn't terrorist lingo. Maybe this is artistic expression, sort of a rejection of rectangular framed, colorful paintings; instead, we have this concave, round, hole of blackness. Yes, it's art, which would explain why Eamonn signed his name in such bold green letters. He's proud. I'm proud too to have it in my wall. I won't take it down because I can't take it down. I'll let it remain; a monument to a good-natured friend who is probably feeling a bit pissed off right now, but maybe feels a bit more manly as he pats his fists of steel. ARTIST.
My dear brother Matt was kind enough to put together for me a package of much care and creativity, complete with "Clare, patron saint of T.V" and Tallulah, a hopping bug that sticks to windows if you so desire. Also, a Pat Robertson and friends coloring book... should I make Jesus a blonde? It seems like it'd be appropriate for this book.
That my bro took the time to find these little oddities along with nice jewelry, a cool chest, as well as exotic and magical liquor is touching. I don't know if I've ever had a gift as cool as this before.
I can't even find something sarcastic to say about it. Matt, you've reduced me to sincerity. Thank you. I love you.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
I've begun listening to Queen again. I took a break after all of the music on my last computer was erased after a freak mother accident. All of my albums… deleted… why hold on to hard copies when they're all safely stowed away in the digital land? The barriers between this world and that are not as strong as we'd like to believe, I know this now.
Anyway, Queen. Lyrically weak… weak… weak. Musically too sometimes, in terms of overall continuity… occasionally they faltered, not weak - just, lapses in judgment. I love them, don't get me wrong. I love them, but loving without being realistic and acknowledging flaws is an unhealthy love.
They all said they hated writing lyrics but they didn't want anyone else to do it. I get it. I understand. They're committed to their musical children from first note to last refrain, it's noble… but, it takes a village to raise a child. Where were social services?
I guess it makes sense that Queen was so popular in non-English speaking countries. Ooo, forgive me. If you have only a basic understanding of English and then you're introduced to the power of Freddie Mercury's voice along with the skill Queen had when playing their instruments you can forgive lyrics like:
One day you'll be a Sergeant Major
Oh you'll be so proud
Screaming out your bloody orders
Hey but not too loud
Polish all your shiny buttons
Dressed as lamb instead of mutton
But you never had to try
To stand out from the crowd
You can forgive it if English isn't your first language. If it is then no, you can't forgive, you can just ignore/be in denial. This one too:
Ooh, music is playing in the darkness
And a lantern goes swinging by
My heart's jittering
Just you and I
When everything's sunny and bright (sunny and bright)
No no no
'Cos then we'll be waiting for the moonlight
Yeah, don't know about that one either.
But then I sort of like:
I wonder when we're gonna make it
I wonder when we're gonna shake it
Rock me baby rock me
C'mon you can shock me
Let's catch on to the groove
Make it move, make it move
Yeah, you know how to shake that thing
We'll work it, work it, work it
You and I can play ball baby
You and me got staying power yeah yeah
Yeah, you and me we got staying power
Which Nick might tell you are crap… maybe Nick likes the other crap previous to this, I don't know. Do you like that other crap, Nick? Maybe it's just the funk.
Regardless, Queen got away with these lyrics thanks to the vocal powers, yes, powers, of Freddie Mercury and the kick assery of Brian May's guitar playing, Roger Taylor's blonde hair and drum pounding, and John Deacon's steady bass. They were basically an athlete who muscled their way through the competition because technically they were a bit weak. Yeah, I agree with that.
It's unfair for me to say, "They should have done this, and maybe tweaked this, and certainly not said this." But I still say it. The good part about Queen was that even when they lacked in one area of a song there was always an outstanding quality to pick it up. "You Take My Breath Away" lyrically - eh, vocally – outstanding. "Death on Two Legs" lyrically – eh, vocally – okay, musically – pretty cool. When Freddie was on who cared what came out of his mouth as long as it was high pitched and heartfelt and possesed that rare quality of sort of being neither male nor female. My mother has a tactic when she doesn't know the lyrics perfectly to a song; she replaces every word with "Bum bum." Could Cheryl be right in this approach?
Let's see how that works for "Don't Try So Hard":
Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum, bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bridge… more bum bums… then
OHHHHHHH, don't try so hard
OHHHHHHH, don't take it all to heart.
It's only fools, they make these rules
Don't try so hard
Don't try so hard
Don't try so hard.
Big improvement. See, if they simply had taken their own advice and not tried so hard on lyrics and used the "bum bum" method I think I would have understood more often, they wouldn't have had to worry about lyrics and the non-English speakers would have still been happy. Win win. Nice work Mom.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The colorful tortoises new undead army has certainly backfired. Religious insects have heard about the unholy abominations and have taken up the crusade to the side of the pink puffy fluffy ballet dancing things. They arrived just in the nick of time too, the goldfish with large knives gave their all on the way to the war - martyrs... heroes... let's have a moment of silence for the goldfish with large knives.
Insects are good at bringing devastation to crops and ruining camping trips but can they really tip the balance of the war that will soon happen in maybe three more drawings? Stay tuned...
Monday, August 27, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
I guess I'm afraid of elephants. I said it. People know.
Two nights ago, in a dream, elephants burned down my apartment with my family inside. I think we escaped through a trap door, I think. We couldn't get off by the roof because the elephants had teamed up with Harpies and they were waiting for us.
I didn't like that. I guess if there is an animal that could handle fire it would be an elephant. Their trunk can hold the flame a safe distance from their body, their ears can fan out and keep the snuffing power of the wind at bay. Why hadn't I realized this before? I was too focused on nature shows I had seen where elephant handlers were thrown or had their heads ripped off by their elephant students. Don't know why I was so focused on that; I was limiting myself.
I know now though, that they could rip apart my body and then set it on fire if they got the urge.
Babar and Dumbo - stay away.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
I picked up a new video game a while back to relieve stress. There is something satisfying about coming home after a bad day of work and just sticking your longsword into a group of bandits. I don't know what they stole, whom they robbed or violated but they're titled "bandit" when I run my cursor over them and for this they deserve death. I'm playing Oblivion, sequel to the popular Morrowind. I thought for a long time that I was simply wasting time by playing but I had a change of heart one day when I considered the "Hints" that popped up on screen as a new setting loaded. These hints for the game also provided me with hints for everyday life, things I have put into practice and have benefitted from.
"People don't like it when you talk to them with your weapon drawn."
Damn. I had no idea. I don't carry around a longsword and shield in real life - but I do carry a large war-axe. I took note of the hint and the next day I shoved as much of the axe blade as possible into my purse when I approached a person for a chat. The chat went well, I'd say there was a 20% improvement over the last chat I had. I now carry around a cover for my blade, like one of those things you slip over the top of golf clubs, mine looks like Catbert from the Dilbert comics. People respond better to Catbert than the axe.
"People like you less when you make them an offer they refuse."
I put too much faith in the maturity of the masses. You can't get everything you want, agree to disagree, and all that jazz. If I offer you the chance to buy me dinner, be glad that I thought you might have the money. Don't be angry I expected you to shell out the money. It's the thought that counts and you're focusing on the wrong thought I had; it was the other, more positive one. So I've stopped making "offers" and have switched completely to threats and demands. People respond a lot faster and there's no more fear about them liking me less for petty reasons, now they have justification.
"People don't like it when you take their things, watch what you pick up."
Now I'm told. What's the point of having things but to show them off and you can't show them off by keeping them to yourself. When I was younger and I complained about my brothers "borrowing" something I was told, "Well then, keep it in your room next time." It should still apply today. The teachings of childhood should carry over. This is where we should have our parents' code of morality beat into our heads, (though, I've heard some Christians thank Jesus for teaching them "right from wrong" during their confirmation, around 13 or 14 years old, filthy little thieves all of them before Jesus.) Keep your things in your bedroom. I gave Oblivion's advice a shot however, I didn't take the laptop in front of the woman in the library, I didn't take the roll of receipt paper from the clerk in the store, and you know what… nobody noticed. Nobody thanked me for not taking things. I'd be even more upset and discouraged if it wasn't an improvement over being arrested. This one I'm not so sure about but the other two worked.
All in all, my life has been enriched. Besides these life lessons, I've learned how to respect and interact with people of other races, Orcs, Dunmer, Bosmer, the list goes on. Venison and Aloe Vera can be combined to make potions of healing, I was in the woods last night gathering my own ingredients and this new hobby will supplement my income nicely.
So enjoy and don't scoff at my pastime. I've found ways to improve my life as I waste my life in front of a computer screen. It all balances out.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
This happened quite a while ago, but the surprise and shame still lingers. I think it's best to talk about it.
We, my roomie Margherite and I, found our little turtle, Leroy, in our parking space back in October. Leroy was fighting for its life in a dirty little tank where it had been left, surely to die, in its own filth. Leroy was and still is a fighter and while it was weakened from its own excrement it recovered quickly thanks to clean water and tasty turtle food.
A creature fond of biting and privacy, it was difficult to determine Leroy's true sex. Eventually, because Margherite and I are women and because my cat, Spiffy, despite her surgery, is a little woman, we decided we wanted a male influence in the apartment. Leroy was christened, "Leroy". Leroy was a man.
Many people scoffed at this choice. "The sex of an animal is not determined this way." Screw you. I think it's better than drawing choices out of a hat. Lame. Especially when you have but two options.
Finally, while having friends over for a party, one buddy of mine questioned the sex of Leroy once again. I turned to the internet to silence these irritants called, "curious bystanders". Alas, I should have just left it alone. Based on the shape of Leroy's shell and the size of its claws Leroy was in fact a woman.
How was I to know besides taking the time to be responsible and do research? I was waiting for tampon requests or tiny training bras floating in the tank. None of this ever happened. It's not my fault Leroy decided to keep her puberty a secret.
But, I can't blame all of this on the turtle. I can blame half of it on Margherite… which I will do.
The effect it has had on me has been quite profound. Even though Spiffy the cat was spayed I took the time to check her once or twice to make sure I was not deceived. I can report that Spiffy is still a girl; at least I didn't screw up there. As far as I can tell, Leroy doesn't have a lot of gender confusion. Turtles can't style hair or wear clothes that identify them as one sex or another; I picked a good animal to mess up on.
Leroy's name has been changed to Leroy Anne, I think it's pretty. It's a strong name with a feminine touch, something a guy turtle might compose a poem for. I suppose I'll be more adept at handling future problems Leroy Anne might face, and for that I am grateful her sex chromosomes came about the way they did. Everything that makes my life easier is a positive.
You have certainly improved with your sex change little Leroy Anne. Bravo.
I drew this. I am quite proud. I then scanned it into my computer and used microsoft paint to color it in because I am a marvel. It depicts a future battle between the ballet dancing pink puffy fluffy things and their duck/lobster/bunny/spring-legged/horse footed leader vs. the colorful tortoises by the castle on the far off hill. Do not trust the sun, it cries now... but that is the job of clouds. That it produces moisture is an indication of treachery.
Why are they going to battle?
I don't think the tortoises know. Maybe over the coconut trees because if you notice the fluffy things only have evergreens on their hill. It is sure to be an exciting battle, ballet dancers are quite fit and I think their leader can hold its own. Who knows what the tortoises have inside of their castle. I for one, can't wait to see how it plays out.
Will I still purchase it?
I've decided today, after the reports of yet another Britney disaster, I am done.
I see red lights flickering, flickering, and flickering. Sanity is a delicate thing, artists, however limited, have egos, artists are eccentric. Eccentricism is a nicer word for mild madness. In fact, I don't even think it's a word, that's how mad it is. I nod and accept that term when someone applies it to me, keeping myself in check because, as an eccentric person, I invent grudges, feuds, death matches, etc.
Brit's slipped a bit. If you only believe half of what's in the tabloids you still must say, "Brit's slipped a bit".
You've slipped Brit-Brit.
There are no shoes with the appropriate tread able to help Britney catch her footing; we need a fucking harness and crane to right Britney back to at least Leaning Tower of Pisa stability.
Why should we do this?
Hell if I know. Because I've laughed at her expense and now want to be a self-righteous, "we must do the right thing" pain-in-the-ass? Yeah, that's it.
Brit, I want you to get better, part of me only wants it so I don't feel guilty for chuckling at you, a smaller part of me is a nice eccentric person who feels empathy, not topless in hot tubs with back up dancers empathy, or no panties empathy, friends with Paris Hilton empathy, young mother empathy… but… some kind and sincere form that occasionally pops out when provoked by train wrecks.
- Hey, it's Claire! I'm a writer and producer in Los Angeles. This blog sort of straddles professional and personal. You can check out my current projects "The Grover Complex" and "Delayed Teen Angst". Both projects have blogs and sites linked to this page. Have questions? Email me at Wazikaze at gmail.com