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Do Do Wap is Strong in Here

Saturday, February 28, 2004

Eyebrow Sculptor to the Stars 

ug, just rolling around the house like a big ball of gristle, gorging myself on chips and nurturing some unhealthy voyeuristic bent by reading anonymous blogs listed on the blogger main page. avoiding work again.

be thankful that i spared you my next intended sentence.

ok, maybe i should save these for when i have at least an inkling of intent.

been listening to alot of local music today, black-eyed snakes, lateduster, kid dakota, sweet j.a.p.(which i found out i dont like as much as i thought i did). i also like fog alot.

yama yama yama, yama yama yama (boredom boredom, boring boredom)
-Polly Styrene

Friday, February 27, 2004

Gordon Shumway 

yeah, got hit by a pickup truck today. not severe, just flopped up onto the hood. i was walking to work and the truck was coming out of a parking lot and just kept coming. i had headphones on so i was sort of oblivious until i was tits up on the hood. no injuries, no legal action, just something to make the day poke through a little more. i don't really have enough time to add to this right now, maybe later. this aint my plooter, its o-draws'.


Wednesday, February 25, 2004

Casket Factory 

hows about a bedtime story? . . . . .

Wait right here, in the alley between the diner and the old theater. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Talk to beardy and his emaciated old lady about the wonders and untapped possibilities of glass. I’ll leave you my sody. You can sip my sody and listen to the butt-rock bounce off the buildings. If it starts raining, run around the corner and stand under the marquee. People might stroll 8 inches in front of your knees and casually converse, glancing warily at you while inspecting the drainage pipes. You just nevermind them, sweetums. You stare at the cracks in the gravel. Trace a game of tic-tac-toe in the sand with your finger. We’ll go to the casket factory some other time, punkin. Today there were too many people driving in slow circles in their jeeps. I know, the railroad tracks had more ambiance or something pretentious like that, but you can’t concentrate when you’re constantly swiveling around, wondering what everyone’s intentions are. Someday soon, a warm, quiet, bright day, when jeeps don’t creep, we’ll go watch the caskets file by on conveyor belts while the people in coarse blue jumpsuits put the hinges on the doors, or staple the satin down. Maybe they’ll even let us try them out. You stretch out in a finished product, and I’ll wave my arms around over your face and chant some Latin stuff. I’ll take your picture by the stacks of recently completed caskets, waiting to be shipped out to corpses across America. Maybe we could sneak a few secret gifts in some of them for the people to take with them to the boneyard. Travel yahtzee or something. A few mad-libs, some certs, readers digest, blow-pops, you know. A little something for them, little something for the worms


Beef Teef 

i dont want to do gaddamn anything. i want maybe a slice of the awful awful catered pizza here at the school, and then i want to sleep through the apocalypse. i want to hear exactly zero trombones, tv's, footsteps, voices, or car horns.

i have to act out a parent teacher conference in front of the class next week. it will stink like fishfarts.

the new john frusciante is chock full of overdone cliches, both musical and lyrical. i think hes so intent on being open and honest that hes a little unaware of how cheezball some of that stuff comes off. i guess i still like it, though.

i feel grainy, like im superimposed over a silent film. i need to get out of this damn lab area now.

Monday, February 23, 2004

The Same People Who Consider Vomiting Elegant 

i want to say that i woke up a few days ago and stepped on a plastic google eyeball. it fell off my three eyed caveman paper bag puppet, which i made in college. or the mullet of higher education, the community college. the flotsam of my chosen trade; google eyes, purple paste, glitter, food coloring, play doh under my fingernails. someday soon i will get paid to play with playdoh and make fart jokes all day long.

the new john frusciante album comes out tomorrow. im a little apprehensive. i heard a few songs recently, and they're pretty heavy on the seventies schlock folk pop fleetwood mac-y content. i'll still get it though, because sub par john frusciante is more worth my time than a pathetically large majority of the rest of the dogshit your run of the mill honky laps up. ooh... acerbic.

o-draws over there says it's time for bed, so i've gotta lumber off to my smelly little room now.


oooooooooooooooooookkkkkkkkk....... ugh. ate too fast. i have much less time this morning that i had hoped. the internet has been down at home all weekend, i think because no one has any money to pay for it. my weekend consisted of constructing a rinky dink broke ass mock up newsletter for school, coming up with some activity ideas for a project due today, which i probably should be preparing right now, researching childcare in norway, and spending a few hours saying byebye to mike tesch (tesh?) at a party with a food table that looked like an autopsy. ive got to go cut puddle shapes out of butcher paper now. i have an hour between classes at noon for more of the buffalo dung nonsense.

Friday, February 20, 2004

Poop Book Accompaniment 

for anyone who's actually looking at this who hasnt seen it, i'll paste an intro i wrote for my friend ilona's school project website about our very special poop book, a trigonometry textbook thing we drew all over to pass the time as we "had to use it" as the five yr olds say. here 'tis:

O, blissful repose! Nelly says no one remembers number 2, but this is page after page in repudiation of that ill-considered missive. Time stops, and the roiling, nonsensical throbbing metropolis on the other side of the lavatory door ceases to be for this precious instance. You own everything.

The Poop Log is a celebration of life and death, the inevitable and ceaseless cycle of deterioration and regeneration. Maudlin, yet stoic, it holds within its pages the radiant magnanimity of a place of flawless cosmic cohesion. Its contents are as blankets wrapped about your peripatetic mind. Your grandmother is singing you to sleep, and the permeating phantoms of your dreams coddle and assuage your heart in this place of ultimate truth. The Poop Log teaches us what it is to be the human animal; connects us with the world and shows us we are inseparable from a system we seem to think it is our duty to interrupt and control. It presents to us our folly, and trusts that we will finally see.

-Peter Harold Quist
Minneapolis, MN

Thursday, February 19, 2004

The Biggest Pee in the World 

im superdee duper pumped about the idea of being fast asleep in less than two hours. ive got to go sit in sociology now for more startling revelations such as "sitcom families differ from real families". it's a short class though. tomorrow the ben franklin mullet will trail away from me in the miasma of time, a sparse collection of auburn filament as portentious as the contents of a dead dogs stomach.

Some of my teeth are a little sensitive 

i'm cultivating a nice benjamin franklin mullet. it's waaay too late for me to be doing this crap. i have to get up at quarter to six in the morning, which is now this morning. but what makes this tolerable is that i get up that damn early on thursdays to go to a kindergarten class and hang out with a bunch of five year olds all day. i worked as an educational assistant at this school (lincoln), with this teacher last year, and this year it's a part of my college courses to go in there once a week and implement an activity in a particular free play area. this week is tape recorded interviews in the dramatic play area. the first week i tried this, we traced letters in shaving cream. the kids ended up with shaving cream in their hair, ears, and in foamy globs all over their faces and clothes. then when they started washing it off, there was a crowd of about six kids flooding the sink and drenching their shirts in warm water, which probably froze solid when they went outside. i learned a valuable lesson about setting reasonable limits. i love that place. its changed my life. i promise to make a dilligent effort at explaining myself more fully in these things when i have the time, and i'm not forcing myself to stay awake for some ridiculous masochistic reason. was i going to mention something else at the end here...? i think i had something, uh, pffffhhhh... nope, tired.

Wednesday, February 18, 2004


right now i am thirsty and lazy. ate a burrito. having to orient my thoughts/actions around the unnatural advent of obligation in my life. at least now my anxieties are mostly positive. i found out last week that i can just test into an educational assistant position and not need the degree, but i'm going to stay in school anyhoo. and not do bad drugs, and help my grandma cross the street. i want the notion of my competentcy to seem a little less absurd, so thats part of why i'll stick this out. everyone listen to neutral milk hotel. they will make you cry, but a good cry. i've got to get ready for beddie byes. next i will talk about why thursdays are the best damn days ever.

my e-mail: peetq@hotmail.com

Sunday, February 15, 2004

Recent Favorites... 

is this cornball crap? i cant tell. i thought id make a list of some other stuff besides the nellie mckay album that ive been intersted in lately. i really like the yeah yeah yeahs. i know theyre a little heavy on the image/presentation schtick, but ive decided to overlook that on account a theyre so damned good. i also recently got the punk boxset called "no thanks". it's four discs of punk and punk-esque or punk related stuff. mostly great. it forced me to buy the first albums from the bands "wire" and "the damned". both of them are friggin lovely. the triplets of belleville movie and soundtrack are both unbelievable. the movie is the best ive seen in years. bizzare and beautiful and funny. lets count the lame adjectives in this post. i'm up to about 15. what else...? oh, the ween all request in studio show is also great. yeah. ok. oh! a great book: Fernando Pessoa's book "book of disquiet" is something i've been reading whenever i have the chance to read something other than a textbook. fernando pessoa is a potuguese writer who used a whole list of aliases for different styles and personalities. book of disquiet was published posthumously and was found in sections in a big trunk in his room. its about 200 prose writings varying in size from one sentence to 4-5 pages, on every imagineable subject. im having trouble describing things right now. this is getting long. i'll break it off for now.

email: peetq@hotmail.com

Grainy Alien Baby Photo 

I think ive got the hang of this, it just happens to be an incredibly weak and dumpy little blog site. maybe i'll figure out how to get comments on here, or links sometime soon. the neighbors upstairs sound like they are tossing eachother against the walls. they are obnoxious. i'm supposed to be doing homework. eeerrrrm... if anyone is unaware, dom just set up a moblog site yesterday with his new phone. his site is... linecook.textamerica.com
i've been listening to a new album by a singer/pianist/weirdo named nellie mckay for the last two days. i first saw her on david letterman about a week ago. she sang a song about a dog. it was so unexpected and beautifully out of place. i loved it and ive been moderately obsessed ever since. the album has cabaret/torchy type stuff, some spy movie/disco-y songs, and showtunes wherein she calls people pussies. i likes it.
anyhoo, i don't honestly really have a legitimate reason to be posting this. just the novelty of a new tedium disrupting toy. apple juice.

Saturday, February 14, 2004

well, shit 

if i cant figure out how to get comments here, then maybe i can get one of those tags at the bottom of a post that i can use to put my email in. or something. i still dont know what im doing. im used to that, though.

still figuring this crap out 

i have no idea what i'm doing. it looks like no one can post comments right now, which would be 98% of the purpose for doing this, to keep regular contact with alot of people. if it turns out i can't recieve comments on my posts, then i'm not going to do this.

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