Zomg blogger archives Category
ZOMG, this category is so boring and mainly for administrative purposes. I wrote over 1000 posts using Blogger between November 2000 and September 2002, and when I imported them into Movable Type back in 2002, I stuck them all here.
Was a victim to advertising,
5
Nov
2000
In: Zomg blogger archives
Was a victim to advertising, and bought a Pizza Hut “Insider” double decker pizza tonight. I haven’t had pizza since the cleanse, and was having a mean craving after the paltry non-buffet at the co-op shindiggy thinger.
So, I got the pizza. It’s like a pizza quesadilla, with two crusts and a layer of cheese in-between them. I’m not sure how I felt about it. I ate two slices, then felt sort of nasty, in that clogged-artery sort of way. As the website says “The Insider pizza is for all consumers who think cheese — and lots of it — makes everything taste better. Cheese fans, especially Echo Boomers ages 16-23, will be drawn to the “ooey, gooey” taste of The Insider pizza.” Ooey Gooey describes how my bowels feel right now…They should have called it the “Inside Her.”
In other news, a poem. Here’s a weird thing: I haven’t written poetry in years. I think in paragraph structure, not prose. But, when I moved down to Olympia, and into this amazing home in the woods, where I can look out my window and watch cedar needles drift down, where I can laugh at squirrels fighting in the trees as I’m navigating a conference call to LA…suddenly poems started popping up.
Here was the first one, written in July.
Soil of the Future
My mother
Found herself
In the woods
Lysergic creams soothed her
Childhood traumas smoothed by
Guitar chords
And nakedness
And summer
Her suburban past sunk under
Hugs from strangers
Smiles beneath long beards
It was the revolution
And the revolution
Was back to nature
In the woods
Leaves fall
Because they want to be
The soil
Of the future
Her child
My Self
Grown from trees
Ran from trees
My Self
Found herself
In the city
Dilated heart
Its opened beat matching
Each bass beat
And beat
And beat
Surrounded by a laughable throng
Of others
Dancing
Sighs of the city were my lungs
Each grimy exhalation
Whispered the kinetic throb
During those early mornings
Those club drowsy dawns
My mother
Found herself
In the woods.
My Self
Found Herself
Exhausted.
Lots of errands to run
4
Nov
2000
In: Zomg blogger archives
Lots of errands to run today, and then the Olympia Food Co-op Working Member Appreciation party. See, I volunteer as a cashier at the local co-op, and once a year they throw this thank you party. Since I’ve only lived in Olympia since April, this was my first WMA party. Andreas was disappointed by the lack of vegan food, and I kept thinking that more food would be brought out. Where were the entrees? Where was the dessert? The appreciation was limited to nibbly food like bits of bagels, dips, veggies, fruits, and drinks. Regardless, I still appreciated the community aspect…
Growing up, my parents were involved with the tiny Co-op on Bainbridge Island. I used to tag along with my mom as she helped stock the shelves. At a certain point I decided that the food co-op sucked. Maybe it was because my mom tried to use carob instead of chocolate. Maybe it was because I watched too much TV, and decided that food had to be heavily packaged, brightly colored, and artificially flavored to be desirable. Whatever happened, I decided the co-op and the food it carried sucked.
So, I ate Pac Man cereal with my mouth open, begged my grandmother to sneak me chocolate when she came to visit, and, despite my parents’ vegetarianism, started eating meat in college.
Slowly, slowly, I’ve come to realize that, sigh, they were right. There’s something great about shopping at the co-op, and something even better about working there. Food is such a basic necessity, it’s nice to do it with a little intent.
However, that being said, I still want to know why the Working Member Appreciation party had so little food.
The bluegrass band wasn’t a
4
Nov
2000
In: Zomg blogger archives
The bluegrass band wasn’t a bluegrass band after all, it was a Phish-esque jam band. It was strange, transitioning from my usual 4/4 house beat dancing, back to the noodley, free-form hippy dancing. I remember going the other way when I first starting going to raves, after years as a Phish fan (here is a photo of me at a show in Vancouver, BC, circa ‘95). It’s like I’m stepping back in my own history.
The party was sort of funny…and amazing house (perhaps even cooler than our hand-built loft-filled hippy shack), dear sweet people, and huge amounts of beer. I watched Andreas (my 24 yo returning student boyfriend) get completely sorted on a combination of beer and Southern Comfort, and at one point he slurred to me “Thish feelsh jusht like collesh!”
“You *are* in college, remember?” I reminded him, as a drunk 19 year-old stumbled by.
Strange to be back in a hippy college scene…I graduated from the University of Washington two and a half years ago, and yet here I am, back at keggers, patting my boy’s back as he barfs into a hedge…*sigh* At almost 26, am I too old to be doing this? I was a hippy college student when *I* was 20, and I’m endlessly amazed to see people doing the exact same things I did, thinking (as I did) “Wow, my life is unlike any other.” There are parallels to our experiences that we cannot deny.
It was almost 2 years
3
Nov
2000
In: Zomg blogger archives
It was almost 2 years ago that an exboyfriend of mine died of a heroin overdose. I was re-reminded of him as I looked at this body modification chat site. John had all sorts of body mods…a 0 gauge tongue peircing, 2 gauge apadravya, massive permanently fused nut rings, 1″ stretched earlobes, and on, and on and on. Whenever people would ask him “Did that hurt?” he would drawl “It was a sensation.” He would drug himself, cut himself, pierce himself, all with very little sensation. It made little sense to me, with my soft skin and horrid fear of needles.
He was a massive drug user, and in my year with him we gobbled ecstasy, valium, mescaline, acid, mushrooms, crystal, coke…we broke up because I grew out of being high all the time and he, several years older than me, wasn’t ever able to stop. John was really into doing DMT a few months before his death, explaining that it was like peeking in death’s door.
I always had an image of him dieing, drifing off into his heroin haze, thinking to himself “This is crappy junk. I’m not getting high at all.” It would have been typical of him. I wasn’t sad when he died, but I do think about him frequently, and now is one of those times.
Got word of a party
3
Nov
2000
In: Zomg blogger archives
Got word of a party tonight, complete with a bluegrass band! While my friends are out at clubs, coffeeshops, and arthouse movies, I’m going to go dance to bluegrass.
In which she begins
3
Nov
2000
In: Zomg blogger archives
This blog will track the plight of an urban warrior who has moved back into the woods. I was raised by two loving hippy parents, living in a cabin they built on a wooded island in Puget Sound. My bedroom in highschool was, in fact, a school bus. But, the pendulum swings, and as soon as I was done with highschool, I headed for the city.
Boston, Seattle, San Francisco…I spent 7 years scuttling under freeways, dancing on sidewalks, breathing concrete and loving it. I went to college, I went to raves, I danced my ass off, I was a hipster, I was a scenester, I used my charge card. It was all very exciting, and very stimulating. When I started writing for magazines (while living in San Francisco in ‘96), I felt that the citychaos was my fuel, it was the soul gatorade that kept my writing muscles strong and bulging under my laptop.
And, for years, it was. It was fun, screaming down alleyways, finding hidden bastions of nightlife, working for large corporations, feeling the grease around me as I enjoyed my life as a citycog. I liked it. Nay, I LOVED it.
Then it started bothering me. Couldn’t I walk down the street without being harassed by others’ eyes? Does everyone ALWAYS have to make all that noise? Why should I have to breath what came out of the asses of commuter’s cars on the six lane double decker offramp outside the window of my rotting warehouse loftspace? My boyfriend conveniently decided it was time to go back to school, at The Evergreen State College in the woods of Olympia, WA.
I work for Lotus Magazine, electronic music magazine published in Los Angeles. I also write product reviews for Amazon.com. Other than that, there’s not much work for a web writer and editor down here…I tried to apply for a job at some crappy place, and called to ask what address I should email my online resume to. The secretary clucked “I wouldn’t email it–that’s so unprofessional!” Dear Lord, these people are living in a different millennium. sigh.
So, this blog will be a way to track the movements of what happens with a girl raised in the woods, who ran to the city, runs back to the woods. Hippy / raver / clubber / professional / hippy again.
- 4 Comments
- Tags: blogging, lotus magazine, olympia
Was a victim to advertising,
5 Nov 2000 In: Zomg blogger archivesWas a victim to advertising, and bought a Pizza Hut “Insider” double decker pizza tonight. I haven’t had pizza since the cleanse, and was having a mean craving after the paltry non-buffet at the co-op shindiggy thinger.
So, I got the pizza. It’s like a pizza quesadilla, with two crusts and a layer of cheese in-between them. I’m not sure how I felt about it. I ate two slices, then felt sort of nasty, in that clogged-artery sort of way. As the website says “The Insider pizza is for all consumers who think cheese — and lots of it — makes everything taste better. Cheese fans, especially Echo Boomers ages 16-23, will be drawn to the “ooey, gooey” taste of The Insider pizza.” Ooey Gooey describes how my bowels feel right now…They should have called it the “Inside Her.”
In other news, a poem. Here’s a weird thing: I haven’t written poetry in years. I think in paragraph structure, not prose. But, when I moved down to Olympia, and into this amazing home in the woods, where I can look out my window and watch cedar needles drift down, where I can laugh at squirrels fighting in the trees as I’m navigating a conference call to LA…suddenly poems started popping up.
Here was the first one, written in July.
Soil of the Future
My mother
Found herself
In the woods
Lysergic creams soothed her
Childhood traumas smoothed by
Guitar chords
And nakedness
And summer
Her suburban past sunk under
Hugs from strangers
Smiles beneath long beards
It was the revolution
And the revolution
Was back to nature
In the woods
Leaves fall
Because they want to be
The soil
Of the future
Her child
My Self
Grown from trees
Ran from trees
My Self
Found herself
In the city
Dilated heart
Its opened beat matching
Each bass beat
And beat
And beat
Surrounded by a laughable throng
Of others
Dancing
Sighs of the city were my lungs
Each grimy exhalation
Whispered the kinetic throb
During those early mornings
Those club drowsy dawns
My mother
Found herself
In the woods.
My Self
Found Herself
Exhausted.
Lots of errands to run
4 Nov 2000 In: Zomg blogger archivesLots of errands to run today, and then the Olympia Food Co-op Working Member Appreciation party. See, I volunteer as a cashier at the local co-op, and once a year they throw this thank you party. Since I’ve only lived in Olympia since April, this was my first WMA party. Andreas was disappointed by the lack of vegan food, and I kept thinking that more food would be brought out. Where were the entrees? Where was the dessert? The appreciation was limited to nibbly food like bits of bagels, dips, veggies, fruits, and drinks. Regardless, I still appreciated the community aspect…
Growing up, my parents were involved with the tiny Co-op on Bainbridge Island. I used to tag along with my mom as she helped stock the shelves. At a certain point I decided that the food co-op sucked. Maybe it was because my mom tried to use carob instead of chocolate. Maybe it was because I watched too much TV, and decided that food had to be heavily packaged, brightly colored, and artificially flavored to be desirable. Whatever happened, I decided the co-op and the food it carried sucked.
So, I ate Pac Man cereal with my mouth open, begged my grandmother to sneak me chocolate when she came to visit, and, despite my parents’ vegetarianism, started eating meat in college.
Slowly, slowly, I’ve come to realize that, sigh, they were right. There’s something great about shopping at the co-op, and something even better about working there. Food is such a basic necessity, it’s nice to do it with a little intent.
However, that being said, I still want to know why the Working Member Appreciation party had so little food.
The bluegrass band wasn’t a
4 Nov 2000 In: Zomg blogger archivesThe bluegrass band wasn’t a bluegrass band after all, it was a Phish-esque jam band. It was strange, transitioning from my usual 4/4 house beat dancing, back to the noodley, free-form hippy dancing. I remember going the other way when I first starting going to raves, after years as a Phish fan (here is a photo of me at a show in Vancouver, BC, circa ‘95). It’s like I’m stepping back in my own history.
The party was sort of funny…and amazing house (perhaps even cooler than our hand-built loft-filled hippy shack), dear sweet people, and huge amounts of beer. I watched Andreas (my 24 yo returning student boyfriend) get completely sorted on a combination of beer and Southern Comfort, and at one point he slurred to me “Thish feelsh jusht like collesh!”
“You *are* in college, remember?” I reminded him, as a drunk 19 year-old stumbled by.
Strange to be back in a hippy college scene…I graduated from the University of Washington two and a half years ago, and yet here I am, back at keggers, patting my boy’s back as he barfs into a hedge…*sigh* At almost 26, am I too old to be doing this? I was a hippy college student when *I* was 20, and I’m endlessly amazed to see people doing the exact same things I did, thinking (as I did) “Wow, my life is unlike any other.” There are parallels to our experiences that we cannot deny.
It was almost 2 years
3 Nov 2000 In: Zomg blogger archivesIt was almost 2 years ago that an exboyfriend of mine died of a heroin overdose. I was re-reminded of him as I looked at this body modification chat site. John had all sorts of body mods…a 0 gauge tongue peircing, 2 gauge apadravya, massive permanently fused nut rings, 1″ stretched earlobes, and on, and on and on. Whenever people would ask him “Did that hurt?” he would drawl “It was a sensation.” He would drug himself, cut himself, pierce himself, all with very little sensation. It made little sense to me, with my soft skin and horrid fear of needles.
He was a massive drug user, and in my year with him we gobbled ecstasy, valium, mescaline, acid, mushrooms, crystal, coke…we broke up because I grew out of being high all the time and he, several years older than me, wasn’t ever able to stop. John was really into doing DMT a few months before his death, explaining that it was like peeking in death’s door.
I always had an image of him dieing, drifing off into his heroin haze, thinking to himself “This is crappy junk. I’m not getting high at all.” It would have been typical of him. I wasn’t sad when he died, but I do think about him frequently, and now is one of those times.
Got word of a party
3 Nov 2000 In: Zomg blogger archivesGot word of a party tonight, complete with a bluegrass band! While my friends are out at clubs, coffeeshops, and arthouse movies, I’m going to go dance to bluegrass.
In which she begins
3 Nov 2000 In: Zomg blogger archives
This blog will track the plight of an urban warrior who has moved back into the woods. I was raised by two loving hippy parents, living in a cabin they built on a wooded island in Puget Sound. My bedroom in highschool was, in fact, a school bus. But, the pendulum swings, and as soon as I was done with highschool, I headed for the city.
Boston, Seattle, San Francisco…I spent 7 years scuttling under freeways, dancing on sidewalks, breathing concrete and loving it. I went to college, I went to raves, I danced my ass off, I was a hipster, I was a scenester, I used my charge card. It was all very exciting, and very stimulating. When I started writing for magazines (while living in San Francisco in ‘96), I felt that the citychaos was my fuel, it was the soul gatorade that kept my writing muscles strong and bulging under my laptop.
And, for years, it was. It was fun, screaming down alleyways, finding hidden bastions of nightlife, working for large corporations, feeling the grease around me as I enjoyed my life as a citycog. I liked it. Nay, I LOVED it.
Then it started bothering me. Couldn’t I walk down the street without being harassed by others’ eyes? Does everyone ALWAYS have to make all that noise? Why should I have to breath what came out of the asses of commuter’s cars on the six lane double decker offramp outside the window of my rotting warehouse loftspace? My boyfriend conveniently decided it was time to go back to school, at The Evergreen State College in the woods of Olympia, WA.
I work for Lotus Magazine, electronic music magazine published in Los Angeles. I also write product reviews for Amazon.com. Other than that, there’s not much work for a web writer and editor down here…I tried to apply for a job at some crappy place, and called to ask what address I should email my online resume to. The secretary clucked “I wouldn’t email it–that’s so unprofessional!” Dear Lord, these people are living in a different millennium. sigh.
So, this blog will be a way to track the movements of what happens with a girl raised in the woods, who ran to the city, runs back to the woods. Hippy / raver / clubber / professional / hippy again.
- 4 Comments
- Tags: blogging, lotus magazine, olympia
Hey there. I'm Ariel Meadow Stallings, a native Seattleite who's written my way up and down the Left Coast. Electrolicious is where I post daily randomata, but I also write for a living. My first book, Offbeat Bride, was published last year.
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