Sophnomuzon

My playlist tonight:
Sol Da Liberdade 4:35 Daniela Mercury 2000-Sol Da Liberdade Latin
Bulgarian Chicks 5:52 Balkan Beat Box featuring Vlada Tomova & M. Alexiava Balkan Beat Box Electronic
O Estrangeiro 6:14 Caetano Veloso Beleza Tropical 2: Novo! Mais! Melhor! Latin
Madagascar - Roumania (Tu jesty fata) 6:32 Gogol Bordello East Infection - EP Rock
Life During Wartime 3:41 Talking Heads Fear of Music Rock
Rebellion (Lies) 5:10 Arcade Fire Funeral Alternative
Bourbon & Division 3:23 Firewater Get Off The Cross...We Need The Wood For The Fire Alternative
Hungry for You (J'Aurais Toujours Faim de Toi) 2:52 The Police Ghost in the Machine Rock
I Know What I Know 3:13 Paul Simon Graceland Rock
Sit Down, Stand Up (Snakes & Ladders) 4:19 Radiohead Hail To The Thief Alternative & Punk
River 4:03 Joni Mitchell Hits Folk
Got My Own Thing Now 2:30 Squirrel Nut Zippers Hot Jazz
Dogs Were Barking 4:53 Gogol Bordello Gypsy Punks: Underdog World Strike Alternative & Punk
Country Feedback (Live) 6:16 R.E.M. In Time: The Best Of R.E.M. 1988-2003 [Bonus Disc] Rock
When I Was a Little Spy 4:53 Gogol Bordello vs. Tamir Muskat J.U.F. Alternative
Rock 'n' Roll Nigger 3:23 Patti Smith Land (1975-2002) (Disc 1) Alternative & Punk
Spanish Bombs 3:18 The Clash London Calling Alternative & Punk
Occurrence On the Border (Hopping On a Pogo-Gypsy Stick) 3:26 Gogol Bordello Multi Kontra Culti Rock
Too Drunk to F**k 2:16 Nouvelle Vague Nouvelle Vague Alternative
Ida 6:22 Rachid Taha Rachid Taha Live Rock
Breathe Me 4:32 Sia Six Feet Under - Everything Ends Soundtrack
Me And Julio Down By The School Yard 2:42 Paul Simon The Paul Simon Anthology (Disc 1) Rock
I Am Trying To Break Your Heart 6:58 Wilco Yankee Hotel Foxtrot Country
Something tells me I'm turning into my dad.

http://www.gogolbordello.com/chronicles/video/60rev/
The guy who made this video approached me and invited me to someplace called the Tequila Roadhouse. I still have his number, incidentally.

I am hooked up to a machine, with every brain wave being encoded, no evil thought (or evil peak in those meaningless lines that are supposed to be related to my thought process. My head is wrapped in very sterile-looking gauze, and at first glance I appear to be dying. Actually, at every braced glance at the mirror, there is something desperate and horrific about my appearance. I look absolutely terrifying, even by my standards. This has been the dullest Saturday I've had in months. The glue in my hair is about as disgusting as you would imagine, especially given that I'm not six years old and/or apathetic about the hair that took forgodammever to grow. I've been told it comes out, but the woman's expression the entire time looked somewhat shell-shocked and her laugh was too flat for me to be content that she was the one hooking me up to a seizure machine. For some reason, my friends really liked the idea of me having electrodes attached to my head; the idea of an impromptu indie sci-fi flick came up several times. Yeah, understandable, they aren't spending their Saturdays at the whim of a machine often used for autistic kids. I really hope I never get cancer.

Sophie's random George Bush quote: "I'm also not very analytical. You know I don't spend a lot of time thinking about myself, about why I do things." Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

This might make you despise me

My superiority complex, as of late, has probably gotten out of hand. I'm not as alarmed by this as I would be if I were sweet, honest, kind-hearted kinda gal friends of my parents would swear I was. To so many people, I seem so benevolent and harmless, if somewhat strange, and even though I can make certain people very uncomfortable.
I am so sick of hearing the Mean Girls thesis picked apart and analyzed. "Why are girls so mean? How can they possibly be this soulless and cruel? What could possibly be their motive for such despicable behavior? It can't really be this bad, can it?" Oh yes it can. This is a really exasperatingly clueless reaction. Nobody is truly shocked when a bus in Israel gets blown up, or some third world politician uses the exhaustively collected charity donations to buy a BMW. Or several. So why would a teenage girl saying less than flattering things about another teenage girl be so deeply shocking? Everybody has an evil self, some are just better at keeping their evil self squashed under fat piles of goodness.
It seems that recently I have had much more ease talking about people behind their backs. The people in my high school are becoming something like cartoon characters, silly, predictable, somewhat one dimensional beings making more of less the exact same mistakes in every episode. Some I feel sorry for, some I just hate, which I should feel worse about. I pick people apart for my own amusement. I know full well how this violates so many laws of decency, but it is too much damn fun to stop. I don't manipulate or confront anyone about their faults. I realize that I am a horrible snob about almost everything. But up to this date, I don't think I've destroyed anybody. But the collective self-mutilation I could be responsible for if people heard what I thought could kill an ogre.
Whoa. I am horrible. I feel despicable being so brutally honest. I don't think I'm a mean spirited person, but there is that little c-word inside of me that high school is just exacerbating. At least I know I'm not alone.

The title of this entry is the unheard sound in your throat that is deafening on a bad day

Disclaimer: Sophie has been posessed by the obnoxious, self-absorbed demons she likes to consider herself immune to.
My teenage soul is stinging. The chemicals in my brain do not seem to be sloshing in my favor. I will blog again when I am more inspired and less fat and irritating. I will return soon and be fanatically irritated with myself for writing this entry. And for talking too loud and spitting too much and not having a fucking clue.

And here we are, stuck on Flossmoor, untouched by joy, Sharpies, only false proclamations of identity that aren't anywhere near as much fun as this one.

Photobucket is more fun than a barrel of homosexuals. Actually, nothing's more fun than a barrel of homosexuals, but it sure beats logarithms. On a less queer note, this is Gabriel.

So this is what goes on at boarding school

For any of you who saw the Check, Please with the adorably awkward, funny Jewish guy, the other kind of strange Jewish guy, and the Botoxed personal trainer, (Fat Willy's) I'm almost positive that this is the same Nathan Rabin.

Brief, Partially True Biography of 50 Cent
by Nathan Rabin



Rapper 50 Cent (real name: 50 Cents) first entered the public's consciousness after he was shot seventeen times while leaving his mother's womb. The incident shocked, horrified and confused a puzzled nation (that nation being, strangely enough, Iceland), and it wasn't long before the rapper/infant was selling crack to other newborns and several very self-destructive fetuses.

By the time he was old enough to walk, 50 had been arrested six times, shot at nine times and dueled publicly with the kid from the Life cereal commercials whose head exploded when he ate Pop Rocks and drank Coca-Cola at the same time. An average student with a gift for being stabbed and shot, 50 soon came to the attention of legendary DJ Jam Master Jay, who was extremely impressed by Mr. Cent's ability to survive multiple stabbings and gunshot wounds and to a much lesser extent, his rapping ability.

Mr. Cent signed a lucrative record deal with Hollywood Records in the early nineties, only to watch his entire label die in a flurry of gunshots meant for him. After mourning their deaths for the better part of an afternoon, Cent rebounded by releasing the single "How To Rob," which explored a subject with universal appeal: how badly Ja Rule sucks. A good sport accustomed to light-hearted ribbing, Rule proved he could take a joke by stabbing 50 repeatedly.

After years of waiting and recuperating, Mr. Cent's big break came when mega-star Eminem announced in a radio interview that 50 Cent was not
only his favorite rapper, but also the father of his unborn child. Cent and
Eminem were married in a small, private ceremony conducted by Little
Richard, after which the two multi-platinum rappers brutally gay-bashed the
rock legend, but not before being shot at by the entire wedding party.

One of the most frequently stabbed rappers of his era, 50 Cent today lives in New York, where he and Eminem are working on new and exciting ways to get stabbed and shot.

Whoredom

What would my options be if I dropped out of high school? Could I be one of those girls who bangs the shit out of buckets and straddles drums at Gogol Bordello shows? Could I be una puta in Buenos Aires? I remember we suggested at some point that Krissy work at a kinky sex club in Paris, would this work for me as well? I've heard high end hookers in Vegas make 250 grand a year, how hard could that be?
All of these involve me using my body to make a living, and not in a very wholesome, Christian way. (Somehow I don't think my parents would bring Jesus and his pals into the argument if something like this did happen.) But what else is a female high school dropout going to do, other than selling her soul to the bloated corporations of McEvil and such? Men don't even really have the option of selling themselves, unless they're either gay or extremely beefcakey (often both.) Our society assumes that everybody is going to go to college and support themselves and not only put food on the table, but that the food provided is healthy, fresh, balanced and lovingly prepared. All this astonishment at mass obesity and unemployment seems pretty fucking naive coming from those whose job it is to make sure this stuff doesn't happen. So my point is, do they really think every student in the system is going to kill themselves trying to get an education from teachers who should have been weeded out from that occupation much earlier in their education? Do they really expect the druggies and thugs and wannabe thugs and just plain stupid kids to know what the fuck a logarithm is? Conclusion: whoever made up the system was either three sheets to the wind, a lying fetal sac of a Republican, or a junior high teacher (likely all three). So that's my rant for today. I have to go learn how to speak French now. Good luck on all the finals that you aren't studying for.

Update

A very cute Argentinian boy told me I was beautiful. And tomorrow morning, I will be sleeping with wires attached to my head. George W. Bush is still the president. I'm still a virgin. Elvis is still dead. Masturbation is still healthy, or so I've heard. The colorful characters in AP Euro are still unbelievably foppish and arrogant (with the exception of KANT) but Professor Weber is the coolest guy ever. If you show Krissy your wrist, she will have convulsions and die. Several times. The world hasn't ended, miraculously. And I haven't started studying vectors. Shit. And we're all going to die.

Huzzah!!

http://homepage.mac.com/jkern2/PhotoAlbum10.html
more to come