T.S. Eliot said that "April is the cruellest month" and in some ways, he was right. April is stressed out and worn down and panicking and tired and the end is near, but not near enough.

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and place and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience

Oh god, when when when will it end? This time of waiting it out, jumping through the hoops to get to the place that you know you want to be? It's like torture, waiting for the firebird. It's the fires of hell before the rebirth.

But Eliot seems to have everything figured out. Along with the apocalyptic images comes the solution to our misery.

Datta. Give. Constant taking only breeds greed within ourselves, and constantly wanting more leaves no room for satisfaction and happiness.

Dayadhvam. Sympathize. Stressful times test a the true spirit of a person. Show yourself that you can handle your own stress and keep an affectionate spirit.

Damyata. Control. Be in control of your own life. You'll be much happier.

Bam - bam - bam. It's that simple. Someone close to me, who, I admit, albeit begrudgingly, may be right every now and again, is fond of saying, "It's simple. It's not easy." Truth, truth, Wise Man. Give. Sympathize. Control. Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.

Eliot ties it all together for us with one word (repeated, of course, for emphasis, as all great writers do) - shantih shantih shantih. Eliot himself says it is "feebly translated to mean 'The Peace which passeth understanding.'" In context with the passage, it can suggest we may know peace by giving up our own needs and "reconciling with the world." Shanti can also translate to a state of being mentally or spiritually at peace, with enough knowledge and understanding to keep yourself strong in the face of stress.

So let's recap. How can we save ourselves from stress and anger and frustration and panic and burnout and despair and despondency? Give up selfishness. Sympathize with others. Control your life. Peace peace peace.

Sometimes I think I should have been an English major. Or a Buddhist. (English major I could handle... Buddhism, probably not so much. I digress.)

The time has come for me to announce that I'm decently happy right now in Onalaska. God, that feels so awkward to say. I needed some time to find myself, and usually people go backpacking through Europe to do that, but I guess it took me some hardcore isolation in a town where you literally have to pass a field of cows to go to the bank.

I know what I want! How weird is that? Direction! Goals! Aspirations! A plan! Jesus Christ, I have a plan. One that might actually work.

Yeah, I still make stupid decisions. Yeah, I still go through deep dark bouts of loneliness. Yeah, I still lose my temper, my patience, my mind. Yeah, I am sick of the isolation and being far far away from where I belong. The shouting and the crying, prison and place of reverberation.

It all comes together. We'll all breathe again. We'll move to a stimulating city and and study what we love and find what we desperately desire, we'll wrap up a hard school year and have some time to celebrate our hard work, we'll finally leave the city that we feel trapped in and move to bigger and better things, we'll move on, we'll grow, we'll be okay. Shantih.

"The Knights of Prosperity."
Kids, you just don't understand. This show is -- without hyperbole -- the funniest show currently on television, and it is dangling dangerously close to the chopping block. I'm not sure how exactly to go about saving it aside from writing a petition, and god knows I'm way too lazy to do that, so I'm trying to spread the word and push the online syndication.

The premise: five blue-collar workers and one grad student are sick of their down-and-out luck and lousy jobs as janitors, cab drivers, waitresses, security guards, and... college graduates... and decide they've had enough. They band together and attempt to rob Mick Jagger and other various celebrities.

My plea is this: I sincerely urge you to go to abc.com and watch this show online when you have a spare half hour - it will be worth it, you have my word. Exhibit A: the Knights, after a debacle at Mick Jagger's house, are unsure of their next move. Who will they try to rob next?




Announcement Number One -- If anniemosity.com disappears in the next few days, fret not - it shall return come May 1st. I'm getting traffic quota notifications in my inbox, but so far I've been able to sneak it under my hosting service's radar. They've shut me off twice before, however, so I wouldn't put it past them. Come on, Hosting Service -- I can't help it if I'm popular.

Announcement Number Two -- Miss Megan Koegel has her senior recital on Saturday. Go and witness her wonderful amazing piano-like skills. 3pm in Weber Music Hall. She's a neat lady and her incredible talent always amazes me. Go! See! Cry! It'll be great.

Announcement Number Three -- My brother, the great and powerful Debonairic, got himself a sweet gig opening for Les Claypool in Milwaukee. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. How long have I said, "The kid will be famous"? (I'm not one hundred percent certain about the accuracy of the punctuation in that last statement...... I digress.) If you want to witness this kickass event, hit me up and I'll hook you up.

Announcement Number Four -- Anniemosity's Next Top Model judging panel is nearing completion. With the help of Anniemosity's very own Nigel Barker, Miss J, and Janice Dickinson, we are growing closer to finding Anniemosity's Next Top Model. Unfortunately, Janice and Miss J have not submitted their votes yet (props to you Nigel), but once they do, a winner will be announced, and oh, what a celebration it will be.


Holler at me, bitches. I miss you.

It rides the fence between being genius and being a complete mess. What the fuck is going on? Rhythmically unstable, lyrically complex and cryptic, full of bullshit and epiphanies, while the harmonies disintegrate into white noise and back again. It never can decide what it wants to be, melodic or abrasive, meticulous or unhinged. Everything is on the brink of complete dissolution but it never quite gets there. Sometimes you can recognize the one thing that is keeping it all from implosion, but if you think too hard about what doesn't work, you lose track of what does work. It sounds like it can save the world at the same time it sounds like the apocalypse.




Reminds me of someone I know.

With my new job full of plaid, Top Model (which is still in the judging stages -- hey judge[s], don't forget to do that, by the way), and amazing concerts by beautiful men who make me cry in public (twice), I have had a lot of... real life things to blog about. What does that mean? It means it's pop culture time.

Three Things in Pop Culture I Like.
1. Shia LeBeouf

I was just slightly too old for the Disney Channel when Shia made his debut, so I was aware of him, but not really conscious of what he did. Shia, witty Shia, has been charming his way to my heart through interviews and SNL skits for the last two weeks, promoting "Disturbia: 'Rear Window,' But Creepier." He is the second younger celebrity that I've fawned over in a year. What the eff? It's okay, though, I'm getting old, remember?

2. US Vogue Cover May 2007

OMG. Actual models on the cover of US Vogue? GET OUT. SHUT UP. I know. After month after month of Nicole Kidman, Renee Zellwegger, Jennifer Hudson, and Scarlett Johanssen, we have REAL LIVE MODELS on the cover of "Vogue." But these are not just models, babies, these are GREAT models. These are Lily Donaldson, Hilary Rhoda, Doutzen Kroes, Sasha Pivovarova, Caroline Trentini, Raquel Zimmermann, Jessica Stam, Chanel Iman, Coco Rocha, and Agyness Deyn. We at Anniemosity have our favorites (Stam and Doutzen), and we wholeheartedly thank and praise Anna Wintour for her decision to FINALLY put some god damn models on the cover.

3. The rumor that Lindsay Lohan is dating Kevin Federline

PLEASE be true please be true please be true please be true please be true please be true please be true pleasebetrue pleasebetrue pleasebetrue pleasebetrue. Oh my god.


Three Things in Pop Culture I Dislike.

1. Britney's stubborn refusal to acknowledge her shiny head.

We all saw you do it, baby. Don't hide from it. You did it to make a statement so embrace it! Own it -- nay, rock it. There are a lot of women who have shaved it all off and rocked it well. Sinead O'Connor, Sigourney Weaver, Demi Moore, Natalie Portman... Nnenna from ANTM Cycle 6... I hear even Halle Berry is doing it soon. Lose the wig, Britney. Bald and in charge! Or something.

2. Sanjaya

I refuse to talk about this. I refuse to even post a real picture of him. Just know... I dislike it.

3a. "Grey's Anatomy" not being new for like five years.

Seriously, now. It's been so long since the last new episode that I almost forgot what was happening. Was that five year leave-of-absence really necessary? I doubt it, guys. You may be the most dysfunctional cast on television ("I Love New York" aside), but really. Let's not do this re-run bullshit any longer.

3b. "Private Practice" in general.

Addison needs to stay with "Grey's." That is the long and short of it. Also, why, oh why, was it deemed appropriate to name a show about gynecologists "Private Practice?" Ugh. This is a big, fat, bad idea.


There you have it, ladies and gentlemen.
The floor is now open for discussion.

sometimes it's all bigger than you.

sometimes al sparhawk will make you cry twice in public. sometimes you'll grab your friend's arm, trying to anticipate the inevitable, knowing that what's about to happen could very possibly knock you off of your feet. sometimes, even though your feet hurt so badly, you just want the show to go on and on and on and just never stop. sometimes you'll lose yourself in the blue lights illuminating mimi parker's hair against the red velvet curtain. sometimes when you think it's easy to bargain, it's easy to last, it really sounds like razors in your ears, that bell's been ringing now for years.


sometimes through the dust you feel that you must hear the strains of a dove. sometimes at the peak we reach to cue the strings, they ring so sweet, they lay in plain relief. sometimes i see you pound your fist into the earth and i've read your books, it seems that you could use another fool. and even sometimes, if you scream loud enough for long enough, i'll stop writing songs, stop scratching out lines, i won't have to think, and it won't have to rhyme.

Yep.

Oh, don't forget the mural painted onto the pool table.


Glorious.


PS: If anyone is interested in seeing Les Claypool in Milwaukee, let me know. If these tickets get sold, a Clifford takes the inevitable first step to fame and fortune. No kidding.

PPS: Al Sparhawk -- I will see you tomorrow.

Ms. Vegetarian has been missing meat. A lot.

Here's the thing, I've been a vegetarian for almost two years, and I love it. Sure, sometimes it's hard when I go out to eat, but overall, it's been really great. I haven't really missed meat that much at all. The smell is tantalizing sometimes, but I know deep down that I really don't want whatever it is that I'm smelling. It's not going to taste as good as it smells, and I'll probably just be upset that I ate meat.

In the last week, all I've wanted was some mandarin chicken. That great Applebee's Oriental Chicken Wrap makes my pulse beat a little faster. Really, even the McDonald's Asian Salad has been getting my mouth watering. God, even now, I'm salivating over the thought of it. Seriously, I just want to get up and say, "Hey, let's grab McDonald's for dinner tonight."

Maybe it's just a phase that will pass... but seriously, I am having a god damn dilemma about dinner tonight. I may make mac & cheese or something, but I just want some fucking chicken.

I am so bored with the indie music scene. Just saying that makes me sound snobbier than the indie snobs, but I spent yesterday morning trying to expand my musical horizons and while I found a few diamonds in the rough, overall I deleted a bunch of crap that all sounded the same. CocoRosie is like a bizarre dream sequence merged with The Neverending Story. Parts & Labor is... loud and chaotic, albeit contained. Butterfly Explosion wishes they were Explosions in the Sky.

I need new, exciting music. I mean, the Airfields are all right. I like Headlights. Malajobe kicked my ass. But sometimes I'd just rather listen to U2.

Yeah. Remember I love U2? I forgot for awhile. They got eclipsed by the majesty that is the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the power that is Low, the art that is the Velvet Underground.

I accidentally started playing "Love is Blindness" from Achtung Baby yesterday and suddenly remembered sitting on the floor of my high school hallway, leaning against my locker, playing the song through my headphones. I remembered putting Achtung Baby in my top five albums of all time... and I saw that since loading the album onto my computer, new as of October, I haven't listened to any of the tracks. At all.

So I listened to the whole thing. It's still great. Great? Amazing. Epic. A fantastic album. Why did I stop listening? Why did I get bored with it? Do I really need more new music?

Of course I need new music. Sometimes, though, I go on these new music rampages, listening to whatever the fuck I can get my hands on, and I completely forget about the music I fell in love with once upon a time. My favorites go forever without being listened to, letting the mp3s get metaphorically dusty on my hard drive.

So I dusted off my "Top Five Favorite Songs of All Time" to see if they still stand. Overall, they still do. ("Mr. Brownstone" has slipped off the list, replaced by a Tom Waits tune or a John Frusciante tune [I have to do some soul-searching before I land on one or the other], and I can't decide if "Easily" has been replaced by "Wet Sand" or not. I digress.)

I realized that "40" was kind of a hasty choice. I didn't think about it enough before putting it on there. And all of a sudden, I realized that the song I was listening to should be in its place.

"Running to Stand Still" by U2 is about a woman with a severe heroin addiction near the Ballymun Seven Towers area of Dublin. I don't know what the significance is, why the woman was placed here for the setting of the song (aside from the fact that the song comes from "The Joshua Tree," widely regarded as an album full of social commentary... and it is) but for me, it's really hard to focus on the actual message of the song. To be honest, I knew it was about a woman with a drug problem, but I didn't know exactly what it was about until I looked it up just now, because I can't look at it in a global sense, I have to zoom in and examine every line, because it's all so well-written, it's just poetry. THIS is lyricism, THIS is art through words.

Jesus. Jesus. Who writes like that? These are lines that push me to be a better writer. I cry a lot at this song because the power of words is incredible. It reminds me why I love music so much. It reminds me what real artistry is.

I don't know where I'm going with this.

So talk to me about music. New music. Your favorite music. U2. Lyrics you love. Music that moves you. Tell me about it.



PS: When I heard "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" by Big & Rich this evening, I got nauseous. Literally nauseous. What a fucking terrible song. Just sayin'.

After a twelve hour shift, complete with being called a bitch four times by underage bridesmaids (ending with me physically removing a beer bottle from one of their hands, only to have them hang on and yank back on it), being told by an old crotchety bastard that he can tell exactly why I am single (because apparently $2.50 is too much to pay for a MGD), having a round of drunk-ass groomsmen make a toast to it being my first night at the top of their lungs (embarrassing), conga lines (obnoxious), and the sticky-ass Dr. McGillicuddy that ended up all over me (annoying), the hundred-plus dollars in my pocket was definitely worth it (definitely).

I think this job is going to work out well if things continue in this direction (weddings)... and if they continue to schedule me with hot hottie hot co-workers.

PS: They took the bear skin rug in for cleaning. (I'm not kidding.)
PPS: I'm getting a massage at my fitness club this week. (Hell yes.)

Here in Onalaska, Prime Time TV is Family Time Mondays through Wednesdays. We all have our respective shows that we want to watch throughout the week, and we watch them together. It's an important thing for us to do. Tuesdays and Wednesdays it's my pick: "American Idol" on Tuesdays, "America's Next Top Model" on Wednesdays. What can I say, I'm a sucker for great/shitty reality TV.

My mother, however, is following in my reality TV footsteps, and she picks on Mondays. I've been trying to work the sitcoms in on Mondays -- I quite enjoy "How I Met Your Mother" (starring Nick Andopolis and Doogie Howser) -- but because I've got two nights, I relented. Her pick -- "Dancing With the Stars."

Oh yes. I've been watching "Dancing With the Stars" every week. It's been pretty traumatizing at the same time as it's actually quite fascinating. Look at Leeza Gibbons trying to be relevant. Look at Clyde "The Glide" Drexler, trying to fox trot. Watch as Billy Ray Cyrus attempts to have a career without his mullet. It's horrifying and interesting at the same time.

When Joey Fatone did a "Star Wars" routine this week, though, that was it. He wrecked "Star Wars" and the novelty of watching this show all in one fell swoop. I liked him, he has personality and a sense of humor, and he's kind of one of those goofy charmers. And... well, he was in 'NSync, god damn it. ...not that I ever... you know... liked them or anything...

Uh, anyway, there is one redeeming factor in this show, aside from staring, watching, waiting for Heather Mills' leg to go flying across the stage (is that heartless?): every week, Jimmy Kimmel teaches us how to dance with his parking lot security guard, Guillermo. Observe:



Seriously? It almost redeemed the horrific monstrosity that was this:



Okay, not quite. What the fuck is that?

The wait is over, bitches.

Before I post these, I want to thank: Fuller, Clay, Samantha, and Pelowski for all their input, ideas, patience, and constructive criticism.

Fuller




Matz




Jacobson





and introducing the dark horse of the competition......

Dan




Who will be Anniemosity's Next Top Model? Stay tuned.

Also, I have blogs coming soon about the following: running into Train Guy at the gym (and all the gym-tastic regulars), "Live Free or Die Hard," and..... well, there's something I want to blog about but I don't want to acknowledge it and further the propaganda. It rhymes with Ranjaya.

Get out of town, Anniemosity has a new crush?

Yes. It's pretty common knowledge that I fall in love with everyone.

Apparently even gay men are not off limits.



Yep. Clinton Kelly is my new Gay Crush. With the Gay Crushes, you really should know better, but it's hard when you see pictures like the above, even when that hairline is airbrushed a good three inches. And he always has a great outfit. And can probably pick me one out. And if I say "Christian Louboutin" he'll say "OHmygod, YES!" (and maybe even buy me a pair).

What's not to love?

I'd just have to eat broccoli elsewhere.