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From Jay Patrikios, Designer:

Recent Things:

Piercings
— I just got my nipples pierced and now I can't run without a shirt because they still tug a little. Ouch.
— I also just stretched my septum. I had to — I bought the wrong size ring and opened the package. I couldn't return it, and it didn't fit anywhere else, so I had to stretch. Here's something for all you kids out there: Stretching a hole that goes through cartilage in the nose hurts, a lot. The soreness is almost gone now, but last week — wow. Pain.

House
I just moved into the weirdest house in the world, kinda. I suppose that the Winchester house in California is weirder, but only a little. My housemate and I found a whole mess of stuff that we didn't see on our first two walk-throughs. We found a place that could have been used to hide Anne Frank and family. Only it's in Massachusetts, where she would have been fine. Probably, unless some out-of-state driver didn't know the you-have-to-stop-at-crosswalks-so-you-don't-crush-pedestrians law, and ran her down.

Oh, the house. It has rooms off of closets. There are six bedrooms, five of which are habitable. One doesn't have heat, so it's not so habitable. It's got the best windows, of course. There are two closets with heaters in them. Making plenty of sense so far, right? Right. Ok, the kitchen has 40 cabinets and 30 drawers. No two are the same size. Ok, maybe nine are the same size, but that's it; only one-third. The living room has a coat-check closet deal and drawers in it that fit nothing but small crap. The drawers are stacked seven feet tall. Try seeing into something that's seven feet in the air. Can't do it, can ya? Me neither. Neither can Sean, and he's tall.

Exploding Bird
Sean, Natalie, and I went to see Star Wars at the Crossgates Mall in Albany, NY. Good theater, crappy movie. George Lucas is so bad. I wanted to like it. I didn't. On the way to see it, Sean hit a bird. I think it was a mourning dove. It blew up. There's a fine line between grey pigeons and mourning doves, but it still blew up. I bet pigeons would, too. We had sushi. Then we saw Star Wars on its opening night. We weren't geeky enough to see the Wednesday 12:01 a.m. showing, but just geeky enough and old enough to see it that night. That's fine. We're not the ones with the problem, Shannon is. She's already seen it three times. She thinks she's done now. I'd like to believe it this time.

Star Wars
What a piece of crap. A trade tariff — are you kidding me? The overly-Asian stereotyped viceroys? The "Jamaican" Jar-Jar guy? Ugh. Awful. Do I dare say that Lucas is a xenophobe, or at least made a xenophobic movie? I believe I can make that claim. Ewan McGregor? Under-used. Computer animation? Over-used. Why didn't Liam Neeson disappear like Obi-Wan did when he died? He had to hold on long enough to utter one last line (as opposed to every other movie where the Jedi master just came back in a vision). I get it. Bad, bad, bad. I'm trying to understand why people love George Lucas. He made a Disney movie. Anakin and his "immaculate conception"? Come on. I'm not even religious, but if I was, I'd be taking much offense to that. Much. George Lucas must have made this movie in a bubble. Didn't want to hear any criticism during the writing, did he? I'm sure he's hearing a lot of it now. The only favorable reviews I've heard of this movie are from people who are so blinded by their love for Lucas that they can't see the forest for the trees. I have mad issues with this movie. Mad issues.

My Pimpin' '61 Caddy
She's damn near completion — ok, mechanically anyway. Her body and interior need a little work. Everyone I've called for parts in the U.S. has been a weirdo. The mechanics are dope, but the used-parts guys have issues. They know too much and get obsessive, like drug addicts who kick their habit but have to replace one addiction with another addiction. You know? So they sell Cadillac parts. Whatever. As long as they're not shooting smack, good for them.

Ok, that's what's up. Kinda quiet small-town living. Feel like visiting? This is the season for it. I'd let you stay at my house, but it's damn creepy and the only room left is the uninhabitable one. We think there are birds living in it.

bye.

Jay

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Read more "Letters from Tripod" in the archive.

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