Today, in a break with the howling and whining that have defined this journal of late, I praise my friend Kat Kinsman. For in addition to compelling me to blog in the first place by setting this up on one of her servers, Kat does the following wonderful things, in no particular order:
1. Spouts the most eloquent profanity:
"Seriously, though - he should just grab a fork for the cock buffet, make a stop at the hot turd dispensary for dessert, and not forget to receive his complimentary bag of dick on the way out."
2. Mixes the best Hemingway daiquiris ever.
3. Snaps important shots of neighborhood graffiti:
Your eyes do not deceive you. When the Gowanus Lounge died, it briefly became the GO ANUS. Kat made sure the world did not forget.
4. Always does her hair just so.
5. Sings songs about her rabbits and dogs.
6. Makes the notion of a Karl Rovian sexcapade even more horrifying than the phrase "Karl Rovian sexcapade" would suggest.
7. Listens to my bullshit.
8. Approaches culture actively. She listens to enough music, old and new, that she could probably pull off professional critiicism, but she does it without a whiff of pitchforkian snotbaggery. She reads constantly, writes everything from email to novels with thoughtful composition, creates both parodic and serious digital art, and even composes her outfits. All without caring if I turn up in jeans and a t-shirt that says "OKAY", while I listen to "I Got a Man" on my iPod.
9. Introduces me to the nicest people. Her boyfriend, her friends, her pets, even her plants--they're all preternaturally interesting and kind. Without, you know, being weird and culty.
10. Is thoughtful and generous for no reason at all. I'm looking at you, Yankee lunchbox.