white chalk

I was listening to PJ Harvey's new album today on the bus and I was liking it so much I couldn't stop, even though I am also really into my latest library book, Bad Monkeys by Matt Ruff, and was dying to read that, too. Back to PJ. It's quite haunting and macabre, but with songs about ether, what do you expect? I think PJ and Bjork are the only female artists young (straight) men are unabashedly proud to exclaim their affections for. They're too cool to admit a longing for Karen Carpenter or Joni Mitchell or Barbra Streisand or Ashlee Simpson. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe only sexy lesbians like PJ and artistic gay guys like Bjork. No. Nuh uh. I need to stop second-guessing myself. I know for a fact asshole-ish, trendy young men like PJ because there was this huge douchebag in my high school theater class who made fun of me until he found out I liked PJ, and then grudgingly gave me some respect--which is so lame. That guy's name was Carlos, and he has a baby now, and he was (and still is) a huge, nasty bastard.