this morning i spilled hot wax all over my bathroom sink and cabinet. like a tub of bikini wax that is cherry laffy taffy in all ways but flavor (even that is easily debatable).
after spilling it on the sink and cabinets, i cursed the fates for stealing the 20 minutes it was gonna take to clean it up with the little bit of isopropyl alcohol i had left. some of it dripped on my toes, too.
in the midst of my cursing, i dropped the whole fucking thing on the bathroom floor.
then, there was crying.
i give up.
seriously.
it's gonna take 3 hours and a gallon of rubbing alcohol to clean it off my floor, the $85 wax pot, and my $200 hair straightener.
i wish i were rich. i'd fucking throw the appliances away and get new floors.
instead, i get to cover the entire pink mess in saran wrap and look at it for at least a month. because that's how long it takes for me to clean anything up.
12.22.2007
12.19.2007
auld lang syne
we all are miserable.
talking to a friend over turkey rachel's the other day, i determined that whatever misery we have, we create. but create it, we do.
either you doing what you love and can't pay the bills or working so hard to pay the bills you never see anyone you love. or you are paying the bills doing what you love, but you no longer love it because it's your job.
misery.
it's fucking beautiful
what misery do i create?
i think that my blog pretty clearly explains that.
merry christmas.
go make some misery.
talking to a friend over turkey rachel's the other day, i determined that whatever misery we have, we create. but create it, we do.
either you doing what you love and can't pay the bills or working so hard to pay the bills you never see anyone you love. or you are paying the bills doing what you love, but you no longer love it because it's your job.
misery.
it's fucking beautiful
what misery do i create?
i think that my blog pretty clearly explains that.
merry christmas.
go make some misery.
12.17.2007
with or without you
at the annual girls christmas dinner the other night, we talked about what we could not live without. i came to tweezers.
but in the bathroom at the bar car later that week, what i really came to is that there is not a thing in this world that i can not live without.
except
the cruelty of hope and the comfort of indecision
and it is tangible in driving him home at 1am,
walking through the obed national park,
the freckled bridge of his nose,
the temporary tag on a windshield,
and the same lunch date
almost one year later
with the same half-eaten sandwich,
the same pathetic snow,
the same lack of eye contact
and the same damn pair of shoes.
but in the bathroom at the bar car later that week, what i really came to is that there is not a thing in this world that i can not live without.
except
the cruelty of hope and the comfort of indecision
and it is tangible in driving him home at 1am,
walking through the obed national park,
the freckled bridge of his nose,
the temporary tag on a windshield,
and the same lunch date
almost one year later
with the same half-eaten sandwich,
the same pathetic snow,
the same lack of eye contact
and the same damn pair of shoes.
12.13.2007
conception
Your finger traces the pulse in my neck
From the shelf of my jaw line mandible
To the soft ridges of my breast bone sternum.
Fascination moves your palm and I see
Your eyes expand and contract
As you discover and lose my pulse.
You talk chemical reactions that start life,
The beating of the ventricles,
And how time wears a muscle to its end.
I consider the scent of your shoulder clavicle
The tightening of my chest thoracic
And the minute my pulse might stop.
And in this morning bed I wonder
About the technical names of things,
The difference between substance and longevity,
And the conflict in our belief and my desire:
These chemical reactions in our decisions
Small moments when life begins.
From the shelf of my jaw line mandible
To the soft ridges of my breast bone sternum.
Fascination moves your palm and I see
Your eyes expand and contract
As you discover and lose my pulse.
You talk chemical reactions that start life,
The beating of the ventricles,
And how time wears a muscle to its end.
I consider the scent of your shoulder clavicle
The tightening of my chest thoracic
And the minute my pulse might stop.
And in this morning bed I wonder
About the technical names of things,
The difference between substance and longevity,
And the conflict in our belief and my desire:
These chemical reactions in our decisions
Small moments when life begins.
11.20.2007
spanish club music
as if my happiness depends solely on my sex life.
jesus.
what am i? a man?
did you know that men transfer testosterone in salivary exchange so that women get randy from a kiss.
evolution is a beautiful thing.
anywhoooo- i should get funny again this weekend.
my parents are coming to stay with me over the holiday.
holy xanax.
jesus.
what am i? a man?
did you know that men transfer testosterone in salivary exchange so that women get randy from a kiss.
evolution is a beautiful thing.
anywhoooo- i should get funny again this weekend.
my parents are coming to stay with me over the holiday.
holy xanax.
asian club music
let's explore the direct coorelation between my happiness and my humor.
happiness > humor > anger
if i am happy, i can not be funny. i think it's because most of my humor subsists on deprecation and disrespect. throw a monkey into the wrench who is intelligent and challenging, and i got nothing.
nothing but sappy poetry about running long hunter state park.
damn it.
i knew there were other reasons i stayed single.
happiness > humor > anger
if i am happy, i can not be funny. i think it's because most of my humor subsists on deprecation and disrespect. throw a monkey into the wrench who is intelligent and challenging, and i got nothing.
nothing but sappy poetry about running long hunter state park.
damn it.
i knew there were other reasons i stayed single.
11.05.2007
how it ends
she threw the band in the cumberland because she knew that if she kept it, there'd be days that she'd consider pulling it from a drawer and fingering it in her left hand. the temptation of a regret that did not exist was too much to stash in a drawer. she decided to hide some other expectation in her mother's secretary.
she'd also wanted to know what it felt like to stop her jeep in the middle of a six lane bridge, abandon fear of traffic, and see her marriage drop to the river like november sweetgum leaves. not direct in descent, but moved by the temperament of wind.
it was january, and the platinum band fell fast while new year's traffic honked at her in her grey sweatpants on the side of a bridge. so far was the fall and so small was the ring, that she did not see it enter the water. for a moment she wondered if she should have pawned it and taken the money to buy something as frivolous as that promise.
the moment passed, and the wind pushed her toward the center lane, a driver's side door, and the knowing that she had other promises to keep.
she'd also wanted to know what it felt like to stop her jeep in the middle of a six lane bridge, abandon fear of traffic, and see her marriage drop to the river like november sweetgum leaves. not direct in descent, but moved by the temperament of wind.
it was january, and the platinum band fell fast while new year's traffic honked at her in her grey sweatpants on the side of a bridge. so far was the fall and so small was the ring, that she did not see it enter the water. for a moment she wondered if she should have pawned it and taken the money to buy something as frivolous as that promise.
the moment passed, and the wind pushed her toward the center lane, a driver's side door, and the knowing that she had other promises to keep.
11.03.2007
the way i am
five miles on a saturday morning at 7:30 am. this is not when runners expect to be confronted by what we have no longer want. and 14th street is not the sanctuary where we ask the universe why it converges during our morning run.
or. why does god make the man i have wanted and the man i do want drive past me on the same morning run. wtf??? further proof that god hates me.
these ideas in our head like red hots in our mouths burn with a sick, metallic. and the taste doesn't leave the mouth. at a time when all normal people are sleeping, i am running. and the universe is driving.
i run from the anticipation of camping,
the inevitability of gala,
and the irony of my wedding dress.
yup.
it's makin a comeback.
thank god.
it's a beautiful bitch.
that needs to be seen.
when solitude is not an option.
or. why does god make the man i have wanted and the man i do want drive past me on the same morning run. wtf??? further proof that god hates me.
these ideas in our head like red hots in our mouths burn with a sick, metallic. and the taste doesn't leave the mouth. at a time when all normal people are sleeping, i am running. and the universe is driving.
i run from the anticipation of camping,
the inevitability of gala,
and the irony of my wedding dress.
yup.
it's makin a comeback.
thank god.
it's a beautiful bitch.
that needs to be seen.
when solitude is not an option.
10.31.2007
fidelity
the room was blue. even thought the paint can had read rootbeer, laying in that bed, the room looked blue. maybe it was the august glare reflecting off the blue quilt. maybe it was a fraction of the prism in that morning sky.
no matter. it was blue. and she wanted him dead. not anytime soon, but in time for there to be more than this blue room, and these brown walls, and that damn squirrel on the fence.
no matter. it was blue. and she wanted him dead. not anytime soon, but in time for there to be more than this blue room, and these brown walls, and that damn squirrel on the fence.
10.25.2007
Tennessee Code Annotated #2
Title 68.5
(1) The board shall establish criteria for determining the sentence when a person violates work place environmental conditions by speaking to colleagues while depositing waste in disposal areas. Entry order, grunt decibal readings, and cube-land proximity shall all be taken into consideration when determining sentence. The board shall also prepare a list of comminication methods that are hazardous in order to aid in determining the generators of hazardous waste in creating a safe lavaratory environment. However, such list shall not limit the regulatory authority over the board to whip somebody's ass if they create substances or conversations which meet established criteria for a hazardous waste area environmental violation.
(b) (1) The commissioner shall notify the register of institutional mango spray candidates in each stall in which a disposal facility or site is located and currently being used for depositing of hazardous waste. Such notice shall include the following:
1. Identification
2. Violation
3. Sentence
for example:
1. Identification: Richard R. Richarson
2. Violation: Inquiries into weekend activities while engaged in noxious waste disposal of a TCA#2 nature.
3. Sentence: Relegated to the library parking garage to dispose of waste with vagrants who will talk to anybody.
The general assembly declares that it is the policy of this state to ensure that no hazardous waste, as regulated under this title, is disposed of in conjunction with small talk. Therefore, subject to the appropriation of funds in the general appropriations act for such purposes, the department shall develop an inspection program for all permitted facilities that provides for frequent, thorough and regular inspections of the uninvited conversations in bathroom stalls. Further, subject to the appropriation of funds in the general appropriations act for such purposes, the department shall inspect meeting rooms, break areas and parking lots to prevent the introduction of hazardous conversation into any OFFICE SPACE.
(1) The board shall establish criteria for determining the sentence when a person violates work place environmental conditions by speaking to colleagues while depositing waste in disposal areas. Entry order, grunt decibal readings, and cube-land proximity shall all be taken into consideration when determining sentence. The board shall also prepare a list of comminication methods that are hazardous in order to aid in determining the generators of hazardous waste in creating a safe lavaratory environment. However, such list shall not limit the regulatory authority over the board to whip somebody's ass if they create substances or conversations which meet established criteria for a hazardous waste area environmental violation.
(b) (1) The commissioner shall notify the register of institutional mango spray candidates in each stall in which a disposal facility or site is located and currently being used for depositing of hazardous waste. Such notice shall include the following:
1. Identification
2. Violation
3. Sentence
for example:
1. Identification: Richard R. Richarson
2. Violation: Inquiries into weekend activities while engaged in noxious waste disposal of a TCA#2 nature.
3. Sentence: Relegated to the library parking garage to dispose of waste with vagrants who will talk to anybody.
The general assembly declares that it is the policy of this state to ensure that no hazardous waste, as regulated under this title, is disposed of in conjunction with small talk. Therefore, subject to the appropriation of funds in the general appropriations act for such purposes, the department shall develop an inspection program for all permitted facilities that provides for frequent, thorough and regular inspections of the uninvited conversations in bathroom stalls. Further, subject to the appropriation of funds in the general appropriations act for such purposes, the department shall inspect meeting rooms, break areas and parking lots to prevent the introduction of hazardous conversation into any OFFICE SPACE.
10.24.2007
license to ill
somebody call the short bus.
i need a ride.
now, this is not because i am that girl in the white jeep who plucks her eyebrows while travelling down the interstate in morning rush hour. nor, does it have anything to do with the fact that i have been known to drive my stick-shift SUV while drinking a yazoo pale ale, talking on my cell phone, and smoking a cigarette.
what is does relate to is the fact that i could not find my way out of a new year's eve vodka bottle if i pooped on myself in it. don't ask.
it took me 30 minutes this morning to get from my house in east nash to my cleaners on belmont boulevard. it should have taken 10. this had nothing to do with traffic and everything to do with the fact that i am retarded.
please call riverdale elementary and chastise them relentlessly them for putting me in the gifted program. they gave me the impression that i am smart. i have spent subsequent years proving them wrong.
this morning, in my continuing effort of proof, i did, however, get an education. i learned that you can go back and forth under the interstate 3 times on your way from 5 points to belmont boulevard. as well, the homeless man at 4th and douglas is definitely related to the one at harding place and franklin road. and who knew nashville had a motor speedyway?
a freaking race track in the middle of town.
after passing the speedway, i lost all will to navigate and pluck my eyebrows. instead, i got my mascara out, continued my mating dance with blindness, and realized my dry cleaners was on 12th avenue and not belmont.
does the short bus have a drink holder?
i need a ride.
now, this is not because i am that girl in the white jeep who plucks her eyebrows while travelling down the interstate in morning rush hour. nor, does it have anything to do with the fact that i have been known to drive my stick-shift SUV while drinking a yazoo pale ale, talking on my cell phone, and smoking a cigarette.
what is does relate to is the fact that i could not find my way out of a new year's eve vodka bottle if i pooped on myself in it. don't ask.
it took me 30 minutes this morning to get from my house in east nash to my cleaners on belmont boulevard. it should have taken 10. this had nothing to do with traffic and everything to do with the fact that i am retarded.
please call riverdale elementary and chastise them relentlessly them for putting me in the gifted program. they gave me the impression that i am smart. i have spent subsequent years proving them wrong.
this morning, in my continuing effort of proof, i did, however, get an education. i learned that you can go back and forth under the interstate 3 times on your way from 5 points to belmont boulevard. as well, the homeless man at 4th and douglas is definitely related to the one at harding place and franklin road. and who knew nashville had a motor speedyway?
a freaking race track in the middle of town.
after passing the speedway, i lost all will to navigate and pluck my eyebrows. instead, i got my mascara out, continued my mating dance with blindness, and realized my dry cleaners was on 12th avenue and not belmont.
does the short bus have a drink holder?
10.22.2007
cat vs. whale
some nights i drink cocktails.
and by cocktails, i mean cocktailssssssssssssss.
and some mornings i wake up with a cat in my eye.
and by cat in my eye, i mean some dried out, ass red eyeballs that scare people on the streets. no whites in my eyes. it's nasty. it hurts. and i am so dehydrated from the night before, i can't make tears to remedy this.
yes, i've tried drops.
they don't work.
yazoo pale ale gives me ferris bueller dry eyes.
on these mornings, i walk around the office and co-workers stop me in the hallway to ask me, "what is wrong with your eyes?" when i open my mouth to tell them, they know the answer before i speak. pale ale has some serious staying power. and because everyone knows that i'm hung over from the reek factor, i just wander around muttering. "there's a cat in my eye. i hate cats. fucking cats."
people think i'm crazy.
might be- pale ale is the only thing in my life with staying power.
i know my memory has none.
after 5 years of working downtown, i am well aware of the air vents that blow like whale holes on 7th avenue. i mean this is something i KNOW. countless hours of entertainment have come from watching tourists get accosted by these ginormous blow holes. i thought they were intrinsic to my world view of downtown.
so, i'm walking into work after getting out of my boss's car.
it's rush hour.
i'm wearing a skirt.
and no panties.
and it's not bikini season.
yup.
commuters got an eyeful of cat.
it made me laugh so hard, i peed.
all down my legs.
in the middle of church street.
i fucking hate cats.
and by cocktails, i mean cocktailssssssssssssss.
and some mornings i wake up with a cat in my eye.
and by cat in my eye, i mean some dried out, ass red eyeballs that scare people on the streets. no whites in my eyes. it's nasty. it hurts. and i am so dehydrated from the night before, i can't make tears to remedy this.
yes, i've tried drops.
they don't work.
yazoo pale ale gives me ferris bueller dry eyes.
on these mornings, i walk around the office and co-workers stop me in the hallway to ask me, "what is wrong with your eyes?" when i open my mouth to tell them, they know the answer before i speak. pale ale has some serious staying power. and because everyone knows that i'm hung over from the reek factor, i just wander around muttering. "there's a cat in my eye. i hate cats. fucking cats."
people think i'm crazy.
might be- pale ale is the only thing in my life with staying power.
i know my memory has none.
after 5 years of working downtown, i am well aware of the air vents that blow like whale holes on 7th avenue. i mean this is something i KNOW. countless hours of entertainment have come from watching tourists get accosted by these ginormous blow holes. i thought they were intrinsic to my world view of downtown.
so, i'm walking into work after getting out of my boss's car.
it's rush hour.
i'm wearing a skirt.
and no panties.
and it's not bikini season.
yup.
commuters got an eyeful of cat.
it made me laugh so hard, i peed.
all down my legs.
in the middle of church street.
i fucking hate cats.
10.21.2007
a nervous tic motion of the head to the left
when most people find out i'm single, they look at me a little shocked.
i am reasonable to look at.
smarter than a box of rocks.
and sometimes funny.
by cultural definition, i should be getting laid.
most times, i tell people i am single because i haven't met anyone interesting enough. most people in the world are boring and watch too much tv.
or i say that i like to do what i like to do, and not many men like to read the new yorker, watch buffy the vampire slayer on DVD, and shop for antiques. well, not any straight men.
i play it off like it's my choice.
and it is.
my choice.
to be an idiot.
so, last night... i go to a favorite bar to see a band whose lead singer is grimey's boy. now, grimey's boy has been an inspiration of mine for a couple of years. i go and buy vinyl, and we talk music. when we do this, i am sober and not retarded. my heart beats like a fucking white stripes album, but i am cool, calculated, and appropriately hot when i go into grimey's. because i like this guy. he's interesting. and smart. and reasonable to look at.
broke that glass last night.
some of the highlights of and alternatives to our conversation..
"last night" me: you're not drunk? huh?(nose curls) why not?
"a world where i am not single" me: can i get you a drink?
"last night" me: so, those were all new songs, huh?
(nose still may have been curled)
"a world where i am not single" me: i really like your new stuff. when are you guys putting out your next album?
"last night" me: you know what's fucked up? you were hotter to me when you were just the guy who worked in a record store. when i found out that you were in a band you got less hot. is that weird?
"a world where i am not single" me: great shirt. i love the design.
"last night" me: thanks for the bees, uk. you know the album you recommended to me in april.
(what the fuck? it's october. i'm psycho, and he has a blank look)
"a world where i am not single" me: so what was the best new release this week? you've got such great taste in music.
i could go on and on.
i did last night.
why can't i just black out when I am loaded, like everybody else?
why do i have to remember this shit?
why didn't someone diagnose my ketel-one-tourette's when i was in college?
in the midst of all of these questions, there's one thing i do know.
why i'm single.
i am reasonable to look at.
smarter than a box of rocks.
and sometimes funny.
by cultural definition, i should be getting laid.
most times, i tell people i am single because i haven't met anyone interesting enough. most people in the world are boring and watch too much tv.
or i say that i like to do what i like to do, and not many men like to read the new yorker, watch buffy the vampire slayer on DVD, and shop for antiques. well, not any straight men.
i play it off like it's my choice.
and it is.
my choice.
to be an idiot.
so, last night... i go to a favorite bar to see a band whose lead singer is grimey's boy. now, grimey's boy has been an inspiration of mine for a couple of years. i go and buy vinyl, and we talk music. when we do this, i am sober and not retarded. my heart beats like a fucking white stripes album, but i am cool, calculated, and appropriately hot when i go into grimey's. because i like this guy. he's interesting. and smart. and reasonable to look at.
broke that glass last night.
some of the highlights of and alternatives to our conversation..
"last night" me: you're not drunk? huh?(nose curls) why not?
"a world where i am not single" me: can i get you a drink?
"last night" me: so, those were all new songs, huh?
(nose still may have been curled)
"a world where i am not single" me: i really like your new stuff. when are you guys putting out your next album?
"last night" me: you know what's fucked up? you were hotter to me when you were just the guy who worked in a record store. when i found out that you were in a band you got less hot. is that weird?
"a world where i am not single" me: great shirt. i love the design.
"last night" me: thanks for the bees, uk. you know the album you recommended to me in april.
(what the fuck? it's october. i'm psycho, and he has a blank look)
"a world where i am not single" me: so what was the best new release this week? you've got such great taste in music.
i could go on and on.
i did last night.
why can't i just black out when I am loaded, like everybody else?
why do i have to remember this shit?
why didn't someone diagnose my ketel-one-tourette's when i was in college?
in the midst of all of these questions, there's one thing i do know.
why i'm single.
10.19.2007
chillout tent
this morning, i am sitting on my couch in my kitchen.
the couch smells like pot and has for 4 years.
i bought it with returned wedding gifts.
sorry if you bought me the waffle iron.
that it smells like pot is absolute karma.
i shouldn't return presents that people give me.
especially when i have asked for them with the intention of returning them to buy something else.
it's deceitful.
and selfish.
luckily, i am divorced and aunt marie will never know that her waffle iron went straight back to goldsmiths, and she really bought me 9 square inches of a leather couch.
that smells like pot.
actually, marie may like that. she smoked a lot of pot in her day. it explains why she licks her fingers after she eats and before she shakes your hand.
an
e
way
the kitchen is full of all of the things that i had to move so that the carpet installers could do their job. i think they just broke a hole in the floor.
new carpet rocks.
i don't have to wear shower shoes inside my house any more.
yes, i did.
oh... another hole.
I bet my downstairs neighbors do not have a plaster ceiling any more.
but i have carpet which brings me one step closer to getting laid.
trust me.
it all makes sense.
the couch smells like pot and has for 4 years.
i bought it with returned wedding gifts.
sorry if you bought me the waffle iron.
that it smells like pot is absolute karma.
i shouldn't return presents that people give me.
especially when i have asked for them with the intention of returning them to buy something else.
it's deceitful.
and selfish.
luckily, i am divorced and aunt marie will never know that her waffle iron went straight back to goldsmiths, and she really bought me 9 square inches of a leather couch.
that smells like pot.
actually, marie may like that. she smoked a lot of pot in her day. it explains why she licks her fingers after she eats and before she shakes your hand.
an
e
way
the kitchen is full of all of the things that i had to move so that the carpet installers could do their job. i think they just broke a hole in the floor.
new carpet rocks.
i don't have to wear shower shoes inside my house any more.
yes, i did.
oh... another hole.
I bet my downstairs neighbors do not have a plaster ceiling any more.
but i have carpet which brings me one step closer to getting laid.
trust me.
it all makes sense.
10.18.2007
hoobastank
how many farts does it take in a cube before the entire office reeks?
this feels like question for the tootsie pop owl.
wonder where that cat is these days.
he soooooo needed an eyebrow wax.
this feels like question for the tootsie pop owl.
wonder where that cat is these days.
he soooooo needed an eyebrow wax.
10.06.2007
jesus loves me
so last night i trolled though blogger profiles in the nashville area while watching a movie alone. exactly the kind of behavior i like to ridicule.
anyways, if i had to guess, i would estimate that 29.9856% of nashville bloggers are blogging for christ. i had no idea that proselytizing had gone digital. what ever happened to putting on a tie and walking through neighborhoods on summer days? whatever happened to stopping on the edge of consummation to radically disappoint a lover? whatever happened to standing on a milk crate on the street corner?
one could also ask, what ever happened to looking for interesting people out in public, instead of on your computer?
touche. i'm going to drink coffee on a patio.
anyways, if i had to guess, i would estimate that 29.9856% of nashville bloggers are blogging for christ. i had no idea that proselytizing had gone digital. what ever happened to putting on a tie and walking through neighborhoods on summer days? whatever happened to stopping on the edge of consummation to radically disappoint a lover? whatever happened to standing on a milk crate on the street corner?
one could also ask, what ever happened to looking for interesting people out in public, instead of on your computer?
touche. i'm going to drink coffee on a patio.
9.08.2007
the moment it was over
wanting to be a squirrel on a fence
lyle lovett at the symphony
ceramic chickens for christmas
sitting in their jacuzzi
driving him to the smokies
inviting me on a reversal
four minutes after the last swallow of a pint of vodka
most things end in a single moment.
sometimes we stick around, telling ourselves that moment wasn't the end.
but it was.
lyle lovett at the symphony
ceramic chickens for christmas
sitting in their jacuzzi
driving him to the smokies
inviting me on a reversal
four minutes after the last swallow of a pint of vodka
most things end in a single moment.
sometimes we stick around, telling ourselves that moment wasn't the end.
but it was.
what i like(d) about you
i used to worry that i was obsessive.
it would bother me that i found distinct comfort in the familiar unreal of arranging the "wrapping presents" basket so that each sharpie, ribbon, and calling card had its place in the longaberger.
i thought it odd that an unclean corner on a christmas gift was a sin worse than stealing.
and if i have an eyebrow more than .00000365 centimeters long, i feel like the hairiest (wo)man beast on the planet. tweezing is a sacrament.
it just doesn't bother me anymore.
well, the eyebrow bothers me, but that it bothers me, doesn't bother me. there's comfort in knowing that we work a certain way, and even though you have control of what you do, you don't. even though you do.
ultimately losing control to being controlled by the part of you that lives in darwinian fear is what we are.
and with that in mind, i can not even begin to control what i liked about you.
1. reading comic books in the car before work and leaving them in the back seat because you were embarrassed to take them inside.
2. knowing that carrying a prada purse was not worshiping it.
3. making fun of everything to avoid seeing it.
4. taking 30 days of sobriety as a catapult into cyclone.
5. ruining my favorite song from 8th grade.
6. understanding the power of mean and using it.
7. reading the new yorker in order from front to back, using the subscription insert to hold your place.
8. understanding all of this.
it would bother me that i found distinct comfort in the familiar unreal of arranging the "wrapping presents" basket so that each sharpie, ribbon, and calling card had its place in the longaberger.
i thought it odd that an unclean corner on a christmas gift was a sin worse than stealing.
and if i have an eyebrow more than .00000365 centimeters long, i feel like the hairiest (wo)man beast on the planet. tweezing is a sacrament.
it just doesn't bother me anymore.
well, the eyebrow bothers me, but that it bothers me, doesn't bother me. there's comfort in knowing that we work a certain way, and even though you have control of what you do, you don't. even though you do.
ultimately losing control to being controlled by the part of you that lives in darwinian fear is what we are.
and with that in mind, i can not even begin to control what i liked about you.
1. reading comic books in the car before work and leaving them in the back seat because you were embarrassed to take them inside.
2. knowing that carrying a prada purse was not worshiping it.
3. making fun of everything to avoid seeing it.
4. taking 30 days of sobriety as a catapult into cyclone.
5. ruining my favorite song from 8th grade.
6. understanding the power of mean and using it.
7. reading the new yorker in order from front to back, using the subscription insert to hold your place.
8. understanding all of this.
9.01.2007
adventures in solitude
i didn't make it to church a couple of weeks ago.
forget why.
gonna try again this weekend- Holly Street Methodist.
also gonna make a home.
it's only been 2 years since i've had one.
painting and extermination are key to this venture.
a little stink removal, too.
who the fuck invented carpet?
tar and feather, baby, tar and feather.
i'm getting emotional.
i really have not had a place that felt like home in 2 years.
i haven't lived by myself in 6 years.
i'm about to start my period.
and i'm missing my best friend's baby's birthday.
waterworks.
forget why.
gonna try again this weekend- Holly Street Methodist.
also gonna make a home.
it's only been 2 years since i've had one.
painting and extermination are key to this venture.
a little stink removal, too.
who the fuck invented carpet?
tar and feather, baby, tar and feather.
i'm getting emotional.
i really have not had a place that felt like home in 2 years.
i haven't lived by myself in 6 years.
i'm about to start my period.
and i'm missing my best friend's baby's birthday.
waterworks.
8.26.2007
there really is no god
so my new apt does not have a dishwasher.
which is really sad.
what it does have is 2 block access to bars where open marriage 41 year olds nervously laugh and espouse the rhetoric of popular psychologists.
wow.
all really need is a dishwasher.
and, maybe, a stove.
which is really sad.
what it does have is 2 block access to bars where open marriage 41 year olds nervously laugh and espouse the rhetoric of popular psychologists.
wow.
all really need is a dishwasher.
and, maybe, a stove.
8.18.2007
holy holy holy
so i'm planning on going to church tomorrow. i need some forgiveness. i can't decide if i'm gonna head to the episcopal church or the methodist church. i think that the methodist church in my neighborhood has funky music.
ain't
no
way.
i can't do drums, guitars or flutes at church.
i'll let you know.
ain't
no
way.
i can't do drums, guitars or flutes at church.
i'll let you know.
8.10.2007
girls just wanna have fun
i am employed again.
i've had 3 dates in a week.
i like a boy... or two hundred.
however,
the sewer lines in my new place have been severed.
the bathroom is a cluster fuck.
i haven't pulled up the carpet yet and have to paint for a week.
bipolarity is a running theme in my life.
yeah!
boo!
i've had 3 dates in a week.
i like a boy... or two hundred.
however,
the sewer lines in my new place have been severed.
the bathroom is a cluster fuck.
i haven't pulled up the carpet yet and have to paint for a week.
bipolarity is a running theme in my life.
yeah!
boo!
7.31.2007
economics
i am a big fan of the law of diminising returns.
especially in application to food, men, and birthdays.
think about it.
a scoop of ice cream- not enough.
a pint of mint chocolate chip... pretty bad ass. almost eupohric.
a quart of ice cream- shitting your pants in the morning.
men follow the same trajectory...
meeting when you are out and flirting... ultimate hopeful tease.
first date at a local restaurant- you're in love.
looking at his man-hair on the bathroom floor after you've been shacking for 3 months- disgusting.
however, neither of these is as pronounced as the law in its application to age.
1- you can walk
2- you can talk
3- you can use the toilet
4- you learn to share
5- you write your name
13- you're a teenager, but you get your period
16- you can drive, but you can kill someone in your car
18- you can buy cigarettes and cocktails in new orleans, but you go to big boy jail
21- beer.
25- car insurance goes down, you can rent a car. but you also find your first wrinkle.
30 isn't dirty, but it is the peak of a downward slope.
now that i've cusped 30 what is there to look forward to?
40- decreased libido
45- crows feet become ostrich claws.
49- are you fucking kidding me. half a century only looks good on a classic car.
75- if i were art deco furniture this would be a good year.
when can i join the AARP?
especially in application to food, men, and birthdays.
think about it.
a scoop of ice cream- not enough.
a pint of mint chocolate chip... pretty bad ass. almost eupohric.
a quart of ice cream- shitting your pants in the morning.
men follow the same trajectory...
meeting when you are out and flirting... ultimate hopeful tease.
first date at a local restaurant- you're in love.
looking at his man-hair on the bathroom floor after you've been shacking for 3 months- disgusting.
however, neither of these is as pronounced as the law in its application to age.
1- you can walk
2- you can talk
3- you can use the toilet
4- you learn to share
5- you write your name
13- you're a teenager, but you get your period
16- you can drive, but you can kill someone in your car
18- you can buy cigarettes and cocktails in new orleans, but you go to big boy jail
21- beer.
25- car insurance goes down, you can rent a car. but you also find your first wrinkle.
30 isn't dirty, but it is the peak of a downward slope.
now that i've cusped 30 what is there to look forward to?
40- decreased libido
45- crows feet become ostrich claws.
49- are you fucking kidding me. half a century only looks good on a classic car.
75- if i were art deco furniture this would be a good year.
when can i join the AARP?
7.26.2007
almost always never
my life has become a series of 3 drag cigarettes, missed connections, and the feeling that i have got to get out of here.
so. what else is new?
at least i'm not masking it with prada and marriage... just tom ford and celibacy.
so. what else is new?
at least i'm not masking it with prada and marriage... just tom ford and celibacy.
7.25.2007
what i got
let's see.
i got a singular desire to kiss my hairstylist (who was born in the 80's mind you) wow. that desire about ended. hadn't conceptualized it in terms of decades until this point.
i got a double fist of mocha ice cream and teddy grahams. oink.
i got a triple threat of an eastern block, string bikinis, and a beach trip next week.
i got four reasons that i am washing dishes by hand:
1. my new apt does not have a dishwasher
2. i like to over-hydrate
3. three different meds for three different things.
4. some things can only be wiped away by the touch of a hand
i've had better.
i got a singular desire to kiss my hairstylist (who was born in the 80's mind you) wow. that desire about ended. hadn't conceptualized it in terms of decades until this point.
i got a double fist of mocha ice cream and teddy grahams. oink.
i got a triple threat of an eastern block, string bikinis, and a beach trip next week.
i got four reasons that i am washing dishes by hand:
1. my new apt does not have a dishwasher
2. i like to over-hydrate
3. three different meds for three different things.
4. some things can only be wiped away by the touch of a hand
i've had better.
7.16.2007
protecting the innocent
so tonight i went for a drink after yoga with a friend (paradox in action, baby). said friend's sibling who is our bartender says, "there is this guy at the bar, alone, who is so nice. he comes in all of the time... is in the same profession... come meet him."
we make sibling tell friend to come to us.
alone guy (who's not alone anymore) has his friend do a walk by.
(we could feel his check-out 8 bar stools away)
to check out our yogafied ugliness
(i am wearing spandex hot shorts and am 5lbs over the weight limit)
the stroller then tells the bar guy not to make the venture.
(did i mention that i am working my stellar afro tonight)
so we make the effort on the way out the door.
turns out she knows the same profession bar guy.
turns out she heard him telling the story of his divorce and vasectomy via speaker phone at her office about 3 years ago unbeknownst to him.
turns out i don't even have a witty quip for this entire experience.
we make sibling tell friend to come to us.
alone guy (who's not alone anymore) has his friend do a walk by.
(we could feel his check-out 8 bar stools away)
to check out our yogafied ugliness
(i am wearing spandex hot shorts and am 5lbs over the weight limit)
the stroller then tells the bar guy not to make the venture.
(did i mention that i am working my stellar afro tonight)
so we make the effort on the way out the door.
turns out she knows the same profession bar guy.
turns out she heard him telling the story of his divorce and vasectomy via speaker phone at her office about 3 years ago unbeknownst to him.
turns out i don't even have a witty quip for this entire experience.
7.15.2007
carry that weight
last night i fully realized that things that come in pint size quantities do not constitute single servings.
not ice cream
not peanuts
not vodka
wish i could have figured it out in a different way, but then it probably wouldn't carry the same weight.
not ice cream
not peanuts
not vodka
wish i could have figured it out in a different way, but then it probably wouldn't carry the same weight.
hellodrama
plan 9 from outer space was fabulous.
i love sci-fi.
i love moon pies.
i love stove top pop corn.
faith is making a comeback.
i love sci-fi.
i love moon pies.
i love stove top pop corn.
faith is making a comeback.
7.11.2007
the jeopardy of contentment
i have been obsessed with cragslist since i found both my new apartment and myself on it. i mean, i sit here for hours reading want ads, furniture sales, and missed connections, absolutely content to read about what nashville wants to buy, sell, and be.
i'm thinking of writing a book about it... maybe picking 23 random ads and then turning them into vignettes- along the vein of paris je t'aime (my new favorite movie).
yeah- i can add that to my list of things to do that includes
find a job
fix my car
find some furniture
re-hab my new apartment
pack to move
sell some cds
get a life
i'm thinking of writing a book about it... maybe picking 23 random ads and then turning them into vignettes- along the vein of paris je t'aime (my new favorite movie).
yeah- i can add that to my list of things to do that includes
find a job
fix my car
find some furniture
re-hab my new apartment
pack to move
sell some cds
get a life
7.10.2007
poetry when my hair is curly
Mid-Century
Tonight, we stand in front of a theatre,
Built in the era we tried to become.
And neither of us can remember
The name of the movie Forbidden Planet.
In this space, I know why we call
Each other by our full names.
Not even a McCarthian sense of self
Can make us forget that we are cracked
Like the McCoy on grandmother's floor.
Aware that if we had only paid
Attention when placing it on the shelf,
We wouldn't be picking up pieces.
Tonight, we stand in front of a theatre,
Built in the era we tried to become.
And neither of us can remember
The name of the movie Forbidden Planet.
In this space, I know why we call
Each other by our full names.
Not even a McCarthian sense of self
Can make us forget that we are cracked
Like the McCoy on grandmother's floor.
Aware that if we had only paid
Attention when placing it on the shelf,
We wouldn't be picking up pieces.
you f*#ked the suburbs out of me
i can not stand going south of old hickory boulevard.
i can not stand going north of trinity lane.
i can not stand going east of briley parkway.
i can not stand going west of briley parkway.
yeah.
think about that.
last week, the parentals made their annual pilgrimage through town. i picked them up from the trailer park east of briley parkway and drove them past my new digs. they loved east nash, but my mom began a lamentation about why her kids don't love the suburbs that lasted the entire way to mafiaoza's.
she can just not understand why we don't love wal*mart, strip malls, and stucco housing.
i can not understand why halfway through dinner she bowed up against my dad to prove that her childhood was shittier than his. i had to stop the madness and explain that if we were going to argue about whose childhood sucked the most, they may not want to have me as a contender.
no more pinot grigio for her.
anyway. i am leaving the suburbs (again).
moving to the 5 points area.
buying mid-century furniture.
quelling my anxiety.
riding my bike to work.
walking to the grocery store.
i just realized where this brown spot on my under-wrist has come from.
computer mouse callous.
no kidding, it's where my hand rests on the desk.
i am a tool.
a tool who just booked her flight to austin, tx.
austin city limits music fest.
sunday only
24 hours in Austin.
yo la tengo.
wilco.
nice.
the reasoning is that i sold my pitchfork ticket and canceled my chicago flight so that i could reasonably afford to move out of the suburbs. i thought i'd only be in b-wood for 6 months... but that slowly turned into 21 months.
so i thought, pitchfork or freedom?
freedom.
now i just have to find a place to stay in austin for one night...
should i risk a festival hook up??
i know.
i won't do it.
i like my body parts where they are.
i can not stand going north of trinity lane.
i can not stand going east of briley parkway.
i can not stand going west of briley parkway.
yeah.
think about that.
last week, the parentals made their annual pilgrimage through town. i picked them up from the trailer park east of briley parkway and drove them past my new digs. they loved east nash, but my mom began a lamentation about why her kids don't love the suburbs that lasted the entire way to mafiaoza's.
she can just not understand why we don't love wal*mart, strip malls, and stucco housing.
i can not understand why halfway through dinner she bowed up against my dad to prove that her childhood was shittier than his. i had to stop the madness and explain that if we were going to argue about whose childhood sucked the most, they may not want to have me as a contender.
no more pinot grigio for her.
anyway. i am leaving the suburbs (again).
moving to the 5 points area.
buying mid-century furniture.
quelling my anxiety.
riding my bike to work.
walking to the grocery store.
i just realized where this brown spot on my under-wrist has come from.
computer mouse callous.
no kidding, it's where my hand rests on the desk.
i am a tool.
a tool who just booked her flight to austin, tx.
austin city limits music fest.
sunday only
24 hours in Austin.
yo la tengo.
wilco.
nice.
the reasoning is that i sold my pitchfork ticket and canceled my chicago flight so that i could reasonably afford to move out of the suburbs. i thought i'd only be in b-wood for 6 months... but that slowly turned into 21 months.
so i thought, pitchfork or freedom?
freedom.
now i just have to find a place to stay in austin for one night...
should i risk a festival hook up??
i know.
i won't do it.
i like my body parts where they are.
7.07.2007
sometimes i don't get you
i have spent 31 years trying to understand so many things.
i tried to understand my parents.
she cried in the 76 oldsmobile station wagon if she didn't eat by the next damn mile marker.
he told her that she couldn't have dessert on her 45th birthday because she didn't need it.
i tried to understand myself.
my tenuous line between crying and cruelty.
and tonight, after a movie at the belcourt, one last drink at jacksons, and another series of sevens, i determined that i will no longer try to understand. instead i'm just gonna listen.
to the voice that told her to shut up- she wouldn't starve.
to the voice that told him to go fuck himself- it was her birthday.
to the voice that told me to move to gartland avenue- i'm gonna make it.
i tried to understand my parents.
she cried in the 76 oldsmobile station wagon if she didn't eat by the next damn mile marker.
he told her that she couldn't have dessert on her 45th birthday because she didn't need it.
i tried to understand myself.
my tenuous line between crying and cruelty.
and tonight, after a movie at the belcourt, one last drink at jacksons, and another series of sevens, i determined that i will no longer try to understand. instead i'm just gonna listen.
to the voice that told her to shut up- she wouldn't starve.
to the voice that told him to go fuck himself- it was her birthday.
to the voice that told me to move to gartland avenue- i'm gonna make it.
tempurpedic mattress boy
so mattress boy/man posted this on missing connections on craigslist.
is this really my life?
Katie the high school teacher/Hot Chicken Festival
Reply to: pers-366717751@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-07-04, 9:14PM CDT
Stood in front of you and your friend today (4th.) at the Hot Chicken Festival....enjoyed "entertaining" you....lol. Was the musician whose lived here 10yrs. Must of been the heat but should've asked if you were single and if so, if you'd care to grab a cup of coffee.............????
* Location: East Nash.
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 366717751
is this really my life?
Katie the high school teacher/Hot Chicken Festival
Reply to: pers-366717751@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-07-04, 9:14PM CDT
Stood in front of you and your friend today (4th.) at the Hot Chicken Festival....enjoyed "entertaining" you....lol. Was the musician whose lived here 10yrs. Must of been the heat but should've asked if you were single and if so, if you'd care to grab a cup of coffee.............????
* Location: East Nash.
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 366717751
7.06.2007
golden slumbers
the hot chicken was just that.
and fabulous.
the rommie and i waited in line for eva' to eat some prince's and bolton's while we moaned that we could have just gone to the damn restaurants. but then we wouldn't have met the guy who asked me if i had a posturpedic/memory foam/ no wait... tempurpedic mattress in the middle of our scintillating conversation about mayoral candidates.
just like out of the blue, he asks me about mattresses.
that alone was worth the wait for the hot chicken.
then we went to beyond the edge and played video bar games while i drank too much.
the roomie took us back to the wood.
brentwood that it.
where i won't be living after this month.
i'll be walking home from beyond the edge to my new little bungalow.
2 blocks away.
i am happy.
and fabulous.
the rommie and i waited in line for eva' to eat some prince's and bolton's while we moaned that we could have just gone to the damn restaurants. but then we wouldn't have met the guy who asked me if i had a posturpedic/memory foam/ no wait... tempurpedic mattress in the middle of our scintillating conversation about mayoral candidates.
just like out of the blue, he asks me about mattresses.
that alone was worth the wait for the hot chicken.
then we went to beyond the edge and played video bar games while i drank too much.
the roomie took us back to the wood.
brentwood that it.
where i won't be living after this month.
i'll be walking home from beyond the edge to my new little bungalow.
2 blocks away.
i am happy.
7.03.2007
ennui
i did not send the following e-mail to a man i have never seen before in my life.
but i wrote it.
i have not yet lost my fucking mind.
Subject: referral from XXXX-YYY-ZZZZ
And fortunately for me, not the professional kind.
Bob-
Your e-mail address has been in my purse for about a month now. XXXX-YYY-ZZZZ gave it to me at a dinner party, after she talked about setting me up with "the sweetest young man."
The "sweetest young man" got vetoed, and she then recommended you. She made it clear that she meant no disparagement; she thinks you're fabulous, but not "sweet". That- coupled with the fact that she mentioned you were a runner??- made this little pink piece of paper with your e-mail on it hard to chunk.
But I'm pitching it.
After I send this e-mail.
Bob- If you're feeling a little spontaneous when you wake up this Sunday, I'll be at insert coffee shop on insert street around 11am, before I catch the noon film at the insert theatre. You could walk by, determine if you find me reasonable to look at, and buy me my second cup of coffee.
Milk.
No sugar.
-insert me
but i wrote it.
i have not yet lost my fucking mind.
Subject: referral from XXXX-YYY-ZZZZ
And fortunately for me, not the professional kind.
Bob-
Your e-mail address has been in my purse for about a month now. XXXX-YYY-ZZZZ gave it to me at a dinner party, after she talked about setting me up with "the sweetest young man."
The "sweetest young man" got vetoed, and she then recommended you. She made it clear that she meant no disparagement; she thinks you're fabulous, but not "sweet". That- coupled with the fact that she mentioned you were a runner??- made this little pink piece of paper with your e-mail on it hard to chunk.
But I'm pitching it.
After I send this e-mail.
Bob- If you're feeling a little spontaneous when you wake up this Sunday, I'll be at insert coffee shop on insert street around 11am, before I catch the noon film at the insert theatre. You could walk by, determine if you find me reasonable to look at, and buy me my second cup of coffee.
Milk.
No sugar.
-insert me
7.01.2007
minnesota man claims monkey bowled perfect game
that's pretty much about how much sense it makes that i just spent an hour on sunday morning reading about nashville hot chicken.
ritalin anyone?
ritalin anyone?
hot chicken # 7/4
heaven has come to east park in east nash.
that's right, folks. hot chicken on the fourth of july.
they don't even make words to describe the joy i get when my nose runs down my chin after eating 1/2 a jar of jalepenos. to think that mayor purcell would love me enough (i was his daughter's IS teacher) to schedule this little slice o heaven on the fourth of july... i am speechless.
consider a 1/4 chicken, skillet-fried, on some white bread, SLATHERED with hot sauce.
i'm drooling.
if you can handle the heat... take your pick
Prince's Hot Chicken Shack
Location: 123 Ewing Drive, 226-9442
Hours: Noon-10pm Tue-Thu, noon-4am Fri-Sat
Payment: Cash only
Bolton's Spicy Chicken & Fish
Location: 624 Main St., 254-8015
Hours: 11am-9pm Tue-Thu, 11am-12:30am Fri-Sat
Payment: Cash only
6.22.2007
the basement tapes
last night, my date asked me to tell him about the most shocking date i had ever been on. didn't have the nerve to tell him that it was the one i was sitting in.
who takes off their shoes at a baseball game and puts their nekkid feet on the chair of the person in front of them?
"the most shocking date ever"
who picks the dirt/dead skin/god knows what from their toes on a date?
"the most shocking date ever"
because i am a quasi nice person, i will not divulge the OH SO PERSONAL SECRETS that i was told by "the most shocking date ever". you don't even tell people that kind of shit when you've been dating six months, let alone six days.
so i ditched him and went to the tin roof with some kickball buddies. i never go to the tin roof- maybe 2-3 times a year. last night reminded me why. i just can not handle it.
so i went to the basement by myself, where i made friends with everyone in the bar with my stories about "the most shocking date ever". the basement saved my life. it is my betty ford clinic.
i will love that venue forever. and ever. and ever.
two random observations:
you are sooooo nashville if you wear pearls to a sounds game.
there is nothing more amazing than people doing what they love in a great pair of shoes.
who takes off their shoes at a baseball game and puts their nekkid feet on the chair of the person in front of them?
"the most shocking date ever"
who picks the dirt/dead skin/god knows what from their toes on a date?
"the most shocking date ever"
because i am a quasi nice person, i will not divulge the OH SO PERSONAL SECRETS that i was told by "the most shocking date ever". you don't even tell people that kind of shit when you've been dating six months, let alone six days.
so i ditched him and went to the tin roof with some kickball buddies. i never go to the tin roof- maybe 2-3 times a year. last night reminded me why. i just can not handle it.
so i went to the basement by myself, where i made friends with everyone in the bar with my stories about "the most shocking date ever". the basement saved my life. it is my betty ford clinic.
i will love that venue forever. and ever. and ever.
two random observations:
you are sooooo nashville if you wear pearls to a sounds game.
there is nothing more amazing than people doing what they love in a great pair of shoes.
6.21.2007
every step i take
my day started with a bad cup of coffee and a trip to the greenhills YMCA.
as much as meat markets and unlimited cardio classes titillate me, i broke up with the Y. it was only a matter of time before the love affair was over.
3 weeks to be exact.
(pretty much the usual for me)
sure, we'll meet for drinks a few more times before i quit returning phone calls. but it's definitely over. the Y is a sloppy eater and spikes his hair a little too decidedly for this cat.
seriously, i got on 3 cardio machines for a combined total of 4.5 minutes before i decided to go running. now, i haven't run in 5 weeks because this I.T. band crap has kept me off of belmont boulevard. so, i went for a run. it was kind of like seeing your lover after he's been touring europe for over a month.
it hurt a bit, but it was good.
while i ran, i came to this: men can ruin a song faster than lemons ruin dairy.
so here's a list of songs that will never be the same because their associations with the Y (chromosome that is) are indelible.
INXS "never tear us apart"
queen "under pressure"
better than ezra "this time of year"
the smiths "please please please let me get what i want"
broken social scene "anthems for a 17 year old"
now i can live without INXS.
but the smiths hurt.
not the good kind of hurt that comes with 40 minutes of solid pounding (shoes on the road that is). but hurt like a muscular tissue that twitches with every move i make.
as much as meat markets and unlimited cardio classes titillate me, i broke up with the Y. it was only a matter of time before the love affair was over.
3 weeks to be exact.
(pretty much the usual for me)
sure, we'll meet for drinks a few more times before i quit returning phone calls. but it's definitely over. the Y is a sloppy eater and spikes his hair a little too decidedly for this cat.
seriously, i got on 3 cardio machines for a combined total of 4.5 minutes before i decided to go running. now, i haven't run in 5 weeks because this I.T. band crap has kept me off of belmont boulevard. so, i went for a run. it was kind of like seeing your lover after he's been touring europe for over a month.
it hurt a bit, but it was good.
while i ran, i came to this: men can ruin a song faster than lemons ruin dairy.
so here's a list of songs that will never be the same because their associations with the Y (chromosome that is) are indelible.
INXS "never tear us apart"
queen "under pressure"
better than ezra "this time of year"
the smiths "please please please let me get what i want"
broken social scene "anthems for a 17 year old"
now i can live without INXS.
but the smiths hurt.
not the good kind of hurt that comes with 40 minutes of solid pounding (shoes on the road that is). but hurt like a muscular tissue that twitches with every move i make.
good things
an epiphany in spin class led me to this.
i need a purpose- more than just listening to music and stalking on the internet, which i love. god! there is nothing more fun than researching people. i love finding out who ran the memphis marathon 4 years ago, or who has offices downtown. i even like to know that someone does not exist at all in cyberspace. how is that even possible???
focus. focus.
anyway, i need to make some good things out of my life.
i'm a little darwinsitic to be a martyr/saint, but i'm working on a few ideas.
on a different note- a dear friend of mine gave me the best going away present i've ever gotten.
2 tiny plastic champagne glasses
2 beautiful mod handkerchiefs (i love handkerchiefs)
a plastic man in red hotshorts, who fits conveniently in the console of my car.
a reading light
a hardback copy of babbit in that 60's crazy book cover decor
lavender sachet
vase of flowers from her garden
this is by far one of the best gifts i have ever gotten in my life.
the only thing that she could have added would have been a crawler of yazoo dos perros.
i need a purpose- more than just listening to music and stalking on the internet, which i love. god! there is nothing more fun than researching people. i love finding out who ran the memphis marathon 4 years ago, or who has offices downtown. i even like to know that someone does not exist at all in cyberspace. how is that even possible???
focus. focus.
anyway, i need to make some good things out of my life.
i'm a little darwinsitic to be a martyr/saint, but i'm working on a few ideas.
on a different note- a dear friend of mine gave me the best going away present i've ever gotten.
2 tiny plastic champagne glasses
2 beautiful mod handkerchiefs (i love handkerchiefs)
a plastic man in red hotshorts, who fits conveniently in the console of my car.
a reading light
a hardback copy of babbit in that 60's crazy book cover decor
lavender sachet
vase of flowers from her garden
this is by far one of the best gifts i have ever gotten in my life.
the only thing that she could have added would have been a crawler of yazoo dos perros.
6.13.2007
the hour grows late
i have got to quit talking.
i learned that without a doubt, tonite.
some guy just talked to me on the phone for an hour.
lucky for me, i am not a phone talker.
BECAUSE I DIDN'T GET A WORD IN.
jesus.
on a good note.
my future husband was really cute today.
he used the word slacks.
too bad i just learned his name
and can't remember how to spell it
to tattoo it on my ass.
i learned that without a doubt, tonite.
some guy just talked to me on the phone for an hour.
lucky for me, i am not a phone talker.
BECAUSE I DIDN'T GET A WORD IN.
jesus.
on a good note.
my future husband was really cute today.
he used the word slacks.
too bad i just learned his name
and can't remember how to spell it
to tattoo it on my ass.
6.12.2007
listening man
as i am pulling into my neighborhood restaurant to drink beer with my walking buddy, i turn on "outtheother" for the first time on WRVU. this is a great weblogger/local dj who has her finger on the pulse of indie music.
make that her fist.
normally, i listen to my ipod in the car.
like i NEVER listen to the radio in my car.
but tonight i do.
of course.
and the guest dj is the dishwasher.
what are the chances?
i have offended the gods.
i must do something about this.
what if i try to be nice to the next guy i go on a date with?
make that her fist.
normally, i listen to my ipod in the car.
like i NEVER listen to the radio in my car.
but tonight i do.
of course.
and the guest dj is the dishwasher.
what are the chances?
i have offended the gods.
i must do something about this.
what if i try to be nice to the next guy i go on a date with?
6.01.2007
if i should fall behind
i know that i have many things to do today.
i need to grocery shop.
i need to clean out my classroom.
i need to buy a baby shower gift.
i need to get a hostess gift.
i needed to go to yoga 34 minutes ago.
instead, i'm listening to bruce springsteen and calculating my realage on the internet.
apparently i'm really 26 years old.
will someone please tell the rest of the world?
i need to grocery shop.
i need to clean out my classroom.
i need to buy a baby shower gift.
i need to get a hostess gift.
i needed to go to yoga 34 minutes ago.
instead, i'm listening to bruce springsteen and calculating my realage on the internet.
apparently i'm really 26 years old.
will someone please tell the rest of the world?
5.30.2007
break up the family
i'm working on a new theory.
mostly cause i'm bored.
i am convinced that there is a difference between men who grew up with sisters and men who grew up with brothers... i think that boys with sisters can be a little weird and bitchy. they also tend to dress better than i.
hold on.
i'm checking this on google (soooooo reliable)
apparently it's called birth constellation.
but they don't discuss the "bitchy" trait in the experimental control groups.
i'm gonna do my own data analysis.
let's do a rundown on all the men i've smooched, been attracted to, etc...
or at least the ones i can remember.
add-only child (bitchy)
abb-1 bro 1 sis (bitchy)
abbb-2 brothers (bitchy)
acf- only child (bitchy)
alw- 2 bro 2 sis (bitchy)
ajb-2 sisters
artb- only child
wap- only child (bitchy)
aab- 2 brothers
ajv-only child (bitchy)
kaa- only child (bitchy)
aeh- 2 sisters
rak- 1 brother (bitchy)
amd- 2 brothers (bitchy)
dea- 1 brother (bitchy)
dwa- 2 sisters
we- 1 sister 1 brother
maw- 1 brother (bitchy)(bitchy)(bitchy)
i see no discernible pattern.
except the one where i date a lot.
and the one where i am attracted to bitchy men.
the gay guys at work have a theory on this.
the theory includes a free pass night with me.
well mom-
the only thing that i learned from this scientific experiment was published in a related article that i found on google. it supposed that mates categorize each other in the folliwing 3 paradigms of attractiveness:
#1 warmth/trustworthiness
(oh well... i can't win them all)
#2 attractiveness/vitality
(oooh! i'm making a comeback)
#3 status/resources
(maybe he won't look at my check book while i'm in the ladies room)
fuck.
my friends are right.
i gotta quit being such a bitch and get a job.
mostly cause i'm bored.
i am convinced that there is a difference between men who grew up with sisters and men who grew up with brothers... i think that boys with sisters can be a little weird and bitchy. they also tend to dress better than i.
hold on.
i'm checking this on google (soooooo reliable)
apparently it's called birth constellation.
but they don't discuss the "bitchy" trait in the experimental control groups.
i'm gonna do my own data analysis.
let's do a rundown on all the men i've smooched, been attracted to, etc...
or at least the ones i can remember.
add-only child (bitchy)
abb-1 bro 1 sis (bitchy)
abbb-2 brothers (bitchy)
acf- only child (bitchy)
alw- 2 bro 2 sis (bitchy)
ajb-2 sisters
artb- only child
wap- only child (bitchy)
aab- 2 brothers
ajv-only child (bitchy)
kaa- only child (bitchy)
aeh- 2 sisters
rak- 1 brother (bitchy)
amd- 2 brothers (bitchy)
dea- 1 brother (bitchy)
dwa- 2 sisters
we- 1 sister 1 brother
maw- 1 brother (bitchy)(bitchy)(bitchy)
i see no discernible pattern.
except the one where i date a lot.
and the one where i am attracted to bitchy men.
the gay guys at work have a theory on this.
the theory includes a free pass night with me.
well mom-
the only thing that i learned from this scientific experiment was published in a related article that i found on google. it supposed that mates categorize each other in the folliwing 3 paradigms of attractiveness:
#1 warmth/trustworthiness
(oh well... i can't win them all)
#2 attractiveness/vitality
(oooh! i'm making a comeback)
#3 status/resources
(maybe he won't look at my check book while i'm in the ladies room)
fuck.
my friends are right.
i gotta quit being such a bitch and get a job.
lost time
so my blog will be a year old in less than 48 hours.
it's the longest relationship i've had in the last 2 years.
it's the longest relationship i've had in the last 2 years.
5.15.2007
there goes my gun
i bought a book that analyzes the psychology of happiness.
as if i didn't already know that my happiness lies in this moment,
in front of this computer,
in the quiet space that holds all i can not control
and hopes for not much more than the next breath.
sometimes i look at my deltoids to make me happy, too.
don't judge.
as if i didn't already know that my happiness lies in this moment,
in front of this computer,
in the quiet space that holds all i can not control
and hopes for not much more than the next breath.
sometimes i look at my deltoids to make me happy, too.
don't judge.
clean getaway
i have had a myspace account since ?last year? sometime because if you don't have a login, you can't look at other people's pictures that they post on their sites. you may not think this important, but you can learn a lot about a man by his pictures. so much... cats, small hands, ugly family- you get the drift.
well today- i checked my inbox (after stalking a date from last week. i needed to verify my judgement. this guys has a semi-loaded page that he checked last week. at least he's not checking it daily. pro was some seriously hot footage of him at the beach. who says women aren't visual?)
anyway-i had six pages of e-mails in my account inviting me to join some singles group- who knew i could have skipped all of this dating and spent even more time in front of the computer not having sex?
fuck myspace.
on a new note...
exciting things from the last 2 weeks:
bought a new wax kit
met my best friend's new baby and played with her old one :-)
went to mc cartys pottery in marigold, ms
had a facial
played kickball and helped to win the game
went to a bachelorette party
felt chemistry again
found my happiness in a denim skirt and white t-shirt
rolled in the clover
well today- i checked my inbox (after stalking a date from last week. i needed to verify my judgement. this guys has a semi-loaded page that he checked last week. at least he's not checking it daily. pro was some seriously hot footage of him at the beach. who says women aren't visual?)
anyway-i had six pages of e-mails in my account inviting me to join some singles group- who knew i could have skipped all of this dating and spent even more time in front of the computer not having sex?
fuck myspace.
on a new note...
exciting things from the last 2 weeks:
bought a new wax kit
met my best friend's new baby and played with her old one :-)
went to mc cartys pottery in marigold, ms
had a facial
played kickball and helped to win the game
went to a bachelorette party
felt chemistry again
found my happiness in a denim skirt and white t-shirt
rolled in the clover
5.04.2007
the girl racer
last weekend i ran the country music half marathon.
i woke up at 5 am to run 13.1 miles.
what the hell was i thinking?
mile 1
spectacular adrenaline rush
miles 2-4
painful.
the body is not interested in warming up.
things still hurt at this point.
i decided to bag it and focus on finishing.
i cursed the 3 pounds i've earned from patio drinking
and looked around for cute boys.
mile 5
good again.
things stopped hurting at this point.
endorphins are lovely.
mile 7
i got hot and threw my sports top on the sidewalk.
at this point i quit looking for cute boys because i didn't want to see any in my state of toplessness.
i want the sports top back, but someone on belmont boulevard now owns it.
mile 8
trucked along at what i believed to be a tortoise's pace.
apparently a really hot guy gave me some accelerade.
i didn't notice, but he did.
he told me this at the shell station wed night, but hasn't called yet.
mile 9
fuck, my hip muscles and feet hurt.
i promised to never run a half again.
i decided to stick to a 15K max.
i have holes in my feet right now, as i type this.
hot. super hot.
mile 10
i realized i am actually going to finish in under 2 hours as long as i don't walk.
got a permagrin because i'm faster than i think.
i thought it would take me at least 2:10 this year.
mile 12
the cheerleaders at my school screamed at me with joy as i cussed under my breath.
well, maybe not so under my breath- that hill was the worst thing ever.
seriously.
ever.
and i finished.
proceeded to a mexican restaurant.
took 2 hydrocodones.
ate monster quesadillas.
drank a margarita.
ate a pint of ice cream and a nutty buddy.
took a nap.
went to a wedding.
ate TONS of wedding food (2 pieces of cake in there somewhere)
drank 9 vodka sodas.
ate at waffle house.
went to bed at 2am.
my training regimen for this half marathon put me at a 8 min 50 sec mile.
my training regimen was to run 16-20 miles a week.
and consume copious amounts of alcohol as a rite of spring.
that's it.
i've decided that i'm done.
being a weak-ass that is.
it's on.
im committing.
the memphis is going down in 1:40 instead of 1:56.
i'm going to the track.
i'm doing fartleks.
sleeping with some ugly track guy for training advice.
whatever.
if i'm going to be blogging on friday nights, i at least need to be fast.
i woke up at 5 am to run 13.1 miles.
what the hell was i thinking?
mile 1
spectacular adrenaline rush
miles 2-4
painful.
the body is not interested in warming up.
things still hurt at this point.
i decided to bag it and focus on finishing.
i cursed the 3 pounds i've earned from patio drinking
and looked around for cute boys.
mile 5
good again.
things stopped hurting at this point.
endorphins are lovely.
mile 7
i got hot and threw my sports top on the sidewalk.
at this point i quit looking for cute boys because i didn't want to see any in my state of toplessness.
i want the sports top back, but someone on belmont boulevard now owns it.
mile 8
trucked along at what i believed to be a tortoise's pace.
apparently a really hot guy gave me some accelerade.
i didn't notice, but he did.
he told me this at the shell station wed night, but hasn't called yet.
mile 9
fuck, my hip muscles and feet hurt.
i promised to never run a half again.
i decided to stick to a 15K max.
i have holes in my feet right now, as i type this.
hot. super hot.
mile 10
i realized i am actually going to finish in under 2 hours as long as i don't walk.
got a permagrin because i'm faster than i think.
i thought it would take me at least 2:10 this year.
mile 12
the cheerleaders at my school screamed at me with joy as i cussed under my breath.
well, maybe not so under my breath- that hill was the worst thing ever.
seriously.
ever.
and i finished.
proceeded to a mexican restaurant.
took 2 hydrocodones.
ate monster quesadillas.
drank a margarita.
ate a pint of ice cream and a nutty buddy.
took a nap.
went to a wedding.
ate TONS of wedding food (2 pieces of cake in there somewhere)
drank 9 vodka sodas.
ate at waffle house.
went to bed at 2am.
my training regimen for this half marathon put me at a 8 min 50 sec mile.
my training regimen was to run 16-20 miles a week.
and consume copious amounts of alcohol as a rite of spring.
that's it.
i've decided that i'm done.
being a weak-ass that is.
it's on.
im committing.
the memphis is going down in 1:40 instead of 1:56.
i'm going to the track.
i'm doing fartleks.
sleeping with some ugly track guy for training advice.
whatever.
if i'm going to be blogging on friday nights, i at least need to be fast.
4.29.2007
you can have it all
today i hung with a friend who did not find it weird that i am going to chicago by myself in july. god bless her for that and for never looking at my like i am a retard when i talk about why i am divorced.
and because it is the one year anniversary this month,
i'm gonna talk about the big D.
cons:
1. i hate that i made choices that hurt good people.
2. i hate that some people will never trust my judgement again.
3. i hate that i forgot me.
pros:
1. i love that i never have to wonder if i am lovable enough to marry.
2. i love that i had my perfect wedding. (and fuck you for thinking i'm shallow. every girl dreams about that shit- no matter how down to earth and cool she is.)
3. i love the possibilities are infinite.
i just need to figure out what the hell i possibly want.
and because it is the one year anniversary this month,
i'm gonna talk about the big D.
cons:
1. i hate that i made choices that hurt good people.
2. i hate that some people will never trust my judgement again.
3. i hate that i forgot me.
pros:
1. i love that i never have to wonder if i am lovable enough to marry.
2. i love that i had my perfect wedding. (and fuck you for thinking i'm shallow. every girl dreams about that shit- no matter how down to earth and cool she is.)
3. i love the possibilities are infinite.
i just need to figure out what the hell i possibly want.
4.28.2007
the way the lazy do
ran the nashville half marathon today. it was nice.
i didn't have a panic attack at mile 11, and i finished in under 2 hours.
not much else i could hope for.
well... maybe i could not have some weird ass misshapen toe from liking tight shoes.
that's about it.
going to lunch with girlfriends.
i need marguaritas.
ta ta.
i didn't have a panic attack at mile 11, and i finished in under 2 hours.
not much else i could hope for.
well... maybe i could not have some weird ass misshapen toe from liking tight shoes.
that's about it.
going to lunch with girlfriends.
i need marguaritas.
ta ta.
4.20.2007
don't say a word (hot chicken #31)
the other morning, i woke up in bed with a wrench, a hazelnut, and my vibrator.
there's not a whole lot else to say.
there's not a whole lot else to say.
4.19.2007
dashboard
my washer fluid light is always on.
always.
it makes some people nervous when they drive my car because it is this peppy yellow text that peeps from the side of the steering wheel. that may be where i fell in love... text. i feel sure that if it were a symbol or just a little flasher-lite i would hate it, but it's words. pretty, pretty words.
at least that's why i thought that the light didn't bother me. but today, "washer fluid" brought other lettered-friends to the light show. and these kids are not cool.
they drink too much hunch punch and puke on the carpet.
they chew glow lights in their mouths.
they steal your mother's rolex.
they read check engine.
turns out that i was only okay with the annoying little light when it was shiny and benign. now that it means something, it scares the shit out of me.
always.
it makes some people nervous when they drive my car because it is this peppy yellow text that peeps from the side of the steering wheel. that may be where i fell in love... text. i feel sure that if it were a symbol or just a little flasher-lite i would hate it, but it's words. pretty, pretty words.
at least that's why i thought that the light didn't bother me. but today, "washer fluid" brought other lettered-friends to the light show. and these kids are not cool.
they drink too much hunch punch and puke on the carpet.
they chew glow lights in their mouths.
they steal your mother's rolex.
they read check engine.
turns out that i was only okay with the annoying little light when it was shiny and benign. now that it means something, it scares the shit out of me.
4.16.2007
if you really want to know...
the only two things that frighten me are birds and special people.
i can absolutely handle snakes and corpses... no problem.
but, special people rank high because i have had diaper duty with one student familiar with puberty and have had duty with another whom had a FIRM understanding of self gratification far beyond anything that could kill a werewolf.
did you know there is educational protocol for such things???...
SEND YOUR CHILDREN TO PRIVATE SCHOOL.
i can not even talk about it.
birds scare me because
1. they are super twitchy
2. they try to confiscate building materials from my ball o' dark brown hair.
special people scare me because
1. i've cleaned pubes off my work keyboard
2. god will punish me come embryo time
but andrew bird is beautiful.
and i still have faith because i have a last name.
figure that one out.
i can absolutely handle snakes and corpses... no problem.
but, special people rank high because i have had diaper duty with one student familiar with puberty and have had duty with another whom had a FIRM understanding of self gratification far beyond anything that could kill a werewolf.
did you know there is educational protocol for such things???...
SEND YOUR CHILDREN TO PRIVATE SCHOOL.
i can not even talk about it.
birds scare me because
1. they are super twitchy
2. they try to confiscate building materials from my ball o' dark brown hair.
special people scare me because
1. i've cleaned pubes off my work keyboard
2. god will punish me come embryo time
but andrew bird is beautiful.
and i still have faith because i have a last name.
figure that one out.
4.14.2007
top ten reasons i won't go out with you again
i couldn't resist.
10. you've never heard of the starlight mints.
9. you tell me at least 7 times that gay guys think that you are gay.
8. your hands shake when you are near me.
7. you kiss me when i am explaining (nicely) that you shouldn't.
6. you smell like cold chicken grease.
5. you stay in my bed on sunday morning, though you have a home.
4. your primary mode of contact with me is texting.
3. you can't go beer to beer with me, though you weigh 50lbs more than i.
2. you choose tv over music.
1. you have spider fingers that crawl over my skin in trepidation.
10. you've never heard of the starlight mints.
9. you tell me at least 7 times that gay guys think that you are gay.
8. your hands shake when you are near me.
7. you kiss me when i am explaining (nicely) that you shouldn't.
6. you smell like cold chicken grease.
5. you stay in my bed on sunday morning, though you have a home.
4. your primary mode of contact with me is texting.
3. you can't go beer to beer with me, though you weigh 50lbs more than i.
2. you choose tv over music.
1. you have spider fingers that crawl over my skin in trepidation.
inhume me, man
yeah- get out your thesaurus.
i had to because resurrection is definitely a first century phenomenon.
so what happens when someone
wants to eat at your favorite restaurant,
takes you to a great music place,
and wears a cute shirt.
nothing if you are the pickiest bitch on the planet.
now i have to figure out how to get rid of him, if i haven't already with my date-nite-monologue about how hot i am, how picky i am, and how bitchy i am. this speech springs forth from my mouth like Clampett oil when i am sitting next to the wrong guy. i can not stop it, and it horrifies me.
all of it horrifies me.
all of them horrify me.
well almost all of them.
and if he doesn't horrify me, he usually doesn't call me.
i really want to make another detailed list hazing men, but i don't even have the optimism to laugh anymore.
i'll list them though.
#9 puma pimp
#10 the five year old
#11 takes 5 hours to get ready
#12 i've known you for 15 years
#13 you must be gay
#14 the franchise boy
#15 talks without listening
there is one person who didn't make the above list because everything that i would make fun of him for is actually what makes him attractive to me. a friend of mine said it best, none of this shit would bother you if you liked the guy- you'd find it endearing.
so...here's to finding someone else who, when he chases his food around his plate with a toothpick, makes me want to kiss him.
i had to because resurrection is definitely a first century phenomenon.
so what happens when someone
wants to eat at your favorite restaurant,
takes you to a great music place,
and wears a cute shirt.
nothing if you are the pickiest bitch on the planet.
now i have to figure out how to get rid of him, if i haven't already with my date-nite-monologue about how hot i am, how picky i am, and how bitchy i am. this speech springs forth from my mouth like Clampett oil when i am sitting next to the wrong guy. i can not stop it, and it horrifies me.
all of it horrifies me.
all of them horrify me.
well almost all of them.
and if he doesn't horrify me, he usually doesn't call me.
i really want to make another detailed list hazing men, but i don't even have the optimism to laugh anymore.
i'll list them though.
#9 puma pimp
#10 the five year old
#11 takes 5 hours to get ready
#12 i've known you for 15 years
#13 you must be gay
#14 the franchise boy
#15 talks without listening
there is one person who didn't make the above list because everything that i would make fun of him for is actually what makes him attractive to me. a friend of mine said it best, none of this shit would bother you if you liked the guy- you'd find it endearing.
so...here's to finding someone else who, when he chases his food around his plate with a toothpick, makes me want to kiss him.
4.09.2007
the splinter inside me
palm sunday always used to be my favorite at church.
there's something about green fronds that i could smack my older brother with when he farted on me in church. there's something about peeling the leaves along their striations until the perfect curl formed in my hand, readily reminding me that god can make some really beautiful things. there's something about tangibility that can not be refuted or regretted during this, the season of resurrection.
however, instead of going to church this easter season,
i went to brunch at the germantown cafe-
where i gave my phone number to the waiter.
mind you i wrote the digits on a calling card that read,
"Ms.(blank) would like to apologize for her naughty behavior on (blank) to further address, she may be reached at (blank)"
i filled in the blanks.
he's called.
he's smart.
he's the next boy i'm gonna kiss.
turns out that god likes it when i stay out of church, because
i needed to remember what it feels like to be excited
instead of vaguely disconcerted when a new boy calls.
i needed not to laugh at someone
who could not wait 24 hours to talk to me.
maybe i can hold this palm and find resurrection.
there's something about green fronds that i could smack my older brother with when he farted on me in church. there's something about peeling the leaves along their striations until the perfect curl formed in my hand, readily reminding me that god can make some really beautiful things. there's something about tangibility that can not be refuted or regretted during this, the season of resurrection.
however, instead of going to church this easter season,
i went to brunch at the germantown cafe-
where i gave my phone number to the waiter.
mind you i wrote the digits on a calling card that read,
"Ms.(blank) would like to apologize for her naughty behavior on (blank) to further address, she may be reached at (blank)"
i filled in the blanks.
he's called.
he's smart.
he's the next boy i'm gonna kiss.
turns out that god likes it when i stay out of church, because
i needed to remember what it feels like to be excited
instead of vaguely disconcerted when a new boy calls.
i needed not to laugh at someone
who could not wait 24 hours to talk to me.
maybe i can hold this palm and find resurrection.
3.21.2007
anthems for a 31 year old girl
my goal over spring break was to send out 100 resumes in 9 days.
it's day 5 and i've sent out 6 resumes.
however, i have determined my skill set.
i can readily...
run 5 miles
burn 2 veggie burgers
read 4 local newspapers
buy 3 albums i do not need
consume a box of girl scout cookies
download music in a quasi-legal fashion
check e-mail and concert sites obsessively
listen to one broken social scene song for 2 hours
make sure that my list of skills pyramids down the page
i am a total dork.
i need to go ahead and date online if the blond from last nite doesn't call. i went to the dave rawlings machine with him. can't quite figure out if he falls in the "i've known you for 13 years so why are we now in the same room" category or not. he likes music kind of like i like music (but not as much b/c liking music that much would be obsessive and weird).
a friend of ours cock-blocked me by getting wasted and having him drive her home. she has a serious boyfriend... so they didn't hook up.
but neither did i.
again.
it's day 5 and i've sent out 6 resumes.
however, i have determined my skill set.
i can readily...
run 5 miles
burn 2 veggie burgers
read 4 local newspapers
buy 3 albums i do not need
consume a box of girl scout cookies
download music in a quasi-legal fashion
check e-mail and concert sites obsessively
listen to one broken social scene song for 2 hours
make sure that my list of skills pyramids down the page
i am a total dork.
i need to go ahead and date online if the blond from last nite doesn't call. i went to the dave rawlings machine with him. can't quite figure out if he falls in the "i've known you for 13 years so why are we now in the same room" category or not. he likes music kind of like i like music (but not as much b/c liking music that much would be obsessive and weird).
a friend of ours cock-blocked me by getting wasted and having him drive her home. she has a serious boyfriend... so they didn't hook up.
but neither did i.
again.
3.16.2007
our ideas held no water but we used them like a dam
as i left school today, i realized that it is my last spring break ever. i'm 31 years old and this is my last spring break. i'm seriously considering maxing out my credit card to go to key west. that's what i did in college.
i almost cried.
i will before the week is out.
i will at least 17 times the last week of school.
i am no longer a teacher (holy fuck); and when kids come to ask me why i'm leaving, i tell them that i can't make it on a teaching salary.
which isn't necessarily the truth.
i could live in a "further than the one i'm in" suburb.
but i won't.
i'm a snob.
i judge people for paper products, when they wear white, if they RSVP...
i'm a snob who is about to have an anxiety attack.
sweet.
i almost cried.
i will before the week is out.
i will at least 17 times the last week of school.
i am no longer a teacher (holy fuck); and when kids come to ask me why i'm leaving, i tell them that i can't make it on a teaching salary.
which isn't necessarily the truth.
i could live in a "further than the one i'm in" suburb.
but i won't.
i'm a snob.
i judge people for paper products, when they wear white, if they RSVP...
i'm a snob who is about to have an anxiety attack.
sweet.
3.14.2007
cerebral death match TWO- faith vs. nihilism
i think that i'm ready to commit.
(not so much myself to lakeside.
the threatened fate of every memphis kid who is an alcoholic)
more so to the pulsing vein of nihilism
proof that i can not do this:
bright sunlight on a patio
modest mouse on american idol
a rotten muffin at bongo java
seeing the friend twice
a tick on a dog
a wet towel on the forehead
hair in the drain
the first mile on my belmont run
the silence when we become
it's not science fiction.
it's a fucking double feature.
of the same movie.
i gotta quit buyin' tickets to this shit.
(not so much myself to lakeside.
the threatened fate of every memphis kid who is an alcoholic)
more so to the pulsing vein of nihilism
proof that i can not do this:
bright sunlight on a patio
modest mouse on american idol
a rotten muffin at bongo java
seeing the friend twice
a tick on a dog
a wet towel on the forehead
hair in the drain
the first mile on my belmont run
the silence when we become
it's not science fiction.
it's a fucking double feature.
of the same movie.
i gotta quit buyin' tickets to this shit.
3.10.2007
the way some people die
so i'm went to the ryman last friday and forgot my id.
buckling buckling.
i'm standing in line with this look of oh.
god.
i.
can't.
have.
another.
beer?
i had already had three, and stopping there does very bad things to my esophageal lining. very bad things. think old alka-seltzer commercials.
so i trundle up to the id checker while rummaging through my purse and look at him sheepishly, preparing to make a clear argument that i am obviously over 21 and that, come on... i have crow's feet.
i take a deep breath, start with, "i can't find it... i think i forgot it." take another deep breath to continue my opening statement and
the guy takes one look at me and slaps a wristband around my wrist.
that slap was the last thing i remember hearing before i came to terms with the fact that i am getting old.
the shins just weren't the same.
i mean, i'm so old that i don't even think to pack my id when i go out.
i'm that old.
thank god that im this cool.
insert maniacal laugh.
buckling buckling.
i'm standing in line with this look of oh.
god.
i.
can't.
have.
another.
beer?
i had already had three, and stopping there does very bad things to my esophageal lining. very bad things. think old alka-seltzer commercials.
so i trundle up to the id checker while rummaging through my purse and look at him sheepishly, preparing to make a clear argument that i am obviously over 21 and that, come on... i have crow's feet.
i take a deep breath, start with, "i can't find it... i think i forgot it." take another deep breath to continue my opening statement and
the guy takes one look at me and slaps a wristband around my wrist.
that slap was the last thing i remember hearing before i came to terms with the fact that i am getting old.
the shins just weren't the same.
i mean, i'm so old that i don't even think to pack my id when i go out.
i'm that old.
thank god that im this cool.
insert maniacal laugh.
3.09.2007
i have nothing
i am going to have some really coherent things to say about the shins at the ryman tomorrow.
right now all i have is
mmmmmmm...... girl scout cookies.
mmmmmm....... peanut butter.
mmmmmmm...... yo la tengo.
i'm coming to saint louis on a week day.
try april 13th-ish.
i need to make up for what i did in the bushes last time.
right now all i have is
mmmmmmm...... girl scout cookies.
mmmmmm....... peanut butter.
mmmmmmm...... yo la tengo.
i'm coming to saint louis on a week day.
try april 13th-ish.
i need to make up for what i did in the bushes last time.
3.06.2007
how can i live without you?
today, i showed the wilco dvd by sam jones to my creative writing class.
i'll miss that about my job- getting to watch kickass documentaries under the guise of education. in all reality, it was one of the best lessons i have taught this year.
watch the scene about 30 minutes in where tweedy and bennett argue about the transition from ashes of american flags to heavy metal drummer (not really what they are arguing about-duh. do couples ever argue about what they are really arging about?)
n-e-way
we did a study on body language and scene setting... what you show your reader/viewer always tells them how to feel. translates to life as well. we transitioned to this concept and its application to romantic relationships.
good times.
good times.
huh.
right now in the background, my roomie is listening to some guy.man.person with a penis on american idol singing lee ann rhimes, whom i randomly saw out on friday night.
this is the reason i do not own a hand gun. either the tv or i would have bought it.
i'll miss that about my job- getting to watch kickass documentaries under the guise of education. in all reality, it was one of the best lessons i have taught this year.
watch the scene about 30 minutes in where tweedy and bennett argue about the transition from ashes of american flags to heavy metal drummer (not really what they are arguing about-duh. do couples ever argue about what they are really arging about?)
n-e-way
we did a study on body language and scene setting... what you show your reader/viewer always tells them how to feel. translates to life as well. we transitioned to this concept and its application to romantic relationships.
good times.
good times.
huh.
right now in the background, my roomie is listening to some guy.man.person with a penis on american idol singing lee ann rhimes, whom i randomly saw out on friday night.
this is the reason i do not own a hand gun. either the tv or i would have bought it.
3.05.2007
cerebral death match- faith vs. nihilism
i can't quite commit to the vein of nihilism that allows me not to feel bad when i make fun of someone for having triangle fingers. or when i unabashedly admit that i am hot and this is not a compliment, but merely a pathetic observation. just when i think that not a damn bit of it really matters, a series of events reminds me that it does.
in ninth grade geometry i almost learned proofs.
it's like i told mr. roberts.
i just know... why do i have to explain it?
he was right though.
we have to explain, sometimes.
proof that i can do this:
the full moon and an overpass
the soft sound of dust on vinyl
red and not white
a series of sevens
a squirrel on a fence
moving the cat
mementos on the floor
the eighth mile in an 11 mile run
the truth when we become tired
damn it janet.
none of these proofs make any sense.
no wonder i got a D in geometry.
in ninth grade geometry i almost learned proofs.
it's like i told mr. roberts.
i just know... why do i have to explain it?
he was right though.
we have to explain, sometimes.
proof that i can do this:
the full moon and an overpass
the soft sound of dust on vinyl
red and not white
a series of sevens
a squirrel on a fence
moving the cat
mementos on the floor
the eighth mile in an 11 mile run
the truth when we become tired
damn it janet.
none of these proofs make any sense.
no wonder i got a D in geometry.
3.04.2007
the friend pyramid
today, i tried to explain to someone the different types of friends in my life...
there are the party til 3 am and shop for prada bag friends, who are there for you when your boyfriend is a shithead (not that i have a boyfriend)
then, there are the drive you to the abortion clinic friends, who are there for you when you live your mistakes (not that i've had an abortion)
finally, there are the art gallery/indie rock friends, who are always willing to debate the existence of god with you after a bottle of spanish wine (not that i'm an atheist)
all of these friend types are necessary to sustaining health- somewhat like a balanced diet. we all need fat, protein, and sugar to survive. unfortunately, my friend diet has been a little less than balanced in the music city.
somebody call the USDA!!!
(on a side note- it is so wrong that the food pyramid is put out by the USDA and not the FDA. six grains a day. are you kidding me?? fat ass nation for sale)
ANYWAY
one of my sugary friends is headed to nash. after a stint in boston and manhatten, my art history/MBA/museum development director amaza-friend is taking a position at the frist.
we're gonna have to find something else to debate after tearing through some rioja, because there is definitely a God.
there are the party til 3 am and shop for prada bag friends, who are there for you when your boyfriend is a shithead (not that i have a boyfriend)
then, there are the drive you to the abortion clinic friends, who are there for you when you live your mistakes (not that i've had an abortion)
finally, there are the art gallery/indie rock friends, who are always willing to debate the existence of god with you after a bottle of spanish wine (not that i'm an atheist)
all of these friend types are necessary to sustaining health- somewhat like a balanced diet. we all need fat, protein, and sugar to survive. unfortunately, my friend diet has been a little less than balanced in the music city.
somebody call the USDA!!!
(on a side note- it is so wrong that the food pyramid is put out by the USDA and not the FDA. six grains a day. are you kidding me?? fat ass nation for sale)
ANYWAY
one of my sugary friends is headed to nash. after a stint in boston and manhatten, my art history/MBA/museum development director amaza-friend is taking a position at the frist.
we're gonna have to find something else to debate after tearing through some rioja, because there is definitely a God.
poetry for the masses
a favorite that makes me feel not alone.
Marriage
by Gregory Corso
Should I get married? Should I be good?
Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustus hood?
Don't take her to movies but to cemeteries
tell all about werewolf bathtubs and forked clarinets
then desire her and kiss her and all the preliminaries
and she going just so far and I understanding why
not getting angry saying You must feel! It's beautiful to feel!
Instead take her in my arms lean against an old crooked tombstone
and woo her the entire night the constellations in the sky-
When she introduces me to her parents
back straightened, hair finally combed, strangled by a tie,
should I sit with my knees together on their 3rd degree sofa
and not ask Where's the bathroom?
How else to feel other than I am,
often thinking Flash Gordon soap-
O how terrible it must be for a young man
seated before a family and the family thinking
We never saw him before! He wants our Mary Lou!
After tea and homemade cookies they ask What do you do for a living?
Should I tell them? Would they like me then?
Say All right get married, we're losing a daughter
but we're gaining a son-
And should I then ask Where's the bathroom?
O God, and the wedding! All her family and her friends
and only a handful of mine all scroungy and bearded
just wait to get at the drinks and food-
And the priest! he looking at me as if I masturbated
asking me Do you take this woman for your lawful wedded wife?
And I trembling what to say say Pie Glue!
I kiss the bride all those corny men slapping me on the back
She's all yours, boy! Ha-ha-ha!
And in their eyes you could see some obscene honeymoon going on-
Then all that absurd rice and clanky cans and shoes
Niagara Falls! Hordes of us! Husbands! Wives! Flowers! Chocolates!
All streaming into cozy hotels
All going to do the same thing tonight
The indifferent clerk he knowing what was going to happen
The lobby zombies they knowing what
The whistling elevator man he knowing
Everybody knowing! I'd almost be inclined not to do anything!
Stay up all night! Stare that hotel clerk in the eye!
Screaming: I deny honeymoon! I deny honeymoon!
running rampant into those almost climactic suites
yelling Radio belly! Cat shovel!
O I'd live in Niagara forever! in a dark cave beneath the Falls
I'd sit there the Mad Honeymooner
devising ways to break marriages, a scourge of bigamy
a saint of divorce-
But I should get married I should be good
How nice it'd be to come home to her
and sit by the fireplace and she in the kitchen
aproned young and lovely wanting my baby
and so happy about me she burns the roast beef
and comes crying to me and I get up from my big papa chair
saying Christmas teeth! Radiant brains! Apple deaf!
God what a husband I'd make! Yes, I should get married!
So much to do! Like sneaking into Mr Jones' house late at night
and cover his golf clubs with 1920 Norwegian books
Like hanging a picture of Rimbaud on the lawnmower
like pasting Tannu Tuva postage stamps all over the picket fence
like when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest
grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky!
And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him
When are you going to stop people killing whales!
And when the milkman comes leave him a note in the bottle
Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust-
Yes if I should get married and it's Connecticut and snow
and she gives birth to a child and I am sleepless, worn,
up for nights, head bowed against a quiet window, the past behind me,
finding myself in the most common of situations a trembling man
knowledged with responsibility not twig-smear nor Roman coin soup-
O what would that be like!
Surely I'd give it for a nipple a rubber Tacitus
For a rattle a bag of broken Bach records
Tack Della Francesca all over its crib
Sew the Greek alphabet on its bib
And build for its playpen a roofless Parthenon
No, I doubt I'd be that kind of father
Not rural not snow no quiet window
but hot smelly tight New York City
seven flights up, roaches and rats in the walls
a fat Reichian wife screeching over potatoes Get a job!
And five nose running brats in love with Batman
And the neighbors all toothless and dry haired
like those hag masses of the 18th century
all wanting to come in and watch TV
The landlord wants his rent
Grocery store Blue Cross Gas & Electric Knights of Columbus
impossible to lie back and dream Telephone snow, ghost parking-
No! I should not get married! I should never get married!
But-imagine if I were married to a beautiful sophisticated woman
tall and pale wearing an elegant black dress and long black gloves
holding a cigarette holder in one hand and a highball in the other
and we lived high up in a penthouse with a huge window
from which we could see all of New York and even farther on clearer days
No, can't imagine myself married to that pleasant prison dream-
O but what about love? I forget love
not that I am incapable of love
It's just that I see love as odd as wearing shoes-
I never wanted to marry a girl who was like my mother
And Ingrid Bergman was always impossible
And there's maybe a girl now but she's already married
And I don't like men and-
But there's got to be somebody!
Because what if I'm 60 years old and not married,
all alone in a furnished room with pee stains on my underwear
and everybody else is married! All the universe married but me!
Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible
then marriage would be possible-
Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover
so i wait-bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life.
Marriage
by Gregory Corso
Should I get married? Should I be good?
Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustus hood?
Don't take her to movies but to cemeteries
tell all about werewolf bathtubs and forked clarinets
then desire her and kiss her and all the preliminaries
and she going just so far and I understanding why
not getting angry saying You must feel! It's beautiful to feel!
Instead take her in my arms lean against an old crooked tombstone
and woo her the entire night the constellations in the sky-
When she introduces me to her parents
back straightened, hair finally combed, strangled by a tie,
should I sit with my knees together on their 3rd degree sofa
and not ask Where's the bathroom?
How else to feel other than I am,
often thinking Flash Gordon soap-
O how terrible it must be for a young man
seated before a family and the family thinking
We never saw him before! He wants our Mary Lou!
After tea and homemade cookies they ask What do you do for a living?
Should I tell them? Would they like me then?
Say All right get married, we're losing a daughter
but we're gaining a son-
And should I then ask Where's the bathroom?
O God, and the wedding! All her family and her friends
and only a handful of mine all scroungy and bearded
just wait to get at the drinks and food-
And the priest! he looking at me as if I masturbated
asking me Do you take this woman for your lawful wedded wife?
And I trembling what to say say Pie Glue!
I kiss the bride all those corny men slapping me on the back
She's all yours, boy! Ha-ha-ha!
And in their eyes you could see some obscene honeymoon going on-
Then all that absurd rice and clanky cans and shoes
Niagara Falls! Hordes of us! Husbands! Wives! Flowers! Chocolates!
All streaming into cozy hotels
All going to do the same thing tonight
The indifferent clerk he knowing what was going to happen
The lobby zombies they knowing what
The whistling elevator man he knowing
Everybody knowing! I'd almost be inclined not to do anything!
Stay up all night! Stare that hotel clerk in the eye!
Screaming: I deny honeymoon! I deny honeymoon!
running rampant into those almost climactic suites
yelling Radio belly! Cat shovel!
O I'd live in Niagara forever! in a dark cave beneath the Falls
I'd sit there the Mad Honeymooner
devising ways to break marriages, a scourge of bigamy
a saint of divorce-
But I should get married I should be good
How nice it'd be to come home to her
and sit by the fireplace and she in the kitchen
aproned young and lovely wanting my baby
and so happy about me she burns the roast beef
and comes crying to me and I get up from my big papa chair
saying Christmas teeth! Radiant brains! Apple deaf!
God what a husband I'd make! Yes, I should get married!
So much to do! Like sneaking into Mr Jones' house late at night
and cover his golf clubs with 1920 Norwegian books
Like hanging a picture of Rimbaud on the lawnmower
like pasting Tannu Tuva postage stamps all over the picket fence
like when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest
grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky!
And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him
When are you going to stop people killing whales!
And when the milkman comes leave him a note in the bottle
Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust-
Yes if I should get married and it's Connecticut and snow
and she gives birth to a child and I am sleepless, worn,
up for nights, head bowed against a quiet window, the past behind me,
finding myself in the most common of situations a trembling man
knowledged with responsibility not twig-smear nor Roman coin soup-
O what would that be like!
Surely I'd give it for a nipple a rubber Tacitus
For a rattle a bag of broken Bach records
Tack Della Francesca all over its crib
Sew the Greek alphabet on its bib
And build for its playpen a roofless Parthenon
No, I doubt I'd be that kind of father
Not rural not snow no quiet window
but hot smelly tight New York City
seven flights up, roaches and rats in the walls
a fat Reichian wife screeching over potatoes Get a job!
And five nose running brats in love with Batman
And the neighbors all toothless and dry haired
like those hag masses of the 18th century
all wanting to come in and watch TV
The landlord wants his rent
Grocery store Blue Cross Gas & Electric Knights of Columbus
impossible to lie back and dream Telephone snow, ghost parking-
No! I should not get married! I should never get married!
But-imagine if I were married to a beautiful sophisticated woman
tall and pale wearing an elegant black dress and long black gloves
holding a cigarette holder in one hand and a highball in the other
and we lived high up in a penthouse with a huge window
from which we could see all of New York and even farther on clearer days
No, can't imagine myself married to that pleasant prison dream-
O but what about love? I forget love
not that I am incapable of love
It's just that I see love as odd as wearing shoes-
I never wanted to marry a girl who was like my mother
And Ingrid Bergman was always impossible
And there's maybe a girl now but she's already married
And I don't like men and-
But there's got to be somebody!
Because what if I'm 60 years old and not married,
all alone in a furnished room with pee stains on my underwear
and everybody else is married! All the universe married but me!
Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible
then marriage would be possible-
Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover
so i wait-bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life.
2.20.2007
do you wanna find hell with me?
when i was in the ninth grade, my dad, like a plague of locusts, cleansed me of my sins.
i.e. he threw away a thousand dollars worth of cassette tapes.
danzig
the dead kennedys
the yeastie girls
faith no more
the misfits (i had a thing for short meatheads)
shit... i think he even threw away edie brickell.
he was feeling fatherly (unlike the other three weeks a month he spent with his secret family on another continent) and believed it was his duty to expunge the evil from my music collection. never mind that i had owned most of these tapes for years, and that he had seen them all before.
the parenting was on, much like the time my smith's meat is murder t-shirt mysteriously disappeared during a family vacation that had me trapped in a travel trailer with my parents for 3 weeks. it was one of those shirts that was soft from years of washing and definitive in its proclamation of fuck you, you meat-eating, carnivore suburbanites. i loved that damn thing and wore it 3 days a week.
it's been 16 years, and i still miss that t-shirt.
i kind of miss that danzig tape, too.
but, i guess that is the nature of nurture.
you get rid of what might hurt your children.
protecting them is paramount.
sometimes to the point of delusion.
like the time that some friends and i decided to see what's inside of a fire extinguisher. granted, it went off in the backseat of my car, and i was driving at the time of detonation. so i, technically, may have needed some protection.
by the way, white powder is what's inside.
lots of white powder that crawls into cracks and crevices.
crevices you never knew you had in the interior of a car.
q-tips can't clean it up either.
and to my father, all white powder is cocaine.
(seriously. stop and consider this conclusion drawn)
(no really, try to wrap your mind around it)
(i still can't)
obviously, an argument ensued, and i wondered aloud why i was driving a $1500 car if i had access to enough cocaine to spill it all over the interior. i may have chortled the possibility that if i had that much coke, i'd sell snorts from behind the sun visor and buy my own damn place to live where i could listen to all of the punk rock i wanted.
delusional grounded me.
for the 7 millionth time in my life.
apparently, delusional is just part of the deal.
and laughing at your father when he is concerned that you are using drugs isn't the key to family bliss at age 16.
neither is saying that the rest of your life wasn't what you had in mind at age 31 when he warns you that you won't find your next husband in a bar on saturday night. and i hear him, cause i seriously want to get married again. like right now. it's the only thing i think about when i watch the hills on mtv.
if you believe that, you might need to go live in the land of milk and jimmy.
a place where fatherhood is defined by delusion.
tonight, i'm going to see jello biafra at the belcourt.
wanna come jimmy?
i.e. he threw away a thousand dollars worth of cassette tapes.
danzig
the dead kennedys
the yeastie girls
faith no more
the misfits (i had a thing for short meatheads)
shit... i think he even threw away edie brickell.
he was feeling fatherly (unlike the other three weeks a month he spent with his secret family on another continent) and believed it was his duty to expunge the evil from my music collection. never mind that i had owned most of these tapes for years, and that he had seen them all before.
the parenting was on, much like the time my smith's meat is murder t-shirt mysteriously disappeared during a family vacation that had me trapped in a travel trailer with my parents for 3 weeks. it was one of those shirts that was soft from years of washing and definitive in its proclamation of fuck you, you meat-eating, carnivore suburbanites. i loved that damn thing and wore it 3 days a week.
it's been 16 years, and i still miss that t-shirt.
i kind of miss that danzig tape, too.
but, i guess that is the nature of nurture.
you get rid of what might hurt your children.
protecting them is paramount.
sometimes to the point of delusion.
like the time that some friends and i decided to see what's inside of a fire extinguisher. granted, it went off in the backseat of my car, and i was driving at the time of detonation. so i, technically, may have needed some protection.
by the way, white powder is what's inside.
lots of white powder that crawls into cracks and crevices.
crevices you never knew you had in the interior of a car.
q-tips can't clean it up either.
and to my father, all white powder is cocaine.
(seriously. stop and consider this conclusion drawn)
(no really, try to wrap your mind around it)
(i still can't)
obviously, an argument ensued, and i wondered aloud why i was driving a $1500 car if i had access to enough cocaine to spill it all over the interior. i may have chortled the possibility that if i had that much coke, i'd sell snorts from behind the sun visor and buy my own damn place to live where i could listen to all of the punk rock i wanted.
delusional grounded me.
for the 7 millionth time in my life.
apparently, delusional is just part of the deal.
and laughing at your father when he is concerned that you are using drugs isn't the key to family bliss at age 16.
neither is saying that the rest of your life wasn't what you had in mind at age 31 when he warns you that you won't find your next husband in a bar on saturday night. and i hear him, cause i seriously want to get married again. like right now. it's the only thing i think about when i watch the hills on mtv.
if you believe that, you might need to go live in the land of milk and jimmy.
a place where fatherhood is defined by delusion.
tonight, i'm going to see jello biafra at the belcourt.
wanna come jimmy?
2.15.2007
the poet and the witch
i made you read my poetry, which isn't really a nice thing to do to the people whom you love. especially a sestina.
so in honor of a day of love which brought me a cookie that i didn't get, a proposition that i didn't take, and a the promise of a phone call that i want, here are the two love poems that keep me from buying 6 cats, a keg of chardonnay, and the english patient.
Rent
If you want my apartment, sleep in it
but let's have a clear understanding:
the books are still free agents.
If the rocking chair's arms surround you
they can also let you go,
they can shape the air like a body.
I don't want your rent, I want
a radiance of attention
like the candle's flame when we eat.
I mean a kind of awe
attending the spaces between us-
not a roof but a field of stars.
-Jane Cooper
Sixtieth Birthday Dinner
If in the men's room of our favorite restaurant
while blissfully pissing roserva spumante
I punch the wall because I am old,
I promise not to punch too carelessly.
Our friend Franco cooks all night and day
to transform blood and bones to osso buco.
He shouldn't have to clean them off his wall
or worry that a customer gone cuckoo
has mashed his knuckles like a slugger
whose steroid dosage needs a little tweaking.
My life with you has been beyond beyond
and there's nothing beyond it I'm seeking.
I just don't want to leave it, and I am
with every silken bite of tiramisu.
I wouldn't mind being dead
if I could still be with you.
-Michael Ryan
so in honor of a day of love which brought me a cookie that i didn't get, a proposition that i didn't take, and a the promise of a phone call that i want, here are the two love poems that keep me from buying 6 cats, a keg of chardonnay, and the english patient.
Rent
If you want my apartment, sleep in it
but let's have a clear understanding:
the books are still free agents.
If the rocking chair's arms surround you
they can also let you go,
they can shape the air like a body.
I don't want your rent, I want
a radiance of attention
like the candle's flame when we eat.
I mean a kind of awe
attending the spaces between us-
not a roof but a field of stars.
-Jane Cooper
Sixtieth Birthday Dinner
If in the men's room of our favorite restaurant
while blissfully pissing roserva spumante
I punch the wall because I am old,
I promise not to punch too carelessly.
Our friend Franco cooks all night and day
to transform blood and bones to osso buco.
He shouldn't have to clean them off his wall
or worry that a customer gone cuckoo
has mashed his knuckles like a slugger
whose steroid dosage needs a little tweaking.
My life with you has been beyond beyond
and there's nothing beyond it I'm seeking.
I just don't want to leave it, and I am
with every silken bite of tiramisu.
I wouldn't mind being dead
if I could still be with you.
-Michael Ryan
2.14.2007
saint valentine
did you know that he was Italian?
yeah... neither did i. until trivia at Sam's tonite.
by the way.
i love that i was at trivia on valentines.
sad you think?
nope.
not at all.
i love that i now know where St. Valentine is from.
i even gave someone a Valentine.
and i ate 17 valentine cookies today for lunch.
if you don't believe me, read my halloween post.
yeah... neither did i. until trivia at Sam's tonite.
by the way.
i love that i was at trivia on valentines.
sad you think?
nope.
not at all.
i love that i now know where St. Valentine is from.
i even gave someone a Valentine.
and i ate 17 valentine cookies today for lunch.
if you don't believe me, read my halloween post.
2.04.2007
sestina, baby
Levy
The hurricane swamped in the heat of late August.
And rain dissolved the last binding papers.
It ran things wet into gutters while we arranged
Our steps to avoid parking lot puddles in an order,
Heels up, around exacting white lines. I counted
the seconds we stood under a red umbrella. A number,
Thirty-six, led me to eight, twenty-eight, numbers
Like nine that repeated after the flood of August.
Later, I sat on carpet in front of the TV and counted
The total times a reporter lost papers
In Louisiana wind. I wanted to give her some order,
An anchor in the surge that she could arrange
Herself around, tie herself to. Instead I arranged
Paper clips in the neutral fibers of our carpet, numbering
Them in parallel placements of two, planning to order
The boxes I packed after the final days in August.
And now in the sweat of an attic, I look through papers
Bound together with metal clips and try not to count
How many times the word plaintiff discounts,
in absolute dissolution, the single arrangement
I couldn't make. As if by forgetting the papers
And focusing on the one after one of numbers,
In neat stacks of attic things I no longer hold august,
I might somehow escape this disorder.
My hand in trash plastic, attempts to make order
Out of photographs and letters too many to count.
Until in a bead of sweat, I realize that it is August
And too hot to calculate in an attic. I arrange
my descent on the wood ladder, and my toes number
ten. Two less than the month, I notarized papers.
When I reach the ground, I study the newspaper
Column by column, printed words with no order.
Its alphabet squalls in circular motion; no number
I know remembers me, who once on him counted
To empty the trash in my hands. An arrangement
Unspoken, made two Septembers before August
When a number of ours witnessed us recount
some solemn story. An arrangement by order
Sealed only on paper. Today, I hold nothing in august.
The hurricane swamped in the heat of late August.
And rain dissolved the last binding papers.
It ran things wet into gutters while we arranged
Our steps to avoid parking lot puddles in an order,
Heels up, around exacting white lines. I counted
the seconds we stood under a red umbrella. A number,
Thirty-six, led me to eight, twenty-eight, numbers
Like nine that repeated after the flood of August.
Later, I sat on carpet in front of the TV and counted
The total times a reporter lost papers
In Louisiana wind. I wanted to give her some order,
An anchor in the surge that she could arrange
Herself around, tie herself to. Instead I arranged
Paper clips in the neutral fibers of our carpet, numbering
Them in parallel placements of two, planning to order
The boxes I packed after the final days in August.
And now in the sweat of an attic, I look through papers
Bound together with metal clips and try not to count
How many times the word plaintiff discounts,
in absolute dissolution, the single arrangement
I couldn't make. As if by forgetting the papers
And focusing on the one after one of numbers,
In neat stacks of attic things I no longer hold august,
I might somehow escape this disorder.
My hand in trash plastic, attempts to make order
Out of photographs and letters too many to count.
Until in a bead of sweat, I realize that it is August
And too hot to calculate in an attic. I arrange
my descent on the wood ladder, and my toes number
ten. Two less than the month, I notarized papers.
When I reach the ground, I study the newspaper
Column by column, printed words with no order.
Its alphabet squalls in circular motion; no number
I know remembers me, who once on him counted
To empty the trash in my hands. An arrangement
Unspoken, made two Septembers before August
When a number of ours witnessed us recount
some solemn story. An arrangement by order
Sealed only on paper. Today, I hold nothing in august.
1.29.2007
double double tendons and trouble
i went to memphis to visit my mom in the hospital this weekend.
she had her knees replaced with some metal alloy that i should remember because i am normally a good daughter. but, i can't remember the name of the metal, and i can't remember breakfast with my mom sunday morning.
wait.
that's right.
i didn't eat breakfast with my mom on sunday morning.
i was picking sofa fuzz off my sweater from sleeping on a couch somewhere in east memphis.
poor mom.
fun me.
she had her knees replaced with some metal alloy that i should remember because i am normally a good daughter. but, i can't remember the name of the metal, and i can't remember breakfast with my mom sunday morning.
wait.
that's right.
i didn't eat breakfast with my mom on sunday morning.
i was picking sofa fuzz off my sweater from sleeping on a couch somewhere in east memphis.
poor mom.
fun me.
1.22.2007
revisionist history
sometimes, i go out and drink too much.
then, i check my cell phone to see whom i have called and texted, trying to piece the night back together in my cloudy little mind. this is all well and good until i realize…
i am a deleter.
i erase incriminating texts while i am in a bathroom stall at, let’s say, a bowling alley and realize that i should not text boys first and must get rid of the evidence that i am an idiot.
then, the next day while scrolling through the past eve's communications in a hungover haze, i live a blissful 3 minutes under the impression that he texted first, which makes me feel okay for engaging in the all night text fiesta.
it even begins to soften the fact that he’s 7 years younger.
then, i have a cloudy memory of the first text,
which was my text,
and realize,
much like the WASPS
i am trying to rewrite history.
well.
at least i am not spreading syphilis.
then, i check my cell phone to see whom i have called and texted, trying to piece the night back together in my cloudy little mind. this is all well and good until i realize…
i am a deleter.
i erase incriminating texts while i am in a bathroom stall at, let’s say, a bowling alley and realize that i should not text boys first and must get rid of the evidence that i am an idiot.
then, the next day while scrolling through the past eve's communications in a hungover haze, i live a blissful 3 minutes under the impression that he texted first, which makes me feel okay for engaging in the all night text fiesta.
it even begins to soften the fact that he’s 7 years younger.
then, i have a cloudy memory of the first text,
which was my text,
and realize,
much like the WASPS
i am trying to rewrite history.
well.
at least i am not spreading syphilis.
1.07.2007
fatty fatty 2x4
no fat eatin in nashville, whore.
there.
another attempt at poetry.
vandyland this summer and the belle meade cafeteria this christmas.
i may finally be able to get into a size 2 pants.
there.
another attempt at poetry.
vandyland this summer and the belle meade cafeteria this christmas.
i may finally be able to get into a size 2 pants.
1.06.2007
addictidiot
so i quit drinking coffee yesterday.
new year. new start. beholden to nothing.
i mean, how hard can it be?
i only drink 6 cups every morning.
yesterday, i felt like i was walking around with a wet blanket on my head. i could do nothing. in fact, in target i could not even remember the word for detergent. i looked a my roommate and said, "you know that thing with the clothes and the washing."
so without coffee, i could not
a) find words in my brain
b) open my eyes past a "high as a kite" stage
c) work out
d) go "potty"
the last one turned the trick. i have no problem feeling, looking, and sounding like a dipshit, but "potty" is a necessary- 1 hour after i wake up event- that my world revolves around. it's the reason i leave a shack attack before we can spend the day together. i love it more than i love men.
needless to say, i am drinking a cup of coffee right now.
and i feel great.
don't worry mom- i'm cutting back to 3 cups a day.
by the way, there is an FAQ archive... amazing.
on this FAQ cite I learned all about coffee.
new year. new start. beholden to nothing.
i mean, how hard can it be?
i only drink 6 cups every morning.
yesterday, i felt like i was walking around with a wet blanket on my head. i could do nothing. in fact, in target i could not even remember the word for detergent. i looked a my roommate and said, "you know that thing with the clothes and the washing."
so without coffee, i could not
a) find words in my brain
b) open my eyes past a "high as a kite" stage
c) work out
d) go "potty"
the last one turned the trick. i have no problem feeling, looking, and sounding like a dipshit, but "potty" is a necessary- 1 hour after i wake up event- that my world revolves around. it's the reason i leave a shack attack before we can spend the day together. i love it more than i love men.
needless to say, i am drinking a cup of coffee right now.
and i feel great.
don't worry mom- i'm cutting back to 3 cups a day.
by the way, there is an FAQ archive... amazing.
on this FAQ cite I learned all about coffee.
1.04.2007
yom kippur and rosh hashanah rolled into one
blogs should be fun, educational, entertaining, or something other than a sap fest for the masses. therefore, i have been less able to write about my life lately. it's hard to be sarcastic when you are happy.
but i'm working on that.
here's my best at obfuscational entertainment.
happy new year.
and get ready for 12th night (january 5th)
i like this concept... jesus is born and it takes 12 days for folks to figure it all out. so we have a huge feast and give more presents 12 days after christmas. unfortunately, no one i know celebrates this holiday except for the grandmother who thinks i've ruined the family resume. freaking luck.
BUT, saturday is epiphany- a holiday that one can celebrate alone.
my favorite part of it is trying to figure out what was learned the previous year.
let's do a run through of some of the winners...
1976- sometimes sperm happens...
even if your mother doesn't want a second child
1981- summer camp in a 103 degree heat wave is crap..
army peanut butter and outdoor naps on ant hills?
1982- life is not fair...
eight year old girls can grow a moustache
1983- bovine growth hormone can be a wonderful thing...
having boobs in 3rd grade is cool
1988- bigger isn't always better...
going up a size every time you shop for clothes loses its joy around age 12
1990- snooping in other people's drawers is bad...
no one needs to find condoms in the drawer of a parent who can't procreate and should not have an STD
1992- chalk that shit up to practice...
in terms of love, sometimes what you think is the championship game turns out to be a little back yard game of touch
1994- pendulums swing...
having the biggest boobs in 3rd grade was not worth having the smallest in 12th grade
1997- accept things when they are free, even if electric shock is part of the deal...
i should have taken my mom up on the electrolysis she offered me in 3rd grade; laser hair removal is some pricey shit
1999- let them go before it it too late...
because when they come back, and they always do (with ceramic chickens of some sort) you are done with them, and it's too late to salvage anything other than a sense of bitchy independence.
2004- listen to your instincts...
perfect isn't perfect if it isn't your perfect
2005- the miracle of life is beautiful...
until you notice that a placenta resembles the sak purse your mom carries
2006- well, i learned some good lessons this year...
1. opposite actions do not have equal reactions...
it takes 4320 times longer to get a divorce than it takes to get married
(i did the math)
2. mick jagger is an f-ing genius...
when you try sometimes, you get what you need.
3. we love whom we love...
in the wake of stolen boyfriends, coveting thy neighbor's ass, fingernail polish on white satin, and miscommunication, the best fleetwood mac song can always remind you that unconditional love is ferocious.
but i'm working on that.
here's my best at obfuscational entertainment.
happy new year.
and get ready for 12th night (january 5th)
i like this concept... jesus is born and it takes 12 days for folks to figure it all out. so we have a huge feast and give more presents 12 days after christmas. unfortunately, no one i know celebrates this holiday except for the grandmother who thinks i've ruined the family resume. freaking luck.
BUT, saturday is epiphany- a holiday that one can celebrate alone.
my favorite part of it is trying to figure out what was learned the previous year.
let's do a run through of some of the winners...
1976- sometimes sperm happens...
even if your mother doesn't want a second child
1981- summer camp in a 103 degree heat wave is crap..
army peanut butter and outdoor naps on ant hills?
1982- life is not fair...
eight year old girls can grow a moustache
1983- bovine growth hormone can be a wonderful thing...
having boobs in 3rd grade is cool
1988- bigger isn't always better...
going up a size every time you shop for clothes loses its joy around age 12
1990- snooping in other people's drawers is bad...
no one needs to find condoms in the drawer of a parent who can't procreate and should not have an STD
1992- chalk that shit up to practice...
in terms of love, sometimes what you think is the championship game turns out to be a little back yard game of touch
1994- pendulums swing...
having the biggest boobs in 3rd grade was not worth having the smallest in 12th grade
1997- accept things when they are free, even if electric shock is part of the deal...
i should have taken my mom up on the electrolysis she offered me in 3rd grade; laser hair removal is some pricey shit
1999- let them go before it it too late...
because when they come back, and they always do (with ceramic chickens of some sort) you are done with them, and it's too late to salvage anything other than a sense of bitchy independence.
2004- listen to your instincts...
perfect isn't perfect if it isn't your perfect
2005- the miracle of life is beautiful...
until you notice that a placenta resembles the sak purse your mom carries
2006- well, i learned some good lessons this year...
1. opposite actions do not have equal reactions...
it takes 4320 times longer to get a divorce than it takes to get married
(i did the math)
2. mick jagger is an f-ing genius...
when you try sometimes, you get what you need.
3. we love whom we love...
in the wake of stolen boyfriends, coveting thy neighbor's ass, fingernail polish on white satin, and miscommunication, the best fleetwood mac song can always remind you that unconditional love is ferocious.
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