SORRY FOR THE EONS OF TIME i spend not posting here...it really sucks not being able to talk about nothing, with you, my favorite audience.
that being said, cranking away at the new molly mutt blog, which will surely be fantastical & magnifilous all in one.
back to the other secret, locked up blog that is just itch-itch-itching to get out (clawing like a trapped panther in a usps box.)
later gators,
m
big news on the molly mutt front:
*opened my business checking account
*wrote my first check
*days away from placing my first order! YEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. and then it will be time for all of you, my nearest & dearest, to sell stuff to everyone you ever knew, in your whole life! more about that very soon...how i am going to use each & every one of you...(as always, insert a really scary, vincent-price-esque laugh here!)
i am happy today, oh so happy today!
allegedly, this is a phrase we use in texas to describe an individual that is all talk and no action...
i lived in texas for 22 years. in houston. i never heard this saying even once. but the fact that this phraseology even exists makes my day.
back to work, as i don't want to be all hat & no cattle. (well played, mols)
went to a david sedaris reading on friday night.
top drawer.
& yes, that is his signature at left, and a picture of a turtle.
radio gold.
*please note, i am not going to post for every picture a day-it's too much pressure & i won't ever live up to that level of commitment...a post AND a picture a day...yeah, right. The Project images can always be found by clicking astronomically amazing astroboy in the upper left corner, anytime your heart desires.
off to finish reading my new book.
guess who got a new/vintage (yes, this is possible) polaroid land camera from her friend hao??
and who, on the same day got 10 packs of film from her mom?
that would be me.
today deserves 2 pictures. i can't choose between them.
happy me!
and i, the gift-giver, am humbled.
(standing ovation for mom & hao)
quick question:
is it lame to use fantastic vocabulary words in everyday writing/speaking when the majority of people will have, at best, only a slight-idea as to its meaning? is it pretentious to do this? or is it worse that when you do have that one great SAT word (let's say "insouciance" or "inimitable") in the most fitting of occasions, you don't use it, because you know those around you are small minded nitwits who will make fun & "ohhh la la" your endeavor? is it worse to be pretentious or dragged down to the depths of lolcat & sms-speak? ayn rand would certainly say the latter is the more abysmal choice. i'm with her.
(ps, this was all brought on because i heard "gravitas" three times, in one day.)
day 2, The Project
i was really torn as to what to post as today's glimpse into my "life".
("life" in quotations-not an accident. another very obviously emo shout out implying an ocean of boredom. wait, wait. "...a sea of ennui." BETTER, now i am sound avuncular & kind of bourgeois. top drawer.)
this was the weirder picture. there you go.
cacophony-great word. am going to find probably not-so-subtle ways to use this gem more often. when said aloud, the sound Is the meaning. (i am very philosophical tonight, apparently. let's chalk it up to how my hands are yet again frozen, sitting at my desk, surrounded by 3 very-poorly-if-at-all insulated windows. that sentence alone took 476 minutes to type.)
ok, ladies & worms. going back to my book & cropping pictures for work. nothing spells excitement like a night with the moll. gun moll.
day one.
so we'll see if this lasts, as tonight, trying to figure out what to take a picture of @ almost-midnight was kind of tricksy.
i am writing this on the 24th-and all day today, officially day two of The Project, i have actually thought about what today's picture should be-thus giving a regular tuesday a whole new look. yes, this means lugging my fat camera everywhere, but hopefully it will be insightful, however long it lasts. (obviously i am not holding out hope that this will actually last all year-no reason to set myself up for disappointment. i also think probably half the photos will end up being my dogs sleeping in their beds, as i will undoubtedly have forgotten to take a picture all day. again, we'll see.)
for those music-toads-like-me out there, ratatat (a little electronic, a lot of awesome-try "crips" or "el pico") & lykke li (start with "i'm good, i'm gone" or "little bit"). that's all i have to say.
sounds dirty.i've obviously taken off the month of june.
stay tuned for more greatness sometime soon.
(what's coming next is top drawer.)
decided to let the green infiltrate my soul & not, i repeat, NOT drive my car to the castro where i needed to pick up prints-but instead take muni.
as i stepped off the train into the sunshine, i came to three conclusions:
i wish i could take credit for this.
oh god, do i wish it was mine...(sigh).
i want to try & stay positive (for the kids).
criticism, competition & cutlery turn the sky blue.
mr. waffle pants. (name of a friend's cat).
all indie band names should include punctuation, which should be further defined as including only the following:
? ! , . () ... " & + (and maybe the *...i haven't decided yet).
the following punctuation should not be allowed in anything other than instant or sms messaging:
@ # $ % ^ =
and the following should not be included because they are the most boring of all punctuation (& should remain in the html world where they belong):
: ; {} [] - _ <>
a few phrases to try & slip into your positively raging weekend (taken from various conversations both real & imaginary):
*take the danger & put in the bank.
*fortune cookie hour is over.
*fake a seizure. that always works for me.
*adopt a less marital tone.
*the only things we had going for us were smooth thighs & a tenacity from being naive.
*clearly we made emo, dark soul sharing plans for tonight
and those trump this event. i just wanted to put it out
there in case you want to glam it up a bit.
*yep, still in the city...can't figure out where i would live after this...the mountains...the ocean...the democrats. its a good place for me.
*stay cool. alas, that will not be possible in the surface-of-mars biome you are currently inhabiting. (& the science talk?? apparently someone is listening to way too much NPR.)
*the white people are melting.
it's friday...can you tell from the nonsensical banter & mindless, unfocused drivel? am i writing just to write? (yes, yes, obviously yes).
see you in june, suckahs.
(line stolen from chuck...i couldn't help it)
going to see ladytron. happy as clam (why, again, are clams supposedly so carefree & giggly-girl-glad? this seems perverse. from what i've heard about these mollusks, the life of a clam is nothing short of boring, cold & crappy. they don't even have a face.) (reader, please note, i have no idea what i am talking about in the world of biology & one if not all of the "fact-of-a-clam" statements above are undoubtedly false. sadly, i have neither the time nor the interest in looking up clams on wikipedia. please feel free to further research this topic @ your leisure.)
LADYTRON.
(with a subdued shout-out to the underappreciated clam).
(oh, & i finally finished banksy's flowers on amy's deck...it only took 20 minutes-not really sure why i procrastinated for 20 weeks...)
or
a reflection on growing up in the south
*the reader should note the writer Does Indeed recognize the difference between the deep south & texas. there are pertinent & important differences that can & should be elaborated on by someone (not me). but for the sake of this "piece", the author will call texas "the south"...be able to handle it, as we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.
so, with the old job, i used to go to arkansas at least a few times a year-and i was always surprised how driving out of the airport & seeing fields of cows & open space made me kinda smirk-y. i wouldn't have expected it, as i rarely go to home, and don't visit texas unless on a transfer flight (sorry mom). this is not an accident. i left my home state in a whirlwind of rancor & angst...never quite feeling right about it & never accepting my time there as anything other than a prison sentence. when i packed up my uhaul & finally got out, all i could remember was how i loathed every last detail.
so why the clandestine smiles when i get back to the south? am i repressing pleasant memories? do i (gasp) actually like things about growing up white in america?
i think the change first starts to get my attention when i am putting my carryon into the overhead. i go to slug my 80 lb (clearly surpassing the weight limit) suitcase & i feel it lighten immediately... wtf??!? my suspicion increases...i start to think for whole seconds that all of my shit has been siphoned through the torn front pocket...when all of sudden-BAM. i get it. that guy 14 rows back saw little ole me lifting something other than a fan or sweet tea to my lipsticked lips...and ran up to help me.
chivalry.
oh yeah...that was that thing where guys help girls out. scary feminist take these symbolic gestures as signs of an overriding socialized bias of female fraility. no, no, no. i always took the door being opened for me, being the first to leave the elevator & help with heavy things as just fan-fucking-tastic. i forgot about these southern men & their manners & how warm my blushing cheeks feel.
i like that.
i become more wide-eyed as i am greeted by the first stranger walking opposite me in the airport terminal. "how're you doin' t'day?". it always takes me 3 or 4 of these interactions before i remember this is what people who don't know one another do. oh yeah-and everyone makes eye contact. especially the opposite sex. age, race, amount of botox...it doesn't matter. you make eye contact. oh, and you smile. that's a big part. (i recall my very-different-opinion of this behavior when i left the state many years ago...all this namby-pamby smiling...because these southern smiling idiots are silly-headed ninnymuggins. with cotton between their ears.)
now i'm all dopey smiling back.
more later on this topic, gotta stand in line for mr. plane.
hotter than a really bad metaphor for something warm-like a gnat's ass or hell or fill-in-the-blank.
yes. it is hotter than any crap analogy.
h.
o.
t.
i must say, however, even though i have scrubbed all southern twang from my voice, as well as all tragic texas social tenets...there is something comforting about a town surrounded by fast food, walmart & gas stations with 60 oz. beverages. you don't get that in california.
first of all, xenophobia is spelled with an "x" not a "z"...another tricky bit about the english language...an "x" is a sub for the "z" sound, occasionally. just for funsies. we like to throw this in for immigrants & foreigners-to keep them guessing. our gift to the world.
(insert aggravated, disgruntled sighing here).
trying to get my imovie skills up & running again (those same talents that brought you the "ana's birthday" extravaganza)-it's all about the soundtrack & narration...and since i am apparently never going to get my voice back, my voice as The Voice sounds like an old 3-pack-a-day-hag (or grandma ruth, whatev). maybe this will work in my favor? keep your radio dial on this station.
beautiful, oh-so-gorgeous day in the city. can't complain (which is shocking me into numb fingers & nothing to say...as without something to get agro about, i am painfully boring).
off to work.
*ps
what i would have said-part 1
today, met a very talented girl (please note everyone under the age of 100 is a "girl" to me, not a "woman" which sounds manny) who said when discussing that she was a vegan (background story, i said..."i couldn't do that! i drink a gallon of milk a day")-she says "we are the only species that drinks milk". which is true.
i wish, however, that i had been witty enough to say "and we are also the only species that drives cars & has banks & puts on false eyelashes." alas, i thought of this brilliant comeback 3 hours post-conversation.
tragic.
(saying "hot" has expired.
but "not hot" is totally acceptable.)
i digress.
myanmar cyclone? depressing.
aid workers getting their plane turned around because the government is suspicious? really fucking dumb.
captain john hillstrand of the time bandit.
*fishes for crab 6 months out of the year.
*8" tall crab tattoo on his arm.
*smokes 476 cigarettes a day.
*wears his USA jacket like skin.
*fell into the water because too drunk to get to the boat.
people, this is a family show. gather the younglings around & embrace the magic of deadliest catch. as capt. john said "we'd rather be lucky than good any day..." if that's not foreshadowing greatness, i don't know what is.
bad to the bone.
blackbird fly...
yeah, so i've probably listened to this song 4,076 times. some of my earliest musical memories (rubber soul & white album, disc 1 will forever be tied to saturday cleaning...that awful/yet-strangely-comforting-routine we engaged in every saturday morning...sweeping, dusting, all the gross chores...and the beatles crooning somewhere in the background.)
it wasn't until the 4,053 playing of "blackbird" that i realized the bird chirping was actually in the track. i honestly thought it was either a very fortuitous coincidence or only in my head. i never said anything because i thought if i was the only one that heard it-this would be proof of my being the mayor of crazytown.
i think i was 27 when i finally figured it out.
wow.
oh, which reminds of the time i swear to god there were aliens landing outside my bedroom. all night long. i kept trying to convince myself it was something else...anything else-but it couldn't be denied. the sound was exactly the same spaceship-landing noise i had heard in the day the earth stood still.
i had to get out of bed...run to the parents' room...for my own safety & really to save the whole family from what was sure to be inevitable extra-terrestrial invasion & body snatching. i just had to force myself out of bed. i could feel the sweat beading up on my forehead. my joints felt stiff & paralyzed...(these creatures were pretty fucking brilliant-being able to control my body from the backyard). i couldn't swallow. i felt like my pillow case had covered my tongue & i had ingested orange shag carpet. i couldn't scream...
get out of bed molly, cmon, save the earth, save the family, don't close your eyes, they are waiting for you to close your eyes, throw your legs off the bed, this is your chance...
it was a bullfrog mating song-i found out after bursting like a banshee into my parents' bedroom, wide-eyed, hair all over the place, sweating & panting & screaming...
a bullfrog mating song.
& a blackbird.
who gives a shit about miley cyrus? really?? hannah motherf*cking-tana.
i mean...really?
vanity fair, notorious for borderline sexy pictures...with annie leibowitz at the helm, and we are shocked to see a 15 year old draped in a sheet...hmmm....this girl's father once sang "don't break my achy breaky heart." this picture is a step up from the mullets in this girl's genetic makeup. if anything, i think she looks kind of homeless with chapped lips...nothing to throw the book at.
i really couldn't care less. the only thing that bugs is the outrage-the moral vomit that has surfaced as a result. people, get jobs. find a hobby. go stand in traffic somewhere & cry, cry, cry about how the country is on a one-way trip to hell.
i'll be sitting first class, thank you very much.
here's the thing.
(as if there could ever really only be one thing. pffffttt)
let's rock a scenario-which you have heard, seen, read & experienced countless times.
who: 2 friends-let's call them madeleine (but we'll call her maddy) & oliver, just for kicks
what: in a conversation
where: irrelevant
prologue
let's assume our 2 friendsies are talking about something...oh, i don't know...going out to dinner, or meeting up, or calling when you said you would, la-la-la. let's say oliver just said he wanted to bail & do something else with his friends-or maybe he just wants to sleep. whatever.
the story
oliver looks kind of pained, braced for what he's sure will be an angry response, "are you sure it's fine?"
maddy looks him dead in the eye, "no, no, not a big deal."
conclusion
maddy goes home, or hangs up the phone, or walks away-and oliver imagines all is legit. he heard "NOT A BIG DEAL"-so that clearly meant he was off the hook, all was forgiven & little top-hatted leprechauns dance an irish jig just on the other side of the rainbow, guarding a pot of gold.
oh, simple, simple oliver.
maddy will spit nails for minutes, hours, days over the entire interchange. i mean doesn't EVERYONE know that "not a big deal" really means "you better fix this in a HUGE way, um, immediately.??"
this is girl 101. it applies to friends, lovers & whores.
evolve, boys, evolve.
i've arrived.
the state that brought us "into the wild" & "white fang".
my first observations of anchorage:
*cold
*silent as the grave (my talking on the phone was the loudest sound for miles & miles-at one point i guffawed & am certain i heard the entire town gasp.)
*cold
*so many gift shops i can't even begin to relay the scope & magnitude...(my favorite store-"once in a blue moose"...no, not kidding.)
*internet slower than dial-up
*officially, the edge of the earth. i would try to sell this idea to you, but will rely instead on my mad photography skillz to capture the scene in the upcoming days.
*it is 9pm & brighter than noon in the city (not exaggerating).
*if my mom doesn't get here soon, i am likely to blind myself staring at the snow flurries
(reader, please note, i am blogging NOT because i am unable to be in the moment...i am waiting the arrival of the mom, and have nothing to do, other than watch crap tv, stand in the snow storm, or hunt for an elk to mount on a wall...which i may do, if i can't think of anything else to say.)
oh the places we will go...
night night, from alaska.
sitting in my kitchen (surpress the urge to faint, thanks, those of you that know i subsist entirely on trader joe's frosted mini wheats, avocado toast & havarti cheese with carr's crackers...i appreciate your faith in me)...listening to miles davis' "love songs" (the emo-ness is showing on the outside now-just...terrible)...simultaneously trying to write a post (which i haven't in 2+ weeks, wtf) & look up random crap that keeps making cameos in my head-for instance i started trying to type & wrote the letter "t" about 3 times-finger resting on the key for too long-and this reminded me of the 1980's icon max headroom so i had to look him up for 12 hours (thank you modern technology totally ruining any chance i had at being not-ADD)...using fabulous wireless technology to broadcast to you, my loyal & unbelievably eclectic fans.
thank you, computers & red wine. i salute you.
nothing especially brilliant to pass along. just had to write something (aka "nothing"). in the case of this web log-i just needed to write so i know i am still alive.
stay tuned.
why are the smiths synonymous with being emo? i don't get it. their songs are witty, ironic & charming, if not enchanting.
a lyrical antipasto, for you to judge:
*sweetness i was only joking when i said i'd like to smash every tooth in your head.
*girlfriend in a coma, i know...i know - it's really serious... there were times when i could have murdered her...(but you know, I would hate anything to happen to her).
*and if a double-decker bus crashes into us-to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.
and if a ten-ton truck kills the both of us to die by your side-well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine.
though every fiber of my being is in a perpetual state of nausea over this...i joined facebook-i was sucker punched into by polenta GB (who i may hate later because of it).
i resisted for so long because i can't deal with the pressure of having all these people up in my shit. i will try it out for a week or two, to see if it sticks. caveat & achtung-i don't think it will. i found out via the ny times how to delete my account-so i DO have a safety net if i hate it like i think i will.
christopher, don't lose faith in me. think of it as a social experiment. let's see how the other half lives.
(sigh)-i feel like i just sold my soul for thirty shekels.
you walk down the street, and you are completely alone.
everyone is somewhere else.
listening to music-headphones jammed deep into the holes in the sides of their heads...trying desperately to create the soundtrack of their lives...going live in a constant, continuous music video.
texting-little fingers madly dancing across the latest it-device, reading messages-just to look busy, talking on the phone...
same thing happens at dinners, in bars, at cafes all over this economically nasty country-maybe the world. and it's depressing. no one looks you in the eyes anymore. no one listens to the tail-end of conversations-they are already documenting the past thing, or catching up to the current thing, or chasing the future thing.
no one just is.
i find myself becoming the multi-media third reich. not allowing phones at the table, et al-which makes me feel simultaneously old & out-of-touch. but its really starting to get on my fucking nerves. hey, i'm not judging as to how things got to this point-because, we all know i was one of the first to be guilty of indulging in being everywhere at once. but its getting out of hand. yes, ok, so we know now we can talk to anyone, anytime, and know exactly when everything on the entire bloated planet is occuring.
*noted.
now it's time to live in the present. start with a minute each day where you aren't at your computer, on your phone, or facebooking. ok? see what happens when you pick your eyes up from your ratty screens & you see what is going on in real time all around you. all you have is this moment. there are no ctrl+z edit undo's. live it, or lose it.
& yes, i feel preachy & self-righteous. but mostly just sad-and not endearingly so. sad that i am out on the street all alone.
(ps, if one more couple-a-holdin-hands waltzes past my window, shit is going down. what is this? cuddly-pairs-day? ctrl+alt+del, thanks)
a toast, to all of you, from me.
"here's to cheating, stealing, fighting & drinking.
if you cheat, may you cheat death.
if you steal, may you steal the heart of the one you love.
if you fight, may you fight for a brother
& if you drink, may you drink with me."
happy green beer, et al. get rowdy.
(& yes, i am pretending this is us...just go with it)christopher, christopher, christopher (sing in a style a la "maria" in west side story, and always say it thrice. everything good should be said or done thrice).
************************************************************************************ something to revisit after we have had additional time to reflect.
i am molly the maneater.
THE MAGNETIC FIELDS.information is like porn.
it wasn't when i was paying for it-college was forced learning & basically all data was processed & then promptly tossed in the nearest bin (& yes, i am english today). but now...today, this exact moment, i can't get enough.
does this sound familiar?due to a recent onset of a wicked cold/flu-ish situation, i have this scratchy, sexy lounge singer voice. i want to keep it. i have clasped my greedy little hands around it's fraile existence, crushing it like lenny in of mice & men...screaming songs in the car so as to ensure at least a few more hours of precious sultry, husky bette-davis-with-a-ineffable-hat-&-matching-handbag voice.
i like the show gossip girl.
there.
i said it.
the cattiness, the money, the ridiculous stereotypes. teenagers that hang out at the plaza & order martinis AT THE BAR (ludicruous...these girls have "not-of-age" stamped on their freshly-facialed-faces & trainer bras.) the mothers are all over-the-top bourgie (short for bourgeois...not sure on that abbreviation) assholes, the dads of 2 varieties: superdad or too-rich-&-important-"mysonmustgetintodartmouth" types. classic. there is the "nerdy-yet-strangely-attractive-&-misunderstood-guy", his kid sister (golly gee, the fun times these two loveable characters have together), the leggy blonde, the bitchy brunette, the token asian...it's just the most a delightful group of kids...growing up in the big apple.
(ted, i don't want to hear any shit. you eat pork rinds.)
here you go-just read the names of these bands &/or songs & feel better. i did.
*pretty girls make graves
*a good man is easy to kill
*popular mechanics for lovers
*i'm always the one who calls
*smile! no one cares how you feel
*i love you, but i've chosen darkness
*this photograph is proof (i know you know)
*sweet sweet heartkiller
*when they really get to know you, they will run
6 o'clock pm, saturday, the 23rd of february.
my fingers are mildly frost-bitten & my apartment windows are about to shatter into a thousand chards of glass. right in my face.
there is a tree dancing a saucy lambada (the forbidden dance) directly behind this open notebook computer. i can see the movement using my nifty & quite perceptive peripheral vision. the leaves appear to be holding hands & shimmying across the television-like screen of a single un-insulated windowpane.
tonight has full moon written all over it. the malevolent, rainbearer clouds drip ominously from the sky. the red aura that encircles every brakelight, the fuzzy tractor beams of headlights, looking out at the city from the rain-streaked windows inside my apartment...people dressed like mongolian herdsman or yetis (hoodies, random pieces of clothing thrown together to block out the driveling drizzle that is san-francisco-"rain", the rainboots & turned-inside-out-umbrellas that look like weapons of mass destruction...all thrown together haphazardly into a maddening milieu of what more posh people might call the "homeless aesthetic"-making this nomad fashion catastrophe sound even charming & philanthropic.)
this weather does not make me want to conquer the most miniscule of tasks-nothing can motivate. not even aaron copeland's "rodeo"-which at any other time can inspire me to do even the most mundane chore...when i listen to this song at any other time, i feel capable of lifting a bus in the air, whirling it around & tossing it effortlessly out of harm's way. i can always count on "fanfare for the common man" to pull my ass out of whatever self-deprecating state i have wandered into & Take Over the World.
but copeland is no match against this full moon weather situation.
so instead, i will sit inside, staring...half grimacing at the thought of ever having to leave & "pen" madly away on a story. any story. i just need that first line. that killer intro-clause to get me off & running on some tirade or another (it doesn't matter which).
i got it.
"it was a dark and stormy night..."
(thank you, charlie brown)
night-night buttercups.
the motivations behind this photograph.
i am & will remain in an eternal sense of loss. gills informed me tonight that according to regis & kelly (puke)-& confirmed on the boston globe website, polaroid is closing its plants in the US & internationally ...signifying the end of polaroid film.
wtf.
(can you hear the racking sobs wherever you are...?? can you hear the stifled wailing?)
that episode of seinfeld comes to mind...that one where elaine finds out they are discontinuing the sponge-and so she buys every case from every stop-&-rob in manhattan. her interaction with all males from that point forward is based on "is he sponge-worthy?"
i am compelled to run out & buy every single case of polaroid 600 film in the greater bay area. scratch that...in the entire state of california AND texas (mom, i would be soliciting your help here.)
but how can i possibly decide how many rolls of film i would need for the remainder OF MY LIFE??? the spontaneity that defines the whole "instant camera love" for me is lost. no more taking pictures of my feet, of the always-the-same-view-from-the-far-right-window-of-my-apartment - just-because-i-feel-like-it pictures. no more bums, creepy pigeons, or just to see the flash.
i am paralyzed with the impending void that will inevitably occur when i rip open that last box-no matter how many boxes i have.
& how long can you keep unused film? months? years? decades? because decades is what we are talking about here. i have nothing in my possession that i plan on still having in 40 years.
& yes, it is no secret i am fond of words. from the alphabet all the way to 996 page novels. i live for phrases, idioms & odd-compound words (vaingloriously & huckleberry amongst the best of the them...a topic to be revisited @ a later time-the possibilities are endless).
for today, let's spend a minute reviewing "sayings."
out & about in this work a day world, i have recently been bombarded with the weirdness of common expressions. the oddity & really just how fanfuckingtastic they are. the reader should note, i am going to start throwing these out, probably @ inappropriate times scrambling the meaning horribly.
es muss sein. es konnte ach anders sein.
sitting here, legs propped up on the bed, computer in my lap-& finally, good lord Finally, the savage beast has been soothed. that uncaring, cruel & unusual bastard Pain. pain makes those that suffer from it into trembling, wretched invalids. it makes those that have to watch into trembling, helpless voids. why must there be pain? why can't we just heal & keep going or sigh our last & let it be done? why pain? does it provide some useful & poignant higher purpose?
i am suggesting we set up a UN committee immediately-proposing all pain be eradicated. those in favor, say "aye."
a quiet night, after what will go done as not being my favorite day. i am the trembling, helpless void-forced to sit idly by & watch my friend writhe in ridiculous, inhumane, ASSHOLE pain. & i hate it. i hate how i can't fix it. i hate that she is forced to go through it. i hate it. full stop.
i hope this will be the last post like this. for your sake. for her sake. for my sake.
today we were sans barf, so that's a positive.
in general, my 24-hours-since-my-last-post summary is "life is fucking weird." i would try to explain this better if i wasn't so thrilled that jenny & mr. isgitt are sleeping. so like the mother i am not, i will take this opportunity to steal a little shut eye myself-as you are supposed to if you have an infant..."if the baby sleeps, you sleep" theory on how to live through it.
night night friends, argentines & countrymen.
happy tsunami tuesday.
today was something else.
jenny got a wicked stomach flu, which meant most of the day was in & around a beige, plastic trash can-with a plastic bag liner. that & excruciatingly-difficult - to-watch-jenny-pain-tremors. @ & around the 83rd time she was going for broke & barfing up her insides-i was looking to provide some kind of reassurance or support. what do you say? "this really sucks?" "man, first your leg, and now barf-town?" nothing seemed really right, so i settled with the cliche "if i could take it from you, this relentless puking, i totally would." i followed up with a molly-esque disclaimer "but this is absolutely theoretical since it's an impossibility...how would that even work? a barf angel who flaps his chunky wings & grants vomit-trades? would he/she/it be a fairy? or more of an ogre type variety? good or evil?..."
i kept hypothesizing until she laughed. (but she puked again anyway, despite my courageous attempts to call in tinkersmell. sigh)
so before jenny faked napped to force me to leave the house & "get file folders" (she knows me too well...just the thought of organizing made me spark right up), & she knew i wouldn't leave until she was "asleep" (i bet she is capable of crocodile tears too...if she can fake sleep...tricksy, very tricksy...)-we talked about my new lens (if you can still follow this sentence...). i really want to be able to take candid pictures of strangers, but lack the confidence - i sometimes even hate lugging out my camera, for fear of not-fitting-in, or being a huge dweeb-o. but with my new stalker lens...well...maybe i could play the professional photog-role & maybe get away with being a peeping-tom-of-a-kind.
i finally got up the nerve, because i could NOT walk away without capturing this woman...2 black eyes & black lipstick. she saw me take the picture (even though i was super top-secret agent-like...i guess subtlety is not one of my strong suits.) she kept saying "blah blah blah spanish blah-LINDA-blah blah blah." well "linda" means "beautiful" in spanish-so i am not quite sure what message she was trying to get across. i played the dumb american card-which sometimes comes in handy when being charged by what is obviously a tough old bird.
back to vomit-town.
as jenny sits here & blow dries the gauze on her upper leg (so as to be able to remove all the bandages by wednesday) & as her leg is in this 15th century torture device to keep it suspended-i wonder...
what is going on in other people's apartments.
if this is what is happening on avenue hipolito yrigoyen, apartment 3-what is going on in the plethora of homes around us?
would we be surprised by the normalcy (having lunch, taking a nap, smoking a cigarete), or by the freakishly bizarre david lynch-esque occurences like @ this apartment? is there anyone out there also peeling medical tape & bloody gauze off some appendage?
i wonder.
arrived today-after a harrowing nose-picking seat mate (not exaggerating, it was brutal, i will try to launch into that after a good night's sleep & as soon as the nausea goes away) & all the preparation it took to actually make it (yes, this was attempt #2)-i am on a new continent.
i feel like magellen. (now all i need to do is make a map...)
more later about my adventures inside jenny's head (& vice versa).
vaya con dios.
i want to be a maori tribesman.
hongis all around. (no cynicism here, honest-this picture makes me strangely light & optimistic.)
this lady...she is desperately seeking something...no? the outfit, the mashed cigarettes-all half smoked...her MAKEUP (which is phenomenal)...her red nails...she is a vixen, a femme fatale. trapped in the body of an unloved housewife. my next comic will steal this as its backstory.
(thanks to leifpeng for the picture)
mad requests from all fronts asking what's playing in my ear (my taste is just That Good...lies, all lies-i just needed the encouragement-i think if most of my urban family were asked to describe my music proclivities in one word, that word would be...hmmm...probably "weird"-because most of my friends have really crap vocabularies. fact.)
yeah cubed. yyyeeeaaahhh.
(i'm a riot, alice).
before the list (is your heart racing yet? are your palms sweaty, your eyes rolling back into your head, like you're having a seizure? is your breathing shallow & weak? i know. parfait.) last.fm is siQ-download it, just have it going in the background somewhere. basically, if you are over listening to the same blech records you have in your itunes library, you can listen to a song you kinda like & find similar artists. found some of my favorite bands this way. you also can get reco's, meet randos with their whole encyclopedia britanica of opinions & loves & anathemas (BAM, pee wee herman comes out & the toaster & hat & flowers outside the window all dance-AAAAAAAAA). point? if you want to improve your taste, or just get out there a little more (MOVE OUT of your MOM'S HOUSE, GD*it, man, grow a pair!) get last.fm.
my musical routine (which obviously involves a high hat, a cane, and some wicked dance moves, in public, where my back up singers sing a kicky harmony) is to be OCD - read "TOTALLY obsessed"- with about 5 songs for a coppola (yes, i know) weeks - & i end up looking back nostalgically some weeks/months/years later at those songs that took hold of me & let them make the soundtrack for that particular time. then there are songs that i play here & there, that i grow to love & they will be on the soundtrack of my life. epic difference.
none of what i just said has anything to do with the songs i am going to list - i'm just filling the void. (i had you going there for a bit, though, didn't i? meh.)
(thanks to billi kid for making rad stickers & just generally for being bad ass-click on picture to see his stuff)
what's it all about songs (for those deeper moments, when you need to have a reason for the ridiculous, a meaning behind the mess-or if you're just feeling emo & want to wallow in your own misery)
the song is "doin' the raccoon" by george olsen. it is the best dork song out there-and it's from the 30's (or so). download it. waste a little precious time.
back to the grind.
thank you, wicked wicked funny person (james lileks) @ the bleat.
the bleat is a great place to troll for a LONG time...no really-way too much time. a totally unbelievable period of minutes/hours/days. achtung.
*my user name for the 300 places i've registered for something (be it feeds, shopping, craftsy sites, at&t, pg&e, emails...i can't EVER remember what mood i was in when i signed up...or what email account i was using at the time...the number of times i have had to select "forgot user name?" is really borderline skitz-o)
*if i have enough garbage bags-so i always buy more, and have 25 boxes. the only time i am Certain i have them is when there isn't any.
*what list is where (i have iphone lists, computer sticky lists, little-brown-book-in-my-bag lists, moleskine notebook lists, etc. etc. etc.)
*which direction to go on bart-even if i am trying to get back to the city-i ultimately end up always having to call someone (art...is it the pittsburgh or the richmond train?)
*words i have read a million times that i thought i knew the definition of but was too warm in the beds to get up & dictionary...
SO, new plan? (i can't do anything about those other 4 never-remembers...but this last one i am going to try & beat).
vocabulary words of the week (yes, of course i have an excel list of all the words i was either slightly shaky on the definition or those that i love & want to use more...you would expect nothing less, no?)
so here we go, alligators & monkeys-the words of the week:
*hubris - (n), exaggerated pride or self-confidence. president bush's narcissistic hubris in international affairs (& pretty-much-always) has made it necessary to fake being canadian when outside of the states. (& yes, i am bitter)
*laconic - (adj), using very few words. sometimes, even by loquacious, over-the-top logophiles like myself, a picture really is worth a thousand words.
*anathema - (n), something or someone vehemently disliked or loathed. skinny jeans on guys coupled with flock-of-seagulls-esque emo hair styles was anathema to her fairly traditional sensibilities. (click on picture for additional details of the stupidity pictured at right)
*sardonic - (adj), disdainfully humorous. anyone whose last words are recorded to have been "either that wallpaper goes, or i do" is a friend of mine (and subsequently sardonic)-thank you mr. oscar wilde-in another life, you were my gay boyfriend.
*erudite - (adj), knowledgeable through reading & study. let's be honest, we all know common sense isn't my strength, if i know anything, it is because of my passion for books-i am extraordinarily erudite (with a touch of hubris, just to keep you on your toes)-ok, that sentence was shit, but this took way longer than planned.
