2 songs vying for top occupancy in my head over the last week: "it's a lovely day today" ella fitzgerald; and "my kind of town" sinatra. and yes, the weather is frightening. the fucking ceiling is leaking again. i came home to hear the soft patting on the carpet- a rather soothing noise, actually- and when i discovered the source i felt sick. please pray for the sparing of the bed. the windows are pelleted with sideways raindrops. the loosely mounted screens are buckling in the wind. i still love rain, the smell, and the way puddles look when gusts cross them, but these are quickly evolving to symbolize a feeling of powerlessness and clausterphobia.
since i am never fully satisfied with any given moment, i will surely whinge about it when it happens, but right now i am idealizing those summer days of stagnant air and evaporating sweat and overnight freckles and people bitching about the heat. shadeless sun for weeks on end. cloying blackberry smells. my shirt sticking to my back in my un-airconditioned car. constant congestion. cottonwood fluff pooling at the curbs. nighttime: a dank smell over the city, steam rising from grates, long sleeves abrading sunburns, the sound of swiveling sprinklers.
walking here tonight: the wind at my back, rain/mist drenching me and my bag, my cigarette wet and foul-tasting, people scowling as they pass, nearly falling on my ass as i skid across a sidewalk grate. it could be icy. i could be in a wheelchair. i could be in a cardboard box.
10:45pm on a sunday night: jazz is playing. couple across from me is sharing from a take-out box. he is drinking a squat bottle of cider. man at the window is nodding to the music, drinking a beer; i can see his jaw muscle spasming. another guy with a laptop and admirable sideburns. a hardbound copy of 'roots' on the communal bookshelf. i am drinking honey ginseng green tea. this sort of jazz is very monotonous after awhile. 'smooth jazz', a radio would call it. my parents would listen to this sort of music on sunday mornings as they drank their coffee and bailey's. i would get bailey's from the time i was about 10 years old. i did like weekend mornings when i was younger.
one of my favorite things: being introverted in a public place. it is relaxing to be able to look up and see people and not have to speak to any of them. i will never live outside of a city again.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
temporarily mellow
ahh, the car is fixed. it reeks of petrol from the can i threw in the back, but otherwise all is good. i was feeling intensely impractical so i immediately drove 20 miles to buy a crapload of plants. money is bullshit, anyhow. cars are ultimately good for 2 things: getting to someplace far away and hauling stuff. i hated being car-dependent in yelm. it probably contributed to the feeling of not belonging there.
the throngs on the street are exceptionally curmudgeony tonight. a small insane man approached me at the bus stop. "why are your eyes glassy?" he asked. i was staring down the road at the time, probably thinking about sex. "i don't know" i said. "i'm as sober as can be." "NO YOU'RE NOT!" he yelled, then started waggling a finger at me and lecturing rudely. "YOU'RE SO SKINNY. YOU SHOULDN'T BE SMOKING POT." as a former pothead, i can safely state that this made no sense. he eventually wandered off, grumbling. the woman waiting at the stop with me was older and well-dressed. we started talking about the bus being late. i made some inane comment about the cold weather. the wrong bus pulled up. "GODDAMN IT!" she exploded. "this is BULLSHIT. i went in earlier" (to the jade pagoda, the sleazy restaurant we are standing in front of) "and had a beer because i was so tired of this damn waiting." i was impressed by how she turned ornery before my very eyes. the bus eventually came. she got on without comment, sat down quietly, and i walked past.
i usually snap when i have to wait for anything without good reason. i am very fucking impatient overall. but seeing someone else reach that point first brought out a rather smug benevolence in me. it is nice, those rare moments when someone else is enraged before the first hint of irritation even crosses my mind. i wish i could sustain that untouchability.
the throngs on the street are exceptionally curmudgeony tonight. a small insane man approached me at the bus stop. "why are your eyes glassy?" he asked. i was staring down the road at the time, probably thinking about sex. "i don't know" i said. "i'm as sober as can be." "NO YOU'RE NOT!" he yelled, then started waggling a finger at me and lecturing rudely. "YOU'RE SO SKINNY. YOU SHOULDN'T BE SMOKING POT." as a former pothead, i can safely state that this made no sense. he eventually wandered off, grumbling. the woman waiting at the stop with me was older and well-dressed. we started talking about the bus being late. i made some inane comment about the cold weather. the wrong bus pulled up. "GODDAMN IT!" she exploded. "this is BULLSHIT. i went in earlier" (to the jade pagoda, the sleazy restaurant we are standing in front of) "and had a beer because i was so tired of this damn waiting." i was impressed by how she turned ornery before my very eyes. the bus eventually came. she got on without comment, sat down quietly, and i walked past.
i usually snap when i have to wait for anything without good reason. i am very fucking impatient overall. but seeing someone else reach that point first brought out a rather smug benevolence in me. it is nice, those rare moments when someone else is enraged before the first hint of irritation even crosses my mind. i wish i could sustain that untouchability.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
my lemon's been squeezed and my leg is wet
wednesday: the greyness returned, weatherly and subsequently mentally. i am fucking tired of this winter. i don't recall the last several kicking my ass so violently. i worked at the tacoma ER all day. i assisted in surgery for 3 hours: my first pelvic repair! i have always before worked at clinics that referred intensive orthopedic surgeries elsewhere, so this was fun. it involved screwing pins from the ischium to the sacrum. the 'after' radiograph looked surprisingly perfect. the doctor was very jovial. "it hurts if you screw the pins into your hands instead" he said. a power drill was used.
after work i was feeling oddly crabby. walked around in the dark. bought some curry powder and a trashy magazine. felt the odd combination of hyperactivity and apathy. it turned out to be exhaustion.
today: the bare branches outside my (3rd floor) window were alternately beating against the glass and catching the wind with a whining sound. the streets were wet. i was to meet with "juan" to go over a new car insurance thing in lynnwood, so i started driving north. my car died on the interstate. at first i thought i'd run out of gas, so i walked 2 miles each way in the sadistic wind and horizontal rain to buy a gas can and petrol (spilling it on myself in the process). you know when it's so cold that you don;t realize your nose is running until snot hits your lip? oh, neither do i, for that would simply be disgusting.
returned to my sad little car, which had already been tagged on the windows as a possible impound, and attempted to refuel whilst unwittingly eating my own hair and being narrowly missed by cars careening past. and the car would not fucking start. i called the gas station i had just returned from, then a tow truck. the tow guy was a surly asshole. it cost ~$80 to tow the car 2 miles. i was in a bit of a panic. without my car, i am fucked: i cannot get to either of my jobs. the stupidity of commuting 60 miles each way was very evident. it turned out to be the fuel pump. nothing i could have done to prevent it. it will cost ~$500 to replace. it should be ready tomorrow.
wandered around in a haze for most of the day. i am not upset about the car now; knowing what it is and that it will be fixed makes it much easier to deal with... though the timing fucking sucks, i must say. i keep reminding myself that i have my health, i am employed, i have savings, tra-la, but it doesn't change the fact that this has been a clusterfuck of a month overall. the weather remained absolutely horrid. i kept buying hot tea to remain warm. good things about today: if the car debacle hadn't occured, i may not have gotten to try cherry vanilla and 'white dynasty' teas, both of which are extremely delicious.
on one bus: grouchy woman stomps to the back row (i am at one end) and surveys the other woman's cosmo. "sixty sex secrets" she says. "i should read that." on another bus: woman with childlike red ski hat half-slides down the aisle while shouting "get me off this GODDAMN bus!" nearly everyone is wearing headphones. i am not, so i get to overhear multiple phone conversations, all conducted by rather vapid girls. stopped at an aquarium store- i fucking love watching fish. serpeant starfish are some of the coolest creatures i have ever seen. i had never heard of them before. prehistoric-looking with a knobby yet oddly malleable body/head and twirly legs. if medusa was a starfish...
on the walk down here tonight i was stopped by an altered hippie boy. "i love you" he said. i smiled and kept walking.
after work i was feeling oddly crabby. walked around in the dark. bought some curry powder and a trashy magazine. felt the odd combination of hyperactivity and apathy. it turned out to be exhaustion.
today: the bare branches outside my (3rd floor) window were alternately beating against the glass and catching the wind with a whining sound. the streets were wet. i was to meet with "juan" to go over a new car insurance thing in lynnwood, so i started driving north. my car died on the interstate. at first i thought i'd run out of gas, so i walked 2 miles each way in the sadistic wind and horizontal rain to buy a gas can and petrol (spilling it on myself in the process). you know when it's so cold that you don;t realize your nose is running until snot hits your lip? oh, neither do i, for that would simply be disgusting.
returned to my sad little car, which had already been tagged on the windows as a possible impound, and attempted to refuel whilst unwittingly eating my own hair and being narrowly missed by cars careening past. and the car would not fucking start. i called the gas station i had just returned from, then a tow truck. the tow guy was a surly asshole. it cost ~$80 to tow the car 2 miles. i was in a bit of a panic. without my car, i am fucked: i cannot get to either of my jobs. the stupidity of commuting 60 miles each way was very evident. it turned out to be the fuel pump. nothing i could have done to prevent it. it will cost ~$500 to replace. it should be ready tomorrow.
wandered around in a haze for most of the day. i am not upset about the car now; knowing what it is and that it will be fixed makes it much easier to deal with... though the timing fucking sucks, i must say. i keep reminding myself that i have my health, i am employed, i have savings, tra-la, but it doesn't change the fact that this has been a clusterfuck of a month overall. the weather remained absolutely horrid. i kept buying hot tea to remain warm. good things about today: if the car debacle hadn't occured, i may not have gotten to try cherry vanilla and 'white dynasty' teas, both of which are extremely delicious.
on one bus: grouchy woman stomps to the back row (i am at one end) and surveys the other woman's cosmo. "sixty sex secrets" she says. "i should read that." on another bus: woman with childlike red ski hat half-slides down the aisle while shouting "get me off this GODDAMN bus!" nearly everyone is wearing headphones. i am not, so i get to overhear multiple phone conversations, all conducted by rather vapid girls. stopped at an aquarium store- i fucking love watching fish. serpeant starfish are some of the coolest creatures i have ever seen. i had never heard of them before. prehistoric-looking with a knobby yet oddly malleable body/head and twirly legs. if medusa was a starfish...
on the walk down here tonight i was stopped by an altered hippie boy. "i love you" he said. i smiled and kept walking.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
pavlovian
i am subsisting on 1.5hrs of sleep. it was incredibly sunny today. work was very slow: 3 patients in 14 hours. i studied mast cell tumors (mast cells produce heparin and histamine- fascinating, surely). i honestly cannot recall most of the details of the monday shifts in general. it is a bit disconcerting that i am weilding syringes and operating vehicles and medicating animals whilst running on fumes. the fog was dissipating on the way home. people were hammering and operating leaf-blowers outside the apartment when i finally went to bed.
walked downtown with the sun directly in my eyes. everyone seems uplifted and relaxed in this novel climate. metro anecdote du jour: 18 local to ballard: a drunk man babbling about the seahawks, mouth full with the fried chicken he was retrieving from his pocket. the people around him were engaging him in conversation. i was a bit surprised by that. i usually smile and turn away. this town is football-mad. there are flags everywhere and much logoed attire. bought a used '80's cd so i could hear 'one night in bangkok' at top volume- admired the huge selection of cookie cutters through a shop window- noticed that the stars were visible for the first time in months.
until today i had not seen the amount of sunlight my lair actually gets. it was about 80 in there by noon. i opened the windows and danced just to watch what my shadow looked like against the uneven paint on the wall. summer and 90 degree weather will be interesting. i love opening my window in january, or walking around coatless, or seeing green grass and green leaves and open-air flower markets. i saw in the paper that it was -5 in anchorage today. there is no enjoyment in that whatsoever.
flashback, though: sunday night i was ascending the stairs to my lair and smelling everyone's happy meals wafting through the halls. (even though i don't eat meat, i FUCKING LOVE the smell of it cooking- especially ground beef. ground beef with sauteed onions- bloody hell.) it reminded me of walking home from the bus stop on lake otis when i was a teenager. it would be sphincter-tighteningly cold and the snow would squeak when i walked. the yards sparkled. vertical spires of ice fog from the street lights. that impossible-to-articulate sensation of freezing snot. walking into the house, smelling dinner, hearing the (constant) television... little trifling memory, but a damn good one now. coming home to warmth and good smells is one of the simplest, purest means of contentment, isn't it?
riding my bike home during the first winter i lived in seattle: usually the flat would smell like cat shit and stale incense/marijuana. one night i came in and there was fresh spicy delicious daal waiting. oddly, i don't have a lot of concrete memories from that era, but that one always stands out.
when sarah and i lived in the yellow house we would sit in the kitchen at the butcher-block counter and drink wine. the window next to the table was fucked up and never fully closed. that was the filthiest place i have ever lived.
fremont, old building-smell (a good smell, much like a slightly mildewed library book), no heat, no furniture, wooden floors, people laughing outside and the music from the bar making the potted plants vibrate. i remember listening to cat stevens excessively during the first few weeks i lived there.
yelm: nasty aerosol air freshener, the TV always fucking on, the cats yowling, me going straight to the bedroom after we grunted at each other. i hadn't really thought about the specifics of that era until just now. how miserable. "that era", indeed. it is already a lifetime ago.
if i die and have a memorial service, it should entail ground beef cooking in one corner and nag champa burning in the other, and my urn will be drenched in patchouli.
walked downtown with the sun directly in my eyes. everyone seems uplifted and relaxed in this novel climate. metro anecdote du jour: 18 local to ballard: a drunk man babbling about the seahawks, mouth full with the fried chicken he was retrieving from his pocket. the people around him were engaging him in conversation. i was a bit surprised by that. i usually smile and turn away. this town is football-mad. there are flags everywhere and much logoed attire. bought a used '80's cd so i could hear 'one night in bangkok' at top volume- admired the huge selection of cookie cutters through a shop window- noticed that the stars were visible for the first time in months.
until today i had not seen the amount of sunlight my lair actually gets. it was about 80 in there by noon. i opened the windows and danced just to watch what my shadow looked like against the uneven paint on the wall. summer and 90 degree weather will be interesting. i love opening my window in january, or walking around coatless, or seeing green grass and green leaves and open-air flower markets. i saw in the paper that it was -5 in anchorage today. there is no enjoyment in that whatsoever.
flashback, though: sunday night i was ascending the stairs to my lair and smelling everyone's happy meals wafting through the halls. (even though i don't eat meat, i FUCKING LOVE the smell of it cooking- especially ground beef. ground beef with sauteed onions- bloody hell.) it reminded me of walking home from the bus stop on lake otis when i was a teenager. it would be sphincter-tighteningly cold and the snow would squeak when i walked. the yards sparkled. vertical spires of ice fog from the street lights. that impossible-to-articulate sensation of freezing snot. walking into the house, smelling dinner, hearing the (constant) television... little trifling memory, but a damn good one now. coming home to warmth and good smells is one of the simplest, purest means of contentment, isn't it?
riding my bike home during the first winter i lived in seattle: usually the flat would smell like cat shit and stale incense/marijuana. one night i came in and there was fresh spicy delicious daal waiting. oddly, i don't have a lot of concrete memories from that era, but that one always stands out.
when sarah and i lived in the yellow house we would sit in the kitchen at the butcher-block counter and drink wine. the window next to the table was fucked up and never fully closed. that was the filthiest place i have ever lived.
fremont, old building-smell (a good smell, much like a slightly mildewed library book), no heat, no furniture, wooden floors, people laughing outside and the music from the bar making the potted plants vibrate. i remember listening to cat stevens excessively during the first few weeks i lived there.
yelm: nasty aerosol air freshener, the TV always fucking on, the cats yowling, me going straight to the bedroom after we grunted at each other. i hadn't really thought about the specifics of that era until just now. how miserable. "that era", indeed. it is already a lifetime ago.
if i die and have a memorial service, it should entail ground beef cooking in one corner and nag champa burning in the other, and my urn will be drenched in patchouli.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
i fucking love my job. i love waking up with the remnants of night and driving on the empty roads with loud music. i love the rude jokes and mockery of the clientele. i love the way we can all be so jaded one moment and tearing up the next. i love how medicine moves in very linear, sensible arcs with just enough unpredictability to keep me curious. i love looking at things dance in microscopic drops of body fluids. i love wrestling a 201# st bernard on an xray table. today was a good day. we were all giddy and crude for no particular reason. i drove home feeling very fucking contented, optimistic, fortunate. so the pendulum swings.
it seems that the more disturbing my reality, the better my dreams are. i tend to have a lot of sexual dreams at these times. last night: i was in the old place in yelm, which bore no resemblence to the actual. it was a sunny summer day and the rest of the neighborhood had gone off to work. i was sneaking into a house a block or so over to cavort with the man (younger and fresh) under a brown woolen blanket in his rather slothful bedroom. i was younger in the dream as well... it was almost like two illicit teenagers fucking around while the parents were away. and it was pleasant. i woke up sweaty. the sensation was lovely for a split second, and then i felt really fucking old. i thought, i will never be an awestruck virgin again. i will never have that terrifying first rush of touching someone else's skin. i will never not be so consumed with myself and the new experience that i neglect to wonder about their pasts.
i can feel the potential for that novelty, though... for the first time in years. i was laying in bed, unsticking my legs, in my impoverished-student apartment, realizing that i still get carded every time i buy cigarettes. i bounce around like a hyperactive puppet. i am wearing furry knee-high socks, for fuck's sake. my flirtation with responsibility, my marriage, has ended in a most immature way. tony had all sorts of pictures professionally matted and framed at high cost. i am a thumbtack kind of girl, and if it isn;t crooked when it's put up, o happy accident.
it seems that the more disturbing my reality, the better my dreams are. i tend to have a lot of sexual dreams at these times. last night: i was in the old place in yelm, which bore no resemblence to the actual. it was a sunny summer day and the rest of the neighborhood had gone off to work. i was sneaking into a house a block or so over to cavort with the man (younger and fresh) under a brown woolen blanket in his rather slothful bedroom. i was younger in the dream as well... it was almost like two illicit teenagers fucking around while the parents were away. and it was pleasant. i woke up sweaty. the sensation was lovely for a split second, and then i felt really fucking old. i thought, i will never be an awestruck virgin again. i will never have that terrifying first rush of touching someone else's skin. i will never not be so consumed with myself and the new experience that i neglect to wonder about their pasts.
i can feel the potential for that novelty, though... for the first time in years. i was laying in bed, unsticking my legs, in my impoverished-student apartment, realizing that i still get carded every time i buy cigarettes. i bounce around like a hyperactive puppet. i am wearing furry knee-high socks, for fuck's sake. my flirtation with responsibility, my marriage, has ended in a most immature way. tony had all sorts of pictures professionally matted and framed at high cost. i am a thumbtack kind of girl, and if it isn;t crooked when it's put up, o happy accident.
Friday, January 20, 2006
i am wallowing
i get more uncomfortable as the day wears on. mornings are always full of optimism, laziness, fresh-from-the-showerness. around 4, when it starts to get dim, is when i start to feel Really Fucking Alone. cars clog the roadways. people chat happily into cell phones. couples walk in step. i wait for the bus (which is so fucking late that i end up taking another route) in front of the bookstore, reading from a 50 cent copy of "the almanac of lists", not feeling like a local or a visitor, just rudderless and rather pathetic. an extremely inebriated gay couple (one about 20 years older than the other) got on the bus after me. they had been making out fervently, which was somehow more tolerable than seeing a heterosexual couple do the same; they reeked of alcohol and pocketed cigarette butts and proceeded to sing without syllables most of the way to the u-district. and i am reminded: oh yeah, it's friday night, date night, drink night, go home and fuck night, except for silly people like me with screwy work schedules and fucked up relationships and no friends nearby. i am feeling sorry for myself in a rather detached way. i would love to meet up with someone and get absolutely wrecked right now. or: simply have an actual friend here. that would probably be a bit healthier.
when i last lived in seattle i was friends with the people i worked with. we were all of the same general age and hedonisms. but then i was in a relationship, and my free time was better spent with him, and as he often reminded me, 'people you work with don't give a shit about you. do you think they'll remember you when you;re gone?' because i was In Love (and because i am an insecure dumbass by nature) i believed him. i didn't stay in touch with anyone after i left and tended to push them away while i was here. now i am back, wondering where everyone is, realizing that 3 years have passed and their lives have evolved. i am disgusted by how easily, how thoroughly, i tend to sabotage my life whenever i'm involved with somebody. no wonder i end up resenting them. afterwards, now, i am left with a weirdly blank slate and a stunted view of how everything is.
when i last lived in seattle i was friends with the people i worked with. we were all of the same general age and hedonisms. but then i was in a relationship, and my free time was better spent with him, and as he often reminded me, 'people you work with don't give a shit about you. do you think they'll remember you when you;re gone?' because i was In Love (and because i am an insecure dumbass by nature) i believed him. i didn't stay in touch with anyone after i left and tended to push them away while i was here. now i am back, wondering where everyone is, realizing that 3 years have passed and their lives have evolved. i am disgusted by how easily, how thoroughly, i tend to sabotage my life whenever i'm involved with somebody. no wonder i end up resenting them. afterwards, now, i am left with a weirdly blank slate and a stunted view of how everything is.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
so i saw a showing of 'wal-mart: high cost of low prices' listed in the weekly, with discussion to follow, at the planned parenthood, gratis. i walked there in the rain, unsure of what to expect. i ended up in a conference room with about 15 other people from various political organizations, drinking complimentary mineral water, asking me who i was affiliated with. they actually seemed quite delighted when i said i'd read about it in the paper. we sat around conference tables and watched a 20-minute version of the (very biased, akin to michael moore; i fucking despise wal-mart but the one-sided presentation made me rather squirmy) film. afterwards the various attendees spoke: about how 80% of the workers use state-funded health care rather than the company's exorbinant $1000-deductible plan; part-time is anything 39hrs/wk and under; they do not dispense plan B, the 72-hr pill, nor do they cover contraception in their health insurance; they get around $2 billion annually subsidized from the govmt for building new stores, while the businesses they bankrupt get nothing; etc. there were people from NOW, LAMBDA, the janitor's union, the legislature... and me, wearing a ripped sweater and a stupid rainbow scarf...heh. i mentioned the wal-mart skirmish currently underway in yelm: there were multiple public hearings about them building, but public dissent was prohibited: people would be kicked out of the meeting. they are officially building one this fall, a superstore, on the edge of town with one lane in each direction. never mind that there's one in lacey, a mere 15 miles away. this is another good thing about seattle: wal-mart is not within the city limits.
it is nice to stumble into situations that, in reality, i had no business being a part of.
i went to golden gardens today, the beach near ballard. it was grey and seagulls were blowing sideways across the sky. the tide was in and no one was there. i immediately walk right to the edge of the water whenever i go to a beach; i don't know why, but it's something i've done since i can remember. there were no creatures to investigate, just silty bits of shells that came in with the waves. i love how wet sand looks when i step on it. ducks and crows were hunkered down in the wind, looking collectively miserable. a train went by. i think i set fireworks off in the bike tunnel there once. when i left today there was a man playing guitar in there.
there is a completely hot song playing here: big band sound, but more modern... "i'm feeling good" is the refrain. when the queue at the counter dissipates i shall have to inquire.
the problem with this medium: i find myself thinking 'blog' when i am going about my day. i suppose i have always done that to some extent... or 'oh, ____ would love this song' when i hear something fitting. my prosaic life has taken on a new and exciting tint, one i feel like writing about, never mind the minutae. note last sentence as a brilliant example.
i saw my grandmother last night. we had a fun time. i truly feel like i can tell her anything... and i do. we watched clips of the golden globes on her computer. she is sculpting again, which delights me. she gave me a glob of clay to take home. i always shied away from 3-d mediums because i felt like i had much less control over what i was doing... might as well change that. if nothing else, clay feels happy when i touch it. when i was little i had a fantasy about getting a huge bag of rice or similar and just burying my hands in it. come to think of it, why haven't i done that yet?
10 intensely splendid memories:
1. laughing so hard on the interstate in oregon that i almost vomited
2. sun on my bare shoulders at el-jem
3. being kissed while crawling backwards up the stairs to the bed
4. absinthe, the v.i.p. lounge, and sunshine
5. reuniting at the paris airport
6. driving in slush through turnagain pass, listening to 'blood on the tracks'
7. running through the sprinklers at seattle center
8. ECSTASY
9. the beach in nice at night: either drinking 3 bottles of wine with rickie or listening to new zealanders sing crowded house songs
10. the hitchhiker on the way into girdwood having to listen to "let it all hang out"
more to follow.
it is nice to stumble into situations that, in reality, i had no business being a part of.
i went to golden gardens today, the beach near ballard. it was grey and seagulls were blowing sideways across the sky. the tide was in and no one was there. i immediately walk right to the edge of the water whenever i go to a beach; i don't know why, but it's something i've done since i can remember. there were no creatures to investigate, just silty bits of shells that came in with the waves. i love how wet sand looks when i step on it. ducks and crows were hunkered down in the wind, looking collectively miserable. a train went by. i think i set fireworks off in the bike tunnel there once. when i left today there was a man playing guitar in there.
there is a completely hot song playing here: big band sound, but more modern... "i'm feeling good" is the refrain. when the queue at the counter dissipates i shall have to inquire.
the problem with this medium: i find myself thinking 'blog' when i am going about my day. i suppose i have always done that to some extent... or 'oh, ____ would love this song' when i hear something fitting. my prosaic life has taken on a new and exciting tint, one i feel like writing about, never mind the minutae. note last sentence as a brilliant example.
i saw my grandmother last night. we had a fun time. i truly feel like i can tell her anything... and i do. we watched clips of the golden globes on her computer. she is sculpting again, which delights me. she gave me a glob of clay to take home. i always shied away from 3-d mediums because i felt like i had much less control over what i was doing... might as well change that. if nothing else, clay feels happy when i touch it. when i was little i had a fantasy about getting a huge bag of rice or similar and just burying my hands in it. come to think of it, why haven't i done that yet?
10 intensely splendid memories:
1. laughing so hard on the interstate in oregon that i almost vomited
2. sun on my bare shoulders at el-jem
3. being kissed while crawling backwards up the stairs to the bed
4. absinthe, the v.i.p. lounge, and sunshine
5. reuniting at the paris airport
6. driving in slush through turnagain pass, listening to 'blood on the tracks'
7. running through the sprinklers at seattle center
8. ECSTASY
9. the beach in nice at night: either drinking 3 bottles of wine with rickie or listening to new zealanders sing crowded house songs
10. the hitchhiker on the way into girdwood having to listen to "let it all hang out"
more to follow.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
tired is the new stupid
we had a lynx at work last night! he came in near death (or as it is professionally referred, 'circling the drain'), azotemic and diabetic. he died a few hours into the shift. we all took pictures. his name was bo. the first clinic i worked at was an exotics hospital (and in retrospect, practiced worrisomely primitive medicine) and one of the clients was a woman with a thick accent and far too much money who essentially collected large cats: tigers, ocelots, bobcats, what have you. i found her reprehensible. but seeing the lynx made me temporarily eschew my 'keep wild animals wild' philosophy. bo's owner was a soft-voiced man with a graying goatee.
the sun finally came out, for the first time in about a month. it made 2 hrs of sleep seem a bit excessive. i hadn;t realized how much i'd missed it until it reappeared. today was my first after-the-overnight commute to seattle. i had been awake since 9.30am, at work from 5.30pm until 8am (and it was busy; bo was only one of several casualities over the course of the evening), and the first time i really got to sit down was in my car, driving. after nodding off and hitting the convex lane dividers multiple times, i pulled over and took a 10-minute nap in my car, head resting on the steering wheel; drove off strangely refreshed with a red dent on my forehead. it is fun to be loopy while the rest of the world solemnly begins their day. i took a wrong turn (looking for a loo off the interstate) and ended up meandering through kent, which is where all the shit that didn't fit in seattle ends up. it was a lovely sensation, knowing i had nowhere to be. this is still a novelty.
i saw my parents yesterday for the first time since they'd officially moved. their rental house is sprawling and surrounded by sodden evergreens. their furniture has not yet arrived. we sat in lawn chairs around the woodstove and actually had a very nice, casual conversation. the last few times i'd seen them (when they'd fly down from alaska) my father and i had gotten into horrible arguments, so it is a collossal relief that narrowing proximity seems to, so far, be a positive thing... at least everything isn't loaded. they both seem discontented with the move. my father was sniveling about "how much HE had given up", while my mother stood right there and didn't even blink. it is illuminating, observing their interactions. my father is very self-absorbed, volatile, controlling: the reason we get along so erratically is because i, to my shame, ended up EXACTLY FUCKING LIKE HIM. my mother, on the other hand, is able to slough things off (or be oblivious) and maintain a spacey calm. that balance is undoubtedly how they've stayed married for 32 years. i wonder how much compromise either of them had to make, if any, and when.
it is incredibly easy to fall in love, but finding someone worth staying in love with...
i am obviously very bleary.
my parents saved a stack of newsprint pads from when i took figure drawing as a teenager. it was sobering. i was not too shabby. until a few weeks ago, it had been months since i'd done more than doodle. having visual proof of how i'd let that outlet passively slither away really disgusted me. it is all open road from here, i guess.
soundtrack for today: elliott smith "from a basement on a hill" (track 3 in particular)
green tea, sludgy with aspartame. putting LPs on shelf. i have a tim curry record. it is absolutely ridiculous. i had forgotten all about it. mocking ray nagin's speech about the chocolification of new orleans on the radio. the smell of mop water. i probably smell like cigarettes and vanilla. it is time to stop babbling.
Friday, January 13, 2006
i feel horrible. hopeless. lonely. disgusted. i wish i could erase the last 3 years.
came home to 3 boneless cats, purring and flopping on the floor in front of me. the radiator was hissing. the city sparkled through the window. my things are right where i left them. the walk here was wet and dark and comforting. everyone inside smiled at everyone else. and then i realized: that was my life then, this is my life now. i hate my life then, i dig my life now. and as a dirty version of 'back door man' plays overhead, i feel better...
i reread this and am appalled at the frenetic use of tense.
came home to 3 boneless cats, purring and flopping on the floor in front of me. the radiator was hissing. the city sparkled through the window. my things are right where i left them. the walk here was wet and dark and comforting. everyone inside smiled at everyone else. and then i realized: that was my life then, this is my life now. i hate my life then, i dig my life now. and as a dirty version of 'back door man' plays overhead, i feel better...
i reread this and am appalled at the frenetic use of tense.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
i hate the rain
normally i love rain. i especially love catastrophic downpours, icy beads from awnings, the sound as it hits the window sideways.
my apartment leaks. badly. tuesday i found that not only was the floor-bucket again full, but that a leak had developed over the bed... the brand-new mattress, the brand-new bedding, all the frivolous things that i had uncharacteristically purchased in a self-affirming fit. it looked as though a colostomy bag had burst over it. i actually cried. called the landlord, again. aired my mattress overnight, the bed pushed over to the side of the room (under the laden bookshelf, for surely an earthquake will soon follow), slept on the living room floor with a bare pillow, a solitary blanket, and sympathetic cats. mark (the landlord; a very sympathetic man, overall, though i garauntee he is not getting dripped on) came by wednesday to "fix" the leaks. all was better until today, when the two fixed leaks have become three. i am befuddled and disgusted and trying to find the humor in all of this. perhaps this is my come-uppance. perhaps it is an old and crappy building.
left the apt in a frustrated snit and was driving on aurora when the lady in front of me hit her brakes and i slammed into her. her car was unscathed. she was PREGNANT and very nice about the whole thing. my car has a weird hole in the bumper from her tow-knob. we had pulled off onto one of the precipitous side streets to assess damage. i got back into my car to leave, a car pulled in directly behind me, and i couldn't shift into reverse quickly enough to avoid hitting her AGAIN. this time i left a dime-sized mark. she was nicer than she had to be. i was fucking mortified. i feel like a complete dumbshit.
every song on the radio reminds me of something else, which does not help at all. i assessed my journal, out of a need for affirmation that i really was that miserable, that this is really what i need to be doing with my life now. on january 13th, 2005, we got into a fight, i got into my car to leave, and tony threw a full can of coke at my windsheild, cracking it across the driver's side. i never have gotten it fixed. i had semi-forgotten about that incident; reading about it made me feel much better, as sick as that sounds. all of the entries were so fucking morose: "i'm so unhappy, we have no life together, i miss seattle, i don't feel like myself here, we always fight," blah blah BLAH. i closed the journal and felt exactly 2 emotions, simultaneously: smugness that i have, however belatedly, done something about it; and disgust that i let it go on for as long as i did. i don't miss him at all. i feel horrible in stating that. i miss what was, vehemently. what used to be is what breaks me down now. but the present, the recent history, the only reality: i am glad to be away. the potential is the depressing part, but 'potential' is a fucking cop-out. the 'here and now' should be bombastic, dammit.
we meet tomorrow to 'go over things.' i am dreading it mightily.
i was waiting for a bus today and met 'crackpot charlie, the capitol hill creep.' that was how he introduced himself. he is 76 years old, tiny and with horrible posture and very bright eyes. i was towering over him and we were both getting drenched. he gave me his business card. i will check the site when i am done pontificating here, so it may be bollocks, but here: ccbxyz@webtv.net
he was reciting his poetry to me. i could only hear every third word. he rode the bus for two stops and got off. the entire time he was talking i was trying to picture him young. the first time he fell in love. what his home looks like. i suppose i do that with everybody.
i went to pike place. it was desolate. i kept walking into umbrellas. (i possess neither raingear nor an umbrella.) a guy at the produce stand yelled at me "hey miss, you look like someone who loves good fruit!" it made me laugh. i drank free samples of market spice tea and smelled roses and read trashy magazines and looked at dia de los muertos figurines and watched the ferry loom like a ghost in the fog. it is fun to be a tourist in your own town. and i love the bus. the grouchy sopping woman who clambered on and yelled "value village! does this go to value village?" the man muttering into his cellphone in russian. people wearing expensive trenches and inverted garbage bag-ponchos, in pairs or alone, everyone boarding wet and fluffing themselves like ducks.
and i fucking love yerba mate.
my apartment leaks. badly. tuesday i found that not only was the floor-bucket again full, but that a leak had developed over the bed... the brand-new mattress, the brand-new bedding, all the frivolous things that i had uncharacteristically purchased in a self-affirming fit. it looked as though a colostomy bag had burst over it. i actually cried. called the landlord, again. aired my mattress overnight, the bed pushed over to the side of the room (under the laden bookshelf, for surely an earthquake will soon follow), slept on the living room floor with a bare pillow, a solitary blanket, and sympathetic cats. mark (the landlord; a very sympathetic man, overall, though i garauntee he is not getting dripped on) came by wednesday to "fix" the leaks. all was better until today, when the two fixed leaks have become three. i am befuddled and disgusted and trying to find the humor in all of this. perhaps this is my come-uppance. perhaps it is an old and crappy building.
left the apt in a frustrated snit and was driving on aurora when the lady in front of me hit her brakes and i slammed into her. her car was unscathed. she was PREGNANT and very nice about the whole thing. my car has a weird hole in the bumper from her tow-knob. we had pulled off onto one of the precipitous side streets to assess damage. i got back into my car to leave, a car pulled in directly behind me, and i couldn't shift into reverse quickly enough to avoid hitting her AGAIN. this time i left a dime-sized mark. she was nicer than she had to be. i was fucking mortified. i feel like a complete dumbshit.
every song on the radio reminds me of something else, which does not help at all. i assessed my journal, out of a need for affirmation that i really was that miserable, that this is really what i need to be doing with my life now. on january 13th, 2005, we got into a fight, i got into my car to leave, and tony threw a full can of coke at my windsheild, cracking it across the driver's side. i never have gotten it fixed. i had semi-forgotten about that incident; reading about it made me feel much better, as sick as that sounds. all of the entries were so fucking morose: "i'm so unhappy, we have no life together, i miss seattle, i don't feel like myself here, we always fight," blah blah BLAH. i closed the journal and felt exactly 2 emotions, simultaneously: smugness that i have, however belatedly, done something about it; and disgust that i let it go on for as long as i did. i don't miss him at all. i feel horrible in stating that. i miss what was, vehemently. what used to be is what breaks me down now. but the present, the recent history, the only reality: i am glad to be away. the potential is the depressing part, but 'potential' is a fucking cop-out. the 'here and now' should be bombastic, dammit.
we meet tomorrow to 'go over things.' i am dreading it mightily.
i was waiting for a bus today and met 'crackpot charlie, the capitol hill creep.' that was how he introduced himself. he is 76 years old, tiny and with horrible posture and very bright eyes. i was towering over him and we were both getting drenched. he gave me his business card. i will check the site when i am done pontificating here, so it may be bollocks, but here: ccbxyz@webtv.net
he was reciting his poetry to me. i could only hear every third word. he rode the bus for two stops and got off. the entire time he was talking i was trying to picture him young. the first time he fell in love. what his home looks like. i suppose i do that with everybody.
i went to pike place. it was desolate. i kept walking into umbrellas. (i possess neither raingear nor an umbrella.) a guy at the produce stand yelled at me "hey miss, you look like someone who loves good fruit!" it made me laugh. i drank free samples of market spice tea and smelled roses and read trashy magazines and looked at dia de los muertos figurines and watched the ferry loom like a ghost in the fog. it is fun to be a tourist in your own town. and i love the bus. the grouchy sopping woman who clambered on and yelled "value village! does this go to value village?" the man muttering into his cellphone in russian. people wearing expensive trenches and inverted garbage bag-ponchos, in pairs or alone, everyone boarding wet and fluffing themselves like ducks.
and i fucking love yerba mate.
Monday, January 09, 2006
apartment 22
last night was my first at the new place. i drove up after work feeling quite giddy about the prospect. the apartment was freezing cold. the radiator was freezing cold. i called my landlord and left a message. i tried to put together the GODDAMN bed from ikea. there were extra parts and undrilled holes and i finally assembled it my own way, leaving a stack of mystery pieces on the floor. (every time i buy things at ikea i vow to never put myself through the torture again: from the crowded rat-maze annoyance of the actual store to how inane i feel when i try to follow their legoman-guided instructions, to how everything i end up with proves that ikea truly is swedish for "cheap shit". .. alas, i now, and will continue to, have furnishings provided solely by them.) please note that assembly involved me wearing a coat, since there was no heat. 2nd call to landlord went to message. i tried not to sound too bitchy. the shower was hot but the tap is still faulty; i had to use pliers to turn it from a torrent to a trickle.
sleep, 2.30am. wakefulness, 7.20am, to dripping. the ceiling above the brand-new bed with the brand-new mattress and brand-new bedding was leaking. thankfully it was leaking on the floor. i counted 2 seconds between drips. i threw toilet paper into a plastic dish to muffle the sound. when i finally woke back up, around 10, my legs were cramped from freezing my ass off in a fetal position all night. the dish was almost full with more evil brown water. it is, of course, raining outside. i sat on the carpet with a box as a table and ate tofu whilst shivering.
the heat is back on now. apparently it was off for the entire building. i am pleased that everyone else was miserable too. i blared 'all gates open' and pranced around naked in the living room. it always amazes me how beautiful the simple things really are. thus i conclude with treacle.
off to work! perhaps tomorrow the toilet will overflow.
sleep, 2.30am. wakefulness, 7.20am, to dripping. the ceiling above the brand-new bed with the brand-new mattress and brand-new bedding was leaking. thankfully it was leaking on the floor. i counted 2 seconds between drips. i threw toilet paper into a plastic dish to muffle the sound. when i finally woke back up, around 10, my legs were cramped from freezing my ass off in a fetal position all night. the dish was almost full with more evil brown water. it is, of course, raining outside. i sat on the carpet with a box as a table and ate tofu whilst shivering.
the heat is back on now. apparently it was off for the entire building. i am pleased that everyone else was miserable too. i blared 'all gates open' and pranced around naked in the living room. it always amazes me how beautiful the simple things really are. thus i conclude with treacle.
off to work! perhaps tomorrow the toilet will overflow.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
today: one of those days that a lot seemed to be accomplished in but i can recall very little of. work was very slow. we watched enterotomy videos on blair's computer. hecatomb had been acting ill so i brought her in with me; a radiograph revealed nothing unusual. she wandered around the clinic meowing and flicking her tail. it rained relentlessly. by 2pm i asked if i could leave. i had already sniveled to blair (who is one of the most pragmatic people i have ever met; to my credit, i said nothing about it until he asked how i was doing) and been curt to a snotty woman on the phone. it was probably fairly obvious that my mind was elsewhere.
i went and spent several hundred dollars on a bed, among other things. i have always had a problem spending money; i hate doing it. and i especially hate spending money on bulky crap like furniture. i am appalled at how expensive beds are. i have always slept on whatever's been left behind: an old roommate's mattress, a rejected futon. i have attempted to justify this purchase by acknowledging that without good sleep, life is crap. i also think about stubborn bedbugs, anonymous semen stains, other people's sweat.
good things about today:
'baby, you're a rich man' followed by 'sheep' on the radio
the kindly couple who helped carry my bags
free sample of mashed yams with ginger
smiling neighbor holding the door
buying blue-frosted sugar cookies for the people at work as a thank you, and wendy saying "oh boy, cookies"
the smell of olives
i went and spent several hundred dollars on a bed, among other things. i have always had a problem spending money; i hate doing it. and i especially hate spending money on bulky crap like furniture. i am appalled at how expensive beds are. i have always slept on whatever's been left behind: an old roommate's mattress, a rejected futon. i have attempted to justify this purchase by acknowledging that without good sleep, life is crap. i also think about stubborn bedbugs, anonymous semen stains, other people's sweat.
good things about today:
'baby, you're a rich man' followed by 'sheep' on the radio
the kindly couple who helped carry my bags
free sample of mashed yams with ginger
smiling neighbor holding the door
buying blue-frosted sugar cookies for the people at work as a thank you, and wendy saying "oh boy, cookies"
the smell of olives
Friday, January 06, 2006
the money pit
moving day poured rain. i made two 120-mile round trips, only one of which involved much traffic. i am on the third floor, or 6 staircases of book-box-carrying bliss. the carpets were supposed to be cleaned but they weren't (presumably that's being done right this moment); the tap was supposed to be fixed but wasn't (next tuesday, after i work a 15-hr graveyard shift; it involves turning off the water to the entire building); my key got stuck in the door (the landlord had to jimmy it out; luckily, it took some effort from him as well); and there are 2 fairly impressive leaks in the bedroom. there is a bucket filling with vile brown water under one; someone placed a folded paper bag under the other one, but in the short time i was there yesterday it grew substantial enough to warrant a cocktail shaker instead. there was a funny/depressing instant where i found myself standing in the bedroom, eyes moving back and forth between the drips, undoubtedly with a disbelieving/moronic expression. "you won't want to move much furniture in here until we get the leaks fixed" my landlord said jovially. there is a layer of gunge beside the oven, a filthy dustpan with human hairs stuck to it, and a solitary word from magnetic poetry stuck to the fridge. the word is "smear." of course i am leaving it there.
litany of shit (shitany?) aside, i quite dig the place. there is a built-in dimmer in the main room. i turned it to barely-amber and listened to the rain. across the street i can see television screens and empty stairwells. downtown was cauled in mist. i have a good feeling about it. hopefully tonight i'll actually be able to sleep there.
went to find a shower curtain and en route spoke with tony. it ended up being a very positive call. bittersweet- i have always detested that word, but it ably summarizes how everything feels right now. it can be so easy with us. i wish it could have been like that more consistently. i cannot fully process the impact of everything that's happened; when i start to, i feel absolute panic and grief. 'one day at a time' he said last night. 'one minute at a time' i replied. when i walked into the store i was still crying and surreptitiously wiping snot on my sweater. i can smirk about it now, at the humanity, how no one else would probably ever tolerate either one of us, how comforting and sane it is to still be able, for however brief a time, to be friends.
litany of shit (shitany?) aside, i quite dig the place. there is a built-in dimmer in the main room. i turned it to barely-amber and listened to the rain. across the street i can see television screens and empty stairwells. downtown was cauled in mist. i have a good feeling about it. hopefully tonight i'll actually be able to sleep there.
went to find a shower curtain and en route spoke with tony. it ended up being a very positive call. bittersweet- i have always detested that word, but it ably summarizes how everything feels right now. it can be so easy with us. i wish it could have been like that more consistently. i cannot fully process the impact of everything that's happened; when i start to, i feel absolute panic and grief. 'one day at a time' he said last night. 'one minute at a time' i replied. when i walked into the store i was still crying and surreptitiously wiping snot on my sweater. i can smirk about it now, at the humanity, how no one else would probably ever tolerate either one of us, how comforting and sane it is to still be able, for however brief a time, to be friends.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
my mind apologizes while my mouth fucks everything up
i can be the biggest fucking cunt. i am being so cold and hateful to him because...? because i want him to feel about me the way i feel about me right now.
we screamed at each other through the locked bathroom door. i am eerily removed from the situation enough to know that it is because we are both so fucking hurt and raw right now; detachment does, ironically enough, bring a certain level of empathy. if i were still immersed in the relationship i would be thinking he was a complete asshole, but inconveniently, i don't. we're just two idiots who never learned how to properly communicate with one another. some people bring out the best in who they're with and we... don't. i also am incredibly impatient and don't 'stick it out'; how can anyone be married, or anything, to someone with such a fucking selfish attitude?
i am feeling extremely bleak overall. the worse i feel, the worse i act. and so on.
shame is the core of depression.
good things about today:
'lay lady lay' on the radio
eating dried mangoes
brief almost-sun
busy competency at the tacoma ER
placing a saphenous catheter in front of the owner and the dog not freaking out
teaching someone sudoku
hot shower(s)
*
on the radio: "if a cat eats a mouse and chokes to death, who killed whom?"
we screamed at each other through the locked bathroom door. i am eerily removed from the situation enough to know that it is because we are both so fucking hurt and raw right now; detachment does, ironically enough, bring a certain level of empathy. if i were still immersed in the relationship i would be thinking he was a complete asshole, but inconveniently, i don't. we're just two idiots who never learned how to properly communicate with one another. some people bring out the best in who they're with and we... don't. i also am incredibly impatient and don't 'stick it out'; how can anyone be married, or anything, to someone with such a fucking selfish attitude?
i am feeling extremely bleak overall. the worse i feel, the worse i act. and so on.
shame is the core of depression.
good things about today:
'lay lady lay' on the radio
eating dried mangoes
brief almost-sun
busy competency at the tacoma ER
placing a saphenous catheter in front of the owner and the dog not freaking out
teaching someone sudoku
hot shower(s)
*
on the radio: "if a cat eats a mouse and chokes to death, who killed whom?"
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
the last time...
i forget where i read this- probably some silly magazine. it was a very slow night at work. we had sadie the post-op pyometra beagle, who's been hospitalized all weekend, and droz the mastiff with the recurrent uroliths and difficult-to-pass catheter. yes, at 2 in the morning, while the rest of the world slept, i extruded a moist and angry-looking dog penis and tried not to get its smegma on my sleeve.
anyhow!
last time i danced? other than flitting around in general, as i am wont: last week, by myself, blaring a song so guilty that i can't even admit it.
last place i went on vacation? full-bore airplane vacation: san francisco, july 2005. next up: vet conference in las vegas in february; vegas is the repulsive stranger you wake up next to, hoping desperately that you did not actually have sex with them.
last thing i paid for: 12-pack of soda and a box of tampons before going to work last night.
last time i sang: i mutter songs to myself all the time without even realizing it. i had "come on eileen" in my head for most of last night, much to my chagrin.
last time i lost my temper? sunday evening, but my current state of 'losing my temper' is far, far more benign than it used to be. it's been at least a month since i've kicked a door.
last time i laughed out loud? on the way home from work, listening to a disc jockey make fun of her frail, chain-smoking grandmother whom nobody in the family wants to help bathe.
last time i bought clothes? a pink and purple scarf that has not yet been worn, two weeks ago, from a thrift store.
last time i hurt myself? physically: moving boxes yesterday. 4" linear bruise on left shin.
last thing i wrote: this. in longhand: notes on droz's chart.
last time i lost something valuable? left stethascope at tacoma emergency clinic last week.
last time i cried? oh, probably yesterday. definitely sunday.
last time i got drunk? sometime in 2004.
anyhow!
last time i danced? other than flitting around in general, as i am wont: last week, by myself, blaring a song so guilty that i can't even admit it.
last place i went on vacation? full-bore airplane vacation: san francisco, july 2005. next up: vet conference in las vegas in february; vegas is the repulsive stranger you wake up next to, hoping desperately that you did not actually have sex with them.
last thing i paid for: 12-pack of soda and a box of tampons before going to work last night.
last time i sang: i mutter songs to myself all the time without even realizing it. i had "come on eileen" in my head for most of last night, much to my chagrin.
last time i lost my temper? sunday evening, but my current state of 'losing my temper' is far, far more benign than it used to be. it's been at least a month since i've kicked a door.
last time i laughed out loud? on the way home from work, listening to a disc jockey make fun of her frail, chain-smoking grandmother whom nobody in the family wants to help bathe.
last time i bought clothes? a pink and purple scarf that has not yet been worn, two weeks ago, from a thrift store.
last time i hurt myself? physically: moving boxes yesterday. 4" linear bruise on left shin.
last thing i wrote: this. in longhand: notes on droz's chart.
last time i lost something valuable? left stethascope at tacoma emergency clinic last week.
last time i cried? oh, probably yesterday. definitely sunday.
last time i got drunk? sometime in 2004.
Monday, January 02, 2006
people need to talk about their embarrassing moments and personal demons much more. it is therapeutic and unifying. i realized this when i moved to washington. want to instigate a conversation of laughter and eager confessionals? bring up bowel habits. IBD is a bane shared by more people than i ever dreamed. AND PEOPLE LOVE TALKING ABOUT IT.
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