make yourself easy

today was spent in observance. it wasn't so bad. talking with s helped immesurably. i am lucky to be connected to one person, at least; some people don't even have that. she will be here in 3 weeks. i am giddy as fuck about this.
what was observed on a friday of annoyingly mecurial clime in seattle:
-the brand-new qfc down the hill from my lair. it is partially subterranean under yet even more snitzy overpriced condos. i was deeply disheartened to discover that they have NO BULK FOOD SECTION WHATSOEVER. that had been my hope since their stupid signs went up months ago. they have an on-site cake decorator and a lurid floral department. big fucking deal. i wanted to be able to buy dried mangoes and wasabi peas from a bin and lie about the price at the self-checkout like i do at fred meyer. stupid qfc.
("everyone's heard about the bird" is playing on the hi-fi right this minute. i still fucking hate this song. it will permanently supplant "til the morning comes" as the mental soundtrack of my day.)
-aromatic white roses
-an extremely creepy photograph i bought at the market swap-meet booth: circa 1920's (judging from the clothing), unfocused image of a butcher standing beside a fully splayed cow carcass that is hanging from hooks. the picture was nestled inocuously among placid shots of families posing in front of porches and smiling at the beach. it was a dollar.
-the tweaking boy who sat beside me on the bus. he babbled the entire way, between exaggerated yawns and flopping around on the seat. "i looked for a job today! i bought some salty green candy! did this piece of hair turn blonde yet? i would have married my boyfriend! did you play any video games today?" his hands and pants were streaked with either hair dye or blood.
-the angry bear someone had drawn with a sharpie on the back of the seat
-the unseen woman with the horrific diarrhea in the stall beside mine at the odious chain bookstore. her sandals exposed carefully painted bright red nails.
(now it's "moody river." i am morose in winter '99, driving aimlessly in my subaru, hacked-off hair beneath a ski cap that makes my forehead itch. i have not yet met the person who made the tape with this on it. the fact that someone did helped me through an extremely fucked era. thanks.)
-too many 'emo' boys to count. pasty, scrawny-yet-doughy, black hair shellacked into a comma, assless in unflattering jeans that ride low to expose back acne, and always a fucking HOODIE. one guy was sitting on a secluded tree-covered stairwell in the u-district, eating sun chips. i wanted to commend him on his marvelous choice of location. but i didn't.
i have an interview next week with the primate research dept. who fucking knows. i blew off the staff meeting at work today. i didn;t feel like driving 70 miles through rush-hour for my monthly dose of pap. so i sat in my little elliott bay enclave and read a book instead. (i am continuing my augusten burrough's kick with 'possible side effects.' the harvard t-shirt story is especially good.)
someone could have the worst personality in the world, but if they have good (relatively) taste in music, i idealize them. i really believe that this is how i allow schmucks to occupy any space in my head at all.
i am not idealizing anyone at the moment, overtly. i am presently refusing to be a bottom-feeder. signed, the perpetual spinster.