ostrich-esque

it is ass-cold in ye olde 206- clear and dry, thank god, so it doesn't feel nearly as frigid to my delicate constitution. i was actually surprised to see a frozen-solid puddle...
it finally picked up at the sanctuary. i've been booked the last three shifts- 4 massages per. it is satisfying. a new client tipped me $25 for an hour massage today and said he'll return. two other clients seperately complimented my sigur ros and popul vuh selections. my boss told me i'm "exhibiting more poise." i feel good there. i'm doing more CE next month on the paraspinals, because i'm already getting bored with working with only what i know.
here's that sludgy stew i made a while back. the meaty stuff is textured vegetable protein... excellent hot, repulsive cold. this is the pot that congealed into orphan-porridge and i guiltily dumped most of. fittingly, i just finished "america's wasteland", about the grotesque quantity of food wasted in these parts.

i made another soup last night- taters, onions, chives, celery, and a shit-ton of dill and basil and cumin and cayenne.... and bacon salt.... it's really good cold. i fucking love cooking, despite not ever really doing it.
*
the lunar eclipse, as seen through my broken-zoom camera.

k and i went to gasworks with a bottle of cook's champagne and stood on top of the hill with a handful of more-inebriated folk. as soon as the moon was completely red it was buried by clouds and did not reemerge.
i fucking love this city.

last week o made me soup on his sailboat. being cooked for is... awesome. k did it on my birthday: tomato-y chicken and pasta... i dig it. i dig it a lot. it was really fucking good soup. we watched the 'no reservations' episode of iceland. i'm somewhat unnerved now... 13 days.
afterwards i went to k's and we made evil holiday cookies.

i have fucking awesome friends. i feel very lucky.
*
because i'm working all the eves and holidays as usual (a welter of vomit and death) my parents came to seattle on sunday. we had a stupidly good meal and took photographs of the restaurant's replica of mannekin pis, complete with the ceramic gnome my parents have taken everywhere.

seriously: this gnome has been to vladivostok, amsterdam, seoul, moscow, bavaria, las vegas... and i got to borrow it for new orleans and honolulu. it's a delightful family tradition. my mother carries it in her purse for such moments.
*
other events of the past week:
-monetary reward for accruing the most kudos from my coworkers at the ER.
-a hug from my boss for my 3rd-year anniversary. fuck, 3 years...
-orgasmic pork izakaya.
-trampoline + beck.
-finishing my 2nd book in a week about india.
-sunshine for the past 2 days.
-buying plants.
happily cleaning weird neglected corners of my lair... like the top of my fridge. when you're in the right mood, ain't nothin' funner than making everything just so.
-unearthing my old record player and playing my 45 of '96 tears'- the needle is shit and the singer sounds like tiny tim.
*
i am lucky. did i already say that?
*
here is the tongue of tiresias and the hand of me.

everything's better with a marimba or hammond organ.

this week has shown me how awful things could be and how fucking wonderful they actually are. i think i appreciate... but i take it for granted that things will work out certain ways: i'll get up in the morning. i will be ambulatory. i will be employed. i will be healthy, able to communicate, able to see, warm. my friends and family will be healthy and happy. i do not realize how much i fucking EXPECT until the threat of nothingness reminds me.
today i woke up and the house was warm. sunshine was streaming in. i made coffee, read the paper, smiled like a goon, walked to the bus stop with the rolling stones "cherry oh baby" in my headphones, didn;t slur too much at work, had a client tell me that my massage was "one of the best" he's ever had, received sparkly fingerless gloves from a coworker, was able to leave early... i feel light again. the last few days have been saturated with a grey dread unlike any i've felt in years, and now... i feel optimistic. whatever happens, within reason... because there's obviously still sundry ways to yank the rug out from under me.
i shall be less vague when i know more stuff...
*
on the way to work i had a Quintessential Seattle Moment (QSM): walking in front of the qfc on broadway, an empty dick's cup kicked in my general direction by a cursing teenage indigent with neon orange shoelaces and a requisite mongrel. i had my headphones on (dresden dolls, then) but i heard the "fuuuuckkk" he was yelling at another guy. i smiled when i was past. it seemed more poignant at the time than it does now, writing about it...
i was sleeping downstairs friday night and heard a hellacious storm- shit blowing against the windows, wind howling... i woke up freezing. no power. it hadn't been on in a while and it didn't come on until long after i'd left for work at 2pm. my lair was about 50 degrees. it SUCKED. i;ve lived on queen anne for, fuck, four and a half years (!) and i've never had the power go out for more than a clock-fucking second. i got to work early so i could charge my phone and thaw and eat soup. i would not last a day in the wild.
*
i made a huge fucking pot of gruel last week. it turned out really well on thursday... it has since congealed and become the slop of "please sir, can i have some more?" i boiled potatoes and celery with a shit-ton (too much, even for me) of salt, BACON SALT, basil, oregano, some generic seasoning mix that comes in a cool box with a chicken on it, textured vegetable protein, dried onions, and quinoa. it makes me feel like i'm living in a drafty flat in poland. or in an unheated apartment in seattle... i've been eating it cold. now that it's four days old and has that creepy condensation-puddle at the bottom of the pot, it's pretty depressing food. but it was fun to make. ain't nothin' much radder than carrying 10 pounds o' taters up a fucking hill... except for carrying cat litter.
*
i started "ham on rye" yesterday. you should too.
*
last week o showed me his office. glossy red and grey walls, stark artwork, blitzen trapper on the hi-fi. he has a mechanical table. plants. he gave me a vial of sweet basil oil. i like seeing people taking massage in a non-froofy direction. he's debating quitting the sanctuary. "i don't want you to go" i said, looking around his space, "but you totally should."
other things of the past week:
-huge deep-voiced transvestite receptionist at planned parenthood. i didn't realize she was a he until she greeted me in a baritone.
-ceviche and amazing carmelly rum at la isla.
-impressive quantity of chocolate vomit from a very pathetic-looking dog.
-dry cereal dragged through butter.
-the beta band. the budos band. serge gainsbourg. the beatles' version of 'memphis tennessee.'
-jasmine incense.
-chicken noodle soup.
-researching about things i never thought i'd fucking research.
-i shall be staying at the AdaM hotel in reykjavik! note the capital letters. it is part of the name.
-turning a client onto the church. the band.
-stabbing myself with the needle i just did a cystocentesis on... on urine filled with rod bacteria. my finger's still there.
-hitting a van at a stop light, no damage.
-DADT is no more!
-neither is don van vliet.
-an unexpected email from k telling me that he thought of me when he heard he died. he did have excellent taste in music, i'll give him that.
-a man with dark-framed glasses and a full white beard at the table beyond, arms folded across his chest, asking earnestly of his date if she, by chance, does hot yoga.
-i'm going to vegas in february! i have the CE check in my bag... enough for registration, airfare, and probably accommodations. i've never been to las vegas as a nonsmoker... should be interesting.
-i gave a 45 minute chair massage today. i was sweating and watching the clock... there is only so much you can do. she seemed satisfied... she smiled and took my card.
-I HAVE FUCKING BUSINESS CARDS! with my name on them! printed, from a print shop! i picked them up on friday! eeeeeeeeeeee! so exciting!
-there is a lunar eclipse commencing tomorrow night at ~1015 PST, so i heartily recommend you gaze skyward.
*
it's good. life is good.
no edit
*
god damn. i just looked out the window, happenstance, and fuck if it's not fucking snowing. sleety ridiculous snotty stuff. huh. i have nothing good to say about that...
i originally looked out the window to speculate on how many memories i have from this vantage point... a decade's worth. and i'm still alive, and so are you.

introversion to a fault. it's kind of always to a fault.

i have been sporadically unable to talk properly for the last few days. i sound like i;m drunk. i'm having specific issues with short vowels and syllables... since i have all the time in the world with my fucking brain to contemplate the situation precisely. i am trying to remain lucid and logical about it: i have MS, which is so insignificant that i have to remind myself of that fact... until it intrudes and forces me to remember. i still get so fucking terrified of What Could Happen and so frantic to prove how aware and appreciative of my body i am: today, for example, i did everything else normally. i moved well, walked everywhere, didn't think about it until i had to open my fucking mouth. i am accustomed to the sort of existence that allows me to, say, do what i did in the last 24 hours: work an 11 hour shift on my feet and running around; jump on the trampoline whilst blasting the, sigh, go-go's; draw; draw blood from puny veins; operate a stick shift on the freeway; buy groceries, 6# of apples in one arm and 10# of cat litter in the other... I USE MY BODY TO LIVE.
*
it's all good until i speak.
*
i've been hyperaware, over the last few days, of other people's mannerisms. i'm trying to convince myself that it's not a disease flaring up, that i;m merely neurotic. lesson: people stammer a lot! they slur words together and pause in odd places and use "uh" and "um" relentlessly. it's comforting to truly pay attention to such 'imperfections'... yet another example of humans thinking they're far more ostentatiously fucked up than they are. everyone's too bogged down with their own shit... we all have carte blanche.
i wonder if other people do this: compare themselves to those around them to convince them they're, if not "normal", at least fucked-up in a blend-in-able way? i assume so... but it's one of those eerie vulnerabilities that not many people talk about.
*
so much of this is probably just me working myself up into a tedious brynn-froth... but i'm seeing my neurologist on monday anyway. fucking peace of mind, justification, whatever... i need that.
*
s left for texas today. i drove him to the airport. and then i drove away. i didn't cry until i hit the freeway. the loneliness slammed down. it doesn't help that the weather is wrist-slittingly bleak and cold... and it's the holidays, and despite how much i vehemently insist that i don't give a fig about such bullshit, it does tend to make one feel slightly nostalgic and isolated. we woke up to his evil alarm and the warm blankets and i didn't want the world to change. i thought "pause this... this is good." but life goes on and he's gone for several weeks and i smacked a car upon return to seattle (no damage or injury, just proof that i was in my own fog and not paying fucking attention) and i spent a long time rereading the same articles in the paper and playing with the cats and wandering vaguely.
i went to ballard and fondled scarves. the guy at the bank told me that one out of twenty people come in reeking of pot. i bought a coconut chai and two cds. some place was selling cedar balls for 50 cents apiece. i recognized a dog with very distinctive hair that was at the ER last night- i don't remember what for- she looked fine now. bus to the u district: the driver let two homeless people on whilst reprimanding them. "i'll let you ride anyways" he said. the woman thanked him meekly. jasmine incense. girls in ill-fitting pants and ugly boots and open-mouthed laughter; guys with pasty skin and flat asses and dirty hair. bus to capitol hill: listening to blur and nodding off. 00-gauge spacers. the rain started. walked here, where i am now typing this, with my hands in my pockets- a bolus of rain fell from an eave 4 stories up and landed in my pocket too.
*
this is a 'take a step back' kind of day. perhaps after class i will make a ridiculous soup. i'm going to dice my ass off.
here's a facebook outtake... am i the only one who gets narcissistic in public bathrooms? no?

my flippancy belies my fear. everything will work out regardless. life has a funny way.

antici....

i have no life.

i take that back- i have been so fucking inconsolably JANGLY lately, i can scarcely tolerate myself. this is entirely self-induced... yet another example of not appreciating the moment in lieu of completely unsatisfying possibilities.
(see: quebec, copenhagen, paris, platinum blonde, nose piercing, the atelier, new orleans...)
i get so fucking exhausted with myself sometimes.
*
every winter i fluctuate between two extremes: the "yay, i live in seattle" mindset of appreciating bare pavement and culture and tall trees and scarves; and the "fuck, i live in seattle" mindset of blinking dully at relentless greyness and pale skin and varying shades of grim and SAD and perpetual dampness. this winter has kicked my psychological ass thus far and it's not even halfway through december. i am sure there are other reasons for that... i am overworked and frustrated and underpaid and unsatisfied and always looking for the fucking thrill that will somehow distract me from the ennui and make everything better. this is a childish way to view the world. dissatisfaction dissolves into self-deprecation.
i passed this on capitol hill:

it helped.
tonight it fucking poured, again. we stood outside the sanctuary and took pictures.
this is a shitty picture, but i was getting wet.
saturated.


antique scream is a fucking awesome band from the bowels of oregon. they have the rawkstar thing down, i must say.


the past few weeks:
red walls.
homemade guacamole that kicked ass, if i do say so.
culture shock: india.
walking at night and listening to "you put the lime in the coconut, you're such a silly woman."
insomnia.
feeling like a feral cat.
dogs vomiting chocolate, chewing tobacco, marijuana, and antiinflammatories.
clary sage.
knees in stirrups while i'm asked what i'm doing for the holidays.
slurring without being drunk.
gala apples with cinnamon sugar.
ceviche.
ginger.
eloy.
making a fucking ass out of myself.
*
looking at my life and smiling nurturingly, bemusedly, detachedly: "oh brynn, you silly, silly little girl."

danger

I have been smiling so much lately. zingy. hyper-aware yet painfully oblivious. there is not the comfort of familiarity; instead it is the thrill of novelty.
a cette je dis "baisez-le." la vie est être vu. donc il est.
je prend a la merde plus je voudrais faire avec ma vie... vivre en Québec, parler français, nouveau amis, nouveau hommes. les chambres avec tapis et chats et soliel et joyeux. je dormis en ton bras.
sans lis... pardonnez.

red eyes at night

...and a girl with colitis goes by.
*
i made enough in tips today to pay for my monthly car insurance. just sayin'. every client was fucking delightful. it almost assuages my paranoia about my review tomorrow.
*
i have been thinking lately about effusiveness... how i've been criticized for having too much, and how i'm wary of people who have too little. it is not natural for me to not express every fucking thing that crosses my mind, to fucking tone it down. playing it blase just leads to resentment and boredom... with my relationships, with my job... obviously the 'passionate' route of "i LOVE you no i HATE you no i LOVE you!" doesn't work... with numerous examples... but not having that level of absurd, horrific drama is still disorienting to me. it makes me reluctant to take anything seriously. that's fucking warped.
*
i keep having to remind myself of what i used to do before this era of my life. the same 'standbys' don't satisfy me any more. being alone makes me feel jangly and unsettled. i am too impatient to read the paper, too fidgety to sleep alone, too distracted to concentrate on my own thoughts. i occlude every spare moment with headphones or a pen. perhaps i will never be truly sedated and satisfied by any one thing. i am an addict without a concise addiction.
*
nick cave plays.
*
i fucking hope the review goes well. worst case scenario, i may have more free time... that which i desire so badly. it's a win-win regardless, right?
the truly-don't-give-a-shit wore off about an hour ago, i'm afraid...
*
RIP leslie nielsen. thank you for providing childhood memories of my dad laughing until he cried at "naked gun."
*
at the dinner the other night, the one in which i lost my brand-new, just-bought, still-in-the-bag bra (and which i was given a BraCard from the gap for- buy 5 and your 6th is free! didn't i feel like a fucking twat-haver!), my mother was trying in vain to operate my camera. she came upon this picture and began to uproariously cackle. "is that YOU?" she shrieked in the middle of the restaurant. "what are you DOING? what is that THING?" so i have to publish it now, as proof of my fucking dorkiness, in case you were thinking i was the shit and shit.

"i'm posing with my bamboo" i said matter-of-factly, which made her laugh harder. i hadn't meant it to be funny. but i'm smiling now as i type this, and this is yet another memory that makes me really love my mother.

the weekend in review

turkeys before mortality, lummi island. temperature: 30 degrees, if that. wind chill: far less.

the turkeys are shoved face-down into a DecapiCone (TM) to diminish flapping.... and their carotid artery is severed. it happened very quickly. i went to this with no idea what to expect...
and i cried.



s hosing off a defeathered turkey.

i was too busy weeping like a fucking pussy to participate in the slaughter, even if i'd intended to; luckily, i'd deemed myself the 'documentarian' of the experience long before emotions interfered.

everyone, whether they eat meat or not, should see shit like this. it gave me great respect for the effort and delicacy involved. it also made me feel like i was either going to bawl or vomit.
the drive there was gorgeous: sunny early-morning sunshine...

devolving to castratingly-cold WIND and SNOW.

that was saturday.
*
sunday: visiting a container house on vashon island. this is made from a 40' long sealand shipping container.

the guy who owns the farm on which this house is located also salvaged a bunch of stop sign posts. i love this.

vashon is cool. i'd never been there. median demographic: age 54, white as rice, earnest. there are probably a lot of michael buble cds and toilet-side j peterman catalogues on vashon island. i think i am far too scurrilous and antsy to ever live in a place where there are no cities, concerts, dive bars, or dissonance, but it's comforting to know that such vistas are a mere ferry ride away.

ain't nothing wrong with a place where you pass random shit like this whilst driving.

*
monday: the snow hit seattle. hecatomb ran out on the deck, as she does. she came back quickly, skidding. "i told you so!" i chided her.

this is when the snow was barely dusting. before the north winds hit. before the hideous rush hour commute, the articulated buses jackknifing in the battery tunnel... before my street was, once again, closed.

i took a terrifying bus ride to renton and spent my birthday at k's house-sitting lair, eating excellent pasta, enjoying an awesome bloody mary made with bacon-flavored vodka, and drinking cabernet from the bottle whilst sitting in an outdoor hot tub and feeling fat snowflakes hit my naked skin. may i recommend coconut butter on hot toast? apparently i said it was like "licking the asscrack of a woman wearing a lot of suntan oil." k was still cackling about that this morning.
*
life is good.
*
today: bus ride back to seattle. the sun was shining brilliantly on the several inches of accumuli. temperature: 20F, if that. s and i went to re:public for the previously cited chorizo-'pus. and i had my first true carne crudo.

i recommend this also.
now: carla bruni, comfortable silence, peace. i am happy. it has been intensely therapeutic to have several days off. it's been so fucking nice to savor the moment.
i shall close with a crappily taken photograph of the view from the hot tub, because it was such a completely miserable experience. sigh!

dura scrape

first, last night's dreams.
the themes of late: wistfulness and incredibly steep inclines that i am clinging from. i always wake up before i can fall.
dream #1: i am walking down a perfectly zigzaggy dirt road at night. the road is surrounded by cornfields. everything is wet with rain but the moon is out- everything glitters. i'm just walking. next scene: b has returned to seattle. he is renting a place on olive way- a huge 2-story half-underground condo in what is, in reality, the building housing b&o espresso and some architecture firm. the place is ludicrous: gold-fleck mirrored ceilings, pillars, an amazing mustard-colored recliner that looks like an eames by way of liberace. there is a sunken living room and white carpet. "may i ask how much you're paying?" "forty-five hundred" he says indifferently. "i needed the clothing racks." downstairs is a daylight basement with a wall of sliding glass doors and 2 king-sized beds perpendicular to each other. brown velvet covers. shag rug. one of the beds becomes a curtained canopy and we start to make out. there is a closet with sliding doors on both sides seperating the bed from the rest of the room- it's still empty, apart from clinking wire hangers left by the previous tenant. i say i should use the loo, implying that things will be progessing further. (another theme: trying to find a toilet. i never actually HAVE to go when i wake up, but every fucking dream i have seems to involve micturation... analyze that.) i start to shimmy through the open closet because the bed-curtain is seemingly endless. he pins me down, at first playfully, but then he's serious and not smiling and i'm laying on my back with my arms folded behind my head and i look up at him with tears in my eyes. and i feel like i just lost everything i spent the last 12 years of my life trying to recover. i wake up, as usual, gasping for breath.
6:30am. the cat's still asleep. i am sweating. i go downstairs to sleep on the sofa. the sky is barely becoming light.
dream #2: i am in chicago, taking photographs. chicago is hilly as fuck. my mother is there, walking ahead of me up an 80 degree-incline sidewalk. there are traction rivets on one side of the pavement but no railing to hold onto. i start to follow her but my bag is making me unbalanced and i start to slip. i'm halfway up, paralyzed- i can't descend nor go on. "i don't think i can make it" i call after her. she's already at the top, looking down at me disgustedly. "oh, sure you can" she says offhandedly. i force myself to wake up from that one. didn't check the time. tiresias is wedged next to my knee.
dream #3: i am in new orleans. again, hilly as fuck. again, taking photographs. it is dusk and i am at the beach- the sky is magenta and brown, like a violent bruise; a storm has passed. the water reflects orange. there is a crowd of fishermen standing in the sand, staring out at the water. there are a few fires. one man has an especially compelling face- he's probably late 40's, deep creases, ballcap. he agrees to pose for me, an Authentic Local with the sea as his backdrop. my camera doesn't work. i thank him for trying. next scene: it is daylight and i'm walking back to the beach to try again. i decide to take a shortcut down a path. suddenly the path is an almost-ladder plummeting 200' into a thorny kudzu-filled ravine. the ladder is thin rotting boards attached to the red brick wall of a moldering building. the path i came from has vanished. i have no choice... i'm surrounded by leaves. i start to climb down and it quickly proves impossible- i can't see, there's nothing to grab onto, there's no one around to help me if i yelled. i wake up. in the dream my left hand was grasping the wall and my right hand was flailing midair- in reality, on my sofa in seattle washington, i am laying on my back, right leg bent, my arms folded across my chest as if i am in a casket.
tiresias has migrated to my left hip.
rain hits the deck. wind blows against the glass.
10:16am.
*
anyway... here's a leaf stuck in a web.

last week was briefly bombastic enough to allow for this picture.

an abandoned restaurant downtown... on the same sunny day.

i have done little but work. i am getting my 3-month review at the massage place on my birthday -"please don't say anything mean!" i told my boss, only half-joking- and plan to ask for some sort of adjustment at one or both jobs after that. i have performed this 6-days-and-50+ hours-a-week shit long enough to realize that it's not really cutting it for me. there are several factors: 1. both jobs require a lot of GIVING. massage and ER are both very emotionally exhausting, albeit for extremely different reasons. but i'm fucking worn out at the end of the day. i have even less tolerance than usual (which is to say, hardly any) for snivelling, neediness, and other people's fucking whining. and people, god bless 'em, whine A LOT. at least some of the people i know. some more than others. in short, i've been a fucking bitch lately. 2. it's dark at 4:30pm. there was no summer to speak of and now it's fucking bleak, and it shall remain bleak until may. thank god i get to go out of town.... to reykjavik... in january... which will still be amazing, but it definitely seemed like a better idea when i wasn't in the throes of yet another stunning washington deprwinter. 3. i am working my ass off and barely making what i made working straight-40s at the ER. this is discouraging. also discouraging: horrid demanding clients who i have nightmares about. shitty tippers. giving massages and thinking the entire time how much i'd like one myself.
the view from the fridge:

said fridge:

i hate the term "fridge." like "veggies." but it is what my brain automatically defaults to. i should start busting out "icebox" and "greens" and see how long it takes to get my ass kicked.
entropy-pants, lamenting her rough life.

ten years later, i finally own proper raingear.

life is good, really. i have four days off next week, which is equal to the number of days i've had off in the past 5 weeks. i plan to do whatever the fuck i want. it's a novelty. perhaps it should always be that way, really... then you don't take shit for granted. at the very least, i can honestly say that i'm working towards the life i've always wanted... and i kind of already have it now. and that's pretty fucking lovely.
*
someone had a lurid petrol mishap on my street today. i stood in the center of the road, making cars swerve, to take this.

would the colors be so poignant on a less grey day? PERHAPS NOT! see, life is just fine.

pardon me sir, furthest from my mind

it's been a draining month. i am relieved to have a night to myself.
on a side note, i scored 20 on the autism quotient... normal adults are about 16, and one is considered 'autistic' after 28. perhaps i am a highly-functioning asperger's? or perhaps i am simply self-contained to a fault.
it's nearly impossible for me to ask people for help. so... i rarely do. the world provides, after all. a shitty day will always get better. moods evolve. situations remedy themselves whether i fret about them or not. vive l'indifference!
*
my grandmother finally died. the service was yesterday. it was held at the national cemetery in the fucking hinterlands outside of auburn. it was freezing cold and pouring rain and i drove the entire way there and back UNABLE TO SEE out of my fogged, wiperless windows. my radio wasn't audible over the roar of the engine so i had my headphones in... hunched over the steering wheel in a hypothermic terror, hoping i don't die and cursing my laziness about getting the fucking wipers fixed. i snivel about how much it'll cost but i spent the same amount, if not a bit more, on the ticket to iceland. my priorities are warped. i have been fucking lucky that i haven't yet killed anything, anyone, or myself.
i hate the south sound, anyhow. i get farther than renton and uneasiness sets in. i spent the most miserable times of my life there. i leave king county and it's as though someone's squashing my trachea.
the service was outside, in 46 degree rain. attending: my mother; my other grandmother; my uncle bill and his bitch wife who, as usual, refused to acknowledge me or anyone else there (i don't call people bitches, and really mean it, very often, but she's a wholly unpleasant human being); my uncle karl; and my aunt liz. i was the only grandchild present. we sat under a gazebo-thing as the rain fell. bill said some nice things about my grandmother. a soldier presented karl with a folded american flag. and then we watched oma's ashes join my grandfather's in his veteran's cubby.

her name will be added in the next few weeks.

my mother commented on the stately hearse that transported oma's 9" square box of ashes from the funeral home in tacoma. "they came all this way with a box" she sighed. "oh, it cost plenty."
i don't know how i ended up being in the fucking middle of this picture- the memorial crasher!- or how it takes seeing a photograph to realize how fucking giant the rest of the haugs are. granted, my mother and liz were in heels. my mother looks surly.

i have been composing memories of my parents in my head for, shit, years- intending to write them down before i CAN'T. so on monday, while it was stormy and thuddingly slow at the massage job, i did. i forgot to give the cards to my mother until we were both on the freeway. i called her on my phone and told her to pull over. i gave her the cards on the side of hwy 18 as semi trucks roared by and rain sprayed. i hugged her and told her i loved her. and i merged back onto the freeway and- immediately began to worry. what if she was unable to merge? why did i endanger her life? what if my insisting she pulled over resulted in her and my grandmother, who was riding with her, getting killed? i couldn't see them through my useless back window. i drove back to seattle essentially having a panic attack. this sounds so fucking stupid now. my brain was spiralling, thinking of every awful thing i've ever done, how selfish i fucking am to HAVE to give those to her RIGHT THEN. the weather was absolutely awful- the sky was dusky dark at 3pm and i couldn't see the seattle skyline even when i was driving right past it. i sent her a text- "let me know when you get home" and didn't hear anything until several hours after i arrived at work that night.
*
everything, of course, was fine.
she's waiting to read the cards until she and my father are in las vegas, where they'll be this weekend, tra-la, because life goes on and my parents are the kinds of people who decide to go to las vegas for a weekend, and i don't need to give myself a fucking ulcer, ever, and everything always works out- even in the rare moments when, on first impression, it doesn't.
*
my fear scared me. it was so fucking automatic to imagine everything in my life disintegrating around me. i have felt very lonely lately. there are people around and friends i can emotionally vomit on, but there's still something missing. i feel like a drug addict who can't get the drug i'm addicted to so i settle for a substitute- like smoking a vile menthol when i really want a camel. or methadone instead of heroin. or kissing instead of sex.
this is the time of my 'swing' when, if i hadn't already, i would book a trip or get a fucking tattoo, because i feel like i need to do something dramatic to distract me from my own mind.
*
the past week:
-insane massage from o. he does a lot of structural work- his is not a relaxing massage. he cranked on my radius-ulna until i felt nauseous. afterwards i was very jittery- my hands were shaking like i'd overdosed on caffeine. "you're letting go of a lot of negative energy" c said. "your body's been holding onto a lot." i wince at the industry-isms but it was probably true.
-i picked up a shift there today and saw 5 clients in 5 hours. i tried a new aromatherapy combination: orange and fennel. it was groovy as hell until i spilled spearmint oil and caused everyone there to develop a headache.
-dying animals. owners who don't want to let go. drain-circling. i love my coworkers. i work with no one stupid enough to say "oh come on, guys! maybe he can make it!" everyone there is realistic and compassionate and disgusted with owners who prove they are neither by putting their pets through fucking hell.
-bleu cheese stuffed dates, wrapped in pancetta and drizzled with a balsamic reduction. "it's like having sex with christmas!" i blurted.
-lavender.
-feeling exhausted and bedraggled and still having the checkout guy look at me and say "oh, HI... how are you?"
-a care package of skulls, chicken feet, apidocere, a crime-watch newspaper, and a pulp magazine.
-almond-stuffed green olives as part of a balanced breakfast.
last week we made meze. among other things. i've lived at my lair for over four years and it was the first time i'd had more than one person over at a time. i felt like a fucking puppy. it was exciting.

it's nice when everyone leaves, too. that's the borderline-asperger's talking, ha ha.

i speak jive

here's some quintessential seattle for ya:

it's been fucking gorgeous: foggy mornings, sunny days, cold nights.

the orionid meteor shower is peaking this thursday... when the moon is full. even in the hinterlands, it's unlikely to be visible. tis a pity.
yet another wood spider!

life has been good- tenser than the months prior, but it's recalibrated nicely. my grandmother is still alive. she's back at her assisted-living home with hospice care and her kids taking turns being with her. as of yesterday my mother texted me "she's fading. maybe a day or 2." i am deeply impressed that she's hung on this long- she's a tough bird. my grandmother AND my mother, really. there will be no service, per oma's wishes. at this point i'm just waiting for the news. it will be a relief to everyone.
i feel honored for having had the opportunity to see someone and know it was for the last time. there would have been no point to visit her anytime after i did- she wouldn't have recognized me and it would have been even more depressing. i will always remember the way she smiled and gripped my hand. i am fucking grateful for that.
i have tried not to think about it too much. i don't want to feel guilty or sad or like i'm somehow fucking up how one is supposed to grieve. is it wrong to not feel 'grief'?
*
the annual puget sound mycological society exposition! mushrooms phosphoresce under black light!

the sign announcing the exhibit. an old guy loitering nearby made jokes about psilocybin and missing letters.

these are marvellously delicate- dare i refer to fungus as sensual?

these were just lurid and made me happy.


my best keith moon. sigh. it was inadvertant.

the past week:
-ridiculous shit-faced 'meal' (small plates overwhelmed with far too many pours of paired alcohol) at elemental. "the last thing i remember was the bison" i mumbled the next morning. fucking mortifying. s claims that everyone else present was as fucked-up as i. the food, what i can recall, was delicious.
-running anesthesia for a dog that ate two big fucking rocks.
-i was given a 5-star review on yelp for a chair massage! i hate, HATE chair massage, but i can fake it well. i assume it was me... she referred to me in the review as "bree." fuck, most people do. i've been at bbh for a year, in various capacities, and the volunteer coordinator still calls me 'bree.' i don't even correct him. what's the fucking point?
that made up for being screamed at by a psychotic man over the phone at the ER, which i still feel horrible about even though i did nothing wrong. it just serves to remind me of the gaping CONTRASTS between my jobs.
-walking around with a goddamn happy smirk on my face. it's easy. i am happy. i think about it and smile even more. that is all i'm going to extrapolate upon.
-good tips. really good tips.
-i was driving home last night and a (possibly indigent) man crossed in front of me at the light. he turned and dramatically blew me a kiss. i didn't even think about it- i grinned widely and placed my hands over my heart. he smiled, i smiled, and the light turned green. i drove off thinking "i love the fucking world."
-tapas at ocho, OH MY GOD. bitter chocolate melted on olive oil-toasted bread and drizzled with truffle oil. pork cheeks with raisins and fava beans. green beans and mushrooms. fried artichoke with sardines. there are so many good restaurants in seattle.
-i decided today: okay, i've been stressed about money. i'm essentially making the same, if not a bit more, but i'm working 10 hours a week more and i'm living... lavishly. so i decided that the ER pays the bills. massage pays the lifestyle. it works! i refuse to feel bad about anything!
-i'm wearing a scarf that i knitted with my own hands. in fact, it's the purple scarf i knitted in alaska- i started it on the plane ride there and finished it on the plane ride back.
-"she said she didn't swallow." "and you believe that?" "well, yeah, 'cause she's grossed out by semen."
*
i smacked the produce display with my omniprescent bag to get this fucking picture.