i have just had a most vexing last few hours, instigated by getting lost in fucking west seattle and missing my class, thrill kill kult blaring all the while. i am now at a cafe in my dancing clothes, trying not to think too much about the parking ticket i received this morning, or how sad it is that all the happy snow has melted. i was waiting for a bus downtown and an older man next to me struck up a conversation. "i had to work on my birthday" he said. we started talking, chit chit chatting, and he asked if he could buy me a drink. my bus was pulling up. i declined, wished him a happy day, and left. on the way home it struck me how sad that was. i hope he found someone to celebrate with. we are all lonely souls, ultimately. at the bank today the chirpy teller reccommended direct deposit, and my first thought was "but that's another opportunity for me not to interact with another human being", so i declined that too.
went to the fancy-pants downtown library and read smutty housewife porn as the brief sun splayed against the brick across the street. by the time i emerged, depressed and aroused, the sky was dark and people were walking brusquely from their jobs. this 4:30pm darkness thing is sucking my fucking soul. among sundry other drains.
but sinatra is playing, and that does wonders for my temperment.
i am in the far corner of this place, offering a stunning vantage point. the man next to me is looking at pictures of automobiles. two monitors down, someone is actually playing fucking solitaire, which is one of the most "no wonder this culture is so fucked up" things i've seen lately. now the auto-man is looking at missed connections on craigslist. oh god, he's after my heart, and he doesn't even know it.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Saturday, November 25, 2006
of lice and zen
i am completely lost here. i honestly have no idea where the fuck i belong. i am doing my damndest to see the best in things, the humor in the multiple foibles, but i finally snapped tonight after something especially inconsequential (involving a lack of an outlet for my all-but-defunct laptop). i ended up crying in my car in a dark parking lot behind an italian restaurant that was blowing garlic plumes out of its vent system. couples holding hands walked by, oblivious. and yes, there is humor in this: it is melodrama at its knee-slapping finest. i just wish there was someone to tell it to.
i saw robyn hitchcock play a free show at easy street records this afternoon. it was filmed for the sundance channel, they announced once i got there. he was fucking brilliant. i, however, felt like shit (not to be vile, but it was fairly literally; thanks, ever-present ibd, for making my life fucking hell- surely this is contributing to my mindset). thus, if one ever sees "robyn hitchcock and the venus 3 live at easy street" on the sundance channel, look for the wet-haired urchin in the green sweater, leaning against the used cds and appearing nauseous. that would be me. my god, he was good. he did a cover of 'what goes on' that made me especially happy.
i learned today that humans and giraffes both have 7 vertebrae in their necks. giraffes' are simply longer. also, a group of larks is an exaltation. all i need now is a fucking cocktail party.
i saw robyn hitchcock play a free show at easy street records this afternoon. it was filmed for the sundance channel, they announced once i got there. he was fucking brilliant. i, however, felt like shit (not to be vile, but it was fairly literally; thanks, ever-present ibd, for making my life fucking hell- surely this is contributing to my mindset). thus, if one ever sees "robyn hitchcock and the venus 3 live at easy street" on the sundance channel, look for the wet-haired urchin in the green sweater, leaning against the used cds and appearing nauseous. that would be me. my god, he was good. he did a cover of 'what goes on' that made me especially happy.
i learned today that humans and giraffes both have 7 vertebrae in their necks. giraffes' are simply longer. also, a group of larks is an exaltation. all i need now is a fucking cocktail party.
Friday, November 24, 2006
also grimly insightful
i just received a junk email... always charmed by the random words in the titles... mad libs of the future. today: i manna at oblivious. that is fucking brilliant. it should be on a shirt or something.
post #100!
i am pleased that the tantrum-tirade i composed earlier was interrupted by the library computer crashing; perhaps i can preserve some modicum of dignity. my birthday was a welter of shit, a series of slaps upside the head to remind me that i know better. it is impossible to change anyone. all i can do is walk away. again. and again. there is an imperceptible line between optimism and mouth-breathing stupidity.
a sensation of serene dankness has consumed me since. i am in a good mood overall, i guess, just weary of feeling disillusioned. i have listened to "i can't wait" by the white stripes far too many times to count... and then, to pep up even more, "hotel yorba." drove north today to see the flooded fields- seattle has had 15" of rain so far this month- and ended up stuck behind a semi hauling bales of hay.
it is cold as fuck today. downtown was saturated with bodies, everyone carrying shopping bags, obliviously flailing their arms. the xmas lights are lit, which always cheers me. a woman carrying a bottle of beer was walking her disobedient dog on a very long leash at pike place. he was at least 10 feet ahead of her, running into kids, going into shops. "he doesn't like short leashes" she slurred to some people ahead of me. i bought nothing today, apart from a 40% discounted iggy pop cd at tower (r.i.p.- and it's only 4 blocks from my lair). i have always despised xmas, apart from the aforementioned lights- the more lurid the better. the rest of it... the radio at work yesterday was playing horrible holiday music and some of my coworkers were jubilantly singing along to "feliz navidad", and i felt like a curmudgeony asshole.
holidays mean fucking nothing anymore. i still have that little-kid oh-boy! flicker, like in elementary school when everyone celebrates and gets to make decorations- but all holidays, ultimately, are for kids and the religious. or for couples. holidays, for little-fish-big-pond workaholic atheist spinsters like myself, suck.
one of my coworkers does stand-up comedy, and after work on tuesday a group of us went to see him perform. he was very fucking good. it was therapeutic to be in civilian garb, drinking vodka, laughing with people i work with at racism and masturbation. things can be so fucking easy.
"oh, that was gross. i just coughed up part of my lunch."
-quote from work (the aec feeds its minions)
a sensation of serene dankness has consumed me since. i am in a good mood overall, i guess, just weary of feeling disillusioned. i have listened to "i can't wait" by the white stripes far too many times to count... and then, to pep up even more, "hotel yorba." drove north today to see the flooded fields- seattle has had 15" of rain so far this month- and ended up stuck behind a semi hauling bales of hay.
it is cold as fuck today. downtown was saturated with bodies, everyone carrying shopping bags, obliviously flailing their arms. the xmas lights are lit, which always cheers me. a woman carrying a bottle of beer was walking her disobedient dog on a very long leash at pike place. he was at least 10 feet ahead of her, running into kids, going into shops. "he doesn't like short leashes" she slurred to some people ahead of me. i bought nothing today, apart from a 40% discounted iggy pop cd at tower (r.i.p.- and it's only 4 blocks from my lair). i have always despised xmas, apart from the aforementioned lights- the more lurid the better. the rest of it... the radio at work yesterday was playing horrible holiday music and some of my coworkers were jubilantly singing along to "feliz navidad", and i felt like a curmudgeony asshole.
holidays mean fucking nothing anymore. i still have that little-kid oh-boy! flicker, like in elementary school when everyone celebrates and gets to make decorations- but all holidays, ultimately, are for kids and the religious. or for couples. holidays, for little-fish-big-pond workaholic atheist spinsters like myself, suck.
one of my coworkers does stand-up comedy, and after work on tuesday a group of us went to see him perform. he was very fucking good. it was therapeutic to be in civilian garb, drinking vodka, laughing with people i work with at racism and masturbation. things can be so fucking easy.
"oh, that was gross. i just coughed up part of my lunch."
-quote from work (the aec feeds its minions)
Sunday, November 19, 2006
towards blue lips and a breaking heart
a baby potbellied pig (named, unfortunately, "peanut") died in my arms today. it would have been rather eerie had i not been at work at the time, i suppose.
rain has given way, temporarily. i have been looking into fares to alaska. very homesick of late. i just want to have some tea at side street and do the crossword in the fucking anchorage press. i think about the star in arctic valley, the stagnant ice floes at point woronzof, the smell of kobuk coffee, the nasty popcorn at darwin's. i have a version of alaska that has been immortalized in permanent 2002. part of me doesn't want proof of how things have changed. my childhood home is now occupied by strangers. my best friend is now married with 3 kids. the barren swaths of south anchorage are probably all breeder-box subdivisions now. but something keeps nagging at me to go and see it all for myself, and i tend to be fairly relentless and obsessive until i sate my curiousity.
there is something masochistically satisfying about proving to myself that no, you can never go home again. that said, does seattle feel like home? no. i am a tourist without a timeline here. a tourist with laundry to put in the dryer, so must go.
rain has given way, temporarily. i have been looking into fares to alaska. very homesick of late. i just want to have some tea at side street and do the crossword in the fucking anchorage press. i think about the star in arctic valley, the stagnant ice floes at point woronzof, the smell of kobuk coffee, the nasty popcorn at darwin's. i have a version of alaska that has been immortalized in permanent 2002. part of me doesn't want proof of how things have changed. my childhood home is now occupied by strangers. my best friend is now married with 3 kids. the barren swaths of south anchorage are probably all breeder-box subdivisions now. but something keeps nagging at me to go and see it all for myself, and i tend to be fairly relentless and obsessive until i sate my curiousity.
there is something masochistically satisfying about proving to myself that no, you can never go home again. that said, does seattle feel like home? no. i am a tourist without a timeline here. a tourist with laundry to put in the dryer, so must go.
Friday, November 17, 2006
a murky storm of shit
in the past week:
my good friend from work wrote me a rather nasty note, accusing me of having shat upon him, that he will need time to be able to hang out with me again. i miss him a lot. though i was always completely honest about my platonic intentions (which, overtly, they were and are), i am guiltily aware that he felt a bit differently.
T and i conflicted over the exact same fucking things. "why do you seek out and invent drama?" i asked. communication has been much better overall, at least from my end, until tonight, which i will have to rectify later to assuage my, again, guilt. fucking guilt, everywhere, always. it does not need to be like this. life is supposed to be easy, dammit.
i finally saw my grandfather today, hence my sour and uncommunicative mood. i met my mother at my grandparent's house in puyallup. he is much improved from his initial stroke-state but there is definitely a major change in his entire demeanor. he is sullen, forgetful, spacey. he demanded my mother take him to the store, even though my uncle had taken him yesterday. i got to visit with my oma, who is sentient enough to break my heart. "when i first met him i thought, this is great, he'll be able to take care of me when i'm old," she said (she is 90, he is 75- go oma!). "i never thought it would be like this." we all went to his doctor's appointment. his mouth hangs open now, his features slack. he couldn't figure out how to open the car door or fasten his seat belt. he'd forgotten the shopping list and therefore half the groceries. we all went, per their suggestion, to cattin's, a denny's-esque diner, where i pretended not to notice him putting copious amounts of syrup on his eggs instead of his pancakes (though he may have intended to; he ate it all). "we have to go back to the supermarket" he insisted afterwards; i stayed outside and morosely smoked. throughout my mother was being far more patient than usual; it wasn't until the five-hour mark of the visit that she became snappy. they are finally accepting of a retirement home. it especially bothers my grandmother, who is reluctant to even have neighbors help mow the lawn. we got back to the house and he went into another room and shut the door. "you're leaving now?" he said, more as a statement, so my mother and i left and went our seperate ways, she to meet my father at a New Brewpub in olympia, me to drive back to seattle through rush-hour traffic, chain-smoking, blaring music but not bothering to sing along.
i am so afraid of growing old. not old as much as... compromised. that is why the ms spectre terrifies me so. at the restaurant i was the only person with non-grey hair and healthy posture. i felt somehow brittle by proxy, as if youth and health is somehow a fallacy, a delusion that lasts for a few decades to no real end.
in happier news: it was very slow at work yesterday. someone had brought in a great horned owl that had fallen from a tree in their yard. after a few hours of monitoring and realizing it wasn't going to improve, i euthanized it (22g through the heart) and the doctor dissected it for us. it was fucking fascinating. their trachea is bivalved. they only have one ovary, on the left. ("llamas are like that too" said the doctor. "they only carry in the left branch of their uterus. most animals favor the left.") their skulls are completely overtaken by their optic orbs and ear canals (which you could easily fit a nickel inside, if you were wont), their brains very small as a result. afterwards the doctor cut off the head to add to her skull collection. i thought she was kidding at first. "how do you get the meat off?" i asked. "do you boil it?" i had this creepy image of her smiling over a cauldron. apparently she puts it in a barrel of horse manure with some worms. "they do a good job" she said. veterinary medicine is a surreal vocation indeed.
as i was walking downtown tonight i felt that hypocritical, familiar pang of loneliness. then i remembered how i, inadvertantly or otherwise, pushed everyone away. "i don't deserve friends" i said aloud. somehow the alas!ness of that, the laughable self-pity, made me feel a small bit better.
my good friend from work wrote me a rather nasty note, accusing me of having shat upon him, that he will need time to be able to hang out with me again. i miss him a lot. though i was always completely honest about my platonic intentions (which, overtly, they were and are), i am guiltily aware that he felt a bit differently.
T and i conflicted over the exact same fucking things. "why do you seek out and invent drama?" i asked. communication has been much better overall, at least from my end, until tonight, which i will have to rectify later to assuage my, again, guilt. fucking guilt, everywhere, always. it does not need to be like this. life is supposed to be easy, dammit.
i finally saw my grandfather today, hence my sour and uncommunicative mood. i met my mother at my grandparent's house in puyallup. he is much improved from his initial stroke-state but there is definitely a major change in his entire demeanor. he is sullen, forgetful, spacey. he demanded my mother take him to the store, even though my uncle had taken him yesterday. i got to visit with my oma, who is sentient enough to break my heart. "when i first met him i thought, this is great, he'll be able to take care of me when i'm old," she said (she is 90, he is 75- go oma!). "i never thought it would be like this." we all went to his doctor's appointment. his mouth hangs open now, his features slack. he couldn't figure out how to open the car door or fasten his seat belt. he'd forgotten the shopping list and therefore half the groceries. we all went, per their suggestion, to cattin's, a denny's-esque diner, where i pretended not to notice him putting copious amounts of syrup on his eggs instead of his pancakes (though he may have intended to; he ate it all). "we have to go back to the supermarket" he insisted afterwards; i stayed outside and morosely smoked. throughout my mother was being far more patient than usual; it wasn't until the five-hour mark of the visit that she became snappy. they are finally accepting of a retirement home. it especially bothers my grandmother, who is reluctant to even have neighbors help mow the lawn. we got back to the house and he went into another room and shut the door. "you're leaving now?" he said, more as a statement, so my mother and i left and went our seperate ways, she to meet my father at a New Brewpub in olympia, me to drive back to seattle through rush-hour traffic, chain-smoking, blaring music but not bothering to sing along.
i am so afraid of growing old. not old as much as... compromised. that is why the ms spectre terrifies me so. at the restaurant i was the only person with non-grey hair and healthy posture. i felt somehow brittle by proxy, as if youth and health is somehow a fallacy, a delusion that lasts for a few decades to no real end.
in happier news: it was very slow at work yesterday. someone had brought in a great horned owl that had fallen from a tree in their yard. after a few hours of monitoring and realizing it wasn't going to improve, i euthanized it (22g through the heart) and the doctor dissected it for us. it was fucking fascinating. their trachea is bivalved. they only have one ovary, on the left. ("llamas are like that too" said the doctor. "they only carry in the left branch of their uterus. most animals favor the left.") their skulls are completely overtaken by their optic orbs and ear canals (which you could easily fit a nickel inside, if you were wont), their brains very small as a result. afterwards the doctor cut off the head to add to her skull collection. i thought she was kidding at first. "how do you get the meat off?" i asked. "do you boil it?" i had this creepy image of her smiling over a cauldron. apparently she puts it in a barrel of horse manure with some worms. "they do a good job" she said. veterinary medicine is a surreal vocation indeed.
as i was walking downtown tonight i felt that hypocritical, familiar pang of loneliness. then i remembered how i, inadvertantly or otherwise, pushed everyone away. "i don't deserve friends" i said aloud. somehow the alas!ness of that, the laughable self-pity, made me feel a small bit better.
Friday, November 10, 2006
a. susceptible b. lover of love c. befuddlingly optimistic d. taken
uncannily: after our first meeting post my grumpily serving the papers personally, we came back to my lair, he suggested van morrison, we drank a bit of wine, ended up professing our love for one another. the prior entry is eerily prescient now. oh god. if i think about it in any logical past-v-present fashion, i get panicked; "what the FUCK?" i berate myself. but if i don't muddle through the icky nuances, if i just allow the moment to be what it is, if i revel in how four month's passing seemed utterly nonexistent, if i cease to contain the shit-eating grin occluding my features... i am such a fucking hypocrite. spastic. the present is all that matters. yeah.
it is sleeting sideways. a scraggly man in a sopping anorak said "i hear it's supposed to rain today" as we waited for the light to change. i am full of good will today... tainted ever so slightly with the vertigo of the rug about to be yanked from underneath.
it is sleeting sideways. a scraggly man in a sopping anorak said "i hear it's supposed to rain today" as we waited for the light to change. i am full of good will today... tainted ever so slightly with the vertigo of the rug about to be yanked from underneath.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
benevolent exterior belies internal fisticuffs
i drove into lightning on the way home from work. every 2 minutes, the sky to the north would illuminate horizontally. it put me in a better mood.
i will not fully actualize how truly stressed i am until this enire divorce debacle is over. i have been slogging through a morasse of moroseness over the last few days. even the torrential rain hasn't cheered me. all i have done is work, drive to and from work, and feel tense. i want to fucking throw a tantrum and recieve a prolonged, genuine hug -not at the same time- and cannot seem to achieve either.
my new schedule means that i never see daylight, apart from sloppy commute towards tacoma, and that surely doesn't help. i get off and it's dark, cold, and everything is closed. i have fantasies of coming home to the smell of cooking, lights already turned on, van morrison on the hi-fi, a warm hand greeting my arrival with a slap on the ass. i want to be with someone who won't make me wince when i see them in my bed the next morning.
listening to air tonight. it is good for when leaves blow across the windshield.
i will not fully actualize how truly stressed i am until this enire divorce debacle is over. i have been slogging through a morasse of moroseness over the last few days. even the torrential rain hasn't cheered me. all i have done is work, drive to and from work, and feel tense. i want to fucking throw a tantrum and recieve a prolonged, genuine hug -not at the same time- and cannot seem to achieve either.
my new schedule means that i never see daylight, apart from sloppy commute towards tacoma, and that surely doesn't help. i get off and it's dark, cold, and everything is closed. i have fantasies of coming home to the smell of cooking, lights already turned on, van morrison on the hi-fi, a warm hand greeting my arrival with a slap on the ass. i want to be with someone who won't make me wince when i see them in my bed the next morning.
listening to air tonight. it is good for when leaves blow across the windshield.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
3 buck chuck
there is something quite eerie about this place. horrid schmaltz is playing on the hi-fi ("i'll love you 'til the 12th of never... and that's a long, long time") and faces are staring numbly at glowing screens. i cannot tell if i am exhausted or simply burned out. it poured today. one of my coworkers and i stood under an eave outside work, smoking, watching the torrent blow sideways, the puddles rearrange themselves, the sky dark grey at 3 pm. i drove home listening to pete sinfield, taillights blurred red, gliding. walked downtown with strong winds and wet leaves. tonight the city smells of garlic and meat.
this is the sort of melancholy that feels sensual. truly: few things are more anticipatory than sprawling languidly in a warm bedroom, an open window showcasing driving rain, a blanket scented of one's own skin.
'tis a full moon tonight, or nearly. go on, look.
this is the sort of melancholy that feels sensual. truly: few things are more anticipatory than sprawling languidly in a warm bedroom, an open window showcasing driving rain, a blanket scented of one's own skin.
'tis a full moon tonight, or nearly. go on, look.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
i get a fever that's so HARD to
spent all hallow's eve in surgery- eight hours, anyhow. first was the 3 week old puppy with the inguinal hernia and severe aspiration pneumonia who went into respiratory arrest mid-procedure; then was the 5-hr TPLO nightmare on ruby the german shepherd. i discovered halfway through the surgery that i am coming down with my first cold in 18 months- nothing like relentless snot whilst wearing a surgical mask.
there is something very satisfying about leaving work at the end of my shift and thinking "i fucking earned every penny today." pity that i am exhausted and unable to fully enjoy the costumed ribaldry around me.
i feel much better about everything now (see prior post, or don't). i obviously need to take a bit of a breather from my little hedonism-bender of late. abstinence is not for me, apparently, but there is definitely a middle ground somewhere. curses to my addictive personality! it is fascinating to observe what one's mind can conjure...
it is cold as fuck here. blazing tea, swing music, my hair lank and staticky... why, i could almost be back in anchorage.
there is something very satisfying about leaving work at the end of my shift and thinking "i fucking earned every penny today." pity that i am exhausted and unable to fully enjoy the costumed ribaldry around me.
i feel much better about everything now (see prior post, or don't). i obviously need to take a bit of a breather from my little hedonism-bender of late. abstinence is not for me, apparently, but there is definitely a middle ground somewhere. curses to my addictive personality! it is fascinating to observe what one's mind can conjure...
it is cold as fuck here. blazing tea, swing music, my hair lank and staticky... why, i could almost be back in anchorage.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
reflecting light, absorbing darkness
this is way too fucking personal to post on a computer, but i'm a fucking nit, so shall.
the debauchery of the last 2 months hit me with a wallop last night. i did mushrooms for the first time. it was a very interesting experience, a disconcerting fluctuation from ecstacy to bereftness, jitters to melt. i was sweating and tearing and salivating and having to urinate every 20 minutes. i never lost clarity of what i was and what the drug was doing to my mind- a very pleasurable facet of this particular high, much like acid. but then: we took a polaroid of ourselves and i looked fucking terrified in it. it was one of the most frightening things i've ever seen. to see fear in anyone's eyes, much less my own, is horrible enough. and my mood crashed. i became completely withdrawn. i was sitting on my knees on my floofy rug, staring at the seattle view, of the cars on i-5 zipping past like manic red ants, and i started to cry. i suddenly saw myself as a very lonely, silly girl... and as someone who is trying to reclaim an irresponsible youth that she has no place in. i was a sweaty fucking woman on yet another drug, with a second pending divorce, a chronic (however latent) disease, neuroses up the wazoo, and an oblivious 20-year-old BOY sprawled on my couch humming some stupid indie-rock song. what the fuck had happened to me? how can i feel so immature and so fucking irreversibly OLD all at once?
*
clarity, however artificially attained, is a bitch.
*
i ended up going for a walk, alone, at one a.m., sober. it was cold and windy. i walked quickly, enjoying the feel of my body moving, the air hitting my skin, the unbelievably lovely views from my neighborhood. the streets were lined with huge chestnut and maple trees, the sidewalk thick with leaves, windows of stately homes dark, clusters of pumpkins on front porches. i thought "this is who i am, this is when i am most pure: alone, ambulatory, appreciative." it is always therapeutic, meditative even, to hear the sound of my own breathing. i returned to my lair fairly reluctantly, knowing that he was upstairs (in the same bed, clothed). all i wanted was to be alone. i lay on the rug and played with the cat. the apartment building next door was having a very raucous halloween party. shrill laughter interrupted the sound of the wind.
in the morning, grey and cold, we left for me to go to work and drop him off en route, only to find that the place i'd ended up parking last night due to the party-clogging lack of options had gotten my car towed. there is a very specific feeling of desperation when looking at the empty spot where one's car is supposed to be. 2 bus rides, prolonged ass-freezing, a very fucking bad mood and $260 later, i rescued Pink from the barbed-wire cage in the sphincter of south seattle. i was only 45 minutes late to work.
i feel like i am fucking rudderless. i always feel fairly discombobulated and without purpose, but everything gelled in my mind a bit too fucking blatantly last night. i suppose i was simply, finally aware of what i already know.
the debauchery of the last 2 months hit me with a wallop last night. i did mushrooms for the first time. it was a very interesting experience, a disconcerting fluctuation from ecstacy to bereftness, jitters to melt. i was sweating and tearing and salivating and having to urinate every 20 minutes. i never lost clarity of what i was and what the drug was doing to my mind- a very pleasurable facet of this particular high, much like acid. but then: we took a polaroid of ourselves and i looked fucking terrified in it. it was one of the most frightening things i've ever seen. to see fear in anyone's eyes, much less my own, is horrible enough. and my mood crashed. i became completely withdrawn. i was sitting on my knees on my floofy rug, staring at the seattle view, of the cars on i-5 zipping past like manic red ants, and i started to cry. i suddenly saw myself as a very lonely, silly girl... and as someone who is trying to reclaim an irresponsible youth that she has no place in. i was a sweaty fucking woman on yet another drug, with a second pending divorce, a chronic (however latent) disease, neuroses up the wazoo, and an oblivious 20-year-old BOY sprawled on my couch humming some stupid indie-rock song. what the fuck had happened to me? how can i feel so immature and so fucking irreversibly OLD all at once?
*
clarity, however artificially attained, is a bitch.
*
i ended up going for a walk, alone, at one a.m., sober. it was cold and windy. i walked quickly, enjoying the feel of my body moving, the air hitting my skin, the unbelievably lovely views from my neighborhood. the streets were lined with huge chestnut and maple trees, the sidewalk thick with leaves, windows of stately homes dark, clusters of pumpkins on front porches. i thought "this is who i am, this is when i am most pure: alone, ambulatory, appreciative." it is always therapeutic, meditative even, to hear the sound of my own breathing. i returned to my lair fairly reluctantly, knowing that he was upstairs (in the same bed, clothed). all i wanted was to be alone. i lay on the rug and played with the cat. the apartment building next door was having a very raucous halloween party. shrill laughter interrupted the sound of the wind.
in the morning, grey and cold, we left for me to go to work and drop him off en route, only to find that the place i'd ended up parking last night due to the party-clogging lack of options had gotten my car towed. there is a very specific feeling of desperation when looking at the empty spot where one's car is supposed to be. 2 bus rides, prolonged ass-freezing, a very fucking bad mood and $260 later, i rescued Pink from the barbed-wire cage in the sphincter of south seattle. i was only 45 minutes late to work.
i feel like i am fucking rudderless. i always feel fairly discombobulated and without purpose, but everything gelled in my mind a bit too fucking blatantly last night. i suppose i was simply, finally aware of what i already know.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
both minted and minty
bless tower records... purchased 3 more cds today... including, at 25% off, the men at work album that i listened to OBSESSIVELY my first few months back in AK circa 1998... a cold, horribly depressing winter, driving to arctic valley in my subaru, staring morosely over the cityscape, 'what the FUCK' resonating cruelly in my head. i lost the cassette in one of my many moves. it will be interesting to hear again.
the week in technicolor recap:
friday: got lost in the bowels of puyallup, so did not see my grandfather. fetched friend from work, where they were operating on an otter from the zoo. it had torsed and necrotic intestines and ended up being euthanized on the table, but not before stinking up the place with a fetid fishiness. i took pictures that have not been developed yet. we drove back to seattle and drank port and played dice.
saturday: fucking beautiful. breakfast at randy's, a former denny's by boeing field, the interior disarming shades of orange and magenta, the waitress with her black beehive saying that she'll be back to take our order after her (mimes smoking) "attitude adjustment." went to the waterfront to find souvenir penny presses, then to play with his '60's polaroid beside a fountain as tourists glid by stupidly in their rented segways. drove to bellingham. climbed a hill in utter blackness to reach the 'watchtower' above WWU. saw the fog roll in from the bay. slogged back down the hill with no visibility and limbs numb from cold. ate excellent french fries at the horseshoe cafe. drove back in the same surreal mist, listening to 'blonde on blonde'; arrived at my lair to watch felix the cat cartoons.
sunday: up early to work the 10am shift in tacoma (my hours have been changed again). we parted in the white light of dawn. work... enjoyable, competent, busy. this week went by quickly.
tuesday: in the room of the place he's staying, reading aloud from each other's journals, at one point him saying "i could make love to you right now and mean it," the subsequent 48 hrs saturated with the knowledge that this is one of the fucking nicest things i've ever been told. it was hard to leave. practical, very practical, but i did bang my hands against the steering wheel once i'd turned the corner.
i was 'specialist tech' at work, which involved anesthetic monitoring during one dog's MRI and surgical assistance during another dog's hemilaminectomy. the doctor is a chatty sort. "do you like music during surgery?" i asked. "sure, my cd's are right there" he replied, and i opened the book to find... the backstreet boys, george strait... thankfully my surgical mask disguised my grimace. he did have blondie's greatest hits, so we blared that whilst cauterizing dachshund flesh. cautery is very satisfying. it smells like barbecue and makes a sizzling noise.
the remainder of the week... details, just clutter. i am very much loving my silly little life currently. it has finally gotten interesting in a not wholly negative way.
why did the chicken cross the playground?
to get to the other slide!
bless your clever, stretchy soul, laffy taffy.
the week in technicolor recap:
friday: got lost in the bowels of puyallup, so did not see my grandfather. fetched friend from work, where they were operating on an otter from the zoo. it had torsed and necrotic intestines and ended up being euthanized on the table, but not before stinking up the place with a fetid fishiness. i took pictures that have not been developed yet. we drove back to seattle and drank port and played dice.
saturday: fucking beautiful. breakfast at randy's, a former denny's by boeing field, the interior disarming shades of orange and magenta, the waitress with her black beehive saying that she'll be back to take our order after her (mimes smoking) "attitude adjustment." went to the waterfront to find souvenir penny presses, then to play with his '60's polaroid beside a fountain as tourists glid by stupidly in their rented segways. drove to bellingham. climbed a hill in utter blackness to reach the 'watchtower' above WWU. saw the fog roll in from the bay. slogged back down the hill with no visibility and limbs numb from cold. ate excellent french fries at the horseshoe cafe. drove back in the same surreal mist, listening to 'blonde on blonde'; arrived at my lair to watch felix the cat cartoons.
sunday: up early to work the 10am shift in tacoma (my hours have been changed again). we parted in the white light of dawn. work... enjoyable, competent, busy. this week went by quickly.
tuesday: in the room of the place he's staying, reading aloud from each other's journals, at one point him saying "i could make love to you right now and mean it," the subsequent 48 hrs saturated with the knowledge that this is one of the fucking nicest things i've ever been told. it was hard to leave. practical, very practical, but i did bang my hands against the steering wheel once i'd turned the corner.
i was 'specialist tech' at work, which involved anesthetic monitoring during one dog's MRI and surgical assistance during another dog's hemilaminectomy. the doctor is a chatty sort. "do you like music during surgery?" i asked. "sure, my cd's are right there" he replied, and i opened the book to find... the backstreet boys, george strait... thankfully my surgical mask disguised my grimace. he did have blondie's greatest hits, so we blared that whilst cauterizing dachshund flesh. cautery is very satisfying. it smells like barbecue and makes a sizzling noise.
the remainder of the week... details, just clutter. i am very much loving my silly little life currently. it has finally gotten interesting in a not wholly negative way.
why did the chicken cross the playground?
to get to the other slide!
bless your clever, stretchy soul, laffy taffy.
Friday, October 20, 2006
i like u. do u like me? yes_ no_ maybe_
i love autumn. last night the air around my neighborhood smelled of garlic (from the greek restaurant) and wet leaves. as i neared downtown the aroma changed to steak and chlorinated hotel pools. it was incredibly windy all the while. today is cloudless and my sleeves are pushed up. spent the morning with workers outside my window, trying to decoupage, watching helix vomit. he is fucking wasting away. for the last couple of weeks i cannot help but look at him through the eyes of a 'professional'; that is, if he were brought into the hospital as someone else's, how much disgust would i have towards the selfishness of his owner in keeping him alive so long? but then he purrs, or what have you, and my clinical resolve is squashed.
the tower records a few blocks from my lair is going out of business, so i bought 2 cds en route to my current locale (downtown, listening to dr. hook, drinking ginger peach tea...): nick drake and eloy, both surprisingly difficult to find in this selectionally discouraging berg.
when traffic clears i shall head to puyallup to see my grandfather for the first time since his stroke... grave trepidation about this, though he is said to be improving... and then to fetch vice-boy for a night of something platonic. oddly, the more my life is clogged with distractions, the lonelier i have felt...
cover your eyes! pathetic adolescent shite! what i want: a verbose, scurrilous, socially bewildered man. tall. my age. odd work schedule. local. marvelous musical taste, fruity-artsy, a litany of bad habits, liberal, cat-oriented, appreciates his mama but doesn't fucking worship her. simply is rather than describing his every trait. accountable. self-aware and self-deprecating. able to drive well whilst receiving fellatio. willing to buy me tampons when i need them. is not a vain, snively prick.
there are surely oodles more. however, i have mortified myself enough, so shall stop. tra-la. whatever.
the tower records a few blocks from my lair is going out of business, so i bought 2 cds en route to my current locale (downtown, listening to dr. hook, drinking ginger peach tea...): nick drake and eloy, both surprisingly difficult to find in this selectionally discouraging berg.
when traffic clears i shall head to puyallup to see my grandfather for the first time since his stroke... grave trepidation about this, though he is said to be improving... and then to fetch vice-boy for a night of something platonic. oddly, the more my life is clogged with distractions, the lonelier i have felt...
cover your eyes! pathetic adolescent shite! what i want: a verbose, scurrilous, socially bewildered man. tall. my age. odd work schedule. local. marvelous musical taste, fruity-artsy, a litany of bad habits, liberal, cat-oriented, appreciates his mama but doesn't fucking worship her. simply is rather than describing his every trait. accountable. self-aware and self-deprecating. able to drive well whilst receiving fellatio. willing to buy me tampons when i need them. is not a vain, snively prick.
there are surely oodles more. however, i have mortified myself enough, so shall stop. tra-la. whatever.
Monday, October 16, 2006
drugs were invented for people like me
staring at a blank screen. work was fun. the radio was on a station that played everything from prince to toto. one of the assistants sang along enthusiastically to "walk of life." i felt competent and mellow. now i am avoiding doing laundry. ah, the rigors of reality.
my problem, my lament, my ISSUE, if one will: i can never fucking settle on anything. i am so perpetually searching for the bigger thrill, the newer experience, no matter how detrimental, that i impatiently breeze past wholly adequate substitutions. i want my breath painfully taken away.
life is very interesting right now. how often can i truly say that?
my problem, my lament, my ISSUE, if one will: i can never fucking settle on anything. i am so perpetually searching for the bigger thrill, the newer experience, no matter how detrimental, that i impatiently breeze past wholly adequate substitutions. i want my breath painfully taken away.
life is very interesting right now. how often can i truly say that?
Sunday, October 15, 2006
or: fuck logic. just say yes.
after driving home last night, through rain and saturday-night revelers, sober, i began to feel really sad, and it took great willpower not to turn the car around. we had another great day, but now there is a weird undercurrent of melancholy because i told him how i was fairly incapable of being a Girlfriend right now. we were sitting beside a fire at the time of that conversation, friday night, drinking bellinis. "are you sure?" he asked. "no" i blurted immediately. "let me know when you change your mind" he said. goddamn him for always saying the fucking right thing.
i don't want to reveal my litany of neuroses to anyone. i already have with him and he seems to appreciate me anyhow. i wish i knew how things are going to be: with the bigger picture, with my health, with my divorce, with my state of mind.
i want to be in a stimulating relationship. sexually is *almost* an irrelevant priority. i want artistic stimulation, i want to be impressed by how they think, i want to see the world in novel hues. and this is how he makes me feel. i am a better human when i'm around him... for the most part. so far. fuck. here i go again, deprecating, sabotaging, overfuckinganalyzing, driving myself mad.
missing someone when they're not around: i am fucked.
i don't want to reveal my litany of neuroses to anyone. i already have with him and he seems to appreciate me anyhow. i wish i knew how things are going to be: with the bigger picture, with my health, with my divorce, with my state of mind.
i want to be in a stimulating relationship. sexually is *almost* an irrelevant priority. i want artistic stimulation, i want to be impressed by how they think, i want to see the world in novel hues. and this is how he makes me feel. i am a better human when i'm around him... for the most part. so far. fuck. here i go again, deprecating, sabotaging, overfuckinganalyzing, driving myself mad.
missing someone when they're not around: i am fucked.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
too fucking honest
i am a fucking hedonist by nature, augmented with an unwieldy amount of conscience. i have higher expectations for myself than what i often demonstrate. perhaps i am just tired from the last 48 hrs of mayhem and need some alone time, as i tend to get very twitchy and irritated when i don't.
chronological recount:
tuesday: swapped shifts so i could get off work at six. he had the same hours. i drove to tacoma in brilliant dawn, feeling quite jaunty, only to check my phone and realize that my mother had left me a message, informing me that my grandfather has had a serious stroke. he is improving, as of yesterday. got to work. was stuck in surgery for hours, trying not to snicker at the doctor's choice of crappy soft-rock on his ipod (tegan and sara, for example). left work, me hyperactive, him mellow, and drove to seattle in pink twilight. bought a fifth of bacardi. drank a healthy amount at my lair, then walked downtown with the rest in a plastic bottle. slurry-drunk by the time we got to the showbox. leaned against the edge of the stage and gushed over architecture in helsinki. somewhere along the way he said "because i'm drunk, i can say this: i really dig you." "i really dig you too" i replied untidily; we proceeded to maul one another. after the show i went to the loo, but the queue was too long, so i went outside to wait, but neglected to tell him i was doing so; they wouldn't let me back inside because i was, by this point, very repulsively inebriated, and i vaguely remember politely apologizing for my state to the disgusted bouncer. he emerged from the club and we staggered uphill, giggling, crashing into shrubbery, the sort of display i would roll my eyes at were i not the participant. no, we did not have sex. i am glad of that.
the next day: it gelled in my mind, as sun gushed through the windows, as i sneaked out of bed to let him sleep: he is a friend. he is a friend who i care very much for, and as such i will not fuck it up with weird romantic bullshit. there are too many caveats to this situation to list. suffice it to say: it is a bad situation, one that i am both admiring and horrified of myself that i even got into. we went out to breakfast at a bowling alley. everyone else there was ancient. it was a good vibe. the windows were tinted glass. the food was delicious. we went to the zoo. cloudless, red leaves, both of us in very good moods, watching spiders spin webs, the wide-eyed secret creatures of the nocturnal exhibits, staring into the kind face of an orangutan. greek food in fremont. sitting on the end of a dock in west seattle, wakes from invisible boats making the pier undulate, passing a joint, feeling like i was on a slow roller coaster into the heart of downtown. and then the abstract sadness that is still persisting began to set in. i became very introverted. i loved being around him but desperately wanted to be alone. i wanted to go back to my stupid apartment by my stupid self and read a stupid magazine and be depressed. why the fuck would i, at such an iconic moment, want something so pathetic? because it's familiar? because it's comfortable? because i'm more scared than i want to admit? we ended up renting 'broken flowers.' it is a good movie, but very ponderous and slow and sad. why it's touted as a comedy on the fucking sleeve befuddles me.
i was relieved to be back at work today, though incredibly self-conscious about the fucking hickey on my neck. none of my coworkers have mentioned anything about us, but it is fairly fucking obvious that something has been transpiring. but just when i get panicky about everything, when i start to suck into my own toxic head, he has a talent of saying or doing just what i need. and this is the truth that makes me stop and think "you know what?... this is pretty fucking cool, and i deserve to be happy, i deserve to have fun... and i shouldn't worry." when i dropped him off en route to the clinic, we smiled awkwardly at each other, then he said "come here" and i leaned in, tense about what uncomfortable thing might happen, and he kissed me on the cheek, and immediately everything was easy and right again.
ultimately, what? we are friends. i don't want more. i either want a really fucking good friend, like i have found in him, or i want some lothario i don't give a fuck about emotionally whom i can merely ravage. i am nowhere near ready for both in the same person. perhaps i never will be, or if i am, it will not happen. life has already demonstrated this to be a fucking rare, if not impossible, thing.
unrelated witticisms from the 253:
"tacoma: 200,000 alcoholics can't be wrong."
"glassblowing: it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye."
chronological recount:
tuesday: swapped shifts so i could get off work at six. he had the same hours. i drove to tacoma in brilliant dawn, feeling quite jaunty, only to check my phone and realize that my mother had left me a message, informing me that my grandfather has had a serious stroke. he is improving, as of yesterday. got to work. was stuck in surgery for hours, trying not to snicker at the doctor's choice of crappy soft-rock on his ipod (tegan and sara, for example). left work, me hyperactive, him mellow, and drove to seattle in pink twilight. bought a fifth of bacardi. drank a healthy amount at my lair, then walked downtown with the rest in a plastic bottle. slurry-drunk by the time we got to the showbox. leaned against the edge of the stage and gushed over architecture in helsinki. somewhere along the way he said "because i'm drunk, i can say this: i really dig you." "i really dig you too" i replied untidily; we proceeded to maul one another. after the show i went to the loo, but the queue was too long, so i went outside to wait, but neglected to tell him i was doing so; they wouldn't let me back inside because i was, by this point, very repulsively inebriated, and i vaguely remember politely apologizing for my state to the disgusted bouncer. he emerged from the club and we staggered uphill, giggling, crashing into shrubbery, the sort of display i would roll my eyes at were i not the participant. no, we did not have sex. i am glad of that.
the next day: it gelled in my mind, as sun gushed through the windows, as i sneaked out of bed to let him sleep: he is a friend. he is a friend who i care very much for, and as such i will not fuck it up with weird romantic bullshit. there are too many caveats to this situation to list. suffice it to say: it is a bad situation, one that i am both admiring and horrified of myself that i even got into. we went out to breakfast at a bowling alley. everyone else there was ancient. it was a good vibe. the windows were tinted glass. the food was delicious. we went to the zoo. cloudless, red leaves, both of us in very good moods, watching spiders spin webs, the wide-eyed secret creatures of the nocturnal exhibits, staring into the kind face of an orangutan. greek food in fremont. sitting on the end of a dock in west seattle, wakes from invisible boats making the pier undulate, passing a joint, feeling like i was on a slow roller coaster into the heart of downtown. and then the abstract sadness that is still persisting began to set in. i became very introverted. i loved being around him but desperately wanted to be alone. i wanted to go back to my stupid apartment by my stupid self and read a stupid magazine and be depressed. why the fuck would i, at such an iconic moment, want something so pathetic? because it's familiar? because it's comfortable? because i'm more scared than i want to admit? we ended up renting 'broken flowers.' it is a good movie, but very ponderous and slow and sad. why it's touted as a comedy on the fucking sleeve befuddles me.
i was relieved to be back at work today, though incredibly self-conscious about the fucking hickey on my neck. none of my coworkers have mentioned anything about us, but it is fairly fucking obvious that something has been transpiring. but just when i get panicky about everything, when i start to suck into my own toxic head, he has a talent of saying or doing just what i need. and this is the truth that makes me stop and think "you know what?... this is pretty fucking cool, and i deserve to be happy, i deserve to have fun... and i shouldn't worry." when i dropped him off en route to the clinic, we smiled awkwardly at each other, then he said "come here" and i leaned in, tense about what uncomfortable thing might happen, and he kissed me on the cheek, and immediately everything was easy and right again.
ultimately, what? we are friends. i don't want more. i either want a really fucking good friend, like i have found in him, or i want some lothario i don't give a fuck about emotionally whom i can merely ravage. i am nowhere near ready for both in the same person. perhaps i never will be, or if i am, it will not happen. life has already demonstrated this to be a fucking rare, if not impossible, thing.
unrelated witticisms from the 253:
"tacoma: 200,000 alcoholics can't be wrong."
"glassblowing: it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye."
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
'til my seas are dried up
five days in a row of work at the aec (see where i work! www.theaec.com)... busy, death-filled days. leptospirosis is once again rearing its hoary, zoonotic head. it is hard to deal with the same patients for multiple days and watch them slowly fade away. i had roscoe the dog in my arms as he was euthanized today. took helix into work with me on saturday to have his renal values rechecked. they were shit, as i expected. he is 6.4 pounds. he used to be about 13. he still purrs and licks his stinky canned food, but it won't be much longer. he sleeps on my cd books a lot. tomorrow i go to fucking olympia to talk to someone at the fucking court about my divorce. he swears he signed the rejoinder i served in february (agreeing to the terms of my filing) but they don't have a copy at the court, so i re-served his parents, and i got off work today to recieve the message that he isn't signing again, so i will probably have to file a default, and i am extremely fucking disgusted by him, the bullshit concept of marriage, and how much more difficult it is to get a divorce than to wed. it really should be the other way around. i want it over. soon, soon.
...i said this the first time i got divorced (unto itself, already a white-trash statement) but truly, if i ever get a bug up my arse to indulge in MATRIMONY again, someone best fucking kill me.
on an unrelated note: 'bubble' is a dreadful movie: self-important, tedious, annoying.
on another unrelated note: about a week after seeing 'blue velvet' (as aforementioned) i happened to be at the nitelite bar on 2nd ave (adjacent to the moore): a total dive, with xmas lights and hardened, older alcoholics slumped over their bottom-shelf $2.25 drinks- the sort of place that, were the bathrooms not so surprisingly clean, one would expect to leave with a case of scabies. and they played 'in dreams', roy orbison, and it was perfect and perfectly eerie.
pleasing things of the last week:
-my teapot still functional after i forgot to turn off the burner (i am on a boullion kick)
-ike and tina, over and over and over
-the ethereal dead jellyfish in the surf at owens beach
-being serenaded with a wonderfully cheesy '70's song
-plans to see architecture in helsinki on tuesday
-learning exactly what a 'dirty sanchez' really is (thanks for telling me, fellow female tech)
-hitting the vein on a seagull (though i was euthanizing it at the time)
the problem with 53 hrs of work in the last 7 days, plus 12 hrs of illogical commute: i haven't had much time for a life. obviously.
me: "how's it going tonight?"
hypersmiling man serving me tea: "i'm getting a migraine. but i'm treating it with coffee, and when i get off work i'll be treating it with beer."
...i said this the first time i got divorced (unto itself, already a white-trash statement) but truly, if i ever get a bug up my arse to indulge in MATRIMONY again, someone best fucking kill me.
on an unrelated note: 'bubble' is a dreadful movie: self-important, tedious, annoying.
on another unrelated note: about a week after seeing 'blue velvet' (as aforementioned) i happened to be at the nitelite bar on 2nd ave (adjacent to the moore): a total dive, with xmas lights and hardened, older alcoholics slumped over their bottom-shelf $2.25 drinks- the sort of place that, were the bathrooms not so surprisingly clean, one would expect to leave with a case of scabies. and they played 'in dreams', roy orbison, and it was perfect and perfectly eerie.
pleasing things of the last week:
-my teapot still functional after i forgot to turn off the burner (i am on a boullion kick)
-ike and tina, over and over and over
-the ethereal dead jellyfish in the surf at owens beach
-being serenaded with a wonderfully cheesy '70's song
-plans to see architecture in helsinki on tuesday
-learning exactly what a 'dirty sanchez' really is (thanks for telling me, fellow female tech)
-hitting the vein on a seagull (though i was euthanizing it at the time)
the problem with 53 hrs of work in the last 7 days, plus 12 hrs of illogical commute: i haven't had much time for a life. obviously.
me: "how's it going tonight?"
hypersmiling man serving me tea: "i'm getting a migraine. but i'm treating it with coffee, and when i get off work i'll be treating it with beer."
Thursday, September 28, 2006
dewy stamen, bruised petals
according to the cia 'personality profile' (www.cia.gov) i am a 'thoughtful observer.'
according to my actions of the last few weeks, i am also one of poor work ethic, silly stoner habits, and propensity of snogging boys drunker than myself.
tomorrow i go admire the ruins of the original western state hospital, a mental asylum in beautiful steilacoom washington. apparently the juggaloes have taken it over, but we shall be there in the innocent sunlight. is the juggalo thing local to western washington, traffic, meth, and horse-fucking capital of the united states? i rather hope so.
soberly i sip my iced blackberry sage tea. my inner librarian always wins the fight of personality.
according to my actions of the last few weeks, i am also one of poor work ethic, silly stoner habits, and propensity of snogging boys drunker than myself.
tomorrow i go admire the ruins of the original western state hospital, a mental asylum in beautiful steilacoom washington. apparently the juggaloes have taken it over, but we shall be there in the innocent sunlight. is the juggalo thing local to western washington, traffic, meth, and horse-fucking capital of the united states? i rather hope so.
soberly i sip my iced blackberry sage tea. my inner librarian always wins the fight of personality.
Monday, September 25, 2006
tail feathers ashake
it has been a week of lightening the fuck up, revisiting vices (responsibly, even!), feeling incredibly unmotivated at work, my agitation renewed this evening by contact with my kin... whom i love dearly, but i am too busy feeling optimistic to be reminded of everything i could possibly be worrying about instead.
this is my first night to myself in a while. it is peaceful and pointless at once.
from the past 7 days:
everything dying or being euthanized at work yesterday, two in my arms.
architecture in helsinki.
calling in sick, cough cough, and spending a sunny thursday hanging out with my work/vice buddy on 3 hours of sleep. that was a fucking good day: toy stores, greenhouses, hot tea, indian food, walking in the sporadic rain.
driving to blaine today, admiring the beast-scented bucolia of nearby lynden, deciding not to micturate on the shirt someone had thrown on top of the pile in the port-a-potty. sunny, hot, listening to french talk radio. i cannot enter canada until i replace my stolen passport.
deer alongside the road.
his friend's dog's "fuck bunny": a stuffed animal that the unneutered dog molested until all that was left was the head and a bit of stuffing. "it was crunchy and yellow."
banana chips dipped in tahini, a variation of the earlier theme.
the 23-minute yes song currently playing overhead.
the construction at my building. they are replacing the deck railing. at 7:30am daily for the last week and at least another. hammering, grunting, knocking down chunks of concrete, having boisterous man-chats. right in front of my window. the building is enveloped, christo-like, in plastic. i have no view, no privacy, and no circulating air. it is rather womblike.
my new work schedule, effective 1 october! sun-wed, 1-10pm! i have 3 fucking days off in a ROW (haven't had a consecutive day off in months, much less all 3) and fridays and saturdays... yay... perhaps i shall enroll in a trapeze class on thursdays.
lightening the fuck up is indeed the key to happiness. i have never been adept at this. but it is getting much, much easier lately, and i am having much more fun.
this is my first night to myself in a while. it is peaceful and pointless at once.
from the past 7 days:
everything dying or being euthanized at work yesterday, two in my arms.
architecture in helsinki.
calling in sick, cough cough, and spending a sunny thursday hanging out with my work/vice buddy on 3 hours of sleep. that was a fucking good day: toy stores, greenhouses, hot tea, indian food, walking in the sporadic rain.
driving to blaine today, admiring the beast-scented bucolia of nearby lynden, deciding not to micturate on the shirt someone had thrown on top of the pile in the port-a-potty. sunny, hot, listening to french talk radio. i cannot enter canada until i replace my stolen passport.
deer alongside the road.
his friend's dog's "fuck bunny": a stuffed animal that the unneutered dog molested until all that was left was the head and a bit of stuffing. "it was crunchy and yellow."
banana chips dipped in tahini, a variation of the earlier theme.
the 23-minute yes song currently playing overhead.
the construction at my building. they are replacing the deck railing. at 7:30am daily for the last week and at least another. hammering, grunting, knocking down chunks of concrete, having boisterous man-chats. right in front of my window. the building is enveloped, christo-like, in plastic. i have no view, no privacy, and no circulating air. it is rather womblike.
my new work schedule, effective 1 october! sun-wed, 1-10pm! i have 3 fucking days off in a ROW (haven't had a consecutive day off in months, much less all 3) and fridays and saturdays... yay... perhaps i shall enroll in a trapeze class on thursdays.
lightening the fuck up is indeed the key to happiness. i have never been adept at this. but it is getting much, much easier lately, and i am having much more fun.
Monday, September 18, 2006
blissss in sssibilance
(note to self: do not watch "blue velvet" directly before sleep ever again.)
ever have one of those moments wherein everything seems orchestrated for your benefit? i had that narcissistic experience en route to work. half the sky was blue blazing sunshine, half was dark ominous clouds- i love when the climate cannot decide. and on the radio, they played 'cover of the rolling stone', then 'ride on', THEN 'lay lady lay', and after i got petrol they played 'i put a spell on you', and i arrived at my toil feeling quite jaunty indeed. the tape i made for my friend at work was well-received... i do enjoy making tapes, archaic a medium as it may be. by the by, COOL SITE, postpunkjunk... as if someone made compilations from my own collection... i shall have to acquire the means to actually utilize it instead of being reliant on public terminals. yesterday i went into the Famous New Downtown Library for the first time. it is a very marvelous place, cement and endless ceilings, orange and yellow panels, intercoms somnambulous in tone, the ambiance the way i imagine someplace in tokyo to be.
it has been a day of excited happiness for no concrete reason... giddy. i must bottle this and splash it on my pulses.
ever have one of those moments wherein everything seems orchestrated for your benefit? i had that narcissistic experience en route to work. half the sky was blue blazing sunshine, half was dark ominous clouds- i love when the climate cannot decide. and on the radio, they played 'cover of the rolling stone', then 'ride on', THEN 'lay lady lay', and after i got petrol they played 'i put a spell on you', and i arrived at my toil feeling quite jaunty indeed. the tape i made for my friend at work was well-received... i do enjoy making tapes, archaic a medium as it may be. by the by, COOL SITE, postpunkjunk... as if someone made compilations from my own collection... i shall have to acquire the means to actually utilize it instead of being reliant on public terminals. yesterday i went into the Famous New Downtown Library for the first time. it is a very marvelous place, cement and endless ceilings, orange and yellow panels, intercoms somnambulous in tone, the ambiance the way i imagine someplace in tokyo to be.
it has been a day of excited happiness for no concrete reason... giddy. i must bottle this and splash it on my pulses.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
