fifteen minutes into my shift and I'm holding the muzzled front end of a horrible shih tzu sovthe doctor can swab a culturette over possible MRSA lesions on his abdomen. through the muzzle, the snarling little fucker bit me. it was just enough to draw blood so, per ACCES protocol, I am taking up space at the human ER on a busy Sunday afternoon... far more concerned about contracting MRSA and watching my arm rot off than about any bite. "you guys have a rough job" the intake nurse said cheerfully. said another nurse, "I have a shih tzu but he only has one tooth!" pets are so unifying...
after work last night I went to c's. he is truly a delight. we sat in his attic and drank tea and talked about... pretty much anything. a very attractive photograph of syd Barrett is affixed to the brick chimney that runs through the middle of the room. we agreed that it's crucial to always regard the world with wonder... smiling at each other in a "you get it, too" kind of way. I shall never be jaded, honestly. I drove home at 5, t Rex on the radio and the aurora bridge obscured by my perpetually fogged windows, grinning like I didn't know better.
*
you don't need to read "boy" by, I believe, James hanley. it has no redeeming qualitities and it's description of syphillis is medically inaccurate.
*
the nurse brought me a stack of magazines. Seattle, Health, More, or Victoria?

a shuddery sigh and a sleepy smile

stephin merritt!

...not bad for a handheld, 15 rows back.
they were brilliant, of course. the guy next to me was alone also. i politely asked him if he'd seen them before. he said no. at intermission he asked "are they always this... mellow?"
j turned me on to the magnetic fields. i have many, many memories attached to them. s dancing along to "totally meaningless." t buying me '69 love songs' because i wanted it, not because it was anything he'd ever heard of or would ever listen to (and he didn't). blaring the 'holiday' album on grey fall days. the crowd was thirties, dark frames and facial hair and quiet appreciation. they played at a venue directly across the street from my former apartment on first hill- i remember blaring them from the 9th floor, possibly singing along. i walked into the misty night smiling.
*
music affirms. it provides a sharp mark on the timeline.
*
the sky was mecurial today. the hiss of rain would give way to brilliant sunshine. even the downpours were somehow glowing. i sprawled on the trampoline and read an entire bukowski novel (another one- i have to pace myself because i can only obtain them new. the libraries and used stores are hopeless- too many pervs in this berg, i suspect).
today, at the lair. soundtrack: "primitive" by the groupies.

this is hideously cliche and i am reminded of that line from 'lost in translation'... you know the one. i have been experimenting with self-portraits. the others are not appropriate for a family medium.

a lyric from last night's opener (whose name i never heard): "the proud crowd all looks away as though they've never been lost or lonely/and no one's gonna save you."
*
pedestrians outside the window of the cafe i'm at walk west, pupils constricted against the setting sun.

budding, blooming... dripping dew...

it has been warm and sunny for the past week. the cherry trees are blooming and people are uniformly cheerful.
these multicolored carrots thrill me.

plans for spring/summer 2010:
-actual garden-on-deck. actual deck usage. i am going to hang lights and procure cheap seating and invite people over for refreshments. four years of living there and my utilization of the space has been meager at best... especially, sadly, since i quit smoking 2 years ago.
-yakima valley wine tasting... augmented with appropriate white-trashiness, of course.
-trip to vancouver when it isn't ass-cold and grey. the night market in victoria would be delightful also.
-a drive-in movie...
-more dance classes.
-hike something.
-sun tea.
-wear skirts.
i write this whilst wearing fingerless gloves and a sweater, "psycho killer" playing in the background... the night is clear and inky. it is easy to be fanciful when the future seems annoyingly intangible.
*
tonight s and i went to our new favorite sushi place. we had omikase. "anything you don't want?" she asked. "no." she declined all matters uni and the meal began. this was our bill. finances, woman! didn't i fucking vow not to do this?

i had never eaten a fried shrimp head, complete with eyeballs, before. it was delicious. the toro, OH MY GOD. the entire meal was fucking orgasmic. "you just watched me eat more flesh than i've eaten in about six years" i said after, grinning uncontrollably. "i am so proud of you" she replied.
we now have an unofficial standing weekly sushi date. i cannot responsibly eat nigiri every time... but even the cucumber rolls at this place are somehow better than others.
*
life is to be lived, after all.
*
today, walking towards downtown:

i immediately thought of what a cool lair that would be- why not?
*
tonight i listened to "my heart is a flower," a song i hadn't heard in about 15 (!) years. i remembered every line and laughed aloud at how time can fucking stand still so beautifully. suck me dry/til i wilt/til i'm nothing/til next spring.

ceiling fan shadows over empty barstools

this was advertising a brand of beer, but i love this sign regardless.

herewith, i shall vent about my fucking job.
our hours were cut last week, yet i mysteriously went from 3 shifts to 4 plus an on-call day. i have no days off together. i work thursdays 4-1, fridays 4-1, saturdays 9p-2a, sundays 4-1, and tuesdays on-call 4-12. what the fuck? c, who does the schedule, put her arm around me as she apologized. and i'm fucking pissed. i'm pissed because the place is going to shit. we're opening a satellite in renton in april and the plan is to cleave the staff between the two facilities- thereby restoring everyone from 3/4 to full time. this current schedule, therefore, is only in place until then... for now. we're all getting jacked in the meantime. i have far more responsibilities and no raise in 2 years. someone was fired a few weeks ago for "not living up to the core values of ACCES" (which they have framed on multiple walls of the hospital). i just don't fucking care. nobody does. and yet we are all so terrified of not having a job, of knowing that there ARE NO OTHER JOBS out there that do what we do, and honestly liking the place and our coworkers and the medicine we provide, that it's unwise to be dissonant. i mean, what's anyone going to do? there are no resources. we're all fucked. my frustration lies there- i hate feeling trapped, and i feel trapped. i wouldn't tolerate being treated this way if there were actually other options, but there aren't, and we all fucking know it.
i was looking at massage jobs online. they're all on the eastside, at spas and chiropractic offices, sounding odious on multiple levels. one place required we provide our own sheets to work in THEIR facility! fuck you, random clinic in issaquah! the pay at one place was $31/hr; the others didn't list their wages. i think "if i got totally desperate, i could do that... sell my soul to a fucking spa... i guess..." in the same way i think "i have a vagina, so i could always be a prostitute."
i would have to be desperate, i'm afraid.
*
today being my "on-call" shift, i spent it worrying that they were going to call. i seriously curtailed my normal activities... i spent only 15 minutes at a friend's birthday because i had to be in close proximity of my vehicle... i was stone-cold sober until i finally called work around 1030pm. "can i consider myself off-call so i can drink?" i blurted out. i didn't even neccessarily want one, but i hate being told i can't. and i resent the neurotic knot that the work situation has left in me; i hate walking on fucking eggshells in my own life.
at least i have a job.
i am very lucky to have a job. i do recognize and appreciate that. a lot.
it is 'nice' to know that we're all equally screwed. i am one of 60 people affected by this. i'm not alone. nobody is. that helps.
*
i bought my friend a cheap-ass bottle of champagne for his birthday. in front of me in line was a man buying his groceries with food stamps. i got a sick feeling- fuck, that'll be me. and i remembered anew how fucking lucky i am. i am very fortunate to be able to have a job to whine like a spoiled brat about.
i also found out that i can reapply for the avonex grant- the medication i take weekly for the MS. my income qualifies me for 2 years of free injections. without the grant it's about $1,200 a MONTH. i have been seriously worried about this for a while- i haven't had any real issues since i've been on the meds and the thought of being off them petrifies me, as hideous as they can be. knowing that i don't have to go bankrupt to keep myself healthy was a pleasant relief.
*
i fucking hate america. i hate that a fucking first-world country has to worry about such primitive shit.
i am an extremely disillusioned socialist.
*
went to brendan benson last night. i was in a flat mood- not the greatest for a concert environment. frank fairchild was sublime. brendan benson was endearing in a verse-chorus-verse kind of way. the drunken oafs seperating me from the stage kept slam-dancing inappropriately and the older man beside me had horrific flatulence. i actually left halfway through the set and rode the bus aimlessly, listening to "sh-boom" and feeling guiltily content.
the doors opened at 7. i was at the nearby thrift store until 845, reading "into the wild" for the first time. i was living in alaska when this happened (~1992) and recall the universal derision for this idealistic motherfucker. my boyfriend at the time thought he was cool, i remember. reading the story and thinking about how relate-to-able his mindset was- that whole fuck-materialism, live-off-the-grid, immortality thing- and how easy it is to think it can be applied to your own life, made me really sad whilst reading it. more than that, it made me feel really fucking old. i felt like slapping his fool ass into sense, not making him my personal garden of eden.
and it made me homesick.
but mostly, it just made me feel nauseous. it hit really close to home for no concrete reason. it was like reading about someone i went to school with. it was like knowing the future and watching someone walk into the building before it explodes.
*
it was in that mindset that i arrived at the show at 845. the place was as empty as i've ever seen neumo's.

i sucked on a nicotine lozenge and watched a pizza get delivered backstage.
*
this and every night, after the crowds leave.

i cannot wait for summer. i walked around for a while in a sweater, my coat slung over my bag. by the time i stranded my ass in broadview the sky was spitting rain and my coat was back on. the cherry trees are beginning to blossom. things are going to be fine, in their own convoluted way.
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i shall bend to the will of FANTASTICNESS!

first, a sexy plant that has evolved to collect and conserve its own nutrients, whilst still maintaining a shape that somehow reminds me of an open, willing mouth...

https://fortress.wa.gov/doh/providercredentialsearch/SearchResult.aspx
look! go on! fucking hell! it's awesome!

now i can exhale and humbly chronicle the angst of the last 2 months... the daily checking of this website, the bleatings on facebook of classmates getting licensed before i -i, i would snottily, silently fume, who took the boards before any of them!-, the general foul feelings of envy and frustration and helplessness and the delusions of "fuck massage, i already have a career, i never really cared about it, i just wanted something to do..."
i finally called the dept of health today. i went to the calder exhibit at the seattle art museum- he's already one of my favorite artists, but my fucking god. i think i like the shadows his pieces cast against the blank white walls more than the solid creations. "gamma" is my favorite- it reminds me of a time-lapse film of springtime. i asked a kindly guard if i could take pictures. he said no and thanked me for asking. i smiled and blurted out "damn!" i immediately apologized.
the silver prints from his NY studio were fucking awesome- photographs that were taken in the 30s-40s, full of shapes and shadows. yes, the beauty of calder is in the remnant left behind- that moment when you look at the reflection and it resembles a fish, or a flower, and then you realize your mind went somewhere you totally didn't intend it to go in imagining that... that is art. that is art to me, anyhow... anything that evokes a response you may have not anticipated in yourself.
um, calder...
so after i wandered through the exhibit (and revisited my favorite piece of SAM's permanent collection, "leda and the swan" by john covert) and was all lulled and mellow, but admittedly gushingly menstrual, i remembered the 2-month clusterfuckery of my licensure. "FUCK THIS" i thought, and i sat on an exceedingly comfortable wooden ergonomic chair in a marble stairwell, across from a statue of a camel, and dialed olympia. what had held up my license thus far? an LVT from alaska, 2002, that had been misread as "LMP (licensed massage practitioner)" that they needed a copy of (and upon realizing their gaffe cheerfully said "oh! don't worry about that. that one's for animals!", and a lack of a date for the taking of my boards. "it was september 22" i said. "i think. it was the tuesday of that week." "oh!" said barbara, the very nice woman whom i've dealt with for all my washington licensure woes. "there you are! you popped right up!"
i *should* be annoyed with the dunderheads in olympia for fucking up the last month+ of my life (and i *should* be annoyed with cortiva for fucking up the previous month) but i am not. i am elated. i have the "license" page on speed-dial on my phone. i was in fremont, holding a cup of hibiscus tea in one hand and cynically checking my status with the other, standing underneath an awning to avoid the pissing rain, and i fucking gasped. i squealed. i yelled "HOLY SHIT!" and started to laugh. i may have even danced. i don't quite remember.
*
i listened to "another way to die", the jack white-alicia keys collaboration that is REALLY FUCKING GOOD, whilst staring out the bus window and grinning like a fool. i am fucking proud. the world opens up in a way i have not allowed myself to acknowledge thus far. even if i never do anything with it, i could. and i remembered tonight how much i fucking love cranio-sacral. i am excited again. i feel like i finally fucking accomplished something with my admittedly scattershot life.
*
the tongue-plant above and this dewy li'l marvel are both from one of my favorite places in seattle, the indoor sun shoppe. today was fucking bleak. i am a greenhouse whore in general, and this place has humidity and succulents up the wazoo... and they're open several hours later than the volunteer park conservatory.

i believe their secretions are to trap wayward insects... this is a carnivorous plant. they become paralyzed in the sticky miasma! plants are fucking brilliant.
the "blue study" posted yesterday? NO LONGER APPLICABLE. i love the softness of this, how everything bleeds into itself. this is a curvature of the EMP, obviously. the sky was that fucking grey.

monday night? i found "vox" at the used bookstore. i reread it in one sitting. the last 'session' always makes me fucking squirm. an older woman was browsing nearby. i was studiously trying not to grind myself against the chair. oh brynn, don't write that! i carefully reshelved the book in its proper place afterwards. thanx vox, yr awesome 4ever!
*
i already love this dumb town, but today i love my place in it a little more.
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there are still gravelly alleyways in the heart of seattle. i love this route.

this is, admittedly, a terrible photograph- adjacent buildings prohibited me from aligning it to my preference. and it's generic as fuck. but i love the way the blue sky is reflected... a thin line seperates the structure from its background.

last week continued the pattern of "2010, not so much." luckily everything has crescendoed to the point where i am happy and well-humoured again; as the parlance goes, i am trying to Take It In Stride. at the end of my 13hr shift on sunday i got bit by a cat; since one of the other techs got bit a few weeks ago and ended up having to stay in the hospital for a week on IV antibiotics for severe tendonitis, we are all required to visit the ER any time a bite breaks the skin. i waited at the hospital for 3 hours, feeling inane, watching 'the family guy' and my inaugural episodes of 'john and kate plus 8' (OH MY FUCK) at 3-5 am. i was sent home with an rx for doxyxycline. i feel like i've been on a lot of antibiotics lately. that extra tweak in my circadian rhythm has fucked up the last 2 days. i woke at 5 this morning, went back to sleep around 9, woke at noon, and cleaned the fuck out of my house. i mean, my shower actually drains now. i was horrified by the amount of filth and debris i ignore: plant leaves caked with dust, the black mold on the outside of the toilet, long-forgotten chex scattered behind a plant. "i will never be this gross again!" i cheerily vowed whilst taking a blissfully un-clogged shower afterwards. the truth of this remains to be seen; i default to sloth all too rapidly.
*
this is from a postcard i have on my fridge. the boy is holding his dog; in the background is a mushroom cloud. this is one of the first photos i took with my iphone. i like the blur.

"i like the blur" should be in my obituary.

women will usurp men for sheer vulgarity, always. I love that about my gender. it was very therapeutic to go out, drink a lot, eat delicious sushi, and talk about everything from UTIs to faking orgasms to horrible sex with guys who don't realize it's horrible. we all agreed that "when it's right, you know." and I have never had bad sex with someone I truly cared about.
*
bad sex is your body's way of saying "why the fuck are you with this person?"
*
we're getting our hours cut again. spending about $100 last night on debauchery was bittersweet; I shan't do that again for awhile. the winter has been thuddingly slow at work; it was either everyone reduce hours or several people get laid off. I've lived on 3/4 time before. it'll be fine. p said "there's your incentive to do massage"- and once I finally get my fucking license (still pending in the system) I will. I need my ass kicked into motivation far more frequently than I care to admit.
On a financially hypocritical note, I enthusiastically agreed to go to Ireland in September...
*
i've started drawing again- going to the figure sessions that are held all over town. it is so narcotic. I love walking home with a graphite-stained arm. and I'm designing p's massage logo, trying to draw fucking hands. I really, really hate drawing hands... I don't think I can put mittens on a massage ad, unfortunately.
it is sunny, upper 50s, jubilantly springlike. I saw fully bloomed daffodils in someone's yard yesterday. the deck door is open. I can hear the oceanlike roar of the freeway.

unsaid

freedom extends before me as a white-yellow mass.
i am giddy and horribly sad at the same time. i hate feeling disposable. doesn't everyone?
fuck it. everything else is grand. that whole situation, the situation which is done now, only stressed me out. now i can stop feeling guilty for thinking about somebody else when i masturbate. ha! i mean, ha. in retrospect, that's an incredibly depressing sentence.
LET US MOVE ON.
i joined the "morale committee" at work to boost my own, i don't know, nonexistant morale. the fact of a "morale committee" existing in the first place causes my cynical soul to curdle. true job morale would mean: i have a job. this touchy-feely feel-good pap causes me much wincing. but i lie a bit. i volunteered to be in charge of valentine's day (ha! the IRONY!) and am quite excited. those valentine mailboxes made from paper bags, possibly decorated, filled with variations of "i choo-choo-choose you"? i'm totally gonna do that. everyone was equally happy about the idea. see, we're all inherent ten-year-olds, just inconveniently jaded. the morale committee (HEREAFTER REFERRED TO AS the MC) is responsible for svengali'ing the holiday parties, etc... lots of potlucks. in the faraway distant future, when we actually get raises again, it's supposed to count towards a raise. i am not holding my breath. meanwhile, who doesn't like free food?
part of this newfound onus involved me annoying everyone at work with my camera, getting candid shots for a bulletin board in the back hallway. someone usurped said camera and took a picture of me.

i was walking through the oppresive grey of pioneer square yesterday, taking pictures, when i stumbled upon this in an alley:

i stood under it, trying to find resolution in the completely crappy lighting, for about 10 minutes. everything about this moment: the bricks, the fire escapes, the radom plants, the red glowing windows of the street-level restaurant (not pictured), the puddles, my own frigid hands in fingerless gloves, was eerily perfect. i tried to send an email to s. my mailbox does not show that it was sent.
these are the instances where i am able to justify my life. perhaps i am destined to be a perennial observer, but goddamn if i don't recognize and appreciate my surroundings.
other good things...
-i start lindy hop in 2 weeks!
-my annual work review was on sunday. it was good. they couldn't think of anything to say other than "exercise more patience." i know. I KNOW.
-my neighborhood bar, at the bottom of my hill, is playing ice-t and making a redolent grilled cheese sandwich for someone else. totally weird: i had "it was a good day" in my head MERE HOURS AGO, apropos of nothing... specifically the line "and none of my friends got shot in south central LA." now, ten hours later, my world is a bit tweaked and this song plays. life!
-the white stripes cover of "the seeker" whilst staring out the window of the 44.
-moroccan mint tea
-a HAWKWIND T-SHIRT at a thrift store. i bought it, i'm wearing it. it is, as the parlance goes, buttery-soft. and lavender.
-a scary guy got off at the same bus stop as i. "who's your pick for the super bowl?" he asked me. we had a very nice conversation as we walked to the corner. i wanted to hug him and say "thank you for 1. proving my paranoia incorrect and 2. being nice to me when you absolutely didn't need to and i really fucking needed it", but i smiled and said "are the saints playing? i like new orleans, so i guess i'd choose them" instead.
-the last class of swing 2, level 3.
-aforementioned freedom of immature bullshit. this is one of those rare situations where i don't come across as the asshole! insert listless "yay". seriously, though, this does make me feel a fuckton better.
*
i am reminded of when j first told me he was leaving alaska, and me. we went to the office lounge and got drunk. he was cold and unsavory. i cried, as i do. i vaguely remember leaving. he followed me down the dark bike trail. i cloudily recall turning around and wishing him a good trip. at the time, i was surprised by myself- surprised that i could want him to have fun and prosper. but i did. i loved him. how could i have not wanted that? i walked the rest of the way home by myself, uncomfortably aware that this (after being in several relationships, one of which involved marriage) was quite possibly the first time in my life i'd truly pushed my ego aside for another person.
humans have to do that sometimes.
*
i did it tonight.
i'm not even mad. i'm relieved. sad. a bit pissed. but mostly relieved.
*
like i said, my mind is a promiscuous place.
*
behold a festering urine culture!

(at this point i try, and fail, to work 'the [aforementioned] MC' into an applicable, sentient sentence.)
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