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 |  probably stuff i think is funny. or aggravating. or both. |
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| i'm kinda pooped. my honeylove took me on a fabulously romantic weekend to prescott. ah love it up theyah. trees in fall colors, brisk evenings (30-40's), small town and everyone walks their dog(s) everywhere. shops keep snacktreats on hand for the pooches. teenagers' idea of raising hell is ambushing their friends in the park with water balloons. just the kinda place it is. we got back a little while ago. animals going nuts, like they do. then, they passed out. like they do. like i'm agonna. g'night, y'all. |
| have you voted yet?? well, get on out there! stop reading this! right now! go go go! |
i'm reading 'team of rivals' right now. i'm not a history buff, especially. i do like hearing about how people lived, and maybe reading about specific historical figures i know a little about. frank zappa jumps to mind.  so, i'm reading about abraham lincoln and his political rivals during the run for the presidency. sounds dull, no? well, hitch up yer britches, because this book grabs you from the get-go. literally. first page, and you're right there, in lincoln's office, watching him shiffle through stacks of paperwork, looking for a specific bit of information for his court case. you can see his homely face come alive with humor and intelligence. i have a little crush on abe.  what keeps hitting me, reading this book, is how, just 150 years ago, life was brutal, and short. women would give birth to 10, 15 babies, and maybe half of them would live to see adulthood. and women died giving birth almost as often. the average expected life span for a white man back then was 45 years old. and that's not even talking about minorities & their hardships. incredible. and with all this working against people, and people working against themselves much of the time, we still managed the ability to say things like: "Let every lover of liberty, every well-wisher to his posterity, swear by the blood of the revolution never to violate, in the least particular, the laws of the country and never to tolerate their violation by others. As the patriots of '76 did to the support of the declaration of independence, so to the support of the constitution and laws, let every American pledge his life, his prosperity and his sacred honor. Let every man remember that to violate the laws is to trample on the blood of his fathers and to tear the charter of his own and his children's liberty. Let reverence for the laws be breathed by every American mother to the lisping babe that prattles on her lap. Let it be taught in schools, in seminaries, and in colleges. Let it be preached from the pulpit, proclaimed in the legislative halls, and enforced in courts of justice. In short, let it become the political religion of the nation." at least, abe did. people are still thinking and saying insightful bits. and i'm sure people said all sorts of stupid stuff through the ages. we've piled a lot of crap on most of the planet, as we came across it & those who lived there. but maybe it's the time that forges the strength. maybe these people, back during the building of this country, were able to achieve what they did because it just plain had to be done. move forward or perish. jangle those brass balls. i'm wondering if we're on the verge of another of those times, when the success or failure of a working democracy is in the balance. maybe this is the turning point, what we decide to do, as a fairly influential chunk of the world population. or maybe the turning point was 2000, or 2004. maybe we're already on the far side of that scrabbly slope, starting the long slide to national collapse. that's a thought. i need to get some sleep. g'nite, all. honk...schwooo. |
| hey, also check out http://www.horrorfestonline.com!!! nov 17-19th, in 500 theaters around the country, 8 previously unreleased independent horror films deemed too graphic & disturbing for widespread theater audiences will be screened for our pleasure. some of these trailers look downright creepy. i'm looking forward to 'unrest' and 'grave dancers' especially. mmwuahuahuahuaaaaa!!!! |
| a friend sent me a link to this non-profit organization which helps small business owners in developing countries get a leg up, buy supplies, tools, etc.: http://www.kiva.org. individuals team up with microfinance foundations, which profile local business owners, their needs, and their necessary budget. these businesses are researched for viability, and the information is posted at kiva. loans go to these small businesses, and as they become successful, the loans are paid back. loans as small as $25 will help. check it out. visit the site, read the press, read about the effects these relatively small investments on our part have on these communities. maybe you'll want to make an investment that'd come back many times over. |
| okay, gotta story to write.....thinking, thinking......nothing. i got nothing. every idea's pedantic, dull. been done so much it's got an icepack between its legs. *sigh* must break loose!! do different thinking things with my head. or, think not so much. oh, if only absinthe were legal. squirrels? i'm liking the squirrels idea...squirrels with rayguns? saddles? mad squirrel disease? oh, what am i doing? i need ice cream. that'll help. |
| good god, won't someone help me offstage?? somebody bring me my cape. hey!! get down witchoa bad seff. i'm ambivalent, and about too many things to have any opinions. none i can get down on here with any cohesion. cohesion? coherence? whatev. and don't tell me it's cause i'm a commie liberal, either. my heart lies firmly within civil liberties' real estate--equal rights, abortion rights, gay marriage, preserving the environment, freedom of beliefs, wherever they lie. but i also don't trust the government to be able to really help with any of this. even if they do have good intentions. which i don't necessarily believe. definitely not with the current administration. i picture this country as a throwback to the wild west, somewhat. the 'authorities', such as they are, really don't have much control over what happens. what happens is driven by the people doing the doing. in the moment. the authorities might be able to come round later to clean up the mess, but in the doing there's no one to turn to but yourself. yourself, and those who'll help you out. regardless of what the 'rules' are. of course, the epidemic of bureaucracy we've created doesn't make anything easier. i just don't know what to do. what to think. what to hope for. not that i've lost hope. no, indeed. but how do i settle my head? one can only take so much disillusionment. so i sit, and i wait. i observe, and ponder, and gesticulate. (i do that a lot. i am partly italian, you know.) i am so voting on november 7th. in the moment, that's really all i can do. but picture me, will you, voting with one hand while the other's fisted in the air. then, watch me get it tangled in the booth curtain, and the little old lady monitor has to sigh and come unwrap me, because i won't lower my fist. my power fist. and she'll roll her eyes, because i'll be the fortieth person she's had to untangle from their voting booth, fists in the air. their power fists. right on, my brethren. VOTE, you fuckers. VOTE!!!! |
| i was walking down the sidewalk today, and noticed the breeze. what was especially cool was, as the direction shifted, and shifted to be moving along in the same direction i was, i'd experience moments of absolute stillness, within the breeze. momentary pockets of synchronicity, as i drifted along at the same speed, while i watched the trees swaying, and people's hair lifting around me. surreal, and enormously peaceful. it's the little things that make my day. or, maybe i need to get out more.  |
| howdy, y'all. (yes, i'm allowed to say that--i'm from texas.) one of the questions that's plagued me as long as i've been allowed out of the house is the question of friendship. what defines true friendship? we can all list examples of wonderful friend moments, when they help you get over that louse of an ex, or hang out & watch bad videos & laugh at the same things...that kind of stuff. but how do we know exactly when that acquaintance slipped over into the friend zone? what instigates that tiny shift in the brain (heart?), and how often is it reciprocated? or worse, how often is it not? we've all had that horrible experience of trying to become better friends with someone who, slowly, after many clumsy interactions, makes it clear to us that we're not quite as cool as we thought we were. or, maybe that is just me. which is one of my greatest fears. i'm impressed by friendships. situational friends, lifelong friends, mall friends and school/work friends. everyone has the general-use friends, who we can do anything with & have a good time. us girls call that person our 'best friend'. how miraculous is it, that we can connect with anyone? considering all the obstacles, from subjective reality to caffeine deprivation to myopic self-absorption...my god. how do we ever do it? and just being social isn't the same thing. don't give me that. and the best part is, if you take that 'r' away, 'friend' becomes 'fiend'. which is just so friggin' perfect. maybe there is a god. anyway, i don't really have any coherent point, here. i could ramble on ("ramble awwn", says robert plant, but at about an octave and a half higher.) for a long, long time about this stuff. i'll save you the headache and end it here. good night, my wdc friends. you know who you are. |
| i've been thinking about zombies lately. i imagine different situations, and what i picture myself doing, should a horde of the undead burst forth in the vicinity. of course, we all know i would die immediately, and re-animate to shamble along with the best of them. i'm no survivalist. i've never shot a high-caliber gun, or hacked into somebody's skull with a hockey stick/machete/serving spoon. but i like to think that considering the possibilities makes me a little more prepared than the average joe. and who knows? i could be an animal. but then, as a woman, i've been running these 'what-if' scenarios for years. as i walk to my car from work, or take the trash out after dark. even watchful, keys in hand, poised to take off if someone leaps out from behind the bushes, i know i'm outmatched physically. physically and psychologically. by the time this guy has planted himself in a strategically-advantageous spot, waiting for the lone chick (hopefully wearing a ponytail and heels--she'll be easy to grab, and slow to run), he'll be ready to inflict damage. he'll enjoy scaring the shit out of someone. he may enjoy hurting them as well. and he'll be fast, and brutal. so, he's not the undead, craving live flesh, relentless in his pursuit. but he's pretty damned scary, all by himself. and i don't have that instinctive blood lust. i've never intentionally made another person bleed. i would hesitate. i'm pretty sure i could make myself pee on him. i'd poo, as well, but like a loaded gun, that could turn against me in a heartbeat. there just aren't any guarantees, are there? hm. that was cheerful. |
| so, we lost the dogs yesterday. no, i'm not kidding. i come home from work, and usually there's bloody hell being raised behind the gate. yesterday, no noise. no scrabbling, or yapping, or jumping about. i ponder, "hm. wonder if P left them inside for some reason..." nope. nobody inside, either. i run outside, down the back alley (where OJ went the LAST time he escaped.) i'm thinking, geez, he can barely walk. how far is he gonna get?? i'm scanning traffic, looking for exploded dog parts in the gutters, then start scanning the neighborhood, half-expecting to find them curled under a bush, OJ whooped, and Daisy keeping him company. but nothing. i start to run worst-case scenarios over in my head: abducted by some sadistic freak so he can feed them to his pit bull, seeing them across the street, and then they start to cross in rush hour traffic to come to me, OJ breathing his last, right around the corner from where i've looked. if only i'd gone a few feet further... P's near to leaving work himself, but i call anyway, just in case i'm FREAKING OUT for no reason. "hey, babe. did you, uh, do something with the dogs?" long pause. "no....why?" yep. doggies gone walkabout. so, P races home, and we go commando on this shit. i start calling the area shelters & animal control, scanning the hard drive for recent photos to post up. i check at the nearby gas station, to see if maybe they passed by earlier. P's in the car, driving the local neighborhood streets. still, nothing. for lack of anything better to do, i take off again on foot, walking down the main road past our house. i get about a half-mile down, looking under brush & into people's yards (in case they took them in out of the heat), when this guy pulls over at the curb, and asks me if i'm looking for a dog. until that moment, i'd been fine. nervous, worried, but not hysterical. but when i nod, and say, "i'm looking for two." my voice is all shakey, and my heart starts racing. i realize how impossible it might be to find them. ever. but when i say "two", his face lights up. "here", he says, and takes a photo out of a fotomat envelope. "are these your dogs?" and OH MY GOD, he's got a photo of my ever-lovin' hounds. they look fine. hanging out. like nothing's happened. this good samaritan saw them walking down the MIDDLE OF THE ROAD earlier, and picked them up, along with a third dog roaming the intersection. still don't know who he belongs to. we'd given the pooches baths last weekend, and forgot to put their collars back on, so they'd been running loose with no ID, no microchip, no tattoo, nothing. if this fabulous person hadn't found them,taken them in, then driven to develop photos to start posting "found" posters, and exactly at that time, when i was simultaneously searching on that very street...i shudder to think. we were unbelievably lucky. so, we've got them back. they're fine, if OJ's hips are killing him. i can't believe he thought a roadtrip adventure in the desert heat was a good idea. i mean, he can barely walk to the water dish. which makes me wonder.....i'm gonna have to keep a closer eye on him. maybe he's faking for sympathy & cheese nuggets. could be... we tried to thank these kind people, who went so far out of their way to help some strange (and i mean 'strange') dogs find their people again, but they wanted nothing. they were just happy to have found us. we still offered them free coffee & books, when they came by the shop next. wow. nice, compassionate, generous people. in tucson. hm. so, this morning, when Daisy wakes me up by clubbing me in the head with her paw and breathing her doggy breath into my face, i'm just plain happy to see her. poignant moment, imagining not ever having found them, having to wake up every day without them eager to play, happy to see us. i read an article once, a woman writing about her dog. she said something about how dogs never want anything from us, they just want US. and i had to sit down & just hold miss Daisy for a few minutes, smell her doggy fur, feel her tail thumping on my leg. happy. so happy. |
| hi. my friend, ramona, just sent me the most incredible email, and i'm dork enough to want EVERYONE in the WORLD to read it. i hope she doesn't mind. "I was intrigued by some of your writings in the sense that they reveal both an almost spiritual hopefulness at times and a worldly despair at others. A longing for oneness and a sadness at the way some things are. Complex and multi-faceted. In some ways I feel we are so much alike, and in other ways I know we are different. But also, reading what you write is like eating a sweet, salty, crunchy, moist, tangy, aromatic, tangible word meal. Your writing is like food. It engages the senses." i am touched beyond words. good ones, anyway. i'm a fumbling boob. i am nothing, unworthy of such linguistic delicacy. but am i giving it back? hell, no!! my momma di'int raise no foo'. seriously, though. thank you, ramona. from the most profound corner of my soul. (which i think may be located somewhere near the pancreas.) i love you, man. |
| arrrrgh. avast, ye mateys. swab the deck, walk the plank, and hoist something heavy & boat-related. yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum. that's all i've got, but visit these people for authentic piratey banter: http://www.talklikeapirate.com/howto.html |
| i'm a mandarin orange! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** You are quiet and discreet, yet surprisingly sweet. You may be a bit of a mystery to some, but those who know you know that you are a sweetheart! and when someone cuts you open, you stink up the whole room. i found this quirky quiz:
go!! be fruity!! |
| today, i had erotic thoughts about pruitt taylor vince. the funny thing is, we were trying to keep eye contact...during...and well, you know. okay, yes. i made that up. i didn't have fantasy sex with pruitt. he came over and we did it for real, baybee!!!! i cinched him up good in a saddle, rode him around the house until he worked up a lather, then made him spread it all over me while i giggled & struck stunt water-skier poses. i just read back over that, and i meant it to be funny, but i kinda grossed myself out. i mean, water-skier poses? blecch. i should've picked something really sexy, like log-tossing poses, or tunnel-rat poses. now, THAT's thekthy. |
| i feel so dirty, but i can't stop. every night, i look for it, turn to it. i know it's wrong, but i need it. i watch myself, and feel ashamed. and i share that shame with P. we both feel pulled down to the depths of our need, our...habit. we don't speak of it, but we drink it in, we witness the depravity. the wondrous, limitless depravity. we watch law & order: svu. |
| i found the article i mentioned in my last entry. http://news.yahoo.com/s/huffpost/20060901/cm_huffpost/028478 i'm curious to know what you all think. |
| today, of course, is the fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the twin towers, the pentagon, and the downing of flight 93. i've followed US politics, in a general sense, for years. never terribly impressed by the posturing, the endless campaigning & doublespeak. it's a skill, i suppose. politicking. but i am amazed by our resiliency, us human beings. we assumed the world, and certainly the US would have to change, that day. those events, the motivations behind them, the heroics during and after, should have cut through all the garbage. should have distilled us all down to the one fact that we are human beings. terrified, in pain, grieving, lost. unsure of the future. picturing a military state, hollowed out buildings and empty streets, people living in a constant state of fatalistic paranoia. instead, we silly americans decided our strategy to come to terms with the horrors of that day....was to shop. keep the consumer economy going. if we change anything about how we live, they've won. how's that for denial? my workplace didn't even close for september 11th. the world was falling down around our ears, and they wouldn't close for one day. i'm not going to say i know the answers, or that i felt i did then. i was numb with shock and sorrow, like everyone else. i'm also not going to say this sort of thing hasn't happened in many other places in the world. in some places, people have to deal with this kind of senseless terror every day. in some places, like darfur, people can do nothing but wait for the day their own terrorists slaughter them. we know that's going to happen. it's happened before, in cambodia, in rwanda. and other places throughout history. and still, it's likely going to happen again. so, we aren't a singular event, is my point. we do this to each other, as a species. but as a country, we have underestimated the terrorist agenda, and those orchestrating it. the painfully honkey-centered assumption that we are 'civilized', and they are 'barbarians', has resulted in our complete lack of understanding of why this happened. why a group of people are willing to sacrifice themselves to make a point about someone else. then i read an essay, can't remember where or by whom (but i'm working on hunting it down again), that made a lot of sense. they don't want us eradicated. they want us out of the middle east. they want us to get our interests out of their oil. but they want us around to help consume that oil, to keep them rich. so, osama's successfully manipulated us down the exact path he intended. we are predictable, us americans. also, china's the next big superpower. we should start learning mandarin. i think that's all i've got for right now. except, i'm torn about all the 9/11 shows on tv today. it makes sense that here, in america, we'd be all obsessed about an american tragedy from five years ago. but we sure don't spend near this enough energy discussing tragedies from around the world. or anything from around the world, for that matter. it's all america, all the time. no wonder people who live here think they're the center of the universe. okay. now i think i'm done. thanks for reading. |
| i just haven't been around as much as i'd like, lately. why is that? i dunno. i drop in, read y'all's blogs, skip away in a haze of wintergreen gum and ennui. *sigh* and it's not you! you guys are great--you have so much vitality, so much humor & quirks & smarts. you're having experiences, and making huge life decisions right here & now! wolf! and i'm having experiences. i mean, life is nothing but a constant barrage of experience, right? but it doesn't feel completely real to me. i've always felt like i've been watching my life happen as if it were a movie. a silly, angst-riddled epic deeply in need of some serious editing. but removed one degree or two, just far enough to not affect me so much. (side note: if my life ever is turned into a movie, i want the girl from 'wonderfalls' to play me. excellent.) or a life-sized sims game. i can imagine the glowing mood meters above people's heads, as they go through their day. people working on fulfilling basic needs, and juggling the higher demands not quite as smoothly. sometimes catching on fire, when they're trying to cook something they haven't quite mastered yet. moments break through, and i'm not going into those (sorry), but when you guys think back over your life, what percentage would you say you clearly remember? 20%? 40%? i have the tendency to summarize events, like i did when i was in school, trying to learn huge amounts of...stuff; i gleen the essential gist, the meaning of what i've experienced, and allow the details to fade away. i remember my opinion of a book, or a particular feeling during a certain moment, but the juicy parts are gone. all of the 'how i arrived at that conclusion' information gone. the full story. i'm kind of embarrassed by that. i know our brains have to store information efficiently, that we don't need to remember every single tiny isotope of each moment to function. that we can't. i also imagine me lying on my deathbed, a long time from now, remembering the course of my life. i try to ask myself what i'll regret, what i'll miss, wonder whether P is there, holding my hand. hoping this will help me to live a better life now. i don't have a point. this feels selfish & self-conscious, kind of masturbatory, actually. and not in a good way. i feel silly, and i'd delete this, not post it. but if these things are supposed to be about ourselves, then i gotta leave it in. i'm prepared for the overlong, awkward moment with lots of side glances, and shifting of weight. jingling of pocket change, as you search for a believable excuse to get the hell outta here before somebody suffers a total meltdown and you're left to deal with THAT. i mean, nobody else will, and you can't just walk away. not with this poor schlubb crying in the front garden, shirt all twisted and stained, wailing into the begonias about the empty uselessness of their life, how they've always hated their name, how they just can't seem to lose that last ten pounds, and why can't they keep their whites fresh & crisp, like the day they bought them? it's sad, how they gray a little each wash cycle, and wilt, like life is just using them up, bit by bit. losing a part of themselves every time they face the day. kicking up potting soil with their heels. anyhoo, i understand. what ever made us think we deserved perfect happiness all the time, anyway? now, THAT's silly. |
| whenever people try to use this on me, i tell them, "no, there isn't. there're plenty of ways to say this." then, depending on what it is: "you have a rash that'd light up rockefeller center." "i don't love you anymore, but i'd still like to have really fabulous sex." "i ran over the cat by accident last night, and this isn't beef stew we're eating." "you remember that peeping tom we called the cops on last month? yeah, i did him." "honey, i told the duty nurse your mom has alzheimers, so they'd tie her down and keep her from calling. i hope that's allright." "you smell like cheese. roquefort." it isn't the saying that's difficult, it's the keeping from laughing. there's a book out, entitled 'the sociopath next door'. don't read it. no, do. wait. don't. definitely, don't. |
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it helps to know this kind of stuff happens to other people, too. 
