Shock & Awe

Le Misanthrope

Tue, 29 Jan 2008 18:04:25 GMT

So I like to act cool when people come over, and I say to them, "Whatever, if you make it, great, if you don't, that's fine, too." I like to put "regrets only" on my invitations. I hate people who pressure their guests for a difinitave answer within a certain time frame, like "Rsvp by Feb. 2"

Then, inevitably, I don't know who's coming to the party - and I worry constantly that no one will come - or, I end up waiting, as I am now, in a once-in-a-lifetime-clean house and wondering if this chick is going to show up.

Let me clarify - this place is clean, it smells good, jazz is on low from some room in the back - baby sleeping, I ate all bran for lunch - I don't, technically, want to ruin it with anyone's company. What I do wish, though, is to know if I could relax into the afternoon or not, or if I have to sit here and dread someone's impending arrival.

Yeah, and this is a woman I really, genuinely like.

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 19:28:30 GMT

WHAT? HAVE I BEEN RETARDED ALL MY LIFE? SINCE WHEN IS QUIXOTIC PRONOUNCED QUICK-ZOTIC? THAT'S STUPID, BUT BOTH THE DICTIONARIES SAY THAT IT IS -

HOW IS IT NOT QUEE-HO-TIC - AS IN DON QUIXOTE? THE BOOK IS NOT DON QUICK-ZOTIE, WHY- ?

AM I SIMPLY WRONG? OR HAS LANGUAGE CHANGED? I AM LOOKING THIS UP IN OUR OLD DICTIONARY DOWNSTARS.

I'm A Sociopathic Ass

Sat, 08 Dec 2007 17:40:51 GMT

Now that I've had this job for awhile, I kind of want to stay home, give literature lessons, and be a philanthropist again. This factory girl shit wears me out: you're supposed to go there and perform consistently, like, every day, and do all this stuff for hours or whatever. And you have to be there on time and communicate the correct information, etc. - and it's all over the stupidest thing, people are pissed off because they can't get mediocrity and filth broadcasted to them right NOW, etc. Oh - and, my God - I am supposed to sell people more and more channels. I don't even do that part, it's so embarassing, and I keep getting points counted off these evaluations they have.

Although I do enjoy filling out forms. I write in ink, purple ink, pencil, whatever.

And then - the people working there act amazed if I joke about something! The other day, this one person, said somehting about not knowing how to troubleshoot, and I just laughed and said I didn't know, either, and that "I just tell people lies" every time that particular problem comes along. The person I said this to looked so genuinely disturbed - and sad - that the next day I felt compelled to retun to the subject with a serious request for some technical clarification.

Well, I'm going to wire real greenery on my bannister before I leave so bye.

What the hell does this mean?

Mon, 26 Nov 2007 17:51:27 GMT

Children’s Book

Night, Mere
What if:
A baby kangaroo, wearing his best everlast and his momma’s Sunday pocket
watch, stole your plastic Barbie shoes?
Two tricksters, a neighborhood playmate & her cat, both named Tina, put him
up to it?
You woke up?

Old Lady Shit

Thu, 08 Nov 2007 13:08:53 GMT

Today is a day off from my call center job - I have two articles due either by this afternoon, or upon creation, whichever happens first. I hope they write themselves or something, because I can't imagine myself getting it done.

So, here I am, sitting down to Write Something Good. I'm in my writers' environment, which I've arranged purposely. I have(you can see I'm procrastinating): 1) an old teacher's desk, which is against my porch wall of 3 windows. It looks out on the rest of my porch, which I have decorated for halloween. There are two spider decorations, one on each of the outer windows. I have those gay webs outside, going accross the windows, artfully arranged with little pompom (I know it's pompon, but I hate that) and pipe cleaner spiders, with googly eyes, pinching up the web in the middle window. Then, I have web shit on my door, with a spider, too. Then I have that web shit on my black swing, which has a black and white patterned cushion - and an orange pillow from pier 1 and and orange and white sparkly ghostie stuffed toy thing. This last I got from Debbie, erin0610's mom. Then, I have three, diamond shaped fabric lanterns, with tassels, hanging from my plant hooks, with webs. Plus I have a weird old Halloween sign with a retro font and a sparkly pumpkin on the door. Finally I have two pots of dead mums on either side of the porch steps, decorated again with those webs and spiders. I'm such an ass, I bought those mums new for Oscar's September birthday party (moms were coming), because I was, like, "fuck it," and had let the summer flowers die - then I just let the mums die! I hate watering and nurturing plants. I had this irrational feeling, though, of wanting to get my money's worth, so I left them there dead.

There are four black bags of garbage on the porch, containing, like, eggs and meat, because I cleaned out the refrigerator - and dirty diapers. This is because I hate walking out back to throw things away. I keep expecting Spencer or the children to carry the garbage around and place it in cans, but they never do. It's been there since monday, and will be there, I'm sure, until friday.

Shit, I have to start this: goodbye. It's 7:11 and no one is getting up for school or work, because guess who's not up there to bitch. I'm tired, y'all, and fuled by caffiene and speed, that's what's up with the cussing.

Oh! now people are starting to walk up and down the street. One person has a bag and is apparently going to class, and one person, wearing a saftey orange stocking cap, is walking an obese black dog.

Mon, 24 Sep 2007 15:19:15 GMT

Oh, you know how sometimes I become instantly infuriated with people of something that is no big deal?

Well, this morning, I delivered to children to school. It's reqired by law. I took M. to a bus - I walked O. into the building. He arrived safely - he was not tardy. I left him, and then returned to my car, because I had to leave and get a nonfat latte because my Focalin had not yet kicked in. And I'm carrying the baby, and she playfully leans over - so I start playing "sack of taters," as my dad calls it, where she's parallel to the ground - like if you were going to theatrically carry some firewood or whatever. She's not facing the sky, she's looking down at the ground. She's laughing, and I was saying, like, "Sack of taters, sack of taters" and just generally fucking around.

I cross the street, and - there are tons of cars - and someone, leaving a parallel park directly behind my van, starts to slowly pull out where I am crossing. They gently stop, kind of half pulled out, and I continue to walk, around to my passenger side. Inconsiderate of me? I don't know, I wouldn't care if I had to stop for a jaywalker. I probably do it all the time. Anyway -

As I'm fastening the baby in the car seat, this woman - the parking lot monitor, I guess, because I've seen her before - comes up - and:

TELLS ME THAT I SHOULD HAVE USED THE CROSSWALK.

I - am - like - thinking, "Oh, holy fuck. No way." And I look at her, right, and laugh - I mean, come on!

So she laughs, probably not realizing I'm homicidal. "A car had to stop," she explains.

I'm still smiling, "You're kidding, right?" I say, jovially.

"Well - you know! The crosswalk!" By now she realizes I might totally murder her, so she starts to move away. "Anything to prevent accidents!"

So I nod, smiling, and, just to be annoying, I put pity and wonder in my eyes. I wrinkled my forehead to demonstrate scrutiny - like I have some genuine desire to understand - until she finally leaves.

I saw the damn car pull out. I can see how it might have looked like I wasn't paying attention, but I was aware of all of it. I hate to be micromanaged - and that just set me off completely.

Now I don't know whether to never, ever use the crosswalk again - or to use it constantly, from now on, with exaggerated care. Grrr.

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 15:43:23 GMT

NOW Oscar forgot his lunch. I have to take it at 11 and then get my eyebrows waxed at 12. This is during the baby's nap - so, she'll be cranky - and it's too long to leave school and go to the salon and wait - and - at the moment I am wearing the clothes I slept in and have not brushed my motherfuckin' teeth. About an hour ago - I thought my morning was completely free.

I worked - and I work later today - it is completely fun. For anyone who is thinking about "SECRETARY BUTT" - and whether or not I'll now develop it, rest assured - I am already on top of that concern. Like I'm going to risk anything now that I already have 3x of childbearing butt. I started out with a great butt before children - now, after 3, I would say its one step below average. So I don't want it to get any worse.

So - at work, for a snack - I ate some plain peanuts (and that was only because I was starving) and bottled water. Tonight I plan to bring raw vegetables - and -

VITAMIN WATER!

I LOVE this shit - more than fountain diet coke. It must have horse tranqulizers or some shit in it - because it is nutritious and delicious - like, liquor or chocolate or coffee delicious. It's at the store, everybody should try it. Fucking vitamin water.

What Kind of Fuckery is This!

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 16:05:25 GMT

Oh, shit - my favorite religious program, "Revive our Hearts, With Nancy Lee DeMoss," is on! So I am going to do some cleaning or something and listen until it's over. Then - It's time to consider, through writing, my new job at the call center.

PrePMS Musings: Some Self-Centered, High-Strung Shit

Fri, 31 Aug 2007 15:58:45 GMT

Oh, my mom (that is a groan). I love her, so I don't want to say anything disrespectful, but she's on her way here "to put groceries on [my] front porch." This is because, she feels, if she were to simply give me the groceries, I would leave them in my car and never, ever carry them inside.

This is a benign instance of what goes on - and - my therapist would say that I am to tell her, "thank you, but I can meet you at such-and-such place and take them from there. It's so nice of you to offer my family and I some groceries!" - Instead of wimping out and letting her assume this rather controlling, "caretaking" role, as I just did. Of course I said I would be here, she could certainly come.

I feel so bad, though, because I've had to limit her (unhealthy) involvement with the children, and I know she's lonely.

***

Secondly, an old, old, ancient ex-boyfriend of mine recently asked my current best friend, Angela, if she's seen me lately. She said yes, as a matter of fact, she'd seen me last week, when I refused to let her into my house, because I feared I looked "disgusting" wearing my glasses. She said he was, like, "Typical."

Sniff. She didn't call first. Well, she called, but I didn't pick up. How else can I write - see what happens if I answer? Someone always comes here. The thing is, I am mortified by the way I probably harmed that ex-boyfriend with premarital emotional intimacies that should have never been - but that were - because I had issues with my parents. Long story, but - I would never just mention him, casually, in a social setting - out of pure remorse - and, most definitely, out of respect for my husband. She said his wife was sitting right there. Grrr. Right or wrong, irritates the living hell out of me to be referenced, by him, at all.

***

Now I am not going to get any work done because my mom is coming. I want to quit writing forever because I have two articles due today - and - the one I'm working on - on signs, a subject near and dear to my heart, if I had one - they said sounded "like a term paper." Well, sorrrrrry if I'm not as conversant in platitudes, banalities and cliche as your other, "better" writers.

Oh - but - I'm so cool, I start my call center job after labor day.

Writer's Block: Time Travel

Mon, 27 Aug 2007 13:57:08 GMT

If you could travel back in time to spend a day with someone, who would it be and why?

H.D. Thoreau - naturally I think about this kind of thing all the time, and it would definitely be Thoreau. That would be during the day, obviously, and then I would head to Jack Kerouac-land or whatever at night.

Thu, 23 Aug 2007 15:13:03 GMT

Okay, so I finally addressed Oscar's birthday invitations. So chore number one that was making me sick to procrastinate is done. The addresses belong to preschool friends from last year and I don't know a few of their parents or last names or where they live. I was freaking, because Oscar is blithely looking forward to his party, talking about how this one or that one will come, and I hadn't done shit about it.

Next on the sickening list is the article about signs. I have decided that the only way to not freak about it is to write it, so that's what I'm doing now.

My friend Angela went to Mexico a couple of weeks ago and just dropped in with a bright yellow, plastic reusable grocery tote with Frida on it. It is the coolest thing I have seen in a long time. I think I am going to use it as a diaper bag instead.

Mon, 20 Aug 2007 15:34:27 GMT

MY EYE!!!!

I NEED NEW CONTACTS. I have been wearing the same pair of 2-week disposables for, seriously, about six weeks. Now, we use a stupid budget or whatever for our money, which fucks everything up, and I can't write any checks until Thursday night at the earliest.

If I keep my eye open for a few consecutive seconds w/out blinking then my eyeball dries out, which hurts, and the lenses feel like they're going to shrivel off. That shit can't be healthy. I have the most fucked eyeballs in the world - children are like, "Your eyes are cracked!" or "Your eyes are broken!" Because they're always bloodshot. Maybe because I have worn contacts for the last 17 years for 18 hours a day? And I haven't had a decent night's sleep in 11 years?

I feel like, if I wear my glasses, I have to be all done up and wearing black. It's a pain in the ass. Although - I do feel smarter. It's like, if I put them on, whatever I say becomes smart.

Just Thinking

Tue, 14 Aug 2007 01:07:27 GMT

Okay, so jealousy is not really one of my major problems. Certainly I can be accused of many things, but, in general, being envious isn't one of them. I mean, I got it straight, years ago, that my life circumstances are mine, and other people's life circumstances are theirs - and that if I feel inappropriately entitled to some good thing another person has probably chosen to cultivate, I should fuck off and look inward. That's my philosophy.

So, there's this one old - but hot - mom at my children's school. The thing I'm jealous of is not that she's well preserved (I plan to be that, myself, someday) - it's that she has this way of affecting this incredibly unaffected joie de verve and it always attracts everyone. She even elicits instantaneous pleasure in the faces of people with, like, character forged in fire or whatever.

And it's not that she seems particularly good-hearted, or spirit-filled, or anything like that - and she isn't outgoing like real-estate, either - she's just chic. But not in a money way. Whatever, though - it's like I said: everyone goes crazy - people don't strain to become vivacious when she's around - they just naturally come alive.

I think it's phenomenal. I wish I did it. I do feel like she always observes me, in particular, when I run into her (and apparently she decides she measures up favorably, because she always seems satisfied when she's finished the once-over and begins to speak).

Anyway, today, I was stuck behind her in the registration line, for, like, a year. She looked me over for quite awhile, this time, before saying anything - I thought, "Could she possibly not realize the [Chanel] sunglasses are fake?" That was just bitchiness, though.

But - it's time to fuck off and look inward. Looking inward, I noticed that: Even if I did nobly achieve admirable levels of spiritual, emotional and physical discipline and became that way, too - the way she is - I doubt I would ever really be that way. Which is why I'm not. And won't be. Ever. If you know what I mean.

Anyone else want a smoke?

Sarah's College Notebook-Cover Quote: Love is Dead - Fashion Lives!

Sun, 12 Aug 2007 15:15:48 GMT

Hm, so I am drinking coffee and am completely jittery.

Spencer is wanting me to apply for a job again, I think this time of year gets incredibly stressful because we have the kids' three birthdays, a high, end-of-summer air conditioning bill, and then the beginning of school. This, if I remember, is how I wound up woking retail last fall and Christmas:

September 2006: We were on the front porch, and Spencer was looking sadly at an impossibly expensive electric bill. "Don't worry," I said, patting him on the back, "I'll just get a part time job, and it'll be no problem!"

This, my friends, was a total fucking lie. I knew it was, he knew it was - at least, I thought he knew it was. Apparently he took my sincerity seriously. I was only sincere about trying to make him feel better so we could talk about Something More Interesting -

but, later, he got online and found me a job. "Okay," I told him, "but I'm only working in Cosmetics. Nowhere else." There were some questions to answer - like: List your three best qualities - and I told him to type these outrageous answers - like: 1) Attractive, 2) Diplomatic, and 3) Genuinely Enjoy Helping Others -

And - I felt very confident I would not get the job.

But - then, fuck, naturally, I got the job. Then - since I had it, I thought I might as well go to it and see - and then - I ended up working. Finally, last January, after inventory, I was able to escape gracefully.

***

NOW, it's about that time. He's on the war path. My freelance thing is going just fine, but it is irregular and doesn't pay enough. Fuck the marketplace, though, as if I was bred for any of that. I am torn between telling him to go to hell, I raise his children - and riding along with it, once more, for the fun of possibility. Distracted by the midget-races, tragedy unfolds, for her, again.

I am finally writing that article on old roadsigns - I totally like it. Until now, I've been dispassionately compiling information about benign topics of little interest - and then, ch-ching, occasionally cashing the (tiny) check. Now, though - I've finally tapped into a vein of ideas I actually care to communicate - and - it's a beautiful, heartbreaking relief. I thought love was dead, you know, and I'm relieved to have run across something resembling it, at least.

***

Meridith got a cookbook for her birthday and is in there cooking by herself. I feel totally obligated to get up and ruin it with micromanagement, concerned critique and other demoralizing aspects of maternal influence, but, fuck that, too. Good luck to her.

Sat, 04 Aug 2007 05:14:19 GMT

There was a bat in the basement! I flipped on the light and it swooped all around, and it was brown. We got out the children's butterfly nets, but now, of course, we can't find it. I shut the children in one room to sleep, because bats, which I kind of like, carry rabies.

I had never in my life seen anything like this - The Office, last night, was the episode with the bat. It was funny there, and it's funny here. Unless it bites the baby in the face and she gets rabies or something

It's gross to live down here in the city part of Peoria. There are bats - raccoons - and rats. The city, I don't know, drove rats out of this one area and then they all ran over to our neighborhood. We got this alert - and the clip art was a little rat - saying we had to cut grass, keep garbage covered, etc. Fucking sickening.

I stood on the stairs and Bitched Really Loud, imagining the frequency would humanely drive it away. Maybe it did.

A minute ago Spencer threw the Monchhichi at me and scared me half to death.

Thu, 26 Jul 2007 15:17:29 GMT

Thoreau's Journal: 27-May-1851
I saw an organ-grinder this morning before a rich man’s house, thrilling the street with harmony, loosening the very paving stones and tearing the routine of life to rags and tatters, when the lady of the house shoved up a window and in a semiphilanthropic tone inquired if he wanted anything to eat. But he, very properly it seemed to me, kept on grinding and paid no attention to her question, feeding her ears with melody unasked for. So the world shoves up its window and interrogates the poet, and sets him to gauging ale casks in return. It seemed to me that the music suggested that the recompense should be as fine as the gift. It would be much nobler to enjoy the music, though you paid no money for it, than to presume always a beggarly relation. It is after all, perhaps, the best instrumental music that we have.

Koehler's Journal: 2?-July-2007
What?! Methinks my journal sucks compared to his. Here's my entry.

I swam at Walden yesterday afternoon. I was afraid I looked fat, but my hair always lights up in sunsets, so I figured that canceled it out. Anyway - I have never seen a lake that wasn't disgusting - but - the water in this pond is so clear, you can see rocks on the bottom. Plus, they have the best moss here - moss like you read about in books, where it's like a springy carpet. We don't have that shit in Illinois. So - Spencer (himself on the bank) talked me into stepping down - they have these too-good-to-be-true rock steps that lead in - and - guess what! A FISH SWAM BY ME. Naturally I had mixed feelings about this at the time, but now that I'm out it seems amazing. Then Spencer and I changed and went swimming - and, when we got out - I felt physically tired and mentally refreshed, like when I was young. So - I said to Spencer - "See? That's why literature is cool." None of that beauty ever would have ever happened, in my life, today, if he hadn't bothered to write seriously about his life, back then.

Damnit, I can't quit you, journal! I don't have a mental health need to keep this thing, anymore, but - Kristenlou reminded me - I miss assuming the voice of the American Consumer, Shaped, from Cradle to Grave, by Corporations and the State (I made Spencer spend $40 in the Thoreau store, where I picked a t-shirt, a poster and three pencils) to tell strangers all of my Marvelous Things.

Sun, 01 Jul 2007 16:43:23 GMT

So I've gotten nonchalant about writing for these publications I've got a short article due today and I'm just sitting down to start it. I never thought I would get to that point six months ago when I started. It is really time for me to get a portfolio together and move on up.

Spencer is mad because I spent the extra $96 we had on some clothes - but, I don't know, I get really mentally screwed up when I can't pull it together physically. I bought about four outfits, an ass cover for swimming, certain foundations, a hat, shades and two pairs of shoes with that tiny amount of money, so you can imagine how difficult that was to do, and still look rich - but - of course he sees no merit in it.

But, forget it. I feel much better - I have been going around in things that are washed up/too small/secondhand all summer, so it had to be done. Plus, I've hardly eaten (exaggeration, I've eaten properly more often) since the last time I hung out with my friend. I'm making the smallest, slowest amount of progress. Did I mention we joined the Y and I can work out again?

All this is being mentioned in one string because it's like I'm more like me again after the pregnancy. I don't think I'm the only one that goes through this but I think I maybe take it harder than most. Anyway in the name of Thoreau I cleaned out my closet last night and heartlessly got rid of everything useless - there is this huge pile of crap that I never touched upstairs in the hallway now. It's so much more relaxing to know I've (almost) gotten rid of it.

So now I actually have to get busy and write. I'm only going to procrastinate until the end of this sentence, and then I'm definitely, definitely getting started as soon as I type the very last character of this entry, which will be a period, one of these: . Only that didn't count because it was just an example and I wasn't really through - If only I had typed the article instead of an entry I'd be done by now - or at least half done - .

Sun, 17 Jun 2007 15:44:36 GMT

I am so hot. IN a temperature way. We don't have our air on - I'm sick of paying them to the point of sacrifice for - electricity or whatever it is, gas - plus, I hate to be refrigerated in the middle of a scorched cornfield sizzling with locusts.

BUT - I'm hot, and I'm hungry and I have to write an article on CT scans - 800 words this time

Speaking of hot, non-temperature hot, I hung out with my friend Angela again - and, again, she was the one getting scoped. I can't believe it. I keep trying to cut myself some slack - her youngest child is five, and mine is less than a year - but, still, it sucks. I should have breastfed, then i would be totally skinny right now.

Anyway, that means I'm ready to start using the aerobic class pass I got for my birthday back in February.

Mon, 04 Jun 2007 19:24:18 GMT

Oh, wow, thank heavens I am done. I had three things that had to get done last week: Write/give final for class, grade papers, write an article about pets, write an article about chiropractic. I got four extra days to do the chiropractic, naturally I spent those dreading finishing rather than getting it done. It sucked because I've been neglected everything and everyone to get through it all. I'm so excited, I can do laundry or eat lunch (I see that it's 2:15) without feeling like "I'm going to be so screwed on June 4th."

Awake Due to Hunger - Eating Banana

Fri, 01 Jun 2007 08:20:00 GMT

Sweet, I've never heard of this one before:

HIGH-FREQUENCY ACTIVE AURORAL RESEARCH PROGRAM (HAARP)

The High-Frequency Active Auroral Research Program (HAARP) based in Gokoma Alaska --jointly managed by the US Air Force and the US Navy-- is part of a new generation of sophisticated weaponry under the US Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI).

Operated by the Air Force Research Laboratory's Space Vehicles Directorate, HAARP constitutes a system of powerful antennas capable of creating "controlled local modifications of the ionosphere". Scientist Dr. Nicholas Begich --actively involved in the public campaign against HAARP-- describes HAARP as:

"A super-powerful radiowave-beaming technology that lifts areas of the ionosphere [upper layer of the atmosphere] by focusing a beam and heating those areas. Electromagnetic waves then bounce back onto earth and penetrate everything -- living and dead."

Dr. Rosalie Bertell depicts HAARP as "a gigantic heater that can cause major disruption in the ionosphere, creating not just holes, but long incisions in the protective layer that keeps deadly radiation from bombarding the planet."

MISLEADING PUBLIC OPINION

HAARP has been presented to public opinion as a program of scientific and academic research. US military documents seem to suggest, however, that HAARP's main objective is to "exploit the ionosphere for Department of Defense purposes."

Without explicitly referring to the HAARP program, a US Air Force study points to the use of "induced ionospheric modifications" as a means of altering weather patterns as well as disrupting enemy communications and radar.

Thu, 31 May 2007 20:07:30 GMT

Look, live journal has an ad for a movie about getting knocked up. I literally felt sickened, watching the trailer, even though it didn't really say anything offensive. It's goes, A movie "about where babies come from and how grownups are born" - all blithely, like it's just some experience that happens...

Man, I did not realize I still get upset about this subject. I don't know if it's understandable through this post, I'm not mad, or bitching - I just feel kind of weakened, or somehting, and sad.

Huh. Some fucker just drove their big SUV through part of my front yard.

Wed, 30 May 2007 21:34:13 GMT

That's it I'm a socialist now. I am so sick of free market consumption - I totally think the damage it does, physically and psychologically, should be examined, or something, by someone. Everything is fucked with - prepackaged food, for example - so that it gratifies an impulse, usually base - and then the fucked with product does physical damage - over years - to, like, your cells or something. Also, another product - shitty entertainment - which sells successfully because it gratifies an impulse, eventually causing your brain to physically change. Plus, consider this - pharmaceutical companies and mental drugs.

I used to think it was a joke, and act like I was going to consume, in one way or another, any and every unnatural thing I could get. But, it's really not that funny, considering that I let my children watch the season finale of House, last night, and tonight I was planning on feeding them Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

I know I have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm just thinking out loud. I've been kicking around the ideas, though, of Thoreau for quite a long time - I like soy products and approve of locally-grown produce and the chickens my uncles kill - I should seriously start deciding the difference b/t how I think "some cool people probably live" and how I actually live.

Yeah, yeah - something brought this on, and I've been reading The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair - but -

In two minutes I'll probably forget my new resolve (thanks, my native cultural diet is comprised mainly of soundbites and Focalin) and turn on Maury, as I somethimes do, and sit there, watching advertisements for cheap automobile insurance, diabetes testing supplies, and payday loans and drinking a large fountain Diet Coke.

Plus, why does gas cost so much? Does that have to do with Iraq or Iran or wherever? I bet socialism could fix it.

I'm just saying, something is very fucked here, and I kind of want out of it.

Tue, 29 May 2007 20:44:24 GMT

Wah, last Literature class was today. They're graduating, and the school is closed. After 4 years, I totally expected them to be like, "Mrs. Stewart, we've become so profoundly influenced by this art form! The whole world is a text, and we use our critical thinking skills to read and evaluate our every experience! Thank you for pointing out false assumptions, like common sense and reality, and for showing us how to construct meaning without them! You're so pretty, we'll miss you!"

And then I thought they would cry or something. They looked appropriately regretful and glum, when they left, but - I think I think that life is just like that. What seems like it should be transcendent really isn't, nice things come, and they go, and you move on like it's nothing. Weird.

Anyway, the final was fucked up since I wrote it while drunk, that was too bad, but the concepts were sophisticated, I was proud that we had gotten so far.

Ah, now I'm sitting here writing an article and enjoying the daytime breeze and listening to birds. Fucking hot in here. I also need one of those old metal oscillating fans with new wiring.

I wonder if there's an etymological connection b/t transcend and transience

Tue, 29 May 2007 02:46:57 GMT

Looked out and be damned if I didn't see lightning bugs.

Spencer and I finally took down the three walls of medium pink vertical blinds and dark blue wallpaper with ditsy print. This decoration, belonging to Barb (previous homeowner), has hung in my porch room for almost two years in July. That's kind of a long time to "not get around" to something -

Anyway, we redid it, top to bottom, for $120 this weekend. Normally I would figure anything that cheap would have to look like shit, but we turned it into a really cool room. First - ten windows. We went to Lowes and bought off white vinyl roller shades for $6. I love those fuckers (roller shades). Zip! No bull or frill whatsoever. It's true that I originally wanted black linen roller shades from Smith & Noble, but I made a "concession." Went to Sears and bought some kind of vanilla or cream paint for $?. Went someplace else and bought arbor green (muted - just on the yellow side of true green) paint, which also cost $?.

Then we listened to a rock block weekend and worked our asses off - edit, fast forward, blah blah, because it sucked (was fun) - and, now, I'm chillin, drinking a cold one - digging the night air, the sounds of the city, and fireflies. Picture it. Three walls, ten windows - woodwork - minimalist roller shades, original chandelier and wall sconces, french doors, open, behind me. Ceiling cream, walls green. Black bronze (fake) switchplate and outlet covers to match ornamental vent (actually only 2 are fake bronze, the other 3 are plastic).

The best part is, Spencer moved my old institutional oak desk and sweet iron and oak chair in here. It faces the final 1/3 of the porch, the outside part - the swing, and, when I finally get some bedding plants, three hanging baskets and two pots. How great is all this for writing. Too bad I have 2 articles due 6/1 that I haven't started because I have papers to grade and a final to write and give 5/29 that I haven't started since I have to grab a cold one and make an important post to live journal immediately and without further delay

On my desk, I put: Retro telephone, silver - antique books - vintage typewriter, the old underwood Spencer snagged me from WIRL. I need: spike to stab notes on - and - poodle with coil to hold letters and mail or whatever, bills, Spencer probably has some I could use.

Then Spencer moved in his grandpa's brown couch and his other grandpas old rocking chair that is like a davenport in the form of a chair. It has this thickass seat and swirly arms - you would know what I mean if you saw it.

Anyway it turned out to be this great combination of his - what I call "normal" aesthetic - unpretentious is probably the word - and my uptight formal retro style. Why is that remarkable? Because it's rare that those two sensibilities combine successfully and manifest at all, let alone in a tangible way that might actually bring others comfort and joy.

The thing is, wouldn't it be cool as hell to - I don't know, silkscreen or something, real art onto the vinyl shades? In just black? I tried to find something like it, but I can't see anyone who does anything even remotely similar. Any ideas about how I could get, like, images of fonts - or portraits of thoreau and dostoyevsky - onto these? Andy? It seems like that would be way rad. And who wouldn't want a shade like that? Seriously.

Thu, 24 May 2007 12:31:50 GMT

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago -- never mind how long precisely -- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off -- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

--from Moby Dick

That lady outside is yelling at her kids again. I'm writing the final, and, on Tuesday, we're done forever. I think I'm going to look back at the time I spent with those girls and realize it was wonderful, you know, even though I think it sucks right now.

Oscar is funny, he actually says "Good Morning," when he gets up every day. I think I'm like, "Fuck, where's drugs," when I get up every day, but -

ha, he also has this other habit where he wakes up, speaking - he'll spring awake, in the middle of a sentence - this is true, too, no exaggeration - about the inevitable ruin of Captain Cold, defeated by forces of good, or something like that. Whatever he's talking about, anyway, it's usually about a super character and triumph.