05.22.02 where oft i sate


mom bought a house in davis this weekend. if my memory of the town and her description of the place are accurate, i think she'll love it - i know that she's wanted to live in northern california for a long time, and i'll be seeing a lot more of her in years to come.


i spasm a little at losing the house in laguna hills. i haven't really lived there for seven years, but my childhood nightmares were always about moving - my parents found that place when i was a year old. i planted my hands in the patio cement, walk of fame style, when i was a toddler - i would knock my wind out climbing and jumping down from the stairs for hours at a time - our first christmas tree sprawls across the corner of the yard now.


this may be one of the last stages of accepting my parents' divorce. it should have come months and months ago - feeling like a little kid, thinking only of threats to home and habits - but i made an unconscious point of reacting like an adult first.


i'll be glad for this feeling - backward or forward, it could mean that the cycle is complete. goodbye, house. i loved you.

05.20.02 for oodles and oodles


lovely, blustery weather carried over from yesterday morning. grey sky, moist air, people fighting their clothing up and down the street. my anxieties save themselves for the sun.


i was on the fence about shelling out for spider-man, but seeing bruce campbell on the big screen, bit part or no, was a joy - he appeared to have resigned himself to television when we heard him speak on halloween. sam raimi should remember him when the sequels start rolling in. as for the rest of it - leaps and bounds in special effects are a mixed bag. i'd trim a few milliseconds of the rubbery tarzan scenes in times square and invest in materials for kirsten dunst's stylist - red hair calls for new makeup. i'd also have liked to see tobey maguire hold on to his underoos from the early scenes. elements of mexican wrestling are few and far between in summer blockbusters, and why should that be so?


i miss southern california movie rituals. i paid a lot of money to see a lot of stupid films back in the day, and they were worth every penny - maybe runoff from hollywood contaminates the ground water, maybe i grew up stunted in such a way that i could sit through anything and feel that it was religious. the man who wasn't there was fine the other night, but it sucked in comparison to star trek 7 in high school. what the hell?

05.18.02 and you can't sing


still trying to plan another vacation. i'm far too poor to do anything now, but limited means work in my favor: as i can't pop to seattle for the weekend, i may as well sock away for something spanking in the distant future. buns day in iceland, for example -

Children especially love Buns Day because they get to wake up early to try to catch their parents still in bed. If they do, they "beat" them out of bed with their individually made Bolluvondur or "Bun Wands," which are colorfully decorated with strips of paper and gleaming ribbon.

or christmas in reykjavik -

When days are short, beloved folklore adds to the mystique and glories of Christmas in Iceland, so while American children dream of sugarplums and Santa Claus, little ones in Iceland are tantalized by visions of Gully Gawk, Window Peeper, Bowl Licker, Pot Scraper, Door Slammer - among others.

or the iceland airwaves festival - i have a theme, is the point, and will set about getting an empty water cooler jug for my spare quarters. i must go.


the argument has been that don delillo peoples his novels with minidelillos, and i'm afraid that great jones street bears it out. individual passages are entertaining, even poetic, but plot and characters - pish! i'm appreciating libra in retrospect, as the kennedy assassination stuff prodded the story along.

Just make sure you don't call it art. It's not art. It's back to before art. Fire-building and the fingering of testicles. The wonder of pre-information is that men perceived the earth and themselves actually in the process of changing. Zenko's been trying to create pressure along a fault with a series of very delicate TNT explosions. Just a few more in the right places and he'll have his small quake. The greatest work of art ever achieved. Except don't call it art.

i begin to understand what i mustn't do, and that is something.

05.17.02 your comical rage


a muddy little angst-cloud putters around the television set. it's joe's everest, after a fashion - he will watch it because it's there, and i can't blame him for wanting his life back. i still think that a bit of roughage belongs in one's cultural diet, though, and i want to watch rental movies. he mentions that we could move it to the bedroom, but i am too proud for that - i'm perfectly comfortable smoking on the porch in my underwear, but watching television in bed carries a special kind of shame.


a friend, an elderly technician at the hospital, has a karaoke machine tucked behind his front door; visitors need to sing to gain admittance to the house. i may work something similar into our entry rituals - a chalk board for haiku, maybe, or orders to perform a festive dance.


on the recent discussion of great closing lines, i would mention kerouac's dharma bums (a sentimental favorite) -

Then I added "Blah," with a little grin, because I knew that shack and that mountain would understand what that meant, and turned and went on down the trail back to this world.

05.10.02 surrounded by demons it's fantastic


the big cat and i have developed a tight little routine to get me to the office in the morning. when i limp to the bathroom he's already perched on the sink, cued with my alarm clock to play pat-a-cake through the shower curtain. when i open the door from the porch to the kitchen, i can hear his nails at the ladder on the other side: when i cross the threshold, he's at eye level, ready to straighten my hair. after i reset the alarm, he's in position on the coffee table for his last scritch. smart beast.


pretended i was rich today, picked up luna's romantica AND rasputina's cabin fever. j. notes that "rememories", from the former, sounds a lot like van halen; i can't stop tittering over rasputina's "pj + vincent & matthew + bjork". music pleases.


i am an active girl this week, as i am trying to avoid finishing mating in a single sitting. more on it soon, but sweet merciful crap is it ever good.

05.07.02 he will wait until


i've developed an almost excruciating sensitivity to light. with a single exception, i haven't driven the freeway after dark in six months - oncoming headlights spread so fantastically that i can't read exit signs. i favor teensy editions for my lunch break reading, as sitting in the sun only works if i can shade the pages with my head. longer hair has been helpful. i spoke to an optometrist who swore up and down that i have perfect vision; i think he sensed that i wore glasses without lenses in college. i also think he's a fucker.


new at work:
dachshunds won't vomit!
cats will nurse anything!
cosmetic testicles!


donnie darko disturbed me. i still can't handle the filmic bunnymen thing that's going around, and the therapy sequences reminded me that i was hypnotized at grad nite in high school. i took it in stride at the time - honestly, i spoke and danced more in that half hour than i did in the four previous years - but it creeps the hell out of me in retrospect. no rabbits, no trances in the movies for a while.

05.03.02 you don't have to sell your body


i heart craigslist. its jobs and apartments are wholly beyond me, but its barter/swap/free board -

- free, clean yogurt containers
- make me a sink skirt & shower curtain, i'll give you a massage
- TRADE new COMPUTER for used MOTORCYCLE
- free laboratory benches
- free aluminum crutches >> totally new!
- my 3-speed motor assisted trike for 1 burning man ticket
- 2 black bath rugs for 2 plants
- cute guys...do you have a lawnmower and want to party?
- FREE photos of your baby's birth

05.02.02 themselves and their friends


dear ethicist,


can i scalp tickets? i let ebay brutalize my sister (via my account) for a dave matthews show last month...if i made a few quick bucks on, say, limp bizkit and got her professional help, would i break even? what if i gave it to the poor? what if i bought other scalped tickets for myself and the show inspired me to start a good, cheap band?

05.01.02 du liebst mich nicht


ah, may. it's still quite blustery and the mission has yet to assume its customary summer stank, but the sinks in the treatment room are already squirming with poopy little babies. though budget constraints closed our neonate ward sometime last year, soft-hearted work friends are still trundling home with crates full of kittens. the hospital has taught me to paw through garbage in the spring - piles of junk on the way from the car to the office tend to mew. so much for the pet-friendliest city in the u.s. of a (i'd foster a few bushels myself, but homeboy isn't so more-pets-friendly. i'll probably thank him someday for checking my tendencies).


i neglected to issue a general warning about napa a few weeks ago. pretty, very pretty in fact, but as we were neither yuppies nor bachelorette party attendees, wine tourism was drop-dead boring. the bed and breakfast scene, in turn, is charming when one is on A Big Vacation - or, say, more than an hour's drive away - but i'm kicking myself for dropping $200 on barbie's dream cottage. it's nearly impossible to play scrabble in a hot tub.

04.28.02 you're the only one you'll scar


1. the seven a.m. smooth jazz blasts. i'm comfortable with people who enjoy their saturday mornings, but i object to elevator music at fist-pumping volumes. tell me, guys, that you're not rocking out to that downstairs - it just seems unnatural.
this eventually mutated into creed and lenny kravitz around twelve during the week.


2. her car is always blocking the driveway. it has emboldened his car, and the pair of them are always in my way when i'm late for an appointment or need desperately to pee. we're passive enough when he runs out to re-park that i think he thinks we have an arrangement. yeah, an arrangement where we pay for the garage and you block us for free. she just sneers like it's my fault.


3. the wafting meat'n'propane fumes. i've wished for a year that he'd grouse about my smoking on the porch so that i could say something about his nasty grill fixation. sometimes my lighter will materialize on a step i don't use - i think it falls to their porch and he replaces it. i'm afraid he'll complain about my piles of crap, and the wait is maddening.


4. they're poo-heads.


my body is having some sort of festival without my consent - i feel like an ewok knocking around in an AT-AT. more naps next month.

04.26.02 splashdown

pink moon out tonight: keep your eyes on the road.

the show last night redeemed an otherwise godawful week. bimbo's edges out great american as the purtiest venue in san francisco...it's an art deco mafioso supper club, complete with winking lights and intimate scarlet booths. as a co-worker promised, it made me feel grown up. the aquarium lacked its mermaid, but tanya - my god, that woman is a witch. most of the watchers had abandoned their tables and were swaying like snakes by the second or third song. as vinh will have the set list up in a few days, i will refrain from taunting paul with highlights (ah swoon slow dog the bees hot burrito #1 restless choo).

chuck's blood saved another life at work on monday. i promise him each time that this transfusion is the last, but i mean it now - he comes back so shorn and shaky. i'll get jude typed in case charlie needs him at some point, but i will get over forcing heroism on my cats as a general proposition.

i lie a little about the week's utter dreariness, for my roommate's visit was wonderful. yeah, i still call her that. no, i don't think it's weird.

can't actually talk about the bad stuff. best forgotten, really.

04.17.02 the contents of lincoln's pockets


san francisco gets all kinds of credit for the bimbo's show next thursday - it's difficult to loathe a city that brings tanya donelly within walking distance of my apartment. if i could find a decent burrito within the same radius, i - could learn to be happy.


stupid poverty trick #874: conversations gain infinite zest when one pretends that holes in clothing are mouths. my night shirt has a lot to say about truffles, for instance. joe and i should look to other people for entertainment, maybe.


sister carrie is - unusual. though dreiser is no genius, he doesn't appear to have lost any sleep worrying about it. i'm not learning anything new about the human condition, but i know more than i ever imagined i might about chicago and personal hygiene.

Her dresses draped her becomingly, for she wore excellent corsets and laced herself with care. Her hair had grown out even more luxuriantly than before, and she knew considerable concerning dressing it. She had always been of cleanly instincts and now that opportunity afforded, she kept her body sweet. Her teeth were white, her nails rosy, her hair always done up clear of her forehead. She had some color in her cheeks, a large soft eye, a plump, dainty chin and a round, full neck. Altogether, and at all times, she was pleasing to look upon.

we save the very deepest circle of prose hell for post-modernists.