Saturday, December 29, 2007
Friday, December 28, 2007
In other news, I got my hair cut today at the wonderful Chop Shop on South Street. My hair is now officially short. You can see my neck. I can't decide if I like it or if it makes me look as though I'm on my way to attend an elementary school soccer game with the other moms.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
I love my new digital camera. I am wary of taking too many photos of my house though because then you'll see all the cat dustballs like tumbleweeds cartwheeling across the dirty floor.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Thank you to all my aunties and uncles and cousins who were so nice to me and mom on our visit. And thank you to Carrie (and Padhraig) for watching the kitties and leaving me three presents under the tree to open for Christmas (one from each cat). And now, off to bed to dream of snowbanks, horses, and horses in snowbanks.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Tonight, we ate macaroni and Velveeta cheese and chicken nuggets. Even as I type this, Sam is putting together a train display for the holidays. He is meticulously setting up Lego tiers so that we can see all of the trains.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Sunday, December 9, 2007
My favorite piece in this show was a painting of a majestic lion dressed in 70s clothes; I believe he had on stripped pants and a belt buckle. He might have been even holding a glass of brandy in his paw; not sure (if not, it should be added). Lisa Marie and I interrogated him about the use of the phallic noses. I said, So, are you a big fan of Freud? He had three reasons at the ready as to why he does that. I can't recall exactly the three things, but one of them had something to do with the nose being the easiest facial part to remove or change ala Michael Jackson. I said, How does that relate to your artist's statement about human connections? He said, It really doesn't. In searching for his images, I read a review of his work that compares it to the Simpson's. I think that's a stupid comparison; his work is cartoonish but it's also a little dark; I mean, none of the figures he paints are particularly attractive; reminds me more of Crumb; edgy, shocking, a little grotesque but still very human and exposed.
Another piece I like of his is this one he has of a reclining nude man with a moustache and a li'l vulnerable penis (sorry, H.) lying to the side like its just exhausted. I love it because you don't often see paintings like this; we're all totally fine with naked gals and we have The Vagina Monologues and women have been objectified since God was a baby, but you just never get to see naked men posed in reclining postures, offering themselves up in all of their bare pink, white or browness. I thought he was doing a satire of a female nude; a tribute to a Modigliani or a Lempicka or a Matisse or any one of a number of photos in Penthouse. It turns out that he was inspired by Burt Reynolds suave nakedness in a 1972 issue of Cosmopolitan or Playgirl, depending on what kind of Google search you do. I offered to buy the painting from him, saying I would pay him $10 a month for the next 20 years. He said, It doesn't cost that much. We then struggled to figure out what $10 a month would amount to in that span of time and both came up blank. He said, Well, it's only $250. So then I guess I could pay him a quarter a month for the next two decades. Does that work? Also, he copied me and bought a red Christmas tree from Circle Thrift. I take full credit for it. He also promised to let me drive him to the shelter to buy a dog after the holidays. I hope we can go to a no-kill shelter; otherwise, I will end up bringing home two one-legged dogs, five blind cats, a llama and a miniature pony. But if you really want to be nice to me, buy me this painting:
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
But come on, this family was ridiculous; a wife and husband and their four adorable tow-headed children, all of whom were suffering from some life-threatening illness that would likely kill them before the end of the hour. It was some kind of blood disease or boy in the plastic bubble disease where they were allergic to oxygen and couldn't eat food but had to be fed through (discrete) feeding tubes. But of course, they were all also well-mannered and sweet.
I tried not to blame the parents for continuing to have kids after the first two were born doomed; I didn't see the beginning of the show so maybe they didn't know about the rare rare disease until it was too late. But if they did know, why did they keep having children? Anyway, that gross looking guy from EHM with the craggy voice and boy band haircut came in and asked each of the kids what they loved the most and they picked Star Wars, Winnie-the-Pooh, cowgirls, and I forget what the other one was. So, of course the people on the show then decorated the kids' rooms in thematic ways and gave them tons and tons of toys and Star Wars figures directly from Steven Spieldberg's house! And they sent the whole family to Philadelphia to a specialist who informed them that their kids could eat grapes and melon balls. We all cried.Next, they told the dad that CVS was going to pay for all of their kids medication and medical bills AND pay for the dad to go through medical school. We cried some more. At the big reveal, the family was informed that air ducts were built into the house so that the kids would only be breathing hospital quality air and they even had a separate, completely sterile kitchen for the mom to prepare their fruit and formula. The children loved their rooms and sang Winne the Pooh songs. Father was taken out back and given a huge SUV. I forget what else. But good Lord!
Next week, they're featuring a family where the daughter is severely handicapped and twisted up on herself in a wheelchair. Because of her physical difficulties, she can't communicate with anyone and I think the show centers around giving her the ability to "speak" through some kind of computer program. I will not watch it, I promise.
Spent some time this weekend walking around the city with Lisa Marie who needed to take pictures of words and images for one of her classes. She also took a few for me, namely those below. Look, look at the super scary Mrs. Claus who is about to attack the demure Virgin Mary in the forefront. And in the same window, we have the very cranky Baby Jesus surrounded by
cows, horses, and elves (not pictured). Finally, above left is the sign I passed for several weeks and thought it read "gentle" killing and was relieved.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
We first met at Julie and Danny's wedding, where my other friend, Jess and I were single gals living it up in our high heels. I danced a song (or two?) with Val and at the end of the song, put both hands on his face and said, I think you will go far. I think you are a very special person. Apparently, I had been watching way too many Dawson's Creek reruns. I think he said, Gee, thanks, ma'am. You're not driving yourself home, are you?
Reminds me of another time when I said the dumbest thing--this was at a Psi Kappi Phi party at FSU. My friend Cindy Harris and I were little sisters there, which basically meant that we were invited to parties and seen as options for making out with the frat boys. My big brother was the president of the frat so I felt really singled-out, then colossally disappointed when he informed me that he had a girlfriend and would never consider making out with a little sister anyway. I said, Haven't you read any Faulkner? It's okay to kiss yer sister! Anyway, what I really said that was reminiscent of my comment to Val/Matt occurred at the end of the party. There had been a band and we were dancing to 80s music on the basketball court outside of the frat house and as we were getting ready to leave, my big brother asked me if I had a good time. I said, Yes! I had a great time! I danced real hard! The record scratched and we were taken home to pull out our scrunchies and dream of future keg stands.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Got to meet Padhraig's sister and her boyfriend on Sunday. Padhraig made brunch and we got to taste real, smuggled in Irish bacon. Then we walked downtown and the Suzanne and Carrie went to the spa and Padhraig and Richard and I went to Macy's. We walked down to Borders and Padhraig found my book. They had five in stock at the Philadelphia store and a few in other area stores. Very exciting. They also had them alphabetized in the wrong place, but I asked the guy and he moved them. Richard bought one which I thought was very nice since I don't think the stories really appeal to 20-something men so much. Not one single narrator is a guy.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
In any case, I bought a very fuscia Christmas tree and also a silver wreath with pink. blue and yellow lights that I like very much.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Got to meet baby Ruby who is a dream child--didn't cry or fuss like the rest of us. I suspect she's not fully human; she must be part Sainted baby. I expected her to bless us at any second, holding up two fingers and waving them our way as most baby pope statues do. Didn't help at all at the house, except for being sure that the wine bottles were properly opened. Luckily, no one made us go around and say what we're thankful for because that inevitably turns cheesy and sad. We briefly played charades, but since I cut up all of the tags, I wasn't allowed to guess and could only act out movies. Stephanie's husband got one right away--I forget what it was--but I just did one gesture and he was like, The Fall of the House of Usher! Brilliant.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Maybe I'm being over sensitive, but there seems to be something desperate about all of this sudden holiday cheer, something Wizard of Oz about it, like, don't look behind this curtain, don't fret about this "war" in Iraq, stop thinking about how we might possibly be spinning into a recession and/or depression--instead, go to Old Navy or Macy's or Home Depot and buy, buy, buy in the name of Jesus' birthday. Or possibly I am all out of sorts because it's 60 degrees in November. Is this winter? Does this unseasonable weather have anything to do with global warming? Or should I just ignore all of this and go shopping for a bathing suit?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
You'll notice that I have not been giving running commentary on The Bachelor, in part b/c I keep missing it and also b/c I think there are only two of my friends who want to read about it and the rest find it irritating. But, I'm sorry, I have to say that last night's finale was the best/worst/best ever, because The Bachelor opted for neither of the women. None. He said, Pass! Next! to both. I wish, wish, wish, wish he would have then said, And I am also gay and in love with my twin brother, Chad, but this is prime-time network TV after all.
I really really want to start working on this Philadelphia window project. Every day, I pass these amazing decorations in people's front windows and wish I had a camera. I'd like to take the photo or have someone take the photo and then post the photo and a story next to it.
One basement window, for instance, has this drawing some kid probably did in his 10th grade English class in 1978--it's a sketch of the members of Kiss and it's sun-faded and I can't imagine why it's still in the window b/c whoever did it must have left years ago (reminds me of this boy I liked in the third grade, Rawl Brown. He was from Georgia or Tennessee or somewhere and had a Southern accent and all he did during class was draw members of the band Kiss on his folders. He once gave me four of the drawings to keep. I may even have them squirreled away somewhere. I thought he was an excellent drawer. From him, I learned and still remember the names of the band members though would be hard pressed to tell you even one song they sing. Wait! I just thought of one, "Beth." Didn't Peter Criss sing that? "Beth, I hear you callin'/But I don't know what to do..." Cast members: Gene Simmons--scary, bit the heads off of bats, had an extremely long, surgically enhanced tongue and white guy Afro; Paul Stanley --is that right? Can't recall what he dressed as; Ace Frehley--the space dude; and Peter Criss--the cat, and of course, my favorite. I imagined he was the sensitive one, probably because he played the drums and drummers seem to be the shyest members of any heavy metal rock band. ??).
Saturday, November 17, 2007
And "A Prairie Home Companion." Does Garrison Keillor narrate that show? I suppose he probably does and I have a love/hate relationship with his voice. Often, it seems as though he is talking while resting his nostrils on the microphone. It creates this muffled, intimate effect that causes me squirm. And who is the woman who does all of the female roles? Some of the shows are slightly entertaining and others sort of suck or aren't as clever as one would hope. Interspersed, they present folk singers who I imagine are on-stage wearing square dancing skirts ala the Lawrence Welk show. Perhaps I should try to write for NPR? But, like, what? Also, does GK sing on these shows? I think he does. I hate Lake Woebegon where are all the women are whatever and all of the men are whoever and all the children are above medium. And then at the end, they thank pancakes for sponsoring the show. Yet I continue to listen with a skeptical, knitted brow.
Wrote 2 book reviews for Philadelphia Stories today and have been rereading this story I've worked on for about a year; a crazy sister story. It's a mess. Some okay moments, but it's pretty derivative of Amy Bloom's story about the same thing (schizophrenia). Regardless of any complaints I have about my current job, it has taught me to be precise. To get rid of unnecessary sentences and words and to be suspicious of adjectives. Finished reading The Death of Ivan Ilyich, really a beautiful story that could make one feel less afraid of death. I need to read Goodbye, Columbus for class on Monday. I used to have a copy of the book, but I think I loaned it to Luke. It's one of Jamie's favorite books. I vaguely remember the beginning; some girl asks the narrator to hold her glasses. I often confuse Roth's book with The Graduate for some reason.
Had many vivid dreams last night, including one where a co-worker and I just decided to say fuck it and hook up, regardless of the negative consequences. It was so real that I woke up feeling guilty. I think this means that I need to start dating again. Meanwhile, even as I write this, the fat Henri sits on my lap, staring at me with wonder and fear, certain that I will strangle him if given the chance.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Ma come to the house and had the face of an angel and I thought about the fish and the horses and I said in my head, Ma is a horse too maybe a Palomino and then the dog barked and daddy shot off his rifle into the white sky, killing a broken-winged peasant or so I imagined as the sun streamed down onto my head sending stars and stars and stars around my burning eyes. What you doing, Jude? said Julian and he disappeared into the lake like something from hell or heaven, I don't know which. But that was long ago and I might have dreamt it all. Where did I leave them fishes?
I wrote a poem once that sounded a lot like Faulkner. It was meant to be tongue in cheek but I won this poetry prize for it accidentally (she said, modestly). I don't know what happened to that poem, otherwise, I would retype it here for your benefit, so you could wonder why I chose to use dialect.
If you are not highly focused and if you are not trying to bat a myriad of cats off your bed while reading Faulkner, you could easily get confused and frustrated and throw the book across the room.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Sunday, November 4, 2007
1. The Return of the Ex-Boyfriend. In this dream, I am either faced with an ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend and their exuberant happiness or, worse, I dream I am still dating the ex and haven't, in fact, freed myself of his body odor.
2. You're Late and You Forgot Something Very Important! This dream centers around school anxiety. In it, I suddenly realize I haven't been attending my M/W/F calculus course for weeks and am likely failing and there's a test in five minutes but I'm about forty miles away from the classroom and riding a bus going in the wrong direction.
3. Let's Put on a Show for the Dying Orphans. This type resembles the previous one; it has to do with a last minute production and having forgotten something; namely, the lines of a play that I haven't performed since I was 17 but the curtain is going up in ten minutes to a huge crowd in Yankee Stadium and we are without microphones and have only minimal props and costumes (though it's often a very traditional play which requires both swords and hoop skirts).
4. Hi-Ho, Kitties, Away! It occurs to me that these are all anxiety dreams and not so much nightmares. The kitty dream involves me having to look after dozens and dozens of kittens who keep slipping away from me under fences or getting caught in ravines or a pack of them will take off in five different directions across a meadow of knee-high grass. It doesn't always involve kittens; sometimes it's dogs or rabbits, but the point is that I'm faced with the impossible task of saving all of them when I can't even catch one.
5. What I Should Have Said. Purely an anger dream where I'm screaming the truth at someone who I have never before in my life said one cross word. This dream is often somewhat cathartic along with being frightening.
6. Bridges and Cars. I have two real life fears and they are high bridges with small guardrails and getting into car accidents. I can trace the first fear back to the collapse of the Sky Way Bridge when I was in high school. A ship crashed into one of the pillars and knocked over a huge chunk of the bridge. Dozens of cars careened over the edge and plunged half a mile into the Gulf of Mexico. We used to drive across this bridge while it was in a state of repair and you would look over to the other side where the bridge used to be and see nothing. My bad driving dreams involve me driving a brake-less car at high speeds while not having my contacts in.
7. A Date with Death. I've only had this dream a few times in my life. It's an apocalyptic moment where I come face to face with the Devil and he whispers in my ear, You knew this was coming all along. It's a mortality dream; the end, my death and everything else that has happened previously in my life is suddenly meaningless because I'm about to die and I know that afterwards, there will be nothing.
8. Gross. Occasionally, I'll have dreams that seem straight out of a horror movie; scenes of extreme violence and mayhem, decapitated bodies and blood and general ickiness. Frequently, they seem related to the Holocaust probably because of a short phase I went through as a teenager where I was morbidly fascinated with concentration camps and checked out way too many library books filled with black and white photographs of dead bodies piled on top of one another like firewood. My time working at Gift of Life Donor Program didn't help because every week, I heard at least three true stories of untimely deaths and sometimes, they even had PowerPoint presentations to accompany them.
9. Being Thirteen. Any dream which involves me going back to the time in my life where I wore Coke-bottle glasses and dressed in hand-sewn frocks and pinafores with lace and the occasional straw hat and sported a badly done Dorothy Hamil haircut which never feathered right because I was at that time taking a political stance on vetoing aerosol hair-spray, any dream that whisks me back to those days is a nightmare.
10. Crazy/Retarded/Really Old People. As someone who craves order and good behavior by all, dreams featuring individuals who do not follow the norms of behavior are frightening. I think this stems from a Downs Syndrome kid in our neighborhood when I was seven who once cornered me and wouldn't stop kissing my face. I was horrified.
11. Doll Within a Doll Within a Doll Syndrome. Oh, wait. One more. I can't believe I forgot this one; it's my most common nightmare. For some reason, I think it has to do with the epilepsy because the sensations in it are so real that I feel like it must be the result of some erratic brain activity. It's the dream within a dream within a dream where I keep thinking I've finally woken up, but I haven't. I can really feel things in this dream, often I imagine that one of my cats is attacking me and biting my arm or that I am stuck in my blankets and fighting to get out of them. The main objective of the dream is to wake up out of the nightmare. The scary thing is that I keep thinking I have woken up, only to discover over and over that I haven't. These dreams usually end with me finally waking up and having to force myself to stay awake for a little while or risk falling back into the same pattern.
Luckily, I don't have any of the other classically bad dreams such as being buried alive or trapped under heavy things. I guess this means that I have escaped the fear of claustrophobia. I don't have the falling dream either--the one where you hopefully awake before you splat on the pavement.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
In other news, Emma Carol has decided in the colder weather to plaster herself to me during the night, not allowing any of the other animals on the bed.
Okay, tonight, the Bachelor will be going on four hometown dates. I have no idea how we got this far into the season without me liking at least one of the women. First, we must do a twenty-minute recap and preview before we can watch any of the actual show which is only about four minutes long. Jenni with an i is a from Witchita, Kansas, someone else is from Atlanta, another person is from CA and another is from Mars. First, the date with JennI. BChad loves her still. He's running up the stairs to meet her at the place where she had her very first dance competition. Oh, dear, I think she is going to dance for him. Why does she keep scratching his chest? I hope she sucks at dancing. This is what I do like every day. She's tap-dancing. She's pretending to be embarrassed. Maybe it would be better if she had actual music. She's really not that great. They are now going to meet her mom at her mom's hair salon. What is she wearing? Black shorts and a terrible t-shirt. Turns out that JennI is white trash. They have a hair salon in their dining room. Granny is a pistol. Doesn't look like Granny likes him that much. JennI's sister is trying to get BChad to notice her. I think Granny is drunk. I can't tell if she's German or just really poor. JennI's mom is now washing his hair and putting her boobs on his forehead. She's giving him dandruff. Please, please, please, shave his head. Ths less pretty sister is now curling JennI's hair. Excuse me, but do people say "ya'all" in Kansas? I don't think so. Did we go back in time, because BChad is now negogiating the dowry. Oh, JennI made the team. F BChad. Go be a Phoenix cheerleader. They're making out in the hair salon.
Next date: Sheena and her drunk mom. I think they are in CA. Sheena is not for him. Mom and Dad are on a huge boat. Sheena has slowly surprised him into thinking she's just a tiny bit better than average. They are off on a tube boat ride. Sheena's parents have been married for 25 years. Mom wants to know his sign. He's a Scorpio, and so is Sheena's dad!! Mom is into the stars. Sheena makes sure that BChad knows that she isn't into horoscopes. Mom is ruining it for her daughter by going on about the Big Dipper. I think she must be high and she might be hitting on him too. BChad now hates being there. Sheena can't seem to notice that he doesn't care too much for her.
DeAna is next. It looks like this will be the most fun date since it's a Greek family who loves to drink ouzo. Canton, GA. Oh, horses!! I like DeAna, but why is she bringing him a basket of peaches? He admires who she is. I do like DeAna and her huge Greek family. He seems nice. The sister is cute too. Everyone is wearing red. She's adorable. BChad was born and raised in Atlanta. Dad seems nice; he's very friendly and not obnoxious. Another dowry question to dad. "Do you believe that this could be real?" Oh, crap, she brought out her photo album of her dead mother. I think he might like her. I can't tell. Oh, now the sisters are going to make out. The sister asks what she would do if he doesn't pick her. She says that she'd be extremely sad and thanks sis, for mentioning that possibility. No matter what, you know that mom's going to be watching over you, even though she's dead. They are crying and about to kiss. Here comes the adorable grandpa saying, Let's party! How cute. They are Greek dancing in the living room and doing 400 shots of ouzo. How does he stay sober. Stop yelling OPPA!! Are they going to make out or not. Yes. Again with the hands on her face. She won't go home. It will be between her and JennI.
Next up: Bettina and her snotty family who will tell him that he's a grave disappointment. The disaster date. Bettina weighs about 10 pounds. They are in DC. I wonder if she could have possibly dressed up a little more. She's wearing sweat pants and a tank top. The parents have a lot of money. What is that animal? I can't tell if it's a cat or a dog. Dad is a professor and is disappointed that ChBrad didn't go to college, that he owns four bars and that he has to stay out late every night. Stepmom is kind of a bitch. Dad loves the ex-husband. Stepmom is saying that he can't screw around with other people's hearts. Dad is telling Bettina that there are disadvantages--he doesn't have an education, owns a bar and lives far away. I think ChBrad is going to cry. Bettina just said, by way of making him feel better, Hey, I don't look that good on paper either. He said, Wow, I feel blind-sided. I may not have a college education, but I am smart enough to know better than to judge other people. Why doesn't anybody ever ask their political affiliation? He's probably a Republican.
I am pretty sure that Sheena will be going home and she can thank her mom for that. This is boring.
Okay, the rose ceremony. Three girls will stay and one will go home crying. Maybe Bettina will disqualify herself. I bet that if she doesn't win, she will be on the next Bachelorette.
DeAna is first. She's my favorite.
Second rose goes to JennI. Of course. JennI, will you do a little dance for me and why are you wearing your hair like that?
Third rose will go to Bettina. I bet. Sheena thinks it will be her because the stars said it would be so. Bettina wins. He only picked her because she's the beautifulest.
Sheena will be fine. She's only fourteen. He's walking her out to tell her why he didn't pick her. She's not crying. I can't believe it. She just told him that he looks nice. She's sweet. "I wish I was that guy for you, but I just don't think I am." Now she's crying on his shoulder. She needed a date the senior prom and now she'll have to find someone in her fifth period English class. He had to send her home because he didn't have the chemistry with her that he felt with the others. She is digging her claws into him.
Next week: 1 Bachelor and three women in Cabos San Lucas. The overnight dates!!!