Found Notes, Violence, and Music

I've been doing this thing in the morning where I get up early and write for a tiny, tiny fraction of time (like 15 minutes) and then walk up 10th to get on at the South Street subway stop. That's how I'm adding exercise and music to my day. The song I'm currently re-in-love-with on my i-pod is Rilo Kiley's "The Good That Won't Come Out," from The Execution of All Things. Julie and Danny and I went to see them in Philadelphia years and years and years ago in this small church basement place where everyone was sweating and swaying and you could just feel the retro-Jesus vibes from Sunday school bouncing off the walls in time to the drum beat. You cannot help but love this song. Look it up. You will like it. I promise.

Anyway, today I spotted a piece of lined notebook paper with writing on it lying on the ground and since I have a history of picking up trash and adding it to my decor combined with an intense curiosity, I picked it up to read. I thought it would be a high school note from one girl to another, the kind we used to pass in the halls between classes: "God, geometry class is sooooooooooooo boring!!! How is the Pythagoreum theorem going to help me get a date??" Instead, it read something like: "Once you get this note, walk into the house at 8xx Watkins St. and rape Paul who will be waiting for you. Then make him dress up in a maid outfit and give him a hickey on the left side of his neck. Go on in. Tell us when you are ready for us to show up at your place. He will do what you say." I thought maybe I should save it for police evidence or something, but instead, I shoved it in an empty pizza box in a nearby garbage bin. But now this could be evidence in case someone files a report? It occurs to me now that nobody probably passes notes anymore. They just type text messages. That's too bad. There's a cerain art to folding a note to pass that will be lost and also, it's fun to read an entire note instead of listening to your anatomy lecture or whatever. I never passed notes to boys, only girls, mostly this girl with pretty red hair named Kirsten. She had lived for a few years in Saudia Arabia and I thought that was so cool. We also wrote a book together; some fantasy thing where we would exchange chapters. In 9th grade, I liked unicorns a whole lot.

Should I start writing a weekly blog update about Project Runway ala The Bachelorette? I've never watched a season of it, but the premiere of the fifth one was on last night and I kept flipping between that and Clean House (whenever I watch Clean House, I think, Oh, yeah, right, a chore chart! Good idea! And then I toss a napkin on the floor. I did take LM's advice about my ant problem last night and moved the cat food. That felt like enough housework for one night I put out traps too, but mostly, I just smash heartlessly smash them with a book. And that works for about 5 minutes. Then more arrive. I smash them too. I expect I've killed about 55 out of 13,000 ants, so not too many more to go). However, I don't know if PR would make for good on-the-spot blogging because it's a little harder to make fun of as the contestants actually have to illustrate some creativity and talent by fashioning dresses out of grocery store items (the challenge for last night). The first guy to get booted made a dress out of a shower curtain and a tablecloth. Another girl constructed a necklace type thing from lettuce and cherry tomatoes. She stayed. Just don't know if I want to take on another weekly show, what with my incredibly busy social life.

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