5:49 p.m.||||2001-11-07
This is me, "uh, what?" O.K.
I am trying to fight my instinct to take my dulled old sewing shears and carve myself some new hairstyle.
On the way back from Chicago last year - about three months before I got pregnant - my car (yes, same one) broke down in Angola, about 80 miles away from the stupid rock act I was supposed to perform with that weekend. I had moved to Chicago w/D on a TOTAL whim in order to escape the small-town derision we were sure would be our punishment for doing something so untowards as falling in love. A lot of crazy shit followed...we worked almost every day we were there, we had no permanent residence, we lived in a hotel, but we were about to to get a place...blah, blah, blah. I had committed to returning to HERE for shows, agreeing I could get tapes in the mail for practice. (That's all I did in the way of practicing, anyway, with the help of a 4-track. That band was a total non-connect.) So that first return trip was the last, because we had no money to get the car out of impound in Angola...we were gone for a month.In the bathroom of the truckstop where we waited for the drummer of my band (and ex) to come rescue us, I was so struck by the irony of all this that...I bought a pair of children's scissors, a tiny straight comb and gave myself a four inch improvement. In partial retaliation against the now ex-friend who had given me the Chicago cut anyway. What a good cut I gave myself. Empowering.
Man, the baby bottle is sitting close to whatever beverage I'm drinking, so I keep reaching for the bottle by mistake to find myself poised to take a swig. Hel-LOO!
A couple days ago I spent maybe fifteen mintues looking for my glasses which were clenched in my right hand.
I'm left-handed, coincidentally. I'm also a pisces.
Right now I am wearing pale blue maternity sweats that are so ridiculously huge I had to roll over the waistband three times so they don't fall down. Completing the ensemble is an oversized thick lumberjack undershirt. And black flip-flops with beads. Gotta have some sparkle.
My hair is still growing as fast as if I were pregnant. My nails, too.
****************On a different note, last night on a news blip, "dubya"(I love that,heehee) actually pronounced nuclear "nuk-ya-lar".
Shit people, if we can't rely on the president to uphold the King's English - who can we? As I told D, "dude, I'm as vernacular as the next motherfucker, but come on! Someone should tell him that there are people in the world called intellectuals who are the kind of people who like to make fun of mistakes like those". He's holding court with Quail somewhere in potatoE land.
In the past halfo an hour, I got drunk on three beers and had myself a fashion show. Witness before and after Brill Cream, ha ha.
O.k. I know my html sucks. I mean mine does. Any weird shite you see with dumb photos fighting margins is MY FAULT. Molzo is the one who made everything work! But I get in these moods...and I dream about code even though I DON'T KNOW HOW TO UNDERSTAND it. Seriously, though, when I do? I might even get a job.
It is too hot in here.
So guess what? I just realized what the code is to indicate hard returns. I swear, if you stare at code long enough it begins to say things to you. By the way, if you're here, please go to yesterday and check out the link to that story. It's from a wonderful book and the author is so existentially driven...mmm.
Aren't we all, sigh.So I have this to do list, already.
1. BIRTH STORY
2. Site for my son
3. Reorganize favorites so I can keep all y'all straight.
4. Encourage those of you w/out notifiy lists to get them, so as to provide my morning therapy. I mean, I live for updates, far and varied...and since there's probably a reason why you don't have one (uh, privacy?)...please sign into MY list, which so far, includes two very lovely, but ONLY two, ladies. You can always cancel later...but why would you want to? I'm cool and sane and everybody likes me.
5. Do a dummy rescue of an entry that fell into cyber-space - I found it in my html changing place, and I can't remember writing it and I don't know where it went but it spelled out an awful lot about me and I get so tired of repeating myself. Which I do, often. Sorry. If you find it somewhere else, sorry again.
6. Post another story by abovementioned lovely author.
7. Take a photo of my tattoo and post that -
8. Create a links page where I can feature all of you lovely, lovely, varied and diverse people. Is that o.k.? by the way, the SPARK rules, I love my neighbors. And MAMAs you, too, ROOOOCCCCKKKK!
O.K. I'll see how this goes...I'm gonna start with the rescue of my previous deep words. Aa-ight? Thank goodness someone spelled THAT out for me because I wasn't sure how you would. By the way, if you're looking for a great read in a dialect, Irvine Welsh's "Trainspotting"...difficult for maybe two pages, until you know that "ken" = "know", is a great book. Especially if you're an Iggy fan. Or if you've ever been a addict.
Finally, if you know how to code an underline (I know that novel's are underlined - I'm no fool) or an underline or italics, please tell me. Molzo?
P.P.S...as you read, you will surely say, but she has bolds and underlines and italics Dood! That is because my new favorite neighbor, Heckafresh, who also likes Del! and Poor Righteous Teachers! literally interrupted this entry to give me the solution to my per-oblem! Thanks man! If your guestbook lets me I'm gonna sign some more!!!
GEOCITIES SITESHORT SHORT, NOT MINE BUT IT ROCKS
There will be more - this was damn near impossible to get typed up in the first place. It is however the first installment in a series where I try to demonstrate what I used to read. It's a short, short by an author from Quebec, by the name of Suzanne Jacobs...here is my second installment in short short's, featuring Suzanne Jacob's Life, After All. It is entitled Two Cents