hey mister, that's some swell shag

been spending some minutes on craigslist looking for a and b and c. you might know them by their other names--distraction, procrastination and a mountable toaster (that is, not a device for some pervy autogratification, but an appliance that can be affixed under a cabinet thereby freeing up counter space so i can eat my fav foods--toast. so, git your damn imagination out of the gutter, you good for nothins'). and i see there on craig's list, an advert for a hook rug. we used to call them, hook-a-rugs and made them when we were kids. my big sis made one with a lion's face on it. probably while listening to abba. that's no criticismsmmmsmsm. that was the era. there's a special almost crochet hook that you need to make these goods; it doesn't require particular talent or ingenuity. it's not like weaving a persian. anyways, this is quite a large hook rug, the person is trying to unload, i think the dimensions were something like 8 x 9 or thereabouts. and the seller was charging: $650. lemme spell it: six hundred and fifty dollars. a hook rug that is apparently, in 'mint condition,' which is hilarious in itself. if i explain why, well i might as well pour a bucket of cold water over my head right this minute.

da agency

i've been thinking about a career change or a new job or a new venue or a new habit or a new something to invigorate, stimulate, jolt my life out of a routine that is not at all bad, my life, it's just got too much predictability and i somehow can't totally resign myself to that. then, tonight i took myself to a movie, the good shepherd, and now i think i should try to be a spy. if you know me you probably think i'm not so good with secrets. but really i am. very good. exceptional. and i am so unlike the folks i know who work for the agency (i actually know some. or used to.) that you'd never suspect me. or me. or me. and i sorta wanna move overseas.

meantime, i burned my hand last night taking garlic bread out of my ma's toaster. and it occured (or occurred?) to me that that will be a signifier if i become a spy and get killed, you'll be able to identify me by the scar on my right hand, kind of perpendicular to my thumb, about an inch long. or the scar on my forehead. or the one under my lip. there's one too on my right knee and if you look very close, one just to the left of my left eye, from where i scratched off a chicken pock (pox?) before i knew that's what it was and thought instead 'twas no more than dry skin.

got to go to sleep now, dreams of espionage before me.

i forget that this is public and feel a twinge of embarrassment at what i writes, and then i thinks, who cares? surely not the nihilist in me.

anyways, if a blogger confesses to adultery or assault or grand theft auto, but nobody's in the forest, did that tree truly fall? i ask yuh. and yuh. and yuh.

just a shot away

i'm in california now, up in oakland after a few days in san diego, the last of which was spent with my great aunt and her husband, a very imposing man who seemed to talk at me for many hours and if you asked me about what, i'd have to tell you that much of it cannot recall. it's like listening to an endless recitation of the alphabet, backwards and forwards. except one thing: twice, before dinner and again at breakfast, he spoke to me of the urgency to find a new career because down the road nobody's going to be able to take care of me and i need a big nest egg to do as he and my aunt have done and a) buy a new mercury grand marquee every year or so; b) travel to 91 countries in the world and every state capital too (little rock's the best in his subjective to me but omniscient to him opinion); c) live la vida loca however one defines it.

so, he advised me that i get outta my line (not that he actually knows too much what that is) and consider a career change.

to what?

is the suspense killing you yet?

how 'bout now?

well, to being a dental hygienist, of course.

how i laughed and laughed on the inside at that unforseen and delightfully ridiculous suggestion and on the outside was earnest and said, hmnn, yes, interesting idea. i nodded my head in time. one two one two. one. two.

dental hygienists, he seems to think, make good money. they have benefits. teeth always need cleaning. or,if teeth aren't my thang (and they're not, professionally-speaking), he suggested, maybe i could 'take a course or two' and become an executive secretary. right. not actually an executive. or a dentist. or an executive dentist.

good points--nest eggs and all, and good intentions, if without relevance to my reality. i reminded him that i'm the kind of gal who actually wants to care about her work too. and much as i'm a good typist...steno leaves me unmoved.

hey, me and my sis saw the departed tonight. and it was not fantastic as i had been told. it was a little long and entertaining enough. the boston accents were through the roof. which is on fire. we don't need no water let the motherfucker burn, burn, burn motherfucker burn. yes, a lot of cursing in that picture. but it gave me new love for dicaprio, who's been on my last nerve since after gilbert grape and reaffirmed my love for marky mark. but guess what hollywood? rolling stones songs as gangland soundtrax are uninspired. predictable. and not everyone from the bay state talks like a parody of southie.

so, that'd be that. rat a tat tat. for tonight. and you can have your grand marquee cause i'm audi.

i work in his factory

you know that song, with the lyric, 'and i curse the life i'm living and i curse my poverty' it's a good one.

but here's a weird thing: in my work spam folder i got a piece of spam, subject hed is: tremendous slushy. and it has no bearing on this blog. is that not oddest?

oh, feng shui! i am grateful for friday.

the best policy

been surfing on a dating site. been dragging my feet for days, months, years, about putting myself as out there as i ought (this irksome trait in various walks) and am trying to turn things around and i've noticed, in the dating site's slot asking about the best lie you've told, so many folks make this gesture at balking about lying. 'i laugh when i try to lie.' 'i don't lie.' 'i'm a bad liar.' everyone's so honest or plays like they are. now, i'm not a habitual liar, as far as i know, but everyone tells a lie now and then. it's part of being human and that holier than thou i never lie bullshit is just so unappealing because it's so dishonest. we all know honesty's a virtue and blah blah. no need to extol your own integrity/never lie crap on a dating site. especially if you're married and looking for nookie on the side.

glorious! deluxe!

quel week! sunday night i did something i ain't never done—totally absolutely utterly completely discarded a story i had due on monday and i did this by accident. was it a subconscious desire to discredit myself? was it a call for help, for a way out? no, it was a simple accident. it was fatigue.

but the miracle was this and it's multi-sided. i did not panic. i did not stomp around and curse and get too angry. i mean i was not happy and i was shocked at my stupidity, but i was also a little resigned and thought after all, not such a big deal in the scheme (like the time i was in a doughnut shop on the lower east side and that cher tune came on 'i believe in love after love,' and i said to my pal, 'i hate this song,' and the dude behind the counter said, 'you hate it? i mean, there's famine, disease, war...those are things you might hate...but this song?' have i told this story before? if i have then i am filled with apology to you, my reader) then i quickly jotted down points i had hit so that i could recreate the sucker the next day. and then i got up the next morning at 5:45 am and did not get to work but went to exercise to clear my head and then got to work and did, in fact, recreate the sucker by noon. sometimes working under the gun makes me industrious.

except, where's the dating at? got to jumpstart that shizz. i might be getting lonelier.

this morning i'm not at work, but am working, from home but from home cause i got me a new fridge and a new stove. and they're nice. and i put the magnets on the fridge. they look so at home. and i am excited; it sometimes truly is the little things in my little life. my new landlord is nice. but so is my old one. she called me this morning to tell me she was sending along the remainder of my security deposit and we had a nice chat. i think she's partial to me because 'you come from a religious home' and truth is, it's not that religious but we see what we want, n'est-ce pas?

use a pin, ma'am

oh my god. holy cow. and mackeral. and good god. and jeezus. i have wireless now at home. but the payment in angst bordering on farce is high. dear. a lot. stayed home on sat nite to do unpacking and to hook it up. over the next twelve hours, i spent 7 on tech support calls to people who seemed to answer my sentences with utter non sequiters. also, they had me do the same thing over and over and over.

but now it works. and hopefully will do so as long as i want. but the whole thing made me want to go off the grid. get rid of my computer. my cell. can you imagine how much room would be left in my brain for more relaxing pursuits?

and blinds are up (though they're bamboo and let lots of light in but nevertheless create a better sense of cozy). and someone mistook me for my sister and went on a date with me apparently thinking, at first, i was my sister.

that's got farce written all over it.