guilt

i feel it right now.

dance! dance! revolution!

moons ago i fooled around with a local rock and roll star. we had some things in common; both our fathers are profs of philosophy, for instance. if there were other commonalities i now forget them. he was articulate and earnest and signed his emails

'bestest'

after we dressed he mussed his hair just so to make certain his bangs hung in his eyes just so.

i was briefly smitten—it happens sometimes. (i later found out later he'd been to my apartment before we ever met for parties when my friend was the previous leaseholder; teeny world)

this morning i turned first to the porno section of the times to see who got married and what galas took place and how many organzas men affix now to their lapels, and i start to read a column about a rock guy who comes on to the writer and signs his text msg (it's a new era and who needs email) with 'bestest.'

b.i.n.g.o!

maybe that's an affectation of many indie/pop rockers. i read on. by the end, there was no doubt of the dude's identity. cause it is a wee world, and that fact bursts from its parenthetical marginalization, and through gossip and jabber the various bits i'd heard about his life were repeated in that thar text right down to the courderoys.

after i finished reading i called my friend m, who also dallied with him. she said without my saying more than 'hello' that she's read the piece and was going to call me after talking to her mama. she knows two other women who tangeod with him too.

oddly feels like i had someone else's deja vu. and only an amble under the pink, thick halo of cherry blossoms will now do.

the virtue of rotary

my friend just told me a story about the woman who works for her as a babysitter. the babysitter broke up with her boyfriend finally and at long last because 'she is too good for him.' but that's not actually why she cut him off, it is not a straw that breaks even a mouse's back.

it is that one night he 'pocket dialed' her.

i have never heard that term. have you?

my friend explained it's when your cell phone is in your pocket and you move in such a way that the phone jostles and inadvertently dials someone. (i have an acquaintance from college who regularly pocket dials me. sometimes at 3 or 4 in the morning, which can be annoying. i finally called him recently to tell him this and he apologized and invited me to a clambake.) in this case the bloke was on a date with another woman and he pocket dialed his girlfriend and she got to hear him try to convince the other woman to kiss him.

almost unbelievable. and an excellent argument against cellphones.

foam at the mouth

this is a story//it's a little thing

the above link is a republication of a letter a friend of mine who inter-dates (just came up with that neologism, pretty clever, huh?) got from a fella she was supposed to meet last week.

he gets an A for vitriol.

non sequiter:

was in the shower this morning. my thoughts roam there and i wondered:

do you love another in spite of their flaws/quirks or because of them?

lives of others

my mother asked me what crabs are. i told her, "an std."

she said, "i've heard of the clap. i've never heard of crabs. what are they exactly? it's not syphillis, is it?"

i told her, "not syphillis. crabs are critters, sexually transmitted critters. like lice. or gnats"

don't even know if i'm exactly right. but she seemed satisfied. it came up in a novel she is reading on my say so.

tra la. tra la. tra la.

oh, my goodnesses!

sometimes you think something's over...like a movie...and then there are credits and then a few extra couple of scenes. yipee! or, you think you've eaten all the wonderfully salty, meaty green cerignola olives only to open the fridge and realize that you'd forgotten that since you love them so much, you bought a double share last time you shopped and there is the second batch, waiting for your relishing just behind the milk carton.

this here post is in honor and on account of a friend of mine with whom i dined tonight. she's funny. she runs faster than i. a lot. also she's taller than i. a lot. her hair is longer. a lot. i first met her a gazillion days ago in prague where we were teaching english in those days when american kids went overseas to teach english. she hosts good parties. there is fun chatter and good salami. a lot. we once had a drink at an outdoor bar and a rat ran by. that was unfortunate.

oh. what's the point? oh, well, not much of anything. one observation: in the spring, when everyone starts wearing nothing at all except shoes that are sexy and shirts that are tight and bras that don't have padding, men start ogling more openly. and sometimes i wonder why it is that all the creepy seeming dudes are the ones who say 'hello' and all the ones i think i'd like to talk to seem to be mute and blind too.

also. there's this feature on facebook, the 'status' update. i am obsessed with it. obsessed is too strong. i enjoy it. it's fun to change my status update to things like "slushy is in the mood for a coffee ice cream" or "slushy dreamt that an 11 year old boy from india tried to pick her up'" or "slushy wonders if you must dress like laura ingalls wilder if you're a polygamist" but sometimes what i have an urge to write strikes me as too vulgar for regular consumption (especially given that some of my 'friends' on that site are under 20 y.o. relatives and others are work related peoples). it would be fun to have a site that is basically unbridled status updates, where there is no id or ego or whatever (i never got that bit totally straight).

"mary isn't sure about this vibrator"

"slushy has a burn on the underneath of her breast from her sports bra. it makes showering painful. in a good way."

"susie is horny and wants someone to go down on her"

"jane regrets last night's dinner that keeps making her run to the toilet. she didn't know she could quite shit that much"

"tina thinks all you so called friends are full of horseshit and you're not friends at all so stop that goddamn pretending cause if she really needed some comfort it wouldn't even occur to call you"

but knowing that folks i am knowing read this, i hestitate to even write those.

also, i wondered about tattoos this morning. i don't have any. i won't get any, though i have thought of it once or twice in my life. my father once asked me above all to never get a tattoo. if i wanted to rebel, at that point then, i should have. my rebellion must have come in other, smaller ways that he doesn't know about. but anyways, i was thinking is that a metaphor, not getting a tattoo for fear of later regret, for commitment-phobia?

as for the geography question: i don't have an answer, though the switzerland notion continues to interest me. does it mean someone is not aggressive sexually? doesn't connect, isn't part of a union? is a tax shelter? likes to use fine chocolate?

i guess if you are an aggressor, always making a move, trying to take over someone's body (not rape, just being a little too all up in business) you might be the u.s. i remember i once kissed a fella who made me feel immediatement that i was going to choke. he lacked finesse and just rammed his tongue down. it was not a delight at all. then he got all caught up in his cell phone and where is the next party and who's where and i thought, this is for the birds cause what are you checking your cellphone for if you've asked me out? anyway, he's married now, kid, works in 'entertainment.' i went to his house for a new years party around the time that we went out and wore a necklace that my folks had given me from, i think, morocco. it was improperly clasped and i lost it there. i was sad.

the end.