Monday, December 29, 2003

Caught In a Lie

I just about ripped off my toenail. I had to get up in the middle of the night last night to take pain killers. Its all opaque and rusty underneath and when you press on it juice bubbles out the top. Its quite a sight. I originally wounded that toe during the half marathon back in October and the bruise under the nail was growing out. Not sure how, but I somehow significantly worsened the injury while running last night. Guess its time for new shoes.

And I found three gray hairs yesterday. *sigh* I found one last year in the late fall when I was deep, and off the deep end. I plucked it and gave it to Darcie as a gift. I am assuming that one of the hairs grew back and only two of them are new. Growing old is on my mind a lot lately as I feel that I didn't get here gradually but there was a perceptible shift, like a click instead of a pneumatic sigh. Youth yesterday, adulthood today. I am okay with it, mostly. Often, in fact, I am downright blissful and yet, mortal as hell. The reality of these sensations is astonishing. I am watching life unfold and often awake with snippets of poetry floating through my mind, though nothing that I can grasp.

I went to a job interview out in a bedroom community of this great metropolis and was shocked to find that there are still places here that I have never been. I don't feel that I made much of an impression other then that I looked pretty and had previous experience. Oddly, and hopefully not unfortunately, the bar manager noted the restaurant at the bottom of my resume and claimed that it sounded familiar, and that he was quite sure that his chef had worked there. I assured him that it would be a strong coincidence indeed as the establishment was in a remote and far away small town in another part of the state. The thing is though, I decided to, well... 'paraphrase' some of my experience and claimed that I had been working at this place for over a year before it actually opened. As I was driving away it stung me that I knew exactly who the chef was and blew away any doubts that the unlikelihood would provide me adequate protection. Oh mother-fucking well.

Wickedness Is My Lifes Work

So... I know that I made a promise but considering the proximity to the
New Year (where all wrong is made right) I guess I can bend my own rules till that day of redemption. It is snowing. I love that it is snowing.

My curiosity is greater then my fear of danger...especially when my memory is such that I can only experience recall as an emotional climate and specifics are lost to me like the details of a dream. I can remember statements such as MY DAD WAS A STAUNCH REPUBLICAN BUT A VEGETARIAN FOR THIRTY YEARS NOW AND HE MARRIED A WOMAN WHO IS A LIFETIME MEMBER OF THE NRA. but I can remember nothing else. I cannot remember who said it or where we were or if it was a dream. Sometimes I vertiginously suspect that the conversation took place not even 24 hours before.

Like I said though, on being a curious person...I got a call from some dude claiming to have gotten my number from me though the detail are sketchy. And I went. I went by myself to meet him. He was attractive enough, broad and beefcakey and Aryan...A flyboy in the US Airforce. He likes Bush and swears that I gave him my number. I suspect a prank though I cant imagine that anyone would care enough to flesh it out. I just know for a fact that no matter how intoxicated I was I would not have given this guy my number. Somehow he has it, and my name and, desite the obvious incompatability, seems glad. Ugh.


Christmas was a blast of homesickness and nostalgia and psychopathy. Everytime I go home I have this implausable fantasy that I will move home and live in a big little utopia where all the people who love me would have reason to love one another and I would be the hub of the big happy family.... Its not so much an egocentric arrangement as it is just not acknowledging the blatant inconveniences of cross-sectioning. I mean, I am a Chance, and I am a Harden and I am an Anderson and the Hardens don't give one shit for the Chances but that I am one of each. So....


Anyway...I am going to go watch the snow and drink a beer. I have a coffee date with Flyboy. I have him programmed into my phone as 'Random Dude' so I know who is calling and he rang me to let me know that he had a wonderful time talking with me and couldn't wait for tomorrow. He is a mocha man and I am a latte girl.


Ya, and I hung out with Jason on the eve of Christmas Eve. Which may or may not have been such a great idea, stuck somewhere between the COMFORT OF FAMILIARITY and FAMILIARITY BREEDS CONTEMPT and YOU CAN NEVER GO HOME. Damn straight!


And I could see orchestration, and...does he really think that he can still make me cry?
...and I wasnt crying at all. What made him think I was crying?

and now, now I think I let it happen cause it is a wicked power thing....

Music: Ryan Adams - Burning Photographs

Sunday, December 28, 2003


okay, i will not post drunk...i will not post drunk...i will not post drunk. ...
i guess that i will have to wait till tomorrow.

I love this album Murder Ballads, Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds! It makes me want to go out and get hurt and exact bloody revenge in the pure white snow!

Tuesday, December 16, 2003

Taking Things For Granted

I just got out of the shower after my afternoon run and I noticed a bruise on the inside of my knee.
This is not significant in itself, however it did make me realize how few bruises I have on my body. I hadn't even noticed until this one showed up. The thing is, I used to bruise so easily that my legs were covered in them. Always. It didn't seem to matter if I was taking my vitamins or eating right or not. I bruised so easily that I could have an enormous dark purple blotch that looked horrendous but was so insignificant in its making that I could never tell you how I got it.
My point is, it is amazing how quickly we take our achievements and comforts for granted. Constant pain or discomfort can put an edge on your personality but two minutes after that pain is alleviated we are back to our griping old selves. I am doing something, a lot of things, different then I used to and I haven't stopped to appreciate that.
Its a perfectly understandable sort of ungratefulness...If I have a 99% chance of getting creamed in the gnarliest manner by a city bus the next time I cross the street but I make it safely without ever knowing how close I came to death well then... what am I saying? I am not sure if I am saying it. There are these constant divergences in our fates, that lead us to our fates, tiny little choices that we make every second of every day that seem so insignificant but perhaps aren't.
Or maybe they are and I am just imposing order on chaos.
Regardless, I am heartened by the changes that I have made in my life. My years with Jason, in all honesty were my Dark Ages.

That said, why is it so hard for me to get over it??

I Feel See-Through

Music: Mirah. I love her!

Okay, so I promised myself that I would keep a civil tongue in my mouth. I should be more concerned with the things that I am saying and doing out here in the real world.

Lately I have felt exceedingly and intolerably transparent. That was never my style. I don't know what is changing. I am separated from the world by a membrane as sturdy as a wet tissue and am left feeling nauseatingly vulnerable.

I hung out with Jason last week, and our old friend Dan. I have rarely seen Jason so unnerved and off his game. I am glad that I had the presence of mind to stay the course. No matter what I feel about Jason, I would be devastated if he took up with one of my best friends and so, amoral as I am, I respect that sanctity. But today I was driving to my mailbox and who do I see on the street corner but Jason and his girlfriend. I never saw her face. My first impulse was to drive around the block but I am not a stalker. I moaned and felt sick and sad and turned up the music really loud. How do people get over breakups? I cant get the hang of it, though time has dulled the sensation to a far more tolerable sort of anguish. *sigh*


My Saint John of the Cross came to stay for the weekend. He picked up his first cast sculpture from the foundry. He was a little disappointed I think in the results but he has no reason to be. It was a beautiful six inch bronze sculpture of a crouching female figure. We made butterscotch cookies and ate Chinese food and sushi and drank vodka and watched movies. The comfort of his company is tonic indeed; that storm passed years ago. Somewhere between the extremes of him and Jason I fear that I am ruined for men.

Tuesday, December 02, 2003

Nail Biter

Decided that I don't care for Pony Club.

Wow, I wasted a lot of time today! Paid rent and I have $18 left in my checking account. After the meeting yesterday I decided that I am not moving away after all. I want this job and I want to stick around here for a while. Needless to say, I am feeling a bit of relief at having finally made a decision, and the other plan is now on the back burner. However, I wont start working till the 20th at the earliest. God Damn.


Its raining out. The street corners are slick with decomposing leaf mush. Traffic sucks and no-one can tell if their headlights are on, more then a safe share of them are not. I cant get the heat adjusted right, I cant get the right temperature in the shower. I tried to cram in visits with two friends and then was too rushed to see either. This is the kind of day it is.

My music pick for this day is Beulah

Monday, December 01, 2003

I Forgot

Note to self...Jenny.... Aaron... Junior... Jeremy...

Stay or Go

Music Pick of the day... Pony Club.
I just got home from having coffee with Katrina after class. Today is the day for some big decisions. There is a 2 o'clock staff meeting for all the employees of this new bar. I am really excited to find out more, get a feel for what the place is going to be like. But I know that I will probably not even be a part of it when everything shakes out....considering the timing of it all. I mean, if everything goes according to schedule we will be opening just one little month before I move away. I had considered letting the job be the deciding factor in this move, dictating both the if and when of relocation. But I have to make a decision more then one lousy month in advance. If we were even opening on December 15th I would still put off committing but I cannot wait till the middle of January. This is the job that I have been waiting for and I feel like the timing of it all is totally unfair. On the other had, given my inability to make decisive plans and my history of just letting things happen to me I feel like it is more important for me to make a conscious choice and follow through with it, right or wrong. I need to learn to TAKE CHARGE of my life.

Saturday, November 29, 2003

Home Again

Just got back from spending four days and a mile high in the desert with my Mom and Lee. I tried to run two miles, forgetting that I live at sea level and nearly burned up my lung tissue. Ate Tofurkey and laid on my belly watching the pet cockroaches that I gave them for Christmas last year. They have grown so big! The largest is now the length of my index finger and as wide as one knuckle segment...measured through the terrarium glass of course because none of us have yet made physical contact.

The amazing diversity of life, it astounds me. Occasionally I am jealous, sometimes baffled, sometimes disgusted. As Ma and Lee are preparing for a few months in Mexico new research towards that end uncovers new potential adversity. Witness...the botfly! This little dude lands innocently enough on any exposure of flesh as you stroll niavely, blissfully through the tropical forests and leaves its young to mature into rather large larve IN YOUR FLESH.

Saturday, November 22, 2003

Its Late, I Just Got Home

This Post Is Temporarily Unavailable.

Friday, November 21, 2003


FUCK. This is so FUCKED. How the fuck do I find a post that the site supposedly 'saved' for me cause I lost the entire fucking thing. FUCKFUCKFUCK.....................
I cant believe it. From now on I am going to create my posts in Word and cut and past them into Blogger.

I don't even want to bother starting again. I am going to go finish my laundry and calm the fuck down.

Thursday, November 20, 2003


A new neighbor is moving in upstairs. I wonder what happened to the femme little black dude that used to belt out off-key R&B tunes. Except for his occasional musical outbursts he wasn't a bad neighbor.

I am leaving on Monday to spend Thanksgiving week with my Mother. I hadn't even consider till last night who was going to watch Cairo (dog) and P-Diddy (goldfish). But otherwise I think that I have mastered the holiday season this year. I am going to send everyone a card and explain to them that in lieu of agonizing over gifts this year I am buying for gift trees and giving gifts to needy children in our family's name. And they will all get a loaf of zucchini bread too! Brilliant.

I gotta work at the pub tonight... I hope it isn't too dreadfully boring...But I only have to remind myself, under-the-table!

Wednesday, November 19, 2003

Wicked Girl

I got drunk by my self last night and decided that I have a grudge against the world. Left an angry message on W's machine accusing him of liking me more as a piece of ass then as a friend. Wish I could take it back now. Went to sleep after four in the morning and had fitful dreams of a post-apocalyptic world in which Jason and I were back together. I was in school and he sucked my toes and had matching tattoos on his biceps and on the insides of his forearms. I decided to skip school without even lifting my head from the pillow, hazy plans from the night before swirling in my head about telling friend and associate alike to fuck off. Turns out it was snowing in huge flurries and I missed it. That would have done the trick to undo this mean little mojo I got in my head.

It's funny cause last night it was so warm out, warm and ferociously windy. I felt like the center of the Maelstrom with leaves violently swirling about. I felt invisible like a puff of vapor, convinced that I could careen my car through intersections with out consequence because I barely existed. Its the most dangerous kind of illusion, like a sudden certainty that you can fly. I smartly chose to take up my non-existence in the safety of my own home.


After waiting for almost a month they have finally posted the results from the race. I came in somewhere squarely in the middle. I have mixed feelings, pride and humility. The two women who came in right before me were like 52 and 58 years old.
On the other hand, I ran 13 miles that day. AHEM...t-h-i-r-t-e-e-n MILES (13). I only gave up ten years of indulgent chain smoking seven and a half months ago. Furthermore, the farthest that I'd ever ran was 6.6 miles, only three days before the race. SO! I feel pretty damn good about it. My finishing time was 2:07:41 or something like that...give or take thirty seconds. Pride and humility are both are totally acceptable emotions, and that is rare for any event in my life.

Anyway, I have spent the evening in a sick little misery. It's been a very opulent kind of misery tonight. I have the heat cranked up, took a hot bath and settled in with a book. This totally chaps my hide though...half of page 229 is ripped right out of the book.

As if I wasnt in a bad enough mood already.


Monday, November 17, 2003


Monday night. Lame fucking day. I went to a comedy club last night, special-guested in free. I spent the evening striking up conversations for the wrong reason, bolting from the deep commitment of answering shallow questions.

I spend a lot of time running off, or pretending I didn't hear anything.

Sunday, November 16, 2003

Small Favors

Say what you want about my neighborhood, you will not find a better fucking burrito anywhere in the city. so there.

If You Think Your Life is Bad, Take a Look Around You

Feeling normal again. I went to the gym at midnight and ran two miles to test the calibration of my new pedometer. It seems to be accurate to about a tenth of a mile.

Woke up this morning to the winding blowing something fierce. The bushy tree outside my bedroom window is twitching and undulating like a fat woman at a tent revival....same swishy moo-moo sounds too. The leaves are half yellow and half green and not a one has dropped yet. No-one is exactly sure if we are committed to this change of seasons. Seems we are all hedging our bets and it is half way through fucking November already. My fushia on the front porch is still blooming, as are my potted pansies out the kitchen door. Whenever we get a spot of rain newscasters urge us to bid farewell to the 'unseasonable' dryness and settle in for our traditional wet winter but it just isn't happening.

Outta the blue a local dive bar has offered me a few fill-in and on-call shifts while I wait to begin work. Interesting demographic, local drunks and has-beens by day, kids on the make by night. My friend Teresa seems to be the chief decision maker and pants-wearer in the pub since she started fucking the 68 year old owner four months ago. Now she is shacked up, knocked up and in charge. One year ago when I had just moved back to the city from the coast she was his lowly day time bartender recovering from the crib death of her only child and passing the time between suicide attempts. Just a mere seven months ago she almost succeeded if it weren't for a pesky neighbor home from work with a cold. We thank god for small favors and curse her for colds. Sometimes life seems like a stream of consciousness and sometimes just crazed surface activity.

Anyway, I am sneaking a few shifts under the table. Jim, the recovering alcoholic who lives in the rundown apartment building next door sits at the bar all day offering assistance, in fact he will practically do your job for you if you let him. Apparently Jim was a cop in Chicago years ago until his fiancee was murdered by a serial killer and he never really recovered. Until recently he spent all his waking hours at the bar drinking Pilsner glasses full of cheap rose wine from a box till the he got cut off or passed out. He still spends all his waking hours at the bar but is one month sober now. Seems he finds a sense of meaning, belonging, usefulness... fufillment of those base human social cravings by hanging around and pounding on errant and wayward nails, stocking beer and cleaning ashtrays. He knows as much as anybody how to run that bar Teresa will tell you. He will avail himself to you, do anything you need done, and the validation of his existence is all the payment he requires. It is enough to put me in an existential tailspin.

I am not making these stories up. The world around you is real enough, and tragic enough if you just take the time to look.

Saturday, November 15, 2003

Good Friend, Bad Blood

Boy, I am in a foul mood today. Am I totally unreasonable, or is it everyone else? Am I surrounded by a bunch of spineless pushovers or am I overly aggressive? I cant figure this out. Are most of you flexible on matters of principle, deciding case by case what to take issue with? Does that not defeat the purpose of establishing a principle?

Okay, here is the scenario....
It was summertime and the livin' was easy, drinks flowing, everybody is looking good...

The problem is, some themes, like strains of a bad bacterial infection are surprisingly difficult to eradicate, and this one remains hardily intact. Of the three people that I am supposedly closest to in the world, two of them I am not speaking to. So I have to ask, how do most people deal with these kinds of situations? I obviously am just lousy at it.

Friday, November 14, 2003

Evil Morning

It is 6:30 in the morning. I am not too familiar with this time a day, at least not sober. I woke up a half an hour ago worrying about a bunch of shit that I cant do a damn thing about, and cant exorcise from my head. I cant get back to sleep and desperately don't want to be awake. This is what I get for sluffing of and watching TV instead of taking care of the realllly simple things that I should be taking care of. GEEZ, BEING LAZY SURE TAKES IT OUTTA YA.

Monday, November 10, 2003

Bad News

Rumor on the street is that this new bar doesn't have the money to open, or to honor their paychecks. Shit. Rumors are, generally, reckless exaggerations but this one, if it were at all true would be rather devastating. I still have not heard from the General Manager since they informed me last Thursday night that I had the job.

Saturday night was a disaster. I say this without hyperbole. Katrina and I went out into the mucky swamp of nightclubs. I got hit on by a guy who told me OH YOU KNOW, I LIKE TO HUNT, AND FISH AND MAKE OUT WITH CHICKS AND, YOU KNOW...DRIVE MY TRUCK. He called his friends FUCKIN' HOMOS and fell off his barstool.

That kind of functional stupidity one doesn't come across very often out in the real world. I know this girl who moved to New York to be with a man who was a Chippendales dancer. She quit her job, sold her car, dropped out of school, left her friends and family to be with him... all they did was fight but she wouldn't leave him, well, cause he was a Chippendales dancer. He came back to Oregon with her for a visit. At a party one night, overhearing a conversation about Portland neighborhoods he said WASHINGTON MUST SURE BE A BIG STATE IF IT STRETCHES ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY.

Saturday, November 08, 2003

Working stiff

I am now among the gainfully employed! Three interviews and three weeks later and the job doesn't even start for another week or two. I am excited about this one though. I mean, I don't want to bartend for the rest of my life but I want to finish out my career on a high note. I want to get to the top of the field. Sure I do. Wouldn't you?

I have been thinking about that funny little thing we call desire, what it does to the human brain really. My friend M- came to my door in love and in anger and in a state of drunkenness at four o'clock in the morning. We have been doing that unspoken thing where I passively reject his passive advances and neither of us acknowledges that the nature of our friendship is being challenged. I guess it was weighing on him. Initially I was angry, like WHAT THE FUCK?? DON'T LAY THIS ON ME. ITS NOT REAL, ITS TOO LATE. It has occurred to me more then once that men, generally speaking, can be incredibly dense and are often unaware of the sublime complexity women possess. I thought I had been clear, and I just didn't take it very seriously because I could not relate to how he felt.

And then at five o'clock in the morning I missed a call from Jason....and now I am all twisted up in knots and bothered, hating him and missing him and wanting him all over again. How can he do that to me? Damn it. And here is the thing that Jason and I were always running up against, that M- is running up against, its that reality of another persons emotions, that no matter how engulfing and consuming are always just a little bit inaccessible...a little bit fictional... because what it comes down to is that each of us is locked into our own brain, wed to our flesh and bones, and in the end, no matter how tightly someone wraps their body around you, you are still alone. Jason and I battled this for four and a half years. We fought each other as if it was a betrayal that one could remain an individual. Of course, this was the most private aspect of our relationship. And still, and yet, recognizing that need mirrored did nothing to make it as real as your own need that consumes you.

And then there is my hockey player landshark who I last saw two nights ago. He is different all together because he is neither a specter from the past nor a hopeless late night chimera. But, as much as I like Hockey Boy it doesn't work. In a friendly way though. This is the other thing, the other side of that spectrum. The total, and totally mutual lack of emotional need. What does that look like? Well, short lived as this maybe it is nice to not be pulled apart by the passions of another person, whether or not you share in them.

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

First Post

Three and a half weeks unemployed, eight and a half weeks total for the year, plus two weeks vacation. I am bored senseless, and more then a little disappointed in myself, having discovered that I am not the soaring creative spirit that I thought I was being repressed by this sing-for-your-supper social contract that we call employment. I can almost tell you what is on Prime Time tonight...give it another week...and I can recite at least 20 of the 101 Juiciest Hollywood Hookups. Two hour naps is how I reward myself for getting out of bed before noon. Sigh.

This is the third time that I have tried to rewrite this blurt. How reliable is the blog site? I was trying to find inspiration by playing around with the little folder tabs in the corner that say things like Settings and Template, and every thing I had written was unapologetically lost. Forever. You would think that I would not so painstakingly recreate the exact same conditions that taught me a painful lesson once before, but this is my life's work. I swear to god, I rewrote the post then watched my mouse pointer, much to my astonished chagrin wander over to the same corner and click on the same tab with, yes, the same results.
The culmination of Things I Have Learned, the Late 20's edition, is this: Do not do the exact same things and expect different results. If I can learn that, I mean truly take it to heart then I can claim some measure of success. It is all in how you define success. That is what I learned working in mental health. For some people, habits and patterns are unbreakable. Redefine success and you are guaranteed results.

Tonight, we drink wine! Katrina's house is cold. So cold. Students cant always afford the luxuries. Unfortunately the house is scheduled to be assessed for its true market value tomorrow. So, tonight we clean, and warm our souls with ammonia fumes and cheap wine!


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