Monday, March 28, 2005

Thursday, March 24, 2005


This is a good time to get rid of stuff. Detachment has its own rewards, far greater then the pleasures of hoarding stacks of moldy paper, line drawings and pages of aching teenage crushes. I am not feeling sentimental about any of it... seems unsophisticated and charmless. Worse. Maudlin and bathetic.

Last summer I was in Santa Fe for two weeks. Shit, it was two summers ago... to visit a friend from high school. After a week I ran away in a rental car with an atlas, a sleeping bag, a massive library of music and a bag of apples. A couple days on the road and I stopped to camp at some lake utterly prehistoric in northeastern New Mexico. A tiny tent, a tiny fire, listening to Yo La Tengo's And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out over and over. My hair swirled around my head. It was windy and I was on a cliff and the sun set.

When I returned I started bartending outdoors during Portlands waterfront festivals. I served Coronas and margritas to tourists and gazed absently out over the Willamette river to Mt. Hood. The store room behind the bar opened to sell overpriced concessions to sunburned kids playing in the public fountain. The scrawny vendor told me impossible stories... of malfeasance, of betrayal, of the fancy cars of old wealthy Europeans. Because he had nothing to lose, because he had nothing left to remember, because he was fatalistically expatriated from the human family they took a shine to him and gave him the keys to their dangerously fast cars. The crows brought him messages from his departed mother. I didn't like him much and stole icecream sandwiches when he wasn't looking. In August he left for Florida to intern as Goofy at DisneyWorld.

I was dreamless and banausic that entire summer. Over the 4th of July weekend I made my rent and bills in tips. I barely made $12 after Labor Day. They came to tell me I was laid-off, closing for the season. I shrugged and I walked away unburdened. I hated my boss; he was a greedy, bellicose and repugnant man. Still I never got inspired enough to banish the atrocious Hawaiian shirts I was forced to wear, not even to ball them up and tempestuously throw them in the dumpster. After all just a meek memory of piped in Jimmy Buffet, over and over and over and over and over... When I moved I found the shirts still dirty under a pile of shoes in the back of my closet.


The summer after I graduated from high school I was high-pitch feverish and lived life swift and messy. At midnight I conjured up a romanticized plan and inspired John to run away with me. He was always good for that. At 1am I swung my leg over the back of his motorcycle and we tore out of town. A change of clothes, two bottles of beer, an atlas and a sleeping bag. We woke up at the crack of dawn roadside of Hwy 66 surrounded by cows. The pale bluish sky and a softmoist whiskered nose in sleepy fisheyed distortion. The sleeping bag and the crown of my head were damp with early morning dew. The cow exhaled on me. I imagined we would always live like that, it was the seed of my coercion. We came home three days later.

I find myself simultaneously drawn to and repulsed by shared storylines. Today I cant resist the urge to deconstruct, utterly destroy my dependency on the past.

Sometimes when I run I tear fistfuls of plant leaves and blossoms as I go by, crush them in my hand and breathe in what I need to keep going.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

End of Winter Term

There are two tests, one ASL to English interpretation, and four papers left before spring break. Pretty short easy stuff mostly, just that Linguistics final is gonna kill me. as far as seating myself in front of the computer but I'm dinking around on the internet instead of paper writing.

I took a what kind of teenager are you? quiz and though I am not a teenager I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to imagine what it must be like....

So what kind of teenager am I? I am a bad ass who skips classes, is lonely, has addictive tendencies and is destined to become a cop or a celebrity.

Earlier today, before I left for my run, while I was still bouncing up and down in the driveway with my white ShoutOut to the 80s headband (y0) one of His buddies pulled up and brought us this lovely piece for our home. IT'S CERAMIC he said in a subdued yet dignifed, tender yet respectful manner. Please Advise.

I suggested a diorama with GI Joes dolls and mini-rifles and thought maybe we could recreate one of those Goodwill duckhunt paintings in 3-D. Though I didnt say so in the heat of the moment.

plus almost cut ma' thumb off...oooch

Wednesday, March 09, 2005


I cant tell the difference sometimes...
I asked him this morning if we'd had a conversation in the middle of the night, he said no.
I checked to see if the bubonic plague was first transferred from rats to humans as they lay guarding the fragile seedlings of weeping cherry trees in ancient China. did the rats bite their lips as they lay in the orchard? no, they did not.

False dream-memory dilemma. There is a super-saturation point where I stop pro-activity and just try to stay alive... there I am wondering who I am not calling back and why I am not making flash cards about the professionalization of interpreting, code of ethics, about illocutionary force...

its finals week after all....


Can you see... I am confused and living in my dreams.


In my old apartment I wrote my To-Do list on stickers and put it on the ceiling above my bed. Three stickers...LIVE. YOUR. LIFE.

(I've run into this before, tried to invent new ways out)

The stickers are still there. I went to the apartment tonight to study with Satia. She said she likes them, is gonna keep them up.

Kids playing in the courtyard, deep green dusk and the smell of cut grass, shadows on the arched ceiling... It made me homesick and dreamy.

Monday, March 07, 2005


I have run my last ten miles in paper thin soles (for now).


Today my baby bought me new running shoes. After hundreds of miles in the old ones and only an hour trying on new ones (with their perky soles and cocaine white laces) the old shoes feel exhausted and cranky.

Behold the Asics Gel-Cumulus VI...

(white/liquid silver/grapemist!)

Sunday, March 06, 2005

24 Hours

Katie has different colored eyes, one brown and one blue. She doesn't come to visit very often and never stays long enough. She is also really short.

We used to cruise around in her moms Big White American Car and she'd buy beer at Safeway while I slid down in the seat, lurking eye level with the dashboard cause I was underage.

We had a wicked fight once and didn't talk for awhile. But that was a long, long, long time ago.

Turns out, I wasn't very nice.

Saturday, March 05, 2005


If I do four hours of homework I get to go on a 10 mile run. If I do two more hours of homework I get to make a blog post.

all that stuff...

The house is coming along so slowly, its hard to not feel depressed. On the other hand, two of my amaryllis are blooming, and one of the plants has a second flower stalk coming up. Good measure against deep sighs...

I wish I had hotpants made out of amaryllis petals.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

It Sprinkled Today

Rain falls hardly at all. I remember the first spring I lived here and the rainwater poured, cascaded down a window pane pressed with wild unpruned rhododendron flowers for days and days and weeks and weeks and months on end.

my mortal enemy, the squirrel

But the sun shines. Ferris wheel weather - All Day Pass weather. I am losing Sam again. She is moving away. I havva feeling I mighta kept her if I had been a better friend. Beer moved back from Thailand, but is only staying for six short months. I brought her chocolates, she brought me gold elephants..

I will lose them both at the same time. You guys better be there for me when they go.

Moving was a painful final push but its done. Boxes are piled everywhere, unorganized and unlabeled. I chiseled the paint around the bedroom window frame, propped it open and woke up the next morning to rain dripping off the eaves, a bed of pine needles, a lone daffodil. I have forgotten myself in this temperate balmy sunshiny winter... my love of moody skies. I need slate grey tumult.

I have been fakebrave but am really weak and fearful, full of yawning chasms.

People seem powerful, unpredictable, enigmatic. I feel decontextualized, like a whiff of vapor. I am afraid of linguistics afraid of the video camera, I am ruminative about death.

Girl Lives (conjugate) Girl Lived.
Friend (antonymous) Enemy.
What are the morphemes for HOME? girl, boy, dog, cat...?

Someone implied I don't do anything with forethought, development, skill... I only do it with attitude. I take issue with that. My nerves are always firing, my cells burning. Being alive is preparation enough.

(PSST PSST I cant see my comments link but I dont know if that is my computer and its own silliness or what. If you cant see it either will you email me and let me know?)


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