lightning

One of my first compliments on Sunday came from Ben. On Monday, he told me he was flying to Birmingham this May to meet me. Early Tuesday morning, we talked for three hours on the phone. And today, he’s writing my journal entry. Dear diary, Today, I…wait. What if someone gets ahold of this? What if they use it against me?! Why do I feel a compulsion to write this? Are there aliens in my mind? Agh! Until tomorrow, Ben Okay, not really, but I had you going a moment there. ._.-. how do you *do* that? i thought i was something special that we connected so quickly, but no … you’re just immediately close to every tony, ben, and karawynn … okay, to clarify. connecting for me is special, and dependent on each person. you and i...

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Posted on 28 Apr 1999 | Comments Off

deluge

Somewhere near my right ear, a tiny, tinny Elton John is wailing away, “Caaaaaan you feeeeeeel the loooooooove toniiiiiiiight?” I can feel it, Elton-baby. My emailbox can feel it. My ICQ list can feel it. ._.-. With Sunday’s Nine Lives journal entry, Karawynn pointed several hundred people to squixel.net. I’m scared to look at the server logs. I’m sure the good people at DreamHost are wondering if I’m now qualifying for the “adult site hosting” plan with the extra-huge bandwidth. Super-size it, folks. You know the saying, “trying to catch the deluge in a paper cup”? Crowded House sang it and that’s where I remember it from, but I’m fairly positive it existed before that. (For a long...

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Posted on 26 Apr 1999 | Comments Off

shell

on a stretch of beach put to your insecure ear a small shell roars but it is your ear your air you have listened to bouncing off the whorls off this beach gathered sold and set upon a shelf still a pretty thing dusty dusted held against your selfish ear your secrets back to you

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Posted on 24 Apr 1999 | Comments Off

unbelievable

Tonight, Chad and I had finished dinner and were sitting in front of the TV, not really watching it, and for whatever reason I mimicked the TV, “undeniable,” and Chad mocked too, “Un–” and then sipped his smoothie. Knowing I was waiting for him to finish, and he was going to do it when I least expected it, to make me laugh. What he didn’t understand, what I can’t explain to him, is that every second that joke goes on, I was in pain. I wanted him to finish the word. I needed him to finish the word. It’s definitely a compulsive thing and I’m not proud of it, but I begged him to finish the word so we could just move on. Thinking I was playing into the joke, he refused. I crawled into his lap and tugged on his...

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Posted on 23 Apr 1999 | Comments Off

cheap feel

There are some moments we never do forget. All of them are remarkable in some way: some magnificent, some devastating, some mind-bending, life-altering, worldview-skewing. Everyone has profound moments that are remembered and recounted; some of them turn into family stories or journal entries, daydreams or nightmares. I take great consolation in the fact that everyone has these moments; I feel more connected to other people because of them, and I even feel, sometimes, that I fit in. And then there are moments that remind me I really am a total freak. ï ï ï Tuesday was a luxurious spring day in Birmingham, a true Southern Belle of a day with just the faintest edge of her glistening crinoline showing as she descended one more stair into the heat of the...

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Posted on 21 Apr 1999 | Comments Off

true confessions

Kite says, “evenin” Halsted says, “evenin” Kite tips her hat Kite says, “i am wiped out” Halsted says, “dad just asked me what we’re going to do for fun.” Kite says, “and you snickered disturbingly” Halsted says, “and i said ‘we’re supposed to have fun??’” Halsted er. Halsted said five points, botanical gardens, boardgamers, thai restaurant, etc. Kite says, “you said body piercing and maying!” Halsted says, “like i’m telling dad about those.” Halsted says, “my dad can barely accept the fact that i’m married. i think me having a girlfriend too would stop his heart.” Kite grins Kite says, “So how are things...

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Posted on 20 Apr 1999 | Comments Off

repetition

Lights up. Nand Asit downstage right; we catch them mid-conversation. N: Would I tell you a story with no point? A: Yes. N: I didn’t want you to answer that. It was a rhetorical question. A: What does that mean? N: It means I didn’t want you to answer that. A: Ah. Okay. N: Would I tell you a story with no point? A: (Pause.) No. N: You don’t have to answer! A: But you asked me a question. N: No, I didn’t. A: Yes, you did! N: I didn’t! A: You DID. N: I asked you a RHETORICAL question and I did not in any way want you to answer. A: (Pause.) Ah. N: Okay? A: Why not? N: Why not what? A: Why did you ask me a question you didn’t want me to answer? N: It’s rhetorical. A: (getting it) It means you didn’t want me to answer...

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Posted on 18 Apr 1999 | Comments Off

sulk

“So what you’re saying is that I expect too much from people.” Chad stares at me for a millisecond and then grins. “Always have.” I sit in our big green smushy chair, legs tucked up, palms on my knees, in traditional ‘Sted-style. I’m looking straight at him and there’s no joking in his face even though he’s smiling. It’s the smile I see often when I do Something That Only I Do that endears me to Chad. “So what do I do about that?” I wonder, half to him, half to myself. I’ve always been this way; thinking outside the box is not something I can do on command. And we chat for a while about our differences, until it comes down to an actual tally of whose opinions affected us most. ...

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Posted on 17 Apr 1999 | Comments Off

delve

Five a.m., exactly five hours after bedtime, and after two tabs of Klonopin, I am wide awake. So Little Miss Donna Reed here decides *now* is a great time to put away the clean laundry and empty garbage cans and dust and shit. Chad is still growling at the alarm clock and I’m bustling about like a good little wifey. A good little geek wifey, anyway; I had time to check ICQ and say happy birthday to Tony, which was good. Always good to talk to him, I can’t say exactly why, but I can feel his presence more clearly than a lot of the people I talk to online, even ones I’ve known for years. And I wanted to call him for his birthday, just to say hi and that, and so instead he called me on my PCS phone and I spent a terrific two minutes on the phone...

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Posted on 16 Apr 1999 | Comments Off

working title

Shelving books is actually the best part of my job. (No, you protest, being able to surf the web, write email, read and write journal entries is the best part of your job.) I can’t deny those are all Very Good Perks, but they’re not technically part of my job. So much of “what I do” at work is intangible, so it’s quite nice to have a task that can be completed. An empty book-truck is a friendly sight. All done, all put away, the books tucked neatly in their beds, waiting to be picked up again, someday, maybe not for years or maybe tomorrow. I love the call numbers, too; a tiny language that librarians and library assistants around the world speak. WO is surgery. WY is nursing. WK is endocrinology. Letters, then...

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Posted on 14 Apr 1999 | Comments Off