let’s always

let’s always be friends, she said, desperate and whole, wholly unflattering under the fluorescent light of the women’s third-floor bathroom. i said, sure, thinking, she can’t possibly hold me to this, we’re in a bathroom, and after all, do we even like each other now? her cold nose pressed against my ear in some foreign gesture of ultimate companionship (some country, somewhere, must do this) and before i knew it i was being kissed, by a girl, not a girl, the girl, the girl who was supposed to be my friend and was now decidedly feeling me up in a bathroom and all i wanted to do, really, was check my hair and pee. you won’t know this now, she said, but this will be a moment that will change your life. you will look back and you will...

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Posted on 30 Mar 2001 | Comments Off

just one weak

ever have one of those days that may or may not be a great day, a terrific day, a life-changingly wondrous day, but you won’t know until, o, say, a week from tomorrow? yeah, me too. here’s hoping i make it through the next week without driving everyone around me insane. that might be nice.

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Posted on 29 Mar 2001 | Comments Off

childbirth

the universe holds its breath for this one moment — if you don’t have a baby it could turn out a lamb, or a piglet, maybe just this once. i am hoping, someday, the universe makes me laugh with this unexpected atrocity, the harmless kind, like sitting on a whoopie cushion in church, or just farting in the confessional. i have been reverent. i have reverence. i have faith in the little things, the ones that go bump in the night, or that box my ears. this means nothing when i want to laugh, when bubbling up inside me is this lungache. when all my world is silent and glowers at me, expecting me to be an adult, i lose it all in a moment; either i fall in the bathtub or i explode in blown raspberries, or maybe i give birth to a ferret. just for chris. of...

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Posted on 29 Mar 2001 | Comments Off

testy

okay, livejournal is obviously working again now, peeps, so please delete all your “i’m going to resubmit this form eighty-five times because that’s what’s going to make it work, dammit” posts. o yeah, and the “testing one two three” posts. if you’re going to post something useless to test the livejournal server, at least make up a limerick! yeesh.

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Posted on 27 Mar 2001 | Comments Off

the secret ingredient

disconcerting. i am eating a lovely cornbread blueberry muffin and i take a bite and it suddenly tastes like windex. so, thinking it’s early still, i might be a little muddled in the old synapses, i take another bite. fine. it’s fine! i go back to enjoying my muffin. then i hit the second windex bite. i look down and guess that i have taken this second bite from the same general area i took the first windex bite. what the hell. someone dropped this muffin in windex, but since only one side really fell into the noxious ammonia-based cleaning liquid, they brushed it off and put the muffin back on the tray?! either that, or the government is trying to poison me. i prefer to think of things in these more egocentric and paranoid terms, but sometimes i...

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Posted on 27 Mar 2001 | Comments Off

you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be

and i don’t want the world to see me ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand when everything’s made to be broken i just want you to know who i am (from goo goo dolls, “iris”)

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Posted on 25 Mar 2001 | Comments Off

pappy smeeday

Pappy Smeeday,  a murderous birthday story in one part,   the first part being the beginning part and the ending part,    and not really having a climax or plot or anything,     this possibly being because it does not have      the good sense to follow conventional storytelling structure,       by Halsted M. Bernard. That is what we called the old man. At least, to his face. Behind his back we called him “Grampa”. He would have killed us. Pappy Smeeday didn’t have any eye sockets, just eyeballs sitting on his cheeks, and he used this to his advantage. He would often accuse bank tellers of miscashing his Social Security check because how could...

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Posted on 23 Mar 2001 | Comments Off

in silent insolence

the nature of my job has changed slightly, shifting responsibilities a little; there’s definitely more to write about this but nothing i want to get into in any detail, not while a very good friend of mine, on my friends list, happens to also be my boss. i’m unwilling to pretend like she’s not my friend, too, or remove her from the list just so i can have some selfish venting time, so i’ve recorded my thoughts on all this in my paper journal and maybe at some point in the future i will write about it here. or we can just leave it at what i’ve already written. i haven’t decided yet, and with my short-term memory, i’ll probably forget soon enough. at any rate, due to stresses in each of our work situations, chad and i have...

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Posted on 23 Mar 2001 | Comments Off

another fucking platitude

no matter how good you are, you’re never good enough for everyone. work on not disappointing yourself, and disappointing the fuckheads who expect more from you than they do from themselves won’t hit you so hard.

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Posted on 21 Mar 2001 | Comments Off

great artistic failure

since so many of you were so kind to respond to my query about shakespearean monologues, i thought i’d share with you the text of the one i’ve chosen (yes, i still have to pick the other one). this is from “king john” which is described at shakespeare.about.com thus: “In the shadow of Shakespeare’s second tetralogy of history plays lies the neglected masterpiece, King John. The play is cursed with the egregious reputation of being Shakespeare’s great artistic failure.” great artistic failure. woo. well, it’s a good monologue. from act two, scene two, constance, mother to arthur, has just found out that because of the marriage between louis and blanch her son will not inherit her late husband’s...

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Posted on 20 Mar 2001 | Comments Off