that funky monkey

In a stroke of un-genius last week, disguised as an effort to cheer myself up, I set my SK2‘s ringtone to Beastie Boys’ “Brass Monkey”. I did not consider the possibility of waking up at 05:00 this morning to the heartfelt strains of THAT FUNKY MONKEY echoing throughout the MSG‘s place. We hadn’t gotten to sleep more than a half-hour prior to this serenade. I was relieved to discover that it was no family or flatmate emergency, but merely my student assistant calling off sick. Then I realized that the student was scheduled to open the library at 07:30. I am due in at 09:30 on Mondays, in order to stay late to cover for one of my employees, who is taking a graduate-level course on Monday afternoons. Instead I dragged myself...

how i feel today

ruined

The MSG took me to the ruins of the Sutro Baths on my birthday. After exploring and taking lots of photos, we had a snack at the Cliff House whilst watching the ocean. And then we went home, kicked much EverQuest2 ass, and had the best leftovers ever. What an exquisite day!

super supper

I am finding it extremely difficult to start writing about the birthday meal we shared last night. The MSG truly outdid himself by creating this dish pictured at right, incorporating three of my favorite foods: Tom Kha Braised Crab With Morels. We drove down to Half Moon Bay to buy three live crabs and when we returned I played sous-chef, which involved such interesting things as pulling open the crabs (after they were cooked, thanks) and yanking off their legs and rinsing out all the “crab butter” which is not butter at all but rather guts. I was a bit squeamish but I did not cry like last time. Sitting down to eat was more than thrilling: this meal was one gift in a series of beautiful, thoughtful gifts from him, which quickly became THE gift as...

another hero leaves the party

Goodbye, Dr. Thompson. You were right: truth is stranger than fiction. I’ll miss you.

oblivescence

.flickr-photo { border: solid 1px #000000; } .flickr-frame { float: left; text-align: center; margin-right: 15px; margin-bottom: 15px; } .flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } penelope the orchid, originally uploaded by cygnoir. I have a full-fledged digital camera again, a Canon PowerShot S500 Digital Elph. Her name is Oblivescence. And here is one of the first photos I took with her tonight, of a bloom on Penelope the orchid, a gift I gave the MSG on one of our first dates. (Yes, I really do name everything.) I also expect to name the live crabs we’re picking up in Half Moon Bay tomorrow for the next part of my birthday celebration extravaganza. Tonight is hanger steak. Photos will be posted, of...

like i fit

This journal has been replaced with Ray Bolger‘s crystals. Let’s see if anyone notices. I thought a lot about writing something deeply profound and utterly romantic yesterday, but the truth is, I am neither of these things. At times, I am thoughtful and sentimental, but that isn’t the same. Yesterday was a long day, and it was not profound, and it was not romantic, and my right eyelid is still twitching, and I kinda redesigned my mom’s website but not really. I am looking forward to spending time with Ergazork tonight, shopping for boy clothes. I so rarely get to shop for boy clothes. The MSG never needs my help picking out great clothes for himself. Last night, I walked past the antiques shop, the one I always walk past to gawk at the...

free and clear

Rest in peace, Arthur Miller. I apologize on behalf of all of the drama club geeks, myself included, who sullied your good name with our seven-minute competition-style renditions of scenes from “Death of a Salesman” and “The Crucible” and “All My Sons” in high school. We really did think we were Something Else, and we really did revere you as only hormonal teenaged misfits can. Many years later, I would see “Death of a Salesman” on stage with real live grownup actors, and the tears after the final curtain would stick me to my seat long enough for two ushers to ask if I was going to be okay. I was okay, of course. More than okay, even better, and never the same again. You left the rest of the world that way, too. ...

shut up, it’s just cereal

I did not know that my T-Mobile voicemail could get any more messed up. It has. Now I no longer receive a text message for new voicemail, which would be fine if the Sidekick 2′s voicemail indicator worked properly. It doesn’t. Plus, sometime yesterday I received five voicemail messages but could only access one of them. I also have lost my greeting schedule, which was set to inform people during my working hours that I keep my ringer off because, well, I work in a library. Not that my ringer profile was set properly, because it wasn’t. I also did not know that you burn calories while you sleep. Not many, of course, but it makes sense. So I need to get more sleep, and not just because my right eye is twitching something awful, always an...

what you really need to know

No original content this week. Everything I’m reading is uninspiring, especially the Intarweb. Hoo boy, there’s a ton of passive-aggressive posts floating around this week. The collective unconscious must be feeling really fat in these jeans. Instead, Googlism has revealed everything you really need to know about me: halsted is under construction and unridable halsted is nearly identical to every other station built in the eisenhower expressway halsted is where the animals are slaughtered halsted is gay ground zero in chicago halsted is black halsted is a fellow of the american association for the advancement of science halsted is classified as a british country singer halsted is in the wrong place at the wrong time halsted is honest halsted is...