Thursday, December 20, 2012
Sur La Table was jammed with shoppers ravenous for a bargain. At the sale rack, a woman asked me how much more of a discount they'd be offering. "I...don't..." and I drifted away. Maybe I looked like a well informed shopper. Since I didn't need a pair of socks that also polishes the floor, and because I am all set on pepper mills, I left.
So. At the pier, a man was using the self-timer on his camera to get shots of himself in front of the bay bridge. The long ties of his Peruvian hat attempted to whip his face as he posed, arms folded tightly across his middle. He'd run back to check the result, reposition the camera and set the timer again. I thought for an instant of offering to take a photo for him, but he seemed to be enjoying himself.
I'm seconds away from deleting this bore of a post, so I'll stop now.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
But there are other reasons to make lists. For the fun of making them! Like so:
Physical sensations I can't stand
1. Water running down my wrists and forearms when I'm doing the dishes or cutting up fruit.
2. The millisecond interval of time between touching hot water and the pain.
3. A piece of apple stuck in between two molars.
4. Getting licked more than once by a dog or cat. One lick: awww, Two licks: get off me!
5. Post-shower inner ear dampness.
Physical sensations I like
1. Milk foam bubbles popping on my lips when I drink a latté.
2. Feeling a cat's purr while its sitting on my lap.
3. When my back cracks during a firm hug.
4. Being covered up with a blanket by another person.
5. Hunger pangs just as I'm served a plate of food.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Is it any wonder I follow links promising to reveal who is not over which breakup, or whose ass has gotten bigger in the past three months? To my credit, I also watched a short video about Ardipithecus, but I think the few lines I read about that British singer's new baby might have displaced it. What am I supposed to be worrying about, huh, TV and internet?
I let you curate my news for me on your little carousel with crappy links that don't work and auto-loading videos that could turn a monk twitchy.
I think I'll go click "maps" and familiarize myself with the Western states. But first I'll have to make room in my brain by shoving aside one weird tip for white teeth that will annoy dentists and a video of a cat stuck in a fish bowl.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
I'll call mine, "Ten Things I Have Learned in (never you mind) Years of Living" in no particular order:
1. Some things don't taste as good as they smell.
2. Failing to double-check to whom an email is being sent can be very embarrassing, especially when that email contains a cartoon containing profanity.
3. Watching old re-runs on TV really is good for you.
4. Safely running a left red arrow signal is liberating (as long as a cop doesn't see you).
5. Three-hour naps are much better than 15-minute naps.
6. Ugly shoes are often the most comfortable.
7. When it comes to drinking alcoholic beverages, it is not possible to keep pace with an Irish person.
8. When a cat's ears shoot back and its tail whips side to side, stop petting it immediately.
9. Most of the things I worry about are just not that important.
10. The math teacher was wrong. I never used any of that stuff. Thanks a lot!
Photo: California Street, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
From the short-short story archives. Enjoy. Or, actually, sorry.
He avoided using the word “date” at all costs. Meet up, get-together, or the worst, "hang out." I believe that's the current preferred phrase. What's silly and kind of sweet in an aw-shucks way is that he actually thinks calling dates "hanging out" precludes him from any mature adult behavior such as doing what you say you're going to do. A novel concept to many if you can believe it. He nixes the word date but keeps the other funky favorites like "I'll call you" and "let's do this again." How about "Thank you. It was a nice evening. Take care."? No promises there, right? He can go back to his studio apartment and play War of Worldcraft until this wrists burn with tendonitis. The woman can go home and realize, while he was nice and spoke extensively about current events, he is not going to call for a second date. "But…but why?" No. Stop right there. "But…" No. It does not really matter. Don't give it another thought. He won't.
If he does get to a second date – excuse me – second hanging-outing, hang-outing? No, that can't be right. Anyway. A second time seeing a woman, he then shuns any more activities that give an appearance of a date. He goes straight to "come to my place for pizza and maybe we'll rent a movie." The evening that starts with this woman coming face to face with this guy, obviously not long out of bed from a nap, the pizza not even ordered and something always, always has to be moved off the couch so she can sit down. He'll offer her a beer, which she doesn't like and told him on their first hang-out (hanging-outness? No, um…), but he offers reflexively because he's used to entertaining his male friends. She'll settle for soda that might be around from the last time his mom visited. She cringes.
She will do her best to look past all this and just concentrate on the fact that he said he would call, and he did, and he invited her to his home, which she notices the carpet was not vacuumed but she is still impressed with the phone call.
What's sad is that she knows sure as she's sitting on a lumpy futon, sure as I know it, and you reading know it that this evening is all about getting laid to him and all he's out is the cost of a half a pizza (because idiot that she is will offer to pay half). He'll get turned down and abuse himself later in the shower after she leaves but at least he finally got rid of that can of diet coke that had been in the door of the fridge.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Come on [insert name here] lit journal, liberate my story! I gotta move on.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Ennui. I used to really dig that word. Used it all the time. I even had Webster's definition nerdily memorized: a feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction: boredom
Some things never change. Could be the ennui tide rolls in and out in the chemical tide of my brain. Hold on. Bad metaphor. High tide is supposed to be good, right? But then that would give me higher levels of ennui, which is bad. Isn't it? Oh shit. Back to the drawing board.
good for what ails ya, if what ails ya is ennui.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
I looked for an image of the 70s Barbie, from the time I played with Barbies, for a side by side comparison. Boy, am I sorry. Google imaging "barbie torso 70s" is a NSFW kinda thing. Apparently, in answer to the girls who fretted over their own less than hourglass figures, the manufacturer changed her body type.
I have no problem with that. I mean, who cares, right? As a child, it never once occurred to me to look at a doll and think, "wow, I hope my bazooms are that freakishly large when I grow up! Surely, this is an ideal I should live up to." Nope. Not once. I thought about how creepy it was when you accidentally hyperextended her knees, or how frickin' losable her pink kitten-heeled mules were. You'd get them with a new outfit and they'd last one day, two days, tops. They fell off and mysteriously absorbed into the carpet.
I eventually gave up my Barbie playin' days when I became a little too interested in Barbie and Ken's "alone time." Even after Ken's head broke off and it was lost.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
If my time-flies edict is true, then why am I so impatient sometimes? Hurry up and get here lunch hour or weekend or trip out of town! I realize this impatience is the antithesis of zen, of just "being in the moment, man." I would have made a terrible hippie. Good thing I was born too late for that. Well, just a little. Family photo albums reveal in my childhood wardrobe and long hair that I intersected with Era That Won't Go Away (I'll rant on "The 60s" some other time).
Anyway, where was I? I suppose I can figure it out for myself that I am the cause of the time-going-by-fast problem with all my finger-drumming and eye-rolling impatience. I suppose I should ask a relaxed, patient person if she also feels time slips by too quickly? Two subjects, not a very robust study, I admit, but it's a good first step.
Monday, July 2, 2012
What a 12 months it been. Big life changes are the ultimate shake-down. Your own personal internal hurricane, ripping up roots, toppling those nice neat piles of bricks you had stacked up. A year in, and we've still got the power on. We're stocked up for the next one, too.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Today's photo is from the bottom of a telephone pole in my neighborhood. There are others, all at ground level, sometimes accompanied by a smaller block of painted wood with a mushroom or other troll-esque accoutrements. (Like what? Well, I dunno. Shovels, picks, whatever trolls use in their folklore doings on a daily basis.)
The artist is unknown and there's never a sign or initial or anything to indicate who is adding these little squares of wonder to our otherwise urban landscape. I like them. A neighbor described them as "slightly evil" but I tend to disagree. I mean, someone is going to the trouble to sort of, well, vandalize the neighborhood in a unique and artsty way. I can appreciate that kind of civil disobedience.
Thank you, mysterious stranger.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
My level of friendliness toward my fellow humans and my desire to talk with them have risen a few hundred percent today compared with yesterday. Good ol' S.A.D. I even had it as a child. My first full sentence was to inquire about where the sun was on a cloudy day. I won't write it here so as not to make you all hork up your favorite snack food. Yeah, it's that cute.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
As you might imagine, it was a complete non-event. I ate my food without having a psychic break because I occasionally
But there is something to stomping grounds -- your old haunts, your past pathways, your spent trajectories. There was a feeling assigned to that space -- good or bad, stressful or relaxed. They exist, only in our minds.
Now, if you didn't do anything but eat above-average veggie sandwiches in those spaces, you probably won't notice. But what if you were really excited and hopeful because you'd just gotten a fancy new job the first time you walked into Pop's Hotdog Barn or Finnegan's Alleyway, featuring Finnegan's secret-sauce BBQ ribs? How happy would you be to go back to those places?
Where am I going with this? I dunno. I think I made my (obvious) point. I could have written about the crazy guy on the sidewalk today shouting "Thank you! Good night!" to passing cars. Kind of a short post, but that guy did add a bit of whimsy to my current stomping ground.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
A day for warm window screens and loose cobwebs.
Things you didn't mean to say. Dreamy cat's eyes.
Cramped farmers market, strollers as big as cars, drivers just as blind. Sweetest strawberries in the market, he said. Did you mean what you said? It was late. Very late.
Three petitions to sign, flower-specked greens to buy. Waiting to do. Walking in the sun, baby feet flexing in the spring light. Pelican stretching its wings in the murky, shallow end. I'm with you there, bird. Wading (waiting) in the murky shallows.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Ever since the constant threat of nuclear annihilation and northern migrating killer bees of the 80s, I haven't been much for the consumption of news. "Would we all get nuked into dust before I got a boyfriend?" "Will I know a killer bee when I see one?" Just insert any neurotic, obsessive thought a teenager might have about current events, and you've got it. As years passed, I'd make sure that I knew what was going on in the world. I'd tune in to your odd local news show or 60 Minutes on occasion. But basically, I didn't watch the news, couldn't watch the news, because I'd lose sleep over every story.
Cut to the Information Age and me, carefully selecting news from the internet. I curate me-approved news with a click. A terrible story about genocide? Get the salient facts and then soothe myself with a story about a puppy who's been adopted by a mallard. Ah...that's the stuff. I'll sleep like a baby tonight.
But these days, I'm getting a little lazy. You could even say, haphazard with my news gathering. Today, I clicked on the following links, in reverse order, without really considering their possible content:
- Mad cow disease found in California dairy cow
- 40 white rabbits dumped at Huntington Beach park
- Big Guy, a blind sea lion, finds a home at last
- Woman bites driver who stole parking spot, police say
What a dilemma. They still publish the funnies, right?
Monday, April 16, 2012
The ideas I've come up with so far are:
- Send the individuals in question "good vibes"
- Have a face-to-face confrontation with him/her in which I threaten to run around his/her places of business naked until they meet with my demands
- Cry, wring hankies, eat nothing but candy.
- Talk exclusively to the cats and pretend the larger "bald" cats I interact with are not speaking a language I understand.
Monday, April 9, 2012
I mean, here are some favorites:
"sock" was autocorrected to "dick"
"watching the baby" autocorrected to "eating the baby"
"screwed" autocorrected to "s'mored"
That last one is interesting. I didn't realize we'd started using s'more as a verb.
Well, back to proofreading my texts...
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Have you ever chosen the audio option? If you don't feel like deciphering the squiggly text, you can listen to the letters of those made-up words spoken to you. But beware, the recording sounds like something left on the cutting room floor during the editing of the film The Exocist or perhaps The Amityville Horror. Scared the bejesus out of me anyway. Give it a try next time. Enjoy!
Monday, March 26, 2012
Leaving them outside for 36 hours did nothing to reduce their poisonous aroma. They are now on top of our garbage cans, free to a good home. Or at least a home occupied by someone who doesn't mind petroleum products.
(I should also apologize to my friend who endured the fumes with me. Name the tumor after me.)
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
I can't even blame this on vacation. It was like this before I left. Trouble is, writing group is tonight and I will be damned if I know how I'm gonna produce anything.
This rambling, this here rambling that I'm doing right now is no good to anybody. Maybe if I just keep rambling, roaming, meandering eventually I'll find the bottom of this blankness. Unearth a big ol' chunk of fetid, rotten story that's been waiting to be found for months, maybe years. I sure hope so.
In the meantime, I'll think of crazy new ways to describe my all-out lack of words.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Just when I thought I could get used to the sight of your mangled toes and peg legs, I've started noticing more and more of you limping. A bobbing, greyish bird surveying the sidewalks for questionably culinary treasures is a typical urban visage, but a bird with an off-kilter gait? I cannot bear it. A limping animal taxes my empathy beyond its limits. Because scooping you up and taking you to physical therapy is not an option, I shall cast my gaze elsewhere.
I wish you good fortune in your travels, little bird.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Back to today, I realized I never thought about what an ice skating rink must look like when it's being dismantled/melted. There's a lovely metaphor in their somewhere, but the Hawaiian Airlines branding is making it hard to see.