perpetual huddle: 09

hoodrats & guttersnipes with a hint of burlesque

i pulled on my scarface t-shirt,
employed my "least charming
hygiene shortcut,"
(according to my best friend
putting baby powder in your hair
to make it look less greasy
doesn't count as "grooming.")
shoved on my $2 chinatown slippers,
(baby-doll pink, the toe bejeweled
by sequined flowers)
and forced myself, for once,
out of the house on a saturday night.
inspired by rollergirls,
my best friend my roommate and i had bought tickets
to the sf roller derby final smackdown,
as a surprise for a friend's birthday.
you have to understand that i grew up
homeschooled, christian, and overseas...
without a television. the whole "fitting in"
thing has always been a little beyond me.
i still have to study social interaction
with a tediously anthropological eye,
like an eight year old with aspergers.
in any crowd i'm wide-eyed, looking for clues.
roller derby is a sport, and a celebration
of sexy and powerful chicks,
but it is also an impressive exercise
in a certain fine-tuned aesthetic.
the players wore fishnets, fake blood,
and clever jerseys, e.g. "the mathmortician."
the crowd tended toward the dirty
end of the hipster spectrum,
less stella-mccartney-does-macys
and more midnight-breakfast-at-bennington.
the cheerleaders, mostly men with soul patches.
the program, basically a zine.
the beer, pabst.
stir in some aging butch couples
in collapsible forest-green camping chairs,
and some half-time capoeira
and you have the makings of a very
san francisco style.
i wish i could say
i felt right at home.
i didn't.
but i was surpised to find,
i looked the part.

touched by an angel

i am an angel
trying to nail down the perfect sides
to go with my 12-piece bucket coupon,
"feed the team," at kfc.com,
i came face to face with this image,
fresh, innocent, and all-american,
but still sumptuous...
like roma downey before
she mutilated her face
and started dressing like a two-bit whore.

NPR

i listen to KUOW every night.
a steady stream of commentary
not generated by my own OCD prone brain
seems to distract me enough to sleep.
especially diane rehm.
she's my favorite lullaby.
since i leave it on all night,
i often awake in the morning
to descriptions of famine and torture.
luckily, this morning i awoke to
this american life, a longtime favorite of mine.
i once made an audible playlist,
a nice well-rounded selection
of what the show has to offer, for a boy,
a kind of mix tape from an NPR junkie.
i'm glad that i can no longer remember
if it was the boy who broke up with me
for "thinking too much."
you, dear reader, can't break up with me,
so please have a listen to any of these beauties.

privacy

my favorite sister called me, pissed,
because for her upcoming trip across india
she had to get a new passport
and it has an RFID tag in it.
now, not only can she not
wear her gel-bra on the airplane,
but bad guys can tell she's a u.s. citizen,
not just by her blue eyes, blond hair, and accent,
but also by the radio signals her passport is emitting.

a failure to communicate

the episode begins with the famous first words of john
and ends with a very "classic oz" apocalyptic monologue.
r.i.p. also classic oz is the narrative frame linking them,
a basic and murky media history lesson,
laced with doom and muddled symbolism,
taking stabs at all sorts of ideas
over shots of prisoners
talking, screwing, or shiving each other.
don't get me wrong, i love it,
because every once in awhile
the mish-mashing and vernacularizing and philosophizing
come together perfectly, and say something true,
in a particular way, that just pierces you.

for example, mid-way through this episode
the show comments on television
itself, which is always eerie.
the narrator, a character
resurrected only for the viewers,
moves through a crowd of oblivious
prisoners watching television,
and looks out through the screen:

Mid-way through the 20th century, man wants communication without communication! He wants to sit in his living room and watch people in a box...fall in love, work, sing, golf, cry, fuck and fuck up. Television! A one way conversation between you and the world, where the world does the talking! Like God, man can finally create man in his own image and then kick back and watch all sorts of shit hit the fan.

-oz, season 6, episode 4

risk

a few weeks ago
without hesitation
i stepped off a cliff
and the wind caught me.
thanks to a friend
of the kind pilot
who took me up
i now have proof.
digital cameras!
flying!
media and my life!
whee!

tis the season

election advent right after i left
my favorite sister
at the oakland airport,
i arrived home to find
that the present she ordered
from gerrymander.com
(via boingboing)
had just arrived.
it is an advent calendar,
but for election day.
i'm glad it will nag me
into figuring out where,
after all my wandering,
i am allowed to
or supposed to
vote.

big fish in a small pond

i'm a huge fan of pro-dominatrix mistress matisse.
though she is something of a celebrity
in the kinky blogger community,
it isn't really worth mentioning
in mixed company
that i bumped into her
at the folsom street fair,
but it made my weekend.

...sorry?...

diego and eva
matador. not a movie i recommend
watching with your siblings.
unfortunately, my best friend and i
did just that. she brought her brother.
i brought my sister. my sister who is afraid
of blades, to a movie about bullfighting
and orgasmic fatal stabbings, to a movie
that opens with a painfully long shot
of antonio banderas jerking off.
he's doing it with a television propped
between his ankles, to a montage of what you assume
are extremely twisted and bloody clips
from a number of different horror movies.
later, you discover, they are in fact clips
from matador itself. i could talk to
my old media studies advisor, sally sugarman,
for hours about all the implications of this movie,
but i couldn't think of a single word
to say to my sister afterward.

or lucky squared?

my favorite sister is in town
and that means we're two times lucky!

why are these damn things so addictive?
it must be the awesome vending machines
with the huge colorful buttons.

wandering barefoot in the port-a-potty

although "wandering barefoot along the shore"
is the ultimate big-budget feel-good summer hit,
(you can't go wrong with walking in the sand,
relaxing under the palms, wading along the shore,
splashing in the waves, and sailing in the bay.)
"shades of vanilla"
has the makings of a modern masterpiece.
its fresh, yet timeless, sense of nuance
comforts without lulling.
unfortunately, after the early, slightly crunchy
brilliance of "vanilla nut cake"
the denouement just feels cheap.
[spoiler warning: plot and/or ending details follow.]
creamy vanilla, vanilla nut cake, french vanilla, vanilla nectar, vanilla taffy

deal

i have left my favorite sister
and my best friend in the other room
to watch deal or no deal.
it is reassuring to hear them both
screaming HIT THE BUTTON HIT THE BUTTON!!
as i write. we all watched the beginning
of the new season of the american office together.
the american office is funny,
the "conflict resolution" episode hooked me,
but when i hear the theme song
i miss the british office so badly.
it is like i'm in some victorian romance
and through several convoluted
drawing room misunderstandings
somehow got engaged to the kinder,
but slightly less attractive,
younger brother of my true love.

halloween 2006

hott british mod schoolgirl in a spate of boredom
several months ago
i clicked almost every
"order this free" link
at catalogs.com.
these people
really understand
niche markets!
don't get me wrong
i loved perusing
my pool filter options,
and learning all about
archival boxes,
but i was glad to see
my forplay halloween 2006
sexy costume catalogue
had arrived. i'll save
"santa's punk rock girl"
for christmas 2006, and be a
"british mod school girl"
for halloween 2006.
not only do you
get a union jack tie
but it is the obvious
budget schoolgirl option.

but its prettier and less long-winded

my favorite sister recommends
the online photo-comic a softer world,
because it has "lots of lowercase, like you."

life & style

i can always count on you
for a little "decolletage" & "canoodling."

a pill saved is a pill earned

h_adach_? excedrin (e)(e)2 go! the pain stops. you don't.
this was wrapped around
my morning cup of coffee,
to keep it from burning my hands.
if you look closely you will see
there are two coated capsuls
of aspirin & caffeine attached.
i am saving them
for the withdrawal headaches
i get when i can't afford
my morning cup of coffee.

golden oldies

golden girls
life is cozy again.
each roommate dressed up
as the golden girl
she most resembles.
we ate cheesecake
and watched the show.
i was given the honor
of being sofia for the night,
but our blanche was dressed
to the nines, our rose
was ready with her stories,
and our dorothy had her
stern face down pat.
which golden girl are you?

half life

Second Life Time: 11:00:00 PM
Total Residents: 729,294
Logged In Last 60 Days: 313,981
Online Now: 3,564
US$ Spent Last 24 Hrs: 391,259

i just spent the evening with a scientist.
halo and second life are both games.
i call the sims 2 my fake life.
for whatever reason,
i asked my best friend
how her "half life" was going.
then, i got out a green camping chair,
set it up beside the computer,
and i did what i do best,
watch my best friend play video games
and talk with her about what they mean.
i was fascinated with the in-game escorts.
you pay them with linden dollars,
which you buy using real dollars.
the escorts can be anything,
a naughty schoolgirl or a whip-wielding mistress,
because they can just change skins.
the cheap ones sell what you would expect,
and the expensive ones sell the GFE
[that's the "girlfriend experience"
for those of you not fluent in hooker.]
you can float in the game, though,
like in grand theft auto
with the jet pack cheat,
like in my favorite dreams.

say "lunchables 'mess with your mouth' mini-burgers with free sour tongue-teasing fizz" three times fast

lunchables 'mess with your mouth' mini-burgers with free sour tongue-teasing fizz
why write my own post
about the experience of eating
lunchables "mess with your mouth"
mini-burgers
with free sour tongue-teasing fizz,
when demonbaby's post, complete with photo essay,
about the expience of eating
lunchables "mess with your mouth"
turkey and american stackers
with free sour tongue-teasing fizz,
says it all?

tongue twister database

viva pedro!

i don't normally sleep with guys
tonight was a perfect indian summer evening,
warm, but with the crisp smell of fall.
my best friend and i dogded the meth addicts on the L-taraval
and went to see the law of desire at the castro theater.
how almodovar manages to make such over-the-top
characters seem so human is beyond me.
i laughed and gasped at each shocking plot twist,
glad that all the saturday-night gays
were out to laugh and gasp with me.
i'll never see antonio banderas
in quite the same way ever again.

green apple

i buy graphic novels
like summer blonde
because they make me feel o.k.
with being alone & kind of creepy.
used, of course.

lake wobegon, my hometown

when i was a kid we didn't have a t.v.
so we'd all gather around the radio
on sunday nights to listen to prarie home companion
and eat fresh popcorn and slices of apple and cheese.

clinton vs. carter

u.s.a. because i was young, with parents who still
voted for jimmy carter (write-in) each election,
i wasn't paying attention during the clinton presidency,
until the scandal hit, and then i was disgusted,
because my parents were disgusted. also, i didn't get
why everyone kept saying that clinton
was so handsome and charismatic.
he just looked middle-aged and yucky to me.
after several years of bush, i caught clinton
on the daily show and instantly got it.
he was so relaxed, so smart, so well-spoken,
so funny, so tall, so presidential...
i wanted him back!
david remnick's profile of clinton,
the wanderer, starts out much the same way,
nostalgic and gushing, but by the end
of it clinton sounds like
everybody's embarrassing dad,
unable to turn off the hammy
monologues even if he wanted too,
oblivious to others' discomfort,
reveling in the spotlight, real or imagined.
also, his post-presidency so far
has been ambitious, but annoying
in comparison to jimmy carter's
quiet, but relentless, work
toward peace and human rights.

dear abby

everybody, including my relatives, roommates, and my boss,
seems to think i should get a cell phone
for the exact same reasons that i don't want one,
namely, the ability to get in touch with me at all times.
i've had a cell phone, and it seemed to create more hassles
than it solved. also, i got addicted to text messaging
and it ate up all my favorite eavesdropping and reading time
on the bus. what should i do? is a pager too passe?
i wouldn't mind people assuming i'm a drug dealer.
sincerely,
not an early adopter

i wish he was my cousin

my future husband after a long hard day
i wasn't up for any of veronica mars'
shiny self-confident sleuthing,
but then my best friend told me
the boy i'm in love with from
arrested development
was in the episode she was starting,
charmingly titled "the rapes of graff."
let me tell you,
he didn't disappoint...
of course i'll always have a special place
in my heart for my first love, bill.

retardation celebration

jerri i came home today exhausted.
the kid i work with,
who has down syndrome,
beat the crap out of me all day.
as soon as i told my best friend
she launched into a frighteningly well-rehearsed speech:

first off, the retarded don’t rule the night. they don’t rule it – nobody does. and they don’t run in packs. and while they may not be as strong as apes, don’t lock eyes with ‘em, don’t do it. puts ‘em on edge. they might go into berserker mode, come at you like a whirling dervish, all fists and elbows. you might be screaming, ‘no, no, no!’ – all they hear is, ‘who wants cake?’ Let me tell you something: they all do. they all want cake.
kudos to her for memorizing long passages from strangers with candy
with the hope that someday, just someday, they would come in handy.

d’accord

david sedaris It’s funny the things that run through your mind when you’re sitting in your underpants in front of a pair of strangers. Suicide comes up, but, just as you embrace it as a viable option, you remember that you don’t have the proper tools: no belt to wrap around your neck, no pen to drive through your nose or ear and up into your brain. I thought briefly of swallowing my watch, but there was no guarantee I’d choke on it.
-david sedaris, new yorker article in the waiting room

two songs

weird al & busta
morning, babysitting:
kids sing along
to weird al yankovic & raffi.
afternoon, at work:
kids dance along
to busta rhymes & chris brown.
now i've got an unwelcome and ungainly
baby beluga/run it mashup
stuck in my head.
it goes a little somethin' like this:

baby beluga in the deep blue sea,
swim so wild and you swim so free.
baby beluga in the deep blue sea,
swim so wild and you swim so free.
is the water warm? is your mama home?
is ya man on the flo? if he ain't...let me know
let me see if you can run it, run it
girl indeed i can run it, run it
let me see if you can run it, run it
girl indeed i can run it, run it

here i was at last...

my best friend has an ankle tattoo
based on an ed ruscha piece.
i finally saw his work in her book
they called her styrene, etc.
the main feeling i had was a sense
that i had seen these before,
in important museums
and that now if i went
to an important museum
and saw one, i could probably
identify it at a distance
to whoever i am with.
"oh, ed ruscha!"
it reminded of when i was maybe seven
at my uncle's house, looking at his
coffee table book on impressionism.
he showed me a page full of ballerinas stretching.
"want to know a secret?" he asked.
"if you want to be cool,
when you see tutus in a picture,
say 'oh, degas!'
like you just met your best friend
after a long vacation."

see also this american life's a little bit of knowledge; modern jackass (4 1/2 minutes)

it was not for me to muse over bygones...

so i said to myself "esther! esther! esther! duty, my dear!"
shhh... don't tell, but i've never grown out of playing pretend.
now i don't have imaginary friends; i have imaginary selves.
they get me through the endless chores and long dull stretches
that make up most of everyday responsible adult life.
my favorite fantasy character is is an eccentric old woman,
a cross between mrs. robinson, miss havisham, & a female jay gatsby.
when i'm her i love silk pajamas and gin in the afternoon.
i own a white tiger and halfheartedly seduce the pool boy.
my current character doesn't own a tiger--
she's at the opposite end of the spectrum.
she's a well-scrubbed grateful young ward,
patient with children, thrifty,
cheerful without being funny,
totally asexual, but profoundly feminine,
trustworthy, humble, and a keen observer.
she's not a cross between anything, i've just learned,
since i gave up on the golden age
and started bleak house by charles dickens
she's esther, the narrator!
(and she's about to fold my laundry.)

$30,020.69 in the red

quicken
this $80 piece of software
isn't helping me budget.
it doesn't understand
why i'm not being paid
for jobs i quit long ago.
it is confused by cash back
with a purchase of tic-tacs.
i hate that i fell so hard
for the allure of all those
pretty charts & graphs.
to be honest, i never
wanted to budget per se.
my goals were much loftier.
i wanted to launch a massive
research project into my spending habits.
by mapping out every last transaction
i hoped to gain some concrete insight,
into what the hell i'm doing with my life.
so far the only 100% certain solid fact
i can wring out of the thing
is my net worth,
and it ain't pretty.

$1

wheresgeorge.com

best buy

dream washer
my roommates and i go
to pick up some tv on dvd.
we end up drooling over
the dishwashers & washing machines,
choosing our very favorites,
opening and closing the doors,
caressing the brushed steel.
oh, appliances,
after free health care,
you're the comfort of home
i miss most.

a post-feminist relieves herself

how did jane, the sex issue end up on our bathroom floor?
to me, "sexy" is based on the inexplicable overlap of character and chemicals that happens between people ... the odd sense that you have something primal in common with another person whom you may love, or you may barely even like, that can only be expressed through the physical and psychological exchange that is sex. when i'm in the plastic "erotic" world of high, hard tits and long nails and incessant pole dancing-- whether i'm at a CAKE party, walking past a billboard of jenna jameson in times square, or dodging pillows at the maxim hot 100-- i don't feel titillated or liberated or aroused. i feel bored, and tense.
-ariel levy, female chauvinist pigs

saturday night fever

my best friend and i hide from the subletter,
who had the gall to invite us out with her friends.
we watch the hole with the volume down low,
pretending to snore.
the constant sound of dripping,
the damp wallpaper slowly uncurling from the walls,
the vomit, the wringing out of towels, and a blast
of bug spray to the eyes, crowned by a wracking cough
and a frantic scrabble on hands and knees across a concrete floor...
each unflinching shot pushes you deeper into an
overwhelming sense of physical discomfort.
the sudden interludes, bright and well-choreographed musical numbers,
seem only meant to keep you from getting numb enough
to endure the clammy irritation of instant noodles
and the sneaking suspician that you're turning into a cockroach.

slogan: "we deliver everything but the baby..."

this morning i found myself at citikids
with my best friend's two nieces, and their mom.
in search of a starter-tub for the new baby.
around us couples discussed the stroller options
in the hushed tones of those making
a very big decision together,
taking different models out for test-jogs
with faceless, but age-appropriate dolls
filling the sturdy, yet comfortable
seats of their sons-and-daughters-to-be.

i found myself itching to escape
the rows upon rows
of cheerfully colored products.
to name a few, in no particular order:
poly-fiber onesies,
biodegradable bubbles,
chubby two-way video-monitors with automatic night vision,
disney-themed outlet-covers,
miniature fully-functioning pianos,
modern art coloring books,
and preggie pops,
a line of witty herbal candies to help reduce morning sickness.

on the other hand,
if the gummi crib rail for teething babies
had been available when i was a toddler,
if my budding psyche
hadn't been so profoundly damaged
by the constant, senseless, assault of lip-splinters,
then perhaps i would be a kinder, more forgiving person,
less inclined to hold in contempt the thoughtful
mothers and fathers in the next aisle.

and why shouldn't a kid
have the chance to play with "my first sushi"
instead of wooden white bread?

reno, reno, reno

nightcap

after a particularly ravaging day, homicide,
with its morbid humor and all-too-human detectives,
is a perfect end to the day.
i turn to either it or oz
whenever i'm a little depressed.
they're both full of gore and hope,
with the honest feel of non-fiction
and the narrative arc of great drama.

headline: officers make good arrests

bloody stump happily, lying our porch this morning was
that peerless rag, the richmond review.
the police blotter reads like an ineffable fusion
of hemingway, a book report, and reno 911.
when it arrives, my best friend and i always
drop whatever we're doing and take a moment
to read it aloud, both to appreciate the poetry
"that sure is a lot of cocaine," one officer said to the woman.
and to try to guess which "local diner's parking lot"
a man with a meat cleaver chased a young woman through.
also, some items inspire heated ethical debates, such as
do you side with the persecuted shuttle driver even after
he bit the man's nose, but could not explain to the police why he did so?

five years later

this kind of incisive satire is rare,
the kind that transcends simple parody
to give a perfect backhanded compliment
to those who deserve it.

From the wreckage and ashes of the World Trade Center, we have created a recess in the ground befitting the American spirit," said New York Governor George Pataki from a cinderblock-and-plastic-bucket-supported plywood platform near the Hole's precipice. "This vast chasm, dug at the very spot where the gleaming Twin Towers once rose to the sky, is a symbol of what we can accomplish if we work together.

read the rest of the onion article NYC unveils 9/11 memorial hole.

choices

my best friend and i
first got hooked on project runway
over a long cold vermont winter.
the guy we sublet the drafty basement
from told us there was "free cable."
it turned out to be "free bravo,"
so we cranked up the space heater
and we watched what happened.
we had no choice.
my picks for top 3:
michael, laura, & uli.

polyamory

my boyfriends
congratulations are in order!
(thanks to gawker's blue states lose,
bravo's project runway,
and those ubiquitous gap ads,
for introducing us.)
i am now part of a very open and loving
neck-tattoo-hipster-piven-self-invasion quad!

trouble with a capital T

the subletter warns us that she usually crows
when she wakes up,
but that she's been holding back so she wouldn't freak us out,
this morning, after stifling yet another cock-a-doodle-doo,
she decided she would address this issue with us.
my best friend tells the subletter that's cool,
it's like peter pan,
and asks if she should respond
in any particular way, or just be quiet.
the subletters says she should cluck like a hen.
i say, like in the music man, that song,
pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little,
cheep! cheep! cheep! talk a lot, pick a little more!
the subletter stares at me like i'm criminally insane.
my best friend shakes her head,
"of all the musicals for you to like..."

coming to you live from the VMAs II

beyonce rocked my socks off
with her surprisingly graceful aerial entrance,
her awesome swirly trenchcoat,
her kick-ass dance clones,
and her genuine corset.
all overriding my hatred
of songs with sirens in them.

coming to you live from the VMAs

o.k. it's just a rebroadcast,
but i had to come watch
when my best friend screamed out-
i can't believe a song with only four words won!!
you're beautiful.
you're beautiful.
you're beautiful,
it's true.

please insert your **** so we can begin

i hate the word "insert."
i was scarred in fourth grade by reading
my first description of sexual intercourse.
now i can't use an ATM
without throwing up in my mouth a little.
(listen to today's the conversation for more hateful words and phrases.)
i wish i had sarah silverman around back then
to explain the birds and the bees.

homework

on the phone with my best friend
i start to freak out. i tell her i just know
i am a failure as a host, a friend, and for that matter,
as a human being.
bf: will you do me a favor?
si: sure, i guess.
bf: hang up the phone,
go to my computer,
open up itunes
and find sarah silverman's nobody's perfect,
listen to it very very carefully.
then call me back,
o.k.?

maysles blooper reel & nostalgia

netflix envelope the current entertainment weekly
has a review of "the beales of gray gardens"
a new release of footage shot
during the making of gray gardens,
one of the all-time greatest documentaries ever made.
it is about two former-socialite sisters living like hermits
in their crumbling mansion, a la miss havisham
the review makes the extra footage sound
tempting, not dull, so i'll try to get my best friend
to put it on her netflix cue, which makes me a little sad.
you see, back in the good old days of
the media studies documentary film series,
when we had a budget and a big screen,
my best friend was the brains of the operation,
scrawling all the best documentaries in crayon
on the back of a blue benn placemat,
and i was the brawn, ordering the movies,
putting together fliers, and
running the sunday night screenings.
now that there isn't a crowd of college kids
to do the footwork for, i am a little lost.
my best friend is still the brains,
but my part of the show has been reduced to
timid suggestions, delivering and picking up
red envelopes from the mail box,
and watching watching watching.

baba ghanoush & humble pie

i tagged along as my friend from out of town
had a reunion lunch at la mediterranee
with a few old classmates.
as i was getting ready he laughed
and i asked him what was so funny.
he said "you, you're... primping."
i ended up with very jessica rabbit hair,
which turned out to be perfect
since i was clearly the bimbo of the bunch.
they all met in the early entrance program at the UW,
in other words, they were all freshman in college at 15.
despite the fact that one guy is only a year older than i am
he has had plenty of time to finish
his doctorate in biochemical research at UC berkeley,
while i was forced to admit that i have had plenty of time to not finish
my BA in children's media at a school that doesn't even believe in grades.
more impressive than the doctor though,
was the one girl younger than i am--
she's a programmer for google.
she works for a company i use as a verb.

50 cents

i finally found a pay phone
at the fisherman's wharf marriot,
but i couldn't remember my
best friend's cell phone number.

one tree hill

i don't want to be anything other than
what i've been tryin' to be lately.
the theme is appropriate.
the writers don't even pretend
to bother to connect
point a to point b.
now she's the good girl.
now they're dating.
now they're not.
now they're married.
now she's a pop star.
these plot holes are no big deal to me
because the show is actually just a longish ad
for dell laptops and debit cards.
both of which,
i'm proud to say,
i already use on a regular basis.

forget the sound of music singalongs

1922
the castro theater is screening viva pedro,
all of almodovar's films on the big screen.
my friend from out of town and i met my best friend
for women on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
it was just as inexplicably lush and zany as i expected.
in the rich afternoon sunlight the couples flooding out of matinee,
touching each other lightly on the elbow, or chatting loudly
about their plans for the night, made me very sentimental,
even nostalgic, but for what, exactly, i couldn't say.

...

yves klein

one reason i love
my friend from out of town
is that he doesn't ever talk
just to fill the air.
we went to SFMOMA
and wandered through it together.
i stopped in front of a painting,
pure blue.
i felt i was diving in and floating up,
but it was better than the ocean or the sky.
it shimmered and was completely still. i was dissolved.
it was abstract. it called into question
the one real thought that no one spoke.
i said to my friend "this one's cool! at least it's better
than that stupid blue painting over there."
he stood next to me quietly,
looking.

free porn

library card what kind of loser
would ever stoop
to borrowing
their smut
from the public library?
apparently, one like
me.

coma ghost

my friend from out of town and i
had a late night breakfast at the video cafe.
we started hanging out in sixth grade,
so since we were kids stuck in suburbia
for the bulk of our friendship,
we've seen our share of cheesy blockbusters together
and found ourselves at more than our share of 24 hour diners.
it felt like home to share a booth
drown our pancakes in syrup,
and watch just like heaven.
the lead fell in love with reese whitherspoon's
coma ghost. only he could see her, so hilarity ensued.
but seriously folks, he was a landscape architect,
and took her to a huge garden full of pretty flowers
which made her understand she couldn't just be
an overworked childless lonely bitch-doctor anymore.
but he was hesitant because his wife had died
and it would be a real risk
to open up his heart to another woman
that he could lose at any moment,
especially if that woman's sister
took her body off life support.
would she get a second chance at life? at love?
would he? and how far was he willing to go to get that chance?
we nursed our coffee and avoided our check
to get the answers we needed.
as the credits rolled
my friend from out of town said
"guys like that ruin it for the rest of us."
i had to agree. all those
super-nice landscape architect widowers
that can see coma ghosts
do have an unfair advantage
getting those hot undead chicks.

little miss online

internet: am i pretty?
self-invasion: you are the most
beautiful thing in the world.
i: you're just saying that.
si: no! i'm madly in love with you
and it's not because of your brains
or your personality.

two books

halfway through clifford's first snow day
the boy i work with fell asleep, his head in my lap.
as he napped i read a graphic novel, deogratias.
the main character is a young boy who loses his mind
during the tutsi genocide in rwanda.
as i sat in the hall i wondered
what the passing teachers thought
of a this already odd white girl,
reading a comic book, wiping her eyes,
and desperately clutching the hand of a sleeping boy.

das goldene alter

i live in the richmond, but work in hunters' point so,
i have started reading very thick books
on the long bus ride to and from work,
just to have some continuity from one day to the next.
the golden age by gore vidal is the perfect fit,
a gossipy historical novel, with so many characters
you couldn't keep track of them even if you tried.
they earnestly debate issues with forgone conclusions...
is hitler all that bad?
should the u.s. enter world war II or not?
you can guiltlessly skim the dull bits to eavesdrop.
i briefly fell in love with a german exchange student.
he had curly red hair and a friendly smirk,
but mostly he was speaking german so loudly
to an old woman across the aisle.
was she mostly deaf?
or is that just a german thing?

an onion bagel, toasted, with sun-dried tomato cream cheese

as i flipped through the onion
at the local coffee shop
a skeletal lady in a paisley skirt
and a long black trenchcoat
asked me what, exactly, i was eating
three times.
her friend with no teeth
asked me only once.

p.b. jones

"i'm not a whore." though i don't know why i bothered protesting:
i am a whore and always have been.
-- truman capote, answered prayers

good to know

true love waits at the ho doctor
the last entry in the pamphlet on
birth control was "abstinence."
the little pie chart was all green,
100% effective.
i switched to the ladies home journal
where i read about an article about
"bargain bling."
i learned that moissanite
is actually more sparkly
than real diamond.

it's for thee

its for thee my best friend shoved a handful of paper scraps at me
as i slipped into the passenger seat. they turned out to be
chunks ripped from the LARPy catalogue
on the bathroom floor at her brother's house.
i read them aloud,
as she fiddled with the tape-deck-to-ipod converter.
it just kept making a clicking noise, then ejecting itself.
'it's for thee' ... it'll be a foolhardy soul
who messes with your cell phone!
bf: they're mostly for the copywriting...
no matter how many knights show up
at your round table, this ingenious dessert server
assures everyone an equal slice!
bf: ...but some of them are gift ideas.
'slave to fashion'...be the envy of -- the harem!
si: gift ideas for who?
bf: for me.

wanted

michael scofield my best friend is housitting for her brother
and invited me over for the night.
when i woke up early
i crawled into bed with her
to watch prison break.
the dialogue made me giggle,
but the lead is my ideal man,
an architect in prison,
a brilliant hardened innocent.
i love the fake syndrome they invented
for him, a kind of autism
laced with compulsive empathy.
god bless fox for bringing to life
my equivalent of the virgin slut.

is that all there is?

i just wish someone
would come over
and explain things.
my current theme songs are
peggy lee's is that all there is?
and rilo kylie's plane crash in c.
if you don't want to shell out the $1.98 at itunes
head over to pandora
and enter my songs
to get the general idea.
or to create your own soundtrack.

perpetual huddle

Saturday, September 30, 2006

hoodrats & guttersnipes with a hint of burlesque

touched by an angel

NPR

Thursday, September 28, 2006

privacy

a failure to communicate

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

risk

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

tis the season

Sunday, September 24, 2006

big fish in a small pond

Friday, September 22, 2006

...sorry?...

or lucky squared?

Thursday, September 21, 2006

wandering barefoot in the port-a-potty

deal

halloween 2006

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

but its prettier and less long-winded

life & style

a pill saved is a pill earned

Monday, September 18, 2006

golden oldies

Sunday, September 17, 2006

half life

say "lunchables 'mess with your mouth' mini-burgers with free sour tongue-teasing fizz" three times fast

Saturday, September 16, 2006

viva pedro!

green apple

lake wobegon, my hometown

Friday, September 15, 2006

clinton vs. carter

dear abby

Thursday, September 14, 2006

i wish he was my cousin

retardation celebration

d’accord

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

two songs

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

here i was at last...

Monday, September 11, 2006

it was not for me to muse over bygones...

$30,020.69 in the red

$1

Sunday, September 10, 2006

best buy

a post-feminist relieves herself

Saturday, September 9, 2006

saturday night fever

slogan: "we deliver everything but the baby..."

reno, reno, reno

Friday, September 8, 2006

nightcap

Thursday, September 7, 2006