this imploding heart

loaves and loaves

2 days ago, I came home to find a cardboard box leaning against my apartment door. I brought it inside and sliced through the flourescent orange duct tape with a knitting needle. Contents of box include:

Three (3) loaves of home made bread wrapped in vegetable bags.

Five (5) scones wrapped in a paper towell and vegetable bag.

One (1) package of bobby pins

One (1) hairbrush left behind last Christmas. no note.

Thanks mom.

wailing with your last breath

Are you trying to fucking kill me or what?

I'm serious. Fallout is the only record store where I can ask questions and have nice, knowlegeable people answer them without looking at me like the scum of the earth. I will miss your ridiculous selection of cover comps. I will miss Tim checking in with his "Do you have the other album by them? I think you might like it better than this one if this is the first think of theirs you're buying, it's a little less mathy, a little more poppy." I will miss being able to ask what's playing over the PA and having them be excited to talk about it.

Who will be my new record store boyfriend?

eastern standard time

"It's plotting against me!"

"It's paper. It cannot plot. You just need to slow down."

"I don't understand that."

"Slowing down? You just do it slower."

"Face to be shutting in 3...2... aaaaannnndd Now. I mean, once you've written down the number, what good does it do to wait before going on to the next one?"

"You don't wait between the numbers, you move more slowly while you're doing the problem."

"..........I really don't think that's possible."

"Fine! Do it as fast as you want! No skin off my ass!"

"You're supposed to be encouraging me, bastard! You're kind of sucking at this."

"You realize it's two in the morning at my house, don't you?"

and if that diamond ring dont shine

When my sister became a young mother, we talked a lot about how she ended up kind of losing all of her friends. It wasn't that they didn't still like each other or enjoy similar things. It was that she now had this totally different life goal. They were feathering their bangs, she was up every 3 hours breast feeding a new human being who depended on her to stay alive. She couldn't really go sit in the ZZips parking lot on the hood of the car and rock out to Bon Jovi anymore, because a baby wasn't really conducive to meeting high school guys. I was only seven at the time, but we were still pretty close. I didn't really have anywhere to go and I liked that she was around more now, but I thought her friends were shits for ditching her.

Now I'm a shit. When my friends who have kids and have had kids right out of high school call, I feel this canyonesque void spreading between us.

"So what have you been up to?"

"Oh, not a lot. Work. I saw Hot Hot Heat a few days ago and Piebald a few days before that...pretty fun. I go to school two days a week which means less theatre, more dish washing. Saw a few plays, went swimming a few times, got my ass kicked at scrabble at three in the morning, worked at the mall, wrote a little more on my script, and am going to help build a set later in the week. Nothing big. Regular stuff. What about you?"

"Well, Little Johnny Junior is teething so we're just kind of doing that. Husband works during the day and then comes home and we have dinner here. Not a whole lot."

and this is where the gap comes in. She's got another human being to think about. Her life has a whole hell of a lot to do with the happiness of that little person. That little person frequently means staying home most of the time. That little person means getting all the sleep you can. That little person is something that she can talk about with people who have other little persons. My whole life is focused on trying not to do things that are going to land my ass straight in hell, which is a pretty big arena of things with very little restraint at all.

There's usually a bit of uncomfortable silence on the line after I've asked about the kid and about her and the family in general and hows your house and everything and it makes me feel guilty. I want to say "I'm sorry, it seems we've lost all common communicational ground. Shall I call you back in a few years after I've had my first child and have nothing to say to all my childless friends with their petty lives?"

mothers welcome to pipe in on how I suck.

This is a Public Service Announcement.

Paul Rocks.

Choose! Choose now!

1: You're getting married. Your partner is dead set on A:wearing star-trek costumes and having the ceremony performed in Klingon *or* B: having the ceremony at 'Tubbs' in the U-district (which, for you out-of-towners, is a greasy hot tub establishment with extra wide benches and just a few too many handles that happen to be positioned in such a way that....yeah.). Which of these options do you choose for your special day?

2: Plopping down on your ex's lap and kissing them on the cheek at a party in a moment of forgetfulness that everyone notices, OR while making sultry level 3 eye contact with the piece of ass across the room, you go to lean against a pole and miss it entirely, thus falling directly over sideways?

3: Coffee and an art film, or mac n' cheese and scrabble?

4: You get to relive 5 consecutive minutes of your life. Which 5?

5: Please put these items in order from 'Worst To Date' at #1, and 'Best to Date' at #5.

A: Accountants.
B: Religious Zealots
C: Environmental Zealots
D: Actors
E: The Consistently Passive-Agressive

6: 5 children under the age of 10, or twenty dogs?

7: The girl your friends love but your parents hate, or your parents love but your friends hate?

8: Would you rather be responisble for the creation of Reality Television or SUV's?

9: Plums and Pears get in a gang war, who ends up bloodied and dead?

10: record player and mattress on the floor, or typewriter and tent in the woods?

GO! GO! GO!

Also, Happy Birthday brian and ian and Khealey. This week was a good time to be born.

You get the ankles and I'll get the wrists

This isn't even the least of it, but it might be all I've got.

G walked into the bar carrying a giant head of broccolli with candles, balloons, and five one dollar bills stuck in the top of it. I recognized it immediately as something concocted by my mother. I was right. It was the dollar bills that tipped me off.

Round one: Ass Kicking! Hemoglobin!
Round two: Asses Kicked! No pies at all!

Walking to the car:

sjet: "Hey Josh! I'm going to jump you. Ready?"

joshypants with an ice cream sandwich in his hands. "Yup."

sjet: "Hiiiiiiyaaaaaaaahhhh! Drop Kick! Kidney Punch! Breakneck Judo Chop!"

josh, for some reason, suprised. "Aaaaugh! I thought you were just going to jump on me! I'm carrying ice cream here!"

sjet, as if this should be perfectly obvious: "I'm alley jumping you."

josh: "Which is obviously different than regular jumping?"

sjet: "Obviously."

Thank you, birthday pancakes. (including POW and AA and AH and TS)

Twenty Two Things You May or May Not Have Known About Sonya

(a self-indulgent birthday post)

1: when I was one, my uncle gave me a shirt that read "I'm Incredible!"

2: when I was two, I fell down the stairs in a walker and broke my rib.

3:when i was 3, I loved raw bacon. this didn't go over too well.

4:when I was four I began my refusal to wear socks.

5:when I was five, I was obsessed with death.

6: when I was six my aunt cut all my hair off.

7: when i was seven, I accidently pushed my nephew over, and my sister thought I did it on purpose.

8: when I was eight, I had a nervous breakdown.

9:when I was nine I wrote terrible rap songs. (It's not my fault. Hammer was big.)

10: when I was ten, I was on a park and rec softball team called 'Dickensons Insurance.

11: when I was eleven, I read all the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, was obsessed with volcanos, and got in my first motorcycle accident.

12: when I was twelve, I agreed to be Jesse's girlfriend. We never spoke of it again until I broke up with him.

13: when I was thirteen I started drinking coffee, and got kicked out of Perkins for the first time. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

14: when I was fourteen, I loved Aerosmith's 'Love in an Elevator'.

15: when I was fifteen, I began driving legally and swearing like a sailor.

16: when I was sixteen, I was Rizzo in 'Grease'. Tiny was Cha Cha DeGregorio. We got in a real fight on stage once. It was hot.

17:when I was seventeen, I fell asleep at terribly inconvenient times, lost my car keys every week, and frequently forgot to wear shoes. I also went a year and a half without crying.

18: when I was eighteen, I started working at Amazon. I ate reese's peanut butter cups for dinner on a pretty regular basis and skipped around the block at full speed while Tim and Logan stood by the door and smoked cigarettes.

19: when I was nineteen, I spent several months lowering Paul through a hole in the ceiling. I also stopped wearing pants.

20: when I was twenty, I played spin the bottle with a watermelon on the floor of a shack in the middle of nowhere in a bridesmaid dress.

21: when I was twenty one, I saw fireflies for the first time.

22: when I am twenty two, I will kick your ass at trivial pursuit, punch someone in the mouth, tell someone a lie, learn something amazing, get terribly angry, drink a little too much, fall for something stupid, stick up for something I think is right, and make a lot of noise. I can almost guarantee it.

who is that masked band?

Piebald, Minus the Bear, My Chemical Romance, and Noise Ratchet played to the thoroughly packed with youngsters Graceland last night. Here are excerpts from my notes.

--in pencil, very messy but more legible than the brittany spears notebook--
"I had forgotten the discomfort of going to a show where everyone is generally sober and stone quiet and not used to going to shows. much less smoky. much more quiet. That kid is wearing an armband...and has tremendous forearms. maybe he wants to arm-wrestle..."

"I just shotgunned a lucky."

"The indie rock formula is as follows: 3 really skinny guys and one guy with a bit of a belly, 4 t-shirts, red green and brown. One mesh back hat. Voila! You're touring."

"Who the hell are these sassy bastards? They're fantastic!"

"I have to figure out how to end up in Canadian prison with a broken wrist and a leg wrestling trophy in -like- 2 days. Gilly said 'If anyone can do that, it's you.' That was encouraging."

"I just shotgunned a lucky while wearing a big yellow paddington bear coat."

"Minus the Bear, you are boring me out of my mind. Get to the part where you rock and mean it. This rocking is kind of insincere."

"Bulbasaur! Tackle Attack!"

"The guy from Piebald just turned to his bandmate and said 'man, I've never seen you do anything like that before. those were some sweet licks. I like sweet licks.' and then some girl in the front row held up a sign she made for them. This is so fucking weird."

Don't you wish you would have come? We could have shotgunned a lucky.

I'm a hopeless romantic, you're a terrible flirt.

some questions

Local Woman Asks::"So, Do You Want to Go to the Piebald/Minus The Bear Show at Graceland Tonight or What?"

What's up with boys not wanting to arm wrestle me these days? Easy Win! C'mon!

American History or English Composition?(for me and you.)

Complete these statements:

"Ferrets are..."

"I let Patrickt pressure me into watching reality television because...."

"....., and that was the first time I kinda wanted to punch Sonya in the mouth."

(also, Hello Logan. )

Pure Evil.

is she really gonna take him home tonight?

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“I take it back.”

“Okay.”

“…….That doesn’t really work, does it?”

“nope.”

Given the option, I would rewind this scene to ten minutes previous. I would unpoke at your kneecap and spit out my beer and not say that thing I just said.

It’s floating on our conversation like a fly in the soup and we’re trying to eat around it but it’s making us pretty sick. I really do think I’m going to throw up. I’m definitely going to throw up. Wait, don’t throw up. If you throw up, you’ll have both said the thing and thrown up and that is not going to look good little lady. (little lady?)

You have sent your cocktail straws on a little trip around your glass with the ice as a tour guide and I want to hit you in the face so bad. I think about that all the time, you know? Saying something stupid, sitting quietly for a minute, socking out the witness and running like hell.

You breathe in deep through your nose. I want to breathe in deep through my nose, but I have a terrible cold. You speak

“so…your dad…”

“Right. Dad thought he could outrun the guy, but he couldn’t find a place to put the hen, so he just tucked it under his arm like a football and took off running. My sister had already called the cops by this time, mind you, so when they arrive, they just see this old guy in giant work boots with a chicken tucked under his arm running like hell. So they think Dad is the criminal and take off after him. Now we’ve got 1: the guy. 2: My dad with a chicken tucked under his arm, and 3: The cops chasing after my dad with a chicken under his arm chasing the guy who was trying to get the chicken in the first place. I want to count your teeth with my tongue and then knock them all out with my heel.”

It gets pretty quiet again.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“have the last few months been like this?”

“Not all the time. Sometimes.”

“You’re really pretty angry for being such a generally insensitive person.”

“I wish both my eyes were black and blue.”

“Maybe you should see somebody.”

“I’m going to slam my elbow in a car door.”

“I know a guy you should call.”

“I’m going to shove sixty four crayons up my nose.”

“Starting with the reds?”

“Starting with the reds.”

He takes me deep sea fishing in a submarine

we go to drive-in movies in a limosine

Look here first. Isn't that the best thing you've seen since the last time you ate a grilled cheese sandwich? They're the best ones.

I knew I should have written everything down as it was happening. This is going to be chaos.

AA: "how much is that cheese? If we stick to cheese, crackers, hummus, pitas, and wine we should be able to keep the tables covered most the night, don't you think?"

Sjet: "Hooh! Hah! Hooh! Hah! Well don't you know, that's the sound of the men, working on the chain....ga-a-ang. That's the sound of the men, working on the chain, gang. It's 3 dollars a pound"

AA: "All day long they singin Well then, how about the meunster?"

Sjet: "My My My My Myyyy my work is so hard give me water, I'm thirsty who-o-o-o-oo-ooooo, my work is so hard. Sounds good."

AA: "What'd you get at the liquor store?"

Sjet: "Big plastic bottle of store brand Vodka, Ditto for the Burbon, and this song stuck in my head. When I left, the clerk said 'Thank you for shopping Washington State store number Seventy Seven! Happy Birthday.' It was odd."

AA: "There's been talk lately of privatizing the liquor stores. I think they might be a little worried about their cushy state job salary."

Sjet: "Workin on the highways and byways and wearing, wearing a frown."

A mexican hat dance on my throat

should be called a mexican throat dance.

I just got all sad for some reason, and I need to get over it right quick, as my dad would say. Right Quick has thus become something I would, and for that matter, did...say. I have a lot of sewing to do tonight. A birthday present for my girl to be constructed. A birthday dress for myself, providing I find some fabric that says "Yay! Birthdays are fun! Don't be sad!"

I think my real birthday will be another Canada birthday this year. Which reminds me that yesterday was Matt's real birthday, (and I remembered all by myself). Happy Birthday, mattster. I got you a sweetened tongue and feathers from a ducks back pasted all over my ears. I also stand by my decision that the harmonica I gave you was the best birthday present I've ever given anyone. If Patrickopie's present had worked out this year, it'd be a whole new story. Man, that was going to be great.

Girl inform me

There were geese everywhere that year.

My dad had created one of his infamous Master Plans to make a million dollars and rid the city of the geese at the same time, but you've heard all about that by now.

--I want to be able to tell you how it felt without reminding you that you were or were not there. Spoils it if you remember that you were, inneffective if you remember that you weren't. This particular sequence of memory fits like an overcoat I've given away and then borrowed back for a quick jaunt to the convenience store across from your building. I know the fit of these pockets, but this is not my overcoat now.--

I was wearing those courderoys and the last pair of tennis shoes purchased in the fall while I was living at mom and dads. (I still have them) and I remember the inaction that pushed us gently toward the other while trying to avoid the geese. All this, entirely due to the cold. I remember how high up on your chest I came when I leaned my face against you and how your jacket fit almost around both of us.

I thought to myself "How strange, that I do not know what this is." because I tend to believe that I know what everything is, and "This feels like an accident.". It likely was, now that I consider it. I am constantly having long term accidents that change nearly everything. But now I barely remember that you ever hung in my coat closet.

But just a moment ago I thought of that thing I do where I pop my knuckles against that body when I'm pushing at those back muscles, and I thought to myself "They know everything, and I have no information at all." which is due to tendencies related to running in fresh snow with bare feet and my love of unabashed disclosure with only the really surprising information held back.

I suddenly feel like I don't have my seat belt on.

doughnuts and fruitcake with no nuts so good you could go nuts.

There are a lot of things that I say I want that I don't actually want at all. For example, I frequently say things like "I want to chop everyone's legs off with my judo chop.". This is usually a lie, and I would be kind of disappointed if you lined up everyone in the world for leg-chopping-off-ness.
I also frequently wake up in the middle of the night and hit you in the chest and say "Hey Consuela!* I want a sandwich!" but if you get up and make that sandwich, I will fall back asleep before you come back and will end up being super annoyed when you try to wake me up to eat the sandwich you made, you nice person you. I'll probably drink the glass of water, though. Thanks.

There are also many times at parties or shows or social events when I will suddenly feel that my life is totally deviod of meaning and that some physical thing will magically make me feel a sureity that I've yet to feel. On those occasions, you may hear me loudly proclaim such gems of wisdom as: "I want a baby! I want a carousel! I want a helicopter! I want a new boyfriend! I want some candy! I want a record contract! I want a fedora! I want a gambling problem! I'm so fucking miserable!"
Most of the time, I just want one of the things I named, and it's usually the candy, so I can just go to the store and get it myself.

These things can be rather confusing, I know, so here's a short list of what I actually want.

Krypto

atari 2600 with pac man (or ms pac man, I can't tell the difference) and space invaders

a ride to the square dancing store in lynnwood.

Fancy pricey ridiculous pink and orange shoes from fluevog

Good books you’ve already read

Mix tapes

50 good excuses

Extremely cheesy radio dedications

A turntable

An afternoon spent in bed playing lightning round Trivial Pursuit and watching documentaries.

Confusing japanese candy

A bookstrap

*no matter what your name happens to be.

Pictures of Late in the Year

Momma Dressmaking

Before the big game.





Poppa and youngest grandsons





The Baby of Her Family




Chloe




Small Town Frost

Briefly.

There may likely be photos later. For now, try this. (and tell me what you get, 'cause I'm pretty sure I got it right, but the wording is stupid.)

"I drove 198 miles. I filled my car's gas tank and it took 7 and 1/3 gallons of gas to fill it. How far does my car travel on one gallon of gas?"

Lets see you invert some fractions now.

It takes all day to explain it

So many little things. Lets make goulash.

One.

S: "Chlo? How did I get this bruise on my knee?"

She barely looks up from the knitting I've been trying to teach her since yesterday. She keeps taking the whole thing out and starting over because she wants it to be perfect.
C: "You fell out of a shopping cart yesterday."

S: "Are you sure? I thought he fell out of the shopping cart. I don't think I did."

C, still knitting, concentrating very hard and speaking in a monotone: "Ummm, that's right. He fell out when you ran him into the curb..."

S: "That was an accident, and he landed on his feet."

C: "...and you got that bruise when you ran into the tree."

S: "That was fun."

C: "Running into the tree?"

S: "Well, that certainly wasn't the best part..."

Two.

In my dumb kids math class last night we were reminded that if you cross multiply fractions and they equal the same number, they will eventually reduce to the same number. Lets remember that this whole 'school' thing is terrifying to me, but I had to know, so I raised my hand.

"I'm sorry if this is stupid,but why does that work?"

She kind of looked at me for a second. "It's been proven. Somebody noticed a certain pattern and it's worked for everything since."

Which didn't answer my question at all, but actually cleared up my entire problem with math. (Ready for this? It's taken me 7 years.)

It doesn't ever matter Why It Works.

Three.

I called my parents yesterday morning and my father picked up the phone. He never picks up the phone. He has jury duty for the third time in 8 years. I think this is hilarious.
Less hilarious (not funny at all, actually) is that my mom isn't healing from her surgery. I'm a little nervous. It would be ridiculous if this ended up being the thing that finally overtook her non-existent immune system. Things are going to be fine, I'm sure, but if you're the praying or finger-crossing type....yeah. thanks.

Four.

Happy Birthday Alisha! You're the sexiest periodical librarian I know.

as you pulled a twig from my hair that I put there myself, I confess

Friday. The Sunset in Ballard. The Bella Fayes/Lawnmowers/Band that I want to say had the word monkey in the title but I'm not sure so I ended up calling them the Punk Rock Partridge Family show.

After the BF's played, Lael was leaning up against the wall, looking all cool. Alisha goes over to talk to him and he says "Man, I did something really bad to my back. I can't move at all and I'm really in pain here. " Which explains all the casual leaning, see.

So Alisha and Patrickopie took Lael to the ER and gave me her keys so I could direct the rest of the band to her house and get a ride out of Ballard. I help the boys load out and hold the door for the Punk Rock Partridge Family. Conversations near vans full of equipment went like this.

D of the BF's: "hey, do one of you guys have a cigarette?"

Drummer for PRPF: "Ooh, no they're back at the hotel, but we've got..."

Bassist for PRPF: "Digital is the new Analog."

Sonya: "Analog is the new Atari."

The Drummer for PRPF's head pops out of the back of the van. "Analog is the new Atari is the coolest thing I've ever heard. I want to play galaga so bad."

Friday night/Early Saturday Morning at Alisha's. Waiting for the invalid. Watching MTV2

J: "Gaaaaa! This is horrible! A huge band of white boys with 2 singers. One who sings, one who raps, neither of whom play an instrument. Who the hell thought this was a good idea? "Well, our singer can't rap, so we've obviously got to get rapper...""

D: "Did they just show that girls panties?"

Sonya, shuddering with disgust.: "Ehhhhhhew. That's the worst word ever. I need to go wash my hands."

J: "What? Panties?"

Sonya: "Stop saying it!"

Shooting at the walls of heartache (bang bang)

It went down something like this.

Alisha and Johnny and I went to see The Bella Fayes at EMP last night in the stupid great liquid lounge. Stupid in that all the cocktails cost a million dollars, great in that the shows on their tiny tiny little bitty stage are free. The BF's played a great show that everyone seemed to really enjoy. Random homeless lady off the street danced through the whole thing, but there's this guy....in this sweater...

Okay. Let it first be known that my original bias against this guy had nothing to do with his terrible cosby sweater. My original bias was based entirely on the fact that-
1: he was licking Alisha and her roomates with his eyes.
2: all the conversational movement that most people do with their hands -gesturing about the room, accentuating a point, etc- he was doing with his pelvis. Color me impressed, boy howdy.

I heard him talking loudly and being a bit of a fucker during the BF's set, but not more than your average asshole. When the Lawnmowers (who are pretty good) came on, he would talk loudly all the way through the song, and then scream criticism to them in the break. He was 2 barstools away from me with Zach in between us, and the rest of it went something like this:

Song ends.
Asshole guy: "Why don't you get off the stage already!"
Sonya's inner monologue: 'What a fucking bitchhole. I'm gonna kick this guy's ass.'
AG: "You Suck! Want me to show you how to play your instruments?"
--Now, it should be noted that what happened next was not a conscious decision, but an act of speaking in tounges.--
Sonya's mouth, very audible but not yelling: "Shut the Fuck Up."
AG -kind of doesn't belive that the little girl with the mop top in the baby blue kneesocks just told him off. Speaks to the band again.- "I'll show you how to do it right. Just get off the stage!"
Sonya's mouth acting independently of her brain. "I SAID Shut The Fuck Up, Bitch."
AG: (and I fucking swear this is exactly what he said) "Oooh. She's fiesty! A new yorker, maybe..." and proceeded to shut up. (and was eventually escorted out by security.)
Right about then I realized that I had just called a pretty big guy in a bar a bitch. I turned to Zach with my mouth hanging open.

S: "Oh Zach. Did I just call that dude a bitch?"

Z: "You sure did, and it shut him right up. If it would have been me, we'd be fighting right now, but you...it was perfect. Don't worry about it."

S: "Alisha! I just called that guy a bitch! How did that happen?"

A: "I don't know, man, but we all think it's great."

the end.

Air traffic control? It's me.

He is in fine form today. Making me laugh till I choke on lettuce with The "Isn't it amazing how fantastic I am?" Game. I take a swig of water through the straw he always discards from his cola and play my turn.

"It's really just confounding...you know...how amazingly 1:smart, 2:cute and 3:talented I am. They should write a book -no- 3 books about me. One for smart. One for cute. One for talented. They'd be triple best sellers."

he retorts:

"It's pretty fantastic that while you may have invented this game, I am ultimately the superior player. No one can beat me. It's not their fault that I'm so good at this, I'm just a natural, I guess. It's almost painful, how good I am."

"You are my finest opponent, I have to tell you."

"It's because I don't set limits for myself. I'm willing to go that extra mile."

socked

He was hunched over on the ground in the parking lot of the Flying J outide Yakima. He rolled over on to his back keeping his knees to his chest, most certainly rolling into a pile of spit/oil/diesel conglomerate. From this position he noticed that the J on the flying J sign was meant to look like a plane taking off, thus the whole 'flying' part. Right. That makes sense.
He rolls his eyes around to katie, whos face was tense in the 'Am I about to get in trouble? I think I might be in trouble.' position. Hands fanned wide open and taut with palms facing in.

Katie didn't love anything as much as she loved socking people in the gut.

Funnier than you.

Tim is the winner of the mean valentines contest. I'm going to call myself the first runner up with 'Dead Baby', even though we were the only 2 contestants.

The girls in their kneesocks, they've all got it made

I didn't do anything stupid that anyone else could see. Stupid things I did in private included forgetting that anything multiplied by zero is zero and not knowing my six times tables. Yes folks, I'm pretty much back in third grade. I also watched The Godfather last night, so if you make fun of me I'll cut your legs off and replace them with your prizewinning horses head.

parenthetical to signify a whisper, see?

(I start school tonight. I bought my books and found the room ahead of time to avoid panic, but -to tell you the truth- I could use a little more hand holding and re-assurant whispering. I'm nervous.)

Grease rag

I spent weeks sprawled out under the fire escape building your rocket ships, for which I was paid entirely in compliments.

I named the first ship 'Celery'. You frowned when you came to pick it up, but you still told me I made a fantastic pie-crust, however reluctantly. I wiped the grease of my hands on my kneecaps and you curled up your fingers in disgust without realizing you'd done it.

The second ship was complete in just 2 afternoons. I worked straight through lunch on the first day and only stopped on the second when the postman tapped my leg with the toe of his government issue shoes and muttered in spanish...something about the parts that had been coming in. They were heavy and he was aging, would I mind picking them up my damn self in the future?

Ship 3, which I had already decided to christen "Ode To My Old Old Postman" was fitting together like a new sweater put through the wash without reading the tag. The smooth parts were turning up lumpy, the sharp edges were curling in on themselves, the heat seekers were seeking the perfect cheese-to-sauce ratio. I was determined not to let you catch me crying, but your houndstooth suit was already upon me as I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes.
"What are you doing? Is it ready?"
I pushed harder and watched the swirling yellow blobs turn into lines of bad television reception. I wonder if all those years of turn-dial television has somehow burned itself into my retinas. You cough, purposefullly, as if I'd forgotten you were standing there, and when I open my eyes the houndstooth print snaps into focus. I hold my hand up with my palm facing you to shade my eyes. "It's not finished, but I need you to pay me today."

"That wasn't the deal." your voice is dry like brittish crackers.

"I promise it will be finished. I just need a little."

You sigh and press your middle finger at the apex of your nose, pushing up imaginary glasses. "Your rolodex is in perfect order."

"That's not enough."

You purse your lips and eek out "You're beautiful when you're in pain."

I'd like very much to throw my wrenches at you, but they're tied to my wrists with a length of black rope. I can hear your car door slam and the rocket shudders with the vibration. I pull myself off the ground and hoist the ship up with a rope I've laced through the escape grating and tie the end off at a no parking sign. The sun is setting and the mexican brothers who live next door begin to play their accordions. The postman emerges from behind a mailbox and shakes his fist at their bouyant strains. I wipe my hands on a discarded wedding dress I've taken to using as a grease rag and watch as Celery delivers her firey houndstooth birth scream into the sky toward an undisclosed location.

I just can't get enough

I just realized that 4 out of the last 5 times Chloe has come to town, my first words to her have been along the lines of

"Hi Smorgasboard of Talent and Wonder! Can you/ take this tape and block off all the sections that have blue light on them right now/ take a poll of all the actors concerning the placement order of their props and arrange it by scenes/ set up the bar and start selling tickets/ go up in the rafters and start tightening down bolts? Thanks, you're the best."

and she is.

Things I decided in the last 10 minutes

1: I'd like it if Nico's "These Days" would play gently in the background whenever I'm writing in my notebook and waiting to meet you.

2: My elbow is totally broken. I'm serious.

3: I'm going to get a dozen pairs of these .

4: I'm going to get a wedding dress and get my picture taken with one of the boys and send it to my parents and tell them I eloped. April 1st is my family's favorite holiday.

spoken like a champion

I kinda think I chipped my elbow last night and that I've somehow turned off the section of my brain that does all the important thinking. It all happened like this:
I am napping after work and the telephone rings. It's my father, but it takes me a moment to realize this because he rarely calls me.

dad: "Hi Sonie."
me: "Um...poppa?"
dad: "Are you sleeping?"
me: "What makes you say that?"
dad: "anyway, Mom's fine."
(This is the moment that I realize I've completely forgotten that my mother was having an ovarian cyst removed today, and begin to feel guiltier than I've ever felt before.)
a trying to recover and act natural me: "Good, are you both at home?"
dad, seeming to totally buy it: "She's going to stay overnight and I'm getting a bit of a flu, I think. I'm home now. "
me: "have you eaten?"
dad: "Like I said, flu..."
me: "right, gross."

So I get out of bed and head for the shower to wash the guilt away. Phone rings again. It's Bret, calling to discuss the fact that I'm SMing Spin the Bottle friday night. Again with the forgetting really important things. Tie that up as best possible and call Chloe in Spokane because she's going to be in friday night only, and we're going to have to spend it working a show. She's okay with it, but I feel ridiculous.
Rounding the corner again for that shower and scratching the back of my neck with my elbow in the air, it catches the doorframe and fills my arm with white hot death monkey pain. Begins to swell. That's about when I decided that I'm never getting out of bed again and that I'm going to spend the rest of my life reading the dictionary of word origins and pouting. The End.

science vs romance

It's most important that I stop with the fingernails already.

(This is a secret. I'm nervous about school. Don't tell anybody.)

Back at work today (finally) and ashamed to say that I was ready to be back as of last night. When it gets too quiet and relaxed I start to consider the possiblilties. It's possible that I'm losing my mind. It's possible that everything I purchase furthers someone elses suffering. It's possible that my lazy attitude toward so many of my convictions is going to land my ass in hell. It's possible that at this very minute I'm Missing It.
My nerves tend to eat my heart alive sometimes.

I didn't know that game shows were on at ten thirty pm. I played Jeopardy! against myself while taking a MENSA personality test titled "Are you Practical?"

The questions were like this:

Could you repair a broken roof shingle?

A: Easily

B: With Some difficulty

C: Couldn't Cope

and you gave yourself 3 points for every A, two points for every B, and zero points for every C answer. I got a really high score because I had done or knew pretty much how to do most of the things on the test, except for repairing a window. The evaluation was the best part, as it ended with the words "You're the kind of person who could probably deal with most practical situations. I hate you."

Ah, mensa.

Let me break it down for you

At this very moment, I am wearing a gigantic pink tu tu, Gillian is making me a hat out of a paper bag, gavin is making breakfast and evan is laying prone on the couch not learning his lines. It should be noted that I fell asleep in the tu tu not long after I put it on and watched the fireworks and drank so much and kissed every one of you last night. I woke up in the middle of the night because I was thirsty and found that I was unable to move and had no idea where I was. I was a little worried until I realized that the sheer mass of the tu tu was preventing me from rolling over (explaining the not being able to move) and that I was in gillys room with 2 other girls also sleeping in fancy dresses. It's now afternoon and I can't stop saying:

"hey, it's January First, Two Thousand Three." and expecting something to happen.

and

"I'm not afraid of anything....except spiders...and women...and spider women..."

Happy New Year loves. This dress may prevent me from ever being sad again.