Nelson to Wellington

I printed my boarding pass online which meant that I did not go to the counter and so forgot to check my bag. It wasn't until I was on the runway actually looking at the door when I realized "this bag isn't going to fit in there! Why am I carrying it?" luckily as this came over me I turned to see the baggage handler watching me with a smile. I laughed and rolled my eyes to the sky as if to say "how foolish! I have forgotten to check my bag!" He laughed in response and took the bag from me, for which I was glad.

Who would you rather be?:

• Tim
• Dawn
• David
• Gareth
  

The Fortune

This one says “people count up the faults of those who keep them waiting”

“What does that one mean?” I asked. “If you show people one fault, and let it linger then they’ll start noticing your other faults.” He answered.

Hmmmm, ok. “What about this one: ‘Honesty is the best policy, but while there is truth in humour there is no humour in truth.” I frowned “that isn’t true…” He agreed “Yeah, what about that saying ‘fact is stranger than fiction.’”

Some of them weren’t fortunes in the slightest. She read aloud “One should feel freedom of the mind.” Someone pushed a filled wineglass to her, which she cheerfully accepted.

I held up the one I’d gotten last night “A fall in a ditch will make you wiser.”

Well. Surely they could have used a better metaphor. Something like, if you play with fire you’re likely to get burned. “A game of sticks can end with one eye out.” I suggested.

Someone down the far end held up theirs “Mine isn’t so true, I’m too far at the end of the table.” “What’s it say?” his neighbour turned quickly to look, knocking over a wine glass which splashed all over the fortune holders front. There was a moment of silence as happens in unexpected accidents. Then they laughed with a surprising ferocity, unable to speak they handed the fortune to the clumsy neighbour who read aloud “You are the centre of every groups attention.”

The Meaning

“Now, I just have to see this tattoo of yours, what does it say?” he paused to take it in and then, aloud read “Can’t believe how strange it is to be anything at all” and smiled thoughtfully. I hadn’t come up with a good sound bite for why I had it and what it meant but for the most part it hadn’t mattered. Most people didn’t attempt a meaning. “So…is that like that feeling you get every now and then, when you can’t believe that you’re a being alive on this little spinning rock in a massive universe and you’re heart feels so big yet you realize that you’re so small and it’s all so amazing and overwhelming?” he asked.

I blinked, totally bewildered at his description. “Yes. Yes it is. I…can’t believe how accurate you just were.” He grinned “Life really puts the blinders on, doesn’t it? Thank god for that feeling”

The reason that there are vegetarian foods shaped like meat foods is that we live in a meat eating society. If you are invited to a barbecue and are vegetarian, what will you eat? What can you bring to the table that will fit on those hamburger buns, those hot dog buns, what will go with that mustard or ketchup?
If you are vegetarian and American and you find yourself on Thanksgiving AKA Turkey Day, what is going to be your central dish? Are you satisfied with a bevy of side dish types?
You like chicken but you don't like the politics of meat. You love bacon. You like hot dogs. But you aren't one for creative cooking, you don't know where to begin. What are you going to eat? The Ficken, the facon, the Tofurky...those are just replacements. And they don't taste like meat, anyway.

One mans trash...

"Alright give us your arm" he instructed. I put my arm into a strong man pose obligingly and watched as he placed the sticky stencil carefully on the inside of my bicep. "Is this lyrics from Tool or somethin'? he asked. Oh God, Tool? "No, it's from a band called Neutral Milk Hotel." I said, paused for a moment but he showed no recognition so I continued, settling onto my back "They're very good." He smiled, then leaned over to begin work. I noticed a flaming Chinese symbol tattooed on the center of his head. He nodded his head over to a man with huge arm muscles and comically tiny head "When I was getting it formatted a ol' Barry wondered why anyone would want to get this on 'em". I took another look at Barry "Is that the guy with the Superman symbol tattooed on his chest?" I asked. "Yeah, that's him." I relaxed back again, contemplating his words. I sighed, "Well, everyone has their own interpretation of life, I guess."
He nodded again. The needle buzzed away on my arm. No going back now, anyway/

I understand that you are not just the person that I knew when I met you. You are the layers of experiences over a lifetime. Who you are is a growing concept that should not be boxed in to one experience. I'll not box you in, I'll just let you be you instead.

Hopes and dreams

Rivers and streams

Boats slowly sailing

Come in between the real world and me

Got to forget to remember to play it naturally

Come out of your shell, what’s that you’re protecting underneath

Consider please, a little less dignity

If playing it safe means keeping it boring

Hopes and dreams

Rivers and streams

Boats, are always sailing through coming

In between the real world and me

I never was as good at jumping right in

Making all new strangers into ten new friends

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want ‘em

again and again

It’s like “I notice you don’t have too many friends”

I’m just deep that’s all, just deep into myself,

Reading all the books on the library shelf (so deep)

Working on the newest project that nobody can see but me

Hopes and dreams

Still, deep rivers and streams

Boats sailing, just passing through

Coming in between the real world and me (and I let ‘em)

The sons gotta shine
yeah he's gonna need time
to figure out a few rhymes
and...work is just a distraction
a forced life time of bizarre interactions
with people you'd never think to call friends but
in the end it builds character.

The Burn

Today at work I had to cut onions. They stung my eyes and made me cry in front of everyone. I looked like a terrible fool. I hate onions!

What a beautiful face
I have found in this place
that is circling all round the sun
and when we meet on a cloud
I’ll be laughing out loud
I’ll be laughing with everybody I see
can’t believe how strange it is to be anything at all

It's hard being a girlfriend these days. First things are great - you get to have sex with a new person, you're feeling liberated and ready to have new adventures in the bedroom. Then you realize how common putting it in the butt is, and you aren't so sure that's for you. But everyone is doing it, it's the new oral. Speaking of oral, don't forget to swallow or it means you don't care/are stunted sexually. You think you want a threesome but actually you're suddenly too shy and too afraid to find someone and if you did try they'd have to be just right so there'd be no regrets. What about the poop, girls? That shit on his wee man doesn't fuck with your head? Man...

There's also no such thing as "environmentally-friendly." The environment doesn't need friends, because it is the environment. And even if the environment wanted friends, do you really think it would want to be friends with you? I mean, come on, look at you.-Jeff Rowling

Dear Daughter-of-mine,

I finally realized the (evil) genius of that dog of yours this morning. All this time I excused him thinking his wee pee brain just couldn't learn anything ! As I put him out (like every morning) he did his pretense of peeing in the yard, then came in the house to crap on the den floor like usual. Standing off in the corner to enjoy watching my reaction. I enjoyed fantasies like shipping him off to Michael Vic or beating him with the roll of paper towels in my hand. I did notice the large lake of pee he put in the kitchen sometime during the night, but only now realize it was placed there to give me false security as I walked into the dining room.

As I slipped, almost falling for the 19th time, I finally put it all together. He is subtle: the amount of pee was small enough in the dining room for me not to see it, and the clever placement in the grout made it all the more invisable. I know now he IS out to kill or mame me, that he does plan to take over once I'm out of the way.

If I'm found on the floor with a broken neck, DO NOT pass it off as a common household accident! Closer inspection will reveal Reggie Mantle, the adopted pet, the pet we raised as one of our own, is indeed the murderer.
I'm leaving it to you to see justice is done: I want him to go to the gas chamber (I assume they still have these somewhere, I know he wouldn't fit in the electric chair). Do not bring him into your home, once he has killed, he will only kill again! Never underestimate the cunning wile of this monster!

Have a nice day,

Dad

I leaned in close to his face. "Com'on" I breathed "Why don't you act like ya love me?"
He smiled like a sweet little boy "I can't let anyone know!"
I laughed and smushed my face on him, kissing his cheek. His face was warm. I wanted to hug it- hug his whole head nice and hard.
I kissed his mouth and then felt the urge, the hugging urge, again. "Gimmie another" I said childishly.
"Owch! It burns!"he squirmed from my kisses, which were all over his face.
"Just one." I pleaded. "No way!" He said

I stomped "I never liked you anyway." and turned to leave.
He sat up quickly, sweet blue eyes filled with hope.
"Give us a kiss?"

Aguilara get the flu

We sat by the windows, reading the newspaper. The radio blared in the background. “Last night Christina Aguilara cancelled her Wellington concert a mere 2 hours before kickoff. Many fans were infuriated”. The station cut to a medley of interviews with the fans who hadn’t known of the cancellation and had turned up ready to rock.

”I can’t bloody believe this! We’ve been drinking all day to prepare!”

"I'll never buy another of her albums, that's for sure"

"If she's a genie in a bottle then that starlet is not doing her job very well"

"She can make it up to everyone by saying sorry to New Zealand at the next Grammy Awards ... Otherwise she can get stuffed and no one should ever buy another one of her albums."

“Look at this, it’s all over the newspaper as well” he pointed to a large article with the head line “Christina @#!!#*@ Aguilera!”. It was placed directly to the left of a photo of an enraged middle aged woman in leopard print lycra.

“People weren’t this upset when Mob Deep cancelled!”

Now in the West the slender moon lies low,
And now Orion glimmers through the trees,
Clearing the earth with even pace and slow,
And now the stately-moving Pleiades,
In that soft infinite darkness overhead
Hang jewel-wise upon a silver thread.

And all the lonelier stars that have their place,
Calm lamps within the distant southern sky,
And planet-dust upon the edge of space,
Look down upon the fretful world, and I
Look up to outer vastness unafraid
And see the stars which sang when earth was made.

Marjorie Pickthall

LambMan

It was nearing the end of work today and everyone was busy at a task. Dylan was cutting pieces of lamb from a roast for sandwich meat, Wren was cleaning the floor and I was scraping the burnt, baked on shit from a huge stack of baking trays. Dylan turned to wash his hands and felt something gross and smelly being placed on his shoulder. He looked over and saw Wren, grinning as she moved her hand quickly away from the huge piece of lambskin that was now on his shoulder. "Oh yuck!" He exclaimed "I thought I felt something disgusting on me!".
"Hey" I interrupted "people pay a lot of money for lambskin. You should be thinking about what you'll do with it." I paused with my work "and maybe thank Wren, while you're at it." I went back to scraping a tray, "Ungrateful!"

He laughed, holding up the skin "Maybe I could make a suit."

"I think you'll only get a thong out of that"

He shrugged, "I'll collect so much that I'll have a whole outfit. I could be LambMan" He skewered a piece of meat and held it up to me
"forgo your vegetarian ways, they are useless against the LambMan!"

"Will you make a mask as well?" I asked, swatting away the meat.

"I'm not Hannibol Lector" He frowned

I was in the ladies room of a music venue, waiting for a stall to open. A dark haired woman of about 22 was washing her hands. I was very tired from staying out late the night before and then walking all over the city and it’s suburbs for most of the day. Before we came to the show it’d seemed like every bar and pub was standing room only. It made sense though, the All Blacks had just finished winning against the Aussies and after the game the people poured out of the pub and into the street, crowding into the bars to induce a celebratory hang over for the next morning. When we arrived at 10:00 for the show meant to start at 9:30, we stood again in a crowd with no where to lean or place one’s bum. All this meant that my legs ached and I was looking forward to being able to have a nice sit-down when my chance for a toilet came. The dark-haired woman turned to me suddenly and stood close. I managed a vague smile.

“Do you remember The Exponents?” she said strongly.

“Er, yep.” I flustered, confused by the unexpected twist the trip to the toilet had taken.

“Name some of their songs then” She demanded, crossing her arms.

Was this a test? What was going on? What are some Exponents songs?!

“Victoriaaa, what do you want from him, waaant from him” I sang.

“Yeah ok, and what else?” she said, her intensity bizarrely out of place. I trucked on, not wanted to fail, not when it came to music quizzes.

“What Ever Happened to Tracy?”

“Yeah, yeah” Unimpressed, she moved her hands in the international “move it along” rotation.

“Fly awayyy into the blue skies.” I sang again, privately thanking my father for a singing voice.

“And?”

“Um, yeah I can’t think of anything else.”

“Ok.” She nodded, as if committing my answers to memory. Then she left.

I stood there for a moment. I still couldn’t think of any other Exponents songs.

A stall opened and I looked at the eyes of the girl who came out, to see if she’d over heard. She looked back impassively, then washed her hands. She hadn’t.

“huh” I Thought as I went into the stall “I’m definitely telling the guys about this.”

Words that mean the same thing

• Vomit
• Barf
• Puke
• Regurgitate
• Reverse
• Toss your cookies
• Purge
• Hurl
• Sick
• Throw up
• Upchuck
• Use the big white telephone
• Worship the porcelain God
• Check on lunch
  

Ugh. Hungover at work. Peeling the ride from 35 lemons, squeezing out the juices. Repetitive. My hands hurt. The little cuts from the little knives, my hands are cracked and dry from over-washing. Workers hands. hmph. Thinking and over thinking everything-king.King. Ugh. So repetitive this work, this life. No it isn't. Yes it is. Cyclical, typical, is that what you want to be? Iis that what you want? Melt into boredom and just give up on anything? Is that what you're doing? Boss says that my saying that giving up (temporarily) my education isn't very feminist is a strong statement. I suppose to some the word feminist is a strong statement. These people are nice and sometimes hilarious, but far too straight for my liking. They still think interracial relationships are "wow" worthy. They still mull over the "how" and"why" someone "chooses" to be gay. I keep my mouth closed at these mullings because it seems possible that where I am is not where they are and that maybe where I am is "far out". I am "hung over" good Gooood. Lemons. Lemon cakes need lemon juice needs sugar. Needs...760 grams? I don't want to ask again, she'll know I've forgotten and possibly, therefore, don't care how many grams of sugar this juice needs, even though I've done it every day for 2 weeks. Who cares? Do I really want to be good at baking anyway? Some people aren't good at some things. Then again...if I were crap at something I'd gotten into, like sword fighting, even if I didn't really like it I'd do everything to not be the worst and possibly be the best. And if I were shit I'd crack jokes to distract from my shitty sword work.
People who are into swords are often weird. I don't know anyone that does, anymore. Greg is getting married. He's the first ex of mine to get married, weird. No, that's not true, Jed is getting married and I knew that over a month ago. I guess I'm truly over Jed but not enough over Greg to not be affected by his getting married. It's not like I want to marry him though. I guess I'm less connected with his life. It's more of a suprise. Marriage. How do people decide when it's right? To me traditional marriage feels like a sham. I couldn't do it without feeling like a liar. I'm more freaked out by the idea that I'm of an age where it's normal for people to get married. It's so far and away. I get the idea of a long-term relationship. I don't get the idea of monogamy for years and years. I get trust, I don't get suffocating. Ungh, why so many wines with the girls, the night before work? I can't get out of my head and...eh fuckit.

Mary Oliver

A Visitor by Mary Oliver

My father, for example,
who was young once
and blue-eyed,
returns
on the darkest of nights
to the porch and knocks
wildly at the door,
and if I answer
I must be prepared
for his waxy face,
for his lower lip
swollen with bitterness.
And so, for a long time,
I did not answer,
but slept fitfully
between his hours of rapping.
But finally there came the night
when I rose out of my sheets
and stumbled down the hall.
The door fell open

and I knew I was saved
and could bear him,
pathetic and hollow,
with even the least of his dreams
frozen inside him,
and the meanness gone.
And I greeted him and asked him
into the house,
and lit the lamp,
and looked into his blank eyes
in which at last
I saw what a child must love,
I saw what love might have done
had we loved in time.

In Malcolm Gladwell's book "The Tipping Point" he talks about the roles people play socially. One of these roles is as a connector-someone who introduces people to each other as well as to new situations, new music, new places. They are the information bringers, the social butterflies. They know everyone and your social circle is actually their social circle, you just happen to be in it.
He said one way of figuring out who the connector in your life is, is to write down the names of all the people in your social circle, and how you came to know each one. I did this and had a somewhat disappointing/curious result. Most of the people I've known in my life, I met myself either through work or school. I'm not a connector though, I don't think, and it didn't seem like I fit into the other 2 categories either. My theory for this is that, because I move around so much I don't truly have a social circle anymore. The people I know best right now are scattered all over the world and the friends I have in this city are scattered as well- I've met them either at parties or from work. When I first got to Wellington I went to every party I was invited to and picked up other people for friendship the way people go about finding a date. That worked out alright and I'm cultivating small friendships everywhere so maybe in a year I'll have a connector to pin point. Actually, I think my friend, Lee is one, but we haven't known each other long enough for me to be really certain. In any case, it's an interesting project to try, watching your life's direction unfold through the help of a friend.

Your Net Work

In Malcolm Gladwell's book "The Tipping Point" he talks about the roles people play socially. One of these roles is as a connector-someone who introduces people to each other as well as to new situations, new music, new places. They are the information bringers, the social butterflies. They know everyone and your social circle is actually their social circle, you just happen to be in it.
He said one way of figuring out who the connector in your life is, is to write down the names of all the people in your social circle, and how you came to know each one. I did this and had a somewhat disappointing/curious result. Most of the people I've known in my life, I met through introducing myself, first contact being either through work, a party or school. But I'm not a connector, I don't think, and it didn't seem like I fit into the other 2 categories either. My theory for this is that, because I move around so much I don't truly have a social circle anymore. The people I know best right now are scattered all over the world and the friends I have in this city are scattered as well- I've met them either at parties or from work. When I first got to Wellington I went to every party I was invited to and picked up other people for friendship the way people go about finding a date. That worked out alright and I'm cultivating small friendships everywhere so maybe in a year I'll have a connector to pin point. Actually, I think my friend Lydia is one, but we haven't known each other long enough for me to be really certain. In any case, it's an interesting project to try, watching your life's direction unfold through the help of a friend.

my shitty exflatmate broke into the house (aka, let himself in since he refuses to give back the key...) while I was home alone. I heard foot steps creaking quietly in the next room. In the middle of the day the chances of them belonging to any of the guys(flatmates) is pretty slim so I decided to check, to be sure. Sure, it wasn't them at all, it was fucking Matthew J. Goggin, standing in the effing kitchen. I ahemed. He ignored me and rifled through the mail. I stood by the door as he walked toward and then by me. I asked him what he was doing. "What are you doing" I said. He smiled smugly, thin hair trailing behind his ugly head .
"I'm getting my mail. Until you give me my deposit I have right of entry." smug smug smug bug. I laughed, disbelieving. "What a crock of fucking shit! what a bunch of made up shit! What shit! " I thought and should have said. Then he left.
We kicked him out over a month ago! He keeps emailing Dan condescening emails and setting deadlines for us he can't back up! He's threatened to take us to small claims tribunal over 80 dollars! He broke the oven door then refused to pick up the glass! He eats babies!
I wish the property managment company would give us an estimate already, so he'd fuck off.
I hope his stringy hair catches fire from a shitty oregano-filled blunt.

Some kind of guy

Cam was about a year older than me and my height, which is 5'4 most of the time, 5'5 on a tall day.Within the first few minutes I met him I wondered if he was the sort of guy who'd lie about his height. Would he meet my gaze, eyes level to each other, and declare himself 5'8? No matter how short a guy was, there was a certain kind of guy who'd lie so obviously. They dare you to challenge them. They defy height charts and doctor's exam reports. Because 5'8 is the minimum height men are allowed to be if they are truely men and if God did not touch upon your legs and make them grow then the best you can do is lie about it. I'd met guys like that before.
Was he one of the over-compensators? I was to be his trainee for the day at my new baking job. If ever there were a time to assert his smidgen power, this would be it. "Hey! You must be Madge" he smiled openly, I found myself smiling back, bathing in his cheer "just throw your stuff over there" he pointed to an open locker "and let skip on down to the chiller so I can show you where we keep everything." I did as I was told, then followed behind him as he skipped to the chiller.
He was some kind of man, but he was definitely not that kind of man.

Google Image Search: Mother

Happy Mothers Day!

I was watching a recording of Nirvanas rehearsal for Saturday Night Live when I noticed the drummer. "Jesus, Dave Grohl looks completely different in this video. And he's really throwing his head into the drums." This made me want to look at other pictures of Dave Grohl, to see the progression from a skinny long-haired lad playing drums to a dude with a stylish haircut and permanent goatee, fronting his own band. This led me to a website about one woman and her secret love with Dave Grohl. Enjoy Dave Grohl's best-kept secret

Work solutions

“God, I hate work. I just want to leave.” Sighed the dishwasher.

“Do you think if I shat my pants I would be able to go home?”

I looked up at him skeptically.

“I wonder if you shat your pants, would you be allowed back? Or” I said laughing,

“if you did come back, would anyone be able to look you in the eye?”

Pointing towards trouble

It was around 6 AM, I was alone at work, chopping spring onions hastily and obviously not paying much attention. I glanced down just as the knife nicked my finger. I was using a new, sharper knife that day and had underestimated it's finer points.
"Ah, shit." I said, unworried. Then I actually looked at my finger and noticed a sizeable piece missing.
I wheezed in surprise, a few thoughts went through my head in rapid succession as I tried to figure out what I should do:

• Oh shit, I've never cut my finger, this is the first real cut I've ever had.
• It's not bad enough to warrant a freaking out or calling anyone.
• It is bleeding rather profusely though, more than a bandaid could handle
• It really fucking stings!
• I should do something and not just stand here.
• I'll hold it over my head and get a napkin to stop it from running everywhere.
• and cut off the circulation.

So I did. It took a while and I ended up taping a fat napkin over my finger while it insistantly bled. Later, though, I realized that was a bad idea. The napkin had dried to my wound and peeling it off felt like a slow, zinging burn. "AHHHH" I said.

Later my flatmates and I sat around in the kitchen and shared stories of people we knew losing pieces of fingers.

Wooing

It was shortly after midnight and already the street was littered with drunk people who were just getting started. I was sober as a new born babe and walking home from a late movie. I’d just reached the homestretch, just a few more flights of stairs and I would be home.

“Oi, girly what’s your star sign?” Shouted a drunk scottishman behind me. I didn’t bother to turn around, just a few more flights to go.

“Baby, don’t ignore meeee” he whined.

I considered throwing my water bottle at him, or perhaps telling him to piss off, but nothing you do to a drunk person ever has good results.

“White shirt! Oi, white shirt don’t walk away! Come here!”

And then, when nothing came of that:

“Stupid whore!”

I laughed loudly, surprised and yet quite unsurprised. What a sweetheart.

If he hadn't been here I would have put the container on the floor and poured the water in safely, making sure it only splashed on things that would dry easily, not be damaged. But he was there, and I set the container on an uneven surface of a folder containing his notes for class, next to his digital camera. He watched me as I began to pour. The room was dim and I guess I was feeling reckless. He cautioned me to be careful with the water. I continued to pour, sure that it would be fine. He grabbed the camera just before I splashed an unhealthy amount of liquid. He got upset, I felt indifferent. Anything is fixable, I figure. He accused me of being irresponsible with his things. He's somewhat right. I suppose there are a few reasons why:

1) I can be fairly irresponsible with many "things". I treat them as replaceable. Mostly my things and I guess Dans things are now under the veil of my things, since we share them so often.
2)I must like to rile him up. Not consciously, since I don't like being yelled at, especially if I know I'm mostly wrong and don't have a solid, winning comeback. But we have a pretty calm relationship, and this is something we've talked about before and, aside from not leaving his laptop on the floor(something HE does sometimes, ahem) I haven't tried to make a conscious change.

In conclusion, we fight because he's right. This time.

How to eat

"Where's the can opener" he asked
I popped a piece of pinapple into my mouth "I think it's by the sink."
The pineapple fell out of my mouth. "Oh, oops" I laughed
He made a disgusted face "Jesus, don't eat with your mouth full!"
"Don't eat with my mouth full?" I said, humored "how the hell else am I supposed to eat?"
He stared for a moment "Oh, I...shut up!"

Immigration Complication

Life as of the last 7 months has been webbed back and forth and around from happy to sad to muddled. From positive to confused to definitely not sure. I go from solution to solution and then back to the real problem. Any solution I have ends up sounding vastly complicated.
When I try to peice it out, break it down, keep it simple.It ends up clumped and unlikely.
Should I admit defeat, admit that that isn't a winning solution? It's either break up and go home or stay together and miss school for the next several years?
There are so many variables in the whole dilemma.

Staying here means putting myself at risk insofar as, what if we break up? I don't want to find myself in the same place a year from now, without the relationship and all the promises it holds. Sent packing, back home. At the least, though, if it'd been a year or more, I'd have residency in NZ when I wanted it.

Going home means letting go of a desireable relationship with an actual future and all it's accessories, his family that I've come to love, him, and his big head, the friends I have here, as well as letting go of living abroad.But it also means being in Austin, with the great music and the great friends and the great family and that's great. But a future in the US really sounds shitty. Shootings, no public health care, a general feeling of distrust when it comes to the government...

Whatever decision I make, I have to know I won't regret it. For the last 7 months I haven't been able to picture an outcome I won't regret. And yet I can't stay the way I am, stagnant with a side of restless.
Dan's no help either, god love ya. He can't come up with anything so he always says "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." When I remind him that the bridge is now he replies, sheepishly, "I'd hoped you hadn't noticed that." And then we both ignore it for a few more days.

Normally, when I get these feelings, the indecisive feelings, these mushed up shitty feelings, I look at the scource. Then I look at my options. Then I think about it a hell of a lot, then I make a desicion, then I cut and run. Then I feel better, no regrets. I've thought about it and I made a choice and now I don't have to wonder about it any more.

Comon brain, come up with something good.

We'd been stuck in the glass shelter for days now. There were almost 20 of us, but our anonymity was so intact we might have been a real crowd. Eventually the endless night cleared and we were allowed to make our way out. The ocean hadn't lost its swell though. We each swam up the tunnel but instead of reaching the surface we had to hold breath, squeeze tight our eyes, be propelled upward by a big shot of air. I was nearly the last through so that when I opened my eyes to the frankness of the stormwashed air, I had only a moment to consider what I'd been through or where we were going. I swam to keep up. The sky was greeny blue, sun shining golden down on mountains sitting atop big islands that hung back in the distance. I looked down through the water at the sea life. That was when I noticed a huge cloud of inky pinky jellyfish drifting toward us. Others had noticed as well and someone was yelling. I couldn't hear them, I was too busy trying not to panic.
It seemed nearly impossible that in this peaceful setting, in the calm at the end of the storm, that we should be attacked by anything, much less these fragile floating membranes. I fought my fear and it fought back, rising ever faster as the jellyfish brushed around my legs. They didn't seem to be moving, just hanging around. They felt warm against my skin and when they suctioned all around my body they felt like soft hands just out of a thick glove. I felt confusion, my emotions battled for a place at the front of my heart.
"Don't struggle!" someone yelled from the front "if you struggle they'll swarm you."
I let my body relax, starfished on the surface, sun on my face. I gave in to the warm hands carrying me home.

Author

An excerpt from "The wall of the sky The wall of the eye" by Jonathan Lethem, brought to you by www.Nerve.com

Q. If "going to school is my job" how come i'm not getting paid?
A.Supposedly you're getting paid in smarties.

Wednesday with Lenka

"That scarf makes you look like a Brethren" she said, her thick Czech accent making her sound like a female Arnold Schwarzenegger. "Or a smurf."
"A smurf?" I thought. "That doesn't even make sense..."
I didn't care, but I also wanted her to know I didn't care.
"I don't care" I said, hands on hips.
"Hey, I'm just being honest." She said and reaching up to adjust my head scarf
"Pull it up, like this"
"I'll look like I'm from "Little House on the Prarie" I pouted
"Little who?"

Monday with Lenka

"God, your image changed." she said with a little laugh
"Huh? What do you mean?"I asked
"You're such a baker now, what happened to sexy Madge?"
Now I gave a little laugh "she died the first time I had to wake up at 3AM."

Hey Cow!

As recently as last weekend I went on a road trip to a wild foods festival located on the West coast of the South Island. I went with a good group of friends, one of whom, Heidi, taught the rest of us how to play "Hey Cow". The way to play is, you spot an oncoming herd of cows in a field, roll down your window and yell "HEYYYY COOOOWWW" as loud as you possibly can. Then you count the number of cow's that turned to look at you. Whoever gets the most cows wins.
Heidi demonstrated the game for us, her hollar rewarded with 6 out of 12 bored looking cow faces.
What a great game! It was my turn next. I was nervous. What if they didn't look? I cleared my throat in preparation and I rolled down the window. "HEy cow?" I asked, apprehensive.
2 cows looked up. "Good effort" Heidi said sympathetically. "No, no, no, that was crap! You didn't even try!" cried Roger. The others agreed, it was a poor effort. Oh well.
"Let's do it all at once and see if we can get all of them to look" Heidi Suggested. We rolled down the windows and everyone, even the driver, leaned over to get a closer range in which to yell.
An unsuspecting herd came up just after the hill. "HEY COW!" We screamed in unison.
one
two, three, four cow heads turned. Six, Seven, Eight Ni...Oh!...uh.
A rather rotund woman stood amongst the cows in the field. Her glare was not pretty.
"Er..." Roger said. The rest of the car was silently suprised and embarassed.

The woman standing in the field watched the car drive on down the highway till it was out of sight. "Lunatic kids" .

Things Dallas

Things that are Dallas:

1)Dallas,Texas
2)Dallas Tamaira, lead singer of Fat Freddy's
3)Dallas Castle in Scotland
4)Dallas, T.V. series
5)Dallas,George Mifflin-11th U.S. Vice President under James K. Polk

The initial problem with getting Internet at home was that no one else had laptops besides Dan. Once they moved out we made sure to ask incomers what they thought of getting Internet. Then came the laziness. No one was very motivated to get net while we could steal it from surrounding wireless users. Once we were cut off from there we had no choice but to get our own. Slowly we decided on what type of Internet, and from who, then we called ihug to set it up, and sat back, a week before Christmas, in anticipation of the downloading free-for-all that was to come. It would only take a week. Two weeks later excuses were made about the holidays. Three weeks later pending processing was mentioned, we'd have it by the end of next week. At the end of the fourth week we called up and were told we weren't actually allowed to have ihug yet, because we had a phone plan with someone else, but maybe we could work something out. The reasoning became jumbled, we started to spread the blame from just the company to each other. At the end of this week, they promised, voices bland, uncaring. Sorry for the delay.
5 weeks after we were meant to be online we called up. "You're wired with another company, we can't hook you up at all" they said, ineptly."We should never have said we could."
A month and a half later we're still sitting with laptops disconnected from the world.

6 things seen on the way to work:

1. A guy passed out on the side walk.
2. My drunk flatmate and the girl he brought home that night.
3. My drunk coworker, on the way to a strip club.
4. A drag queen prostitute and a very dirty looking man, huddled in an alley, giggling.
5. My drunk friend and some strangers he just met making giant bubbles in the middle of the street.
6. A cat, asleep in the road. I know it was asleep because I shooed it out of the road when I saw a car coming.

Merry New Zealand Christmas!

Bodega

He walked into the Bodega, a music venue and bar, on a Thursday night. A man sat on stage with his guitar playing music without meaning, he was just a part of the background. Jake sat down next to his friend, Dave, and ordered a beer. It arrived and he sipped lightly on it while and Dave chatted and joked. a woman on Daves other side interrupted to ask Dave a question and they began a conversation. Jake began to zone out, thinking about nothing, listening to the nothing music and to the hum of the conversation between the woman and Dave. He took a look at her. She was about 45, big frizzy hair, a tired face with too much make up, large plastic glasses and a large saggy body. Looking at her, Jake felt that she took up the whole room, sucked in the surrounding space for herself. She ignored his sizing up and he looked away, back to his warm beer. He took a drink and felt bored. He checked his watch, almost 12:30, he should be getting on.He got up to go the the bathroom, before saying goodbye and spent some time peeing, washing his hands, txting a friend.When he got back Dave was gone.

The woman sat alone in the now empty bar. He walked over to her to ask if she knew what happend with Dave but he stopped short when she turned suddenly and looked at him through her big glasses, her eyes sharp and intense. Jake felt an electric pulse go from her eyes through his body, straight down to his penis. "Let's got back to my place" she commanded. It wasn't a question. Jake nodded quickly, he had to have her.

Jake sweat in the still night air as he waited for the click of the door lock. She turned to him, "Let's fuck" she groaned enchantingly, pushing open the door. He followed her into the darkness.

He awoke at 4AM in her bed. Her breath was loud in her mouth as she slept next to him. His eyes widened as he realized where he was and what he'd done. He jumped up and forced his clothes on, running out of the room and into the night like a spooked cat. He ran all the way to his house and straight to the shower. His mind was exploding at his bodies vile actions. Why had he done that? Oh God, why?!

When he came out an our later, skin red and raw, he saw his brother waiting for him in the hall. Jake shuddered involuntarily. "Where have you been?" his brother grinned "Long night on the piss?". Jake shook his head "I had one beer. I just...I..." he struggled to explain but eventually it was peiced together. His brother eyes looked strange, not shocked but instead as if they recognized what Jake was feeling. "That's Melinda...I've been fucking her for 6 months, bro. I can't help it, every time I see her it's like I'm compelled. I think she's a witch, I really do." Jakes brother said softly, looking down.
They stood still, neither had any idea what to say. Both perplexed, Jake in his towel, his brother in pajamas. It was 6 AM.

Outside the birds sang as the flew in the morning air, the sun came up over the hills and in her bed Melinda chuckled deeply in her sleep.

The best way to believe in something completely is to know as little about it as possible.

'fundamentalism is the last step before enlightenment... because once you put your faith completely in something, and it inevitably falls, you will fall so hard that it will illuminate balance'

Seen on the street

I saw this sign in front of a cafe called The Lunch Box:

Cum and try our hot box! Yum yum!

The girl behind the counter rang up her customer, looked around the cafe and spotted a couple sitting by the window, menus flat on the table they looked expectantly at her. She smiled and walked over.
"Are you ready to order?" the girl asked
"Yes, I'll have an orange juice thanks" said the man in the couple
"Orange juice" repeated the girl "no problem, and for you" she turned to the woman.
"I'll have English Breakfast" the woman reponded
The girl frowned "I'm sorry, we've actually run out of that tea earlier this morning, can I get you anything else, we have a pretty good selection of other teas."
The woman looked at the girl as if there were a hole in her shirt which bared her chest in a most vulgar manner."Well. Do you have any other regular teas?"
"We have earl grey..."offered the girl. The woman scrunched her nose."...or mint, green, mango, berry, kawa kawa, chamomi..." the woman looked blankly at the girl, who faltered in her recitation and decided to stop talking.
"I said regular teas." insisted the woman.
"Gumboot tea" thought the girl. "I'm sorry, we usually do have it but unfortunately we won't have any till tommorow."
"I'll think about it." Grumped the woman.
The girl turned away with relief and went to get the orange juice.

5 minutes later the woman and man had not yet decided what they wanted to eat and went to look at the deli food sitting on the counter behind which the girl stood, dishing a salad into a bowl for another customer. When she was done the girl turned to them and asked if she could get them anything.
"Any progress on the tea?" the woman asked expectantly.
"Uh. Well we really don't have any right now" said the girl but in her head thought "This woman is obsessed, she must shut up about the tea very soon."
"Well, you don't have any in the back or anything? Perhaps you could run across the street to the dairy and get some for me. It would be nice." The woman raised her eyebrows in a way that said "This is something you should have thought of."
"Who was this woman, was she really saying this?"mused the girl.
"Look, do you ever watch Star Trek? Think of me as a hologram, ok?The problem really is that I can only work within these walls, so within this space I will get you anything you need if we have it and I will smile and mean it while doing that, but I cannot leave the station no matter how urgent your tea situation is. I'll even give you the hot water if you want to bring your own tea bag in but to run tot he dairy and get some shitty tea to give to people would comprimise our quality standards." Thought the girl, but didn't say.

Ignoring the womans suggestion but pretending as if she were addressing it the girl stopped a coworker and said "Hey, we don't have any more english breakfast, do we? Not anywhere in the back or anything?"
"Yeah, no English Breakfast till tommorow I'm afraid." Confirmed her coworker. The girl smiled so that all of her teeth showed "Sorrrreee!" she sang" Let me know if you want anything else!" then she pranced away, laughing to herself. Some people!

HS was like a boring night at work

It was a slow night at work last week, I was behind the bar/kitchen folding serviettes and talking to one of the chefs.
"My God" Complained Mic "I hate it when it's slow like this, there's no point in being here."

"At least your getting paid, and you aren't really having to work for it" I reminded him.

"Yeah but I have other stuff I could be doing, sitting here is a waste of my time."

"Funny, that's how I used to feel about highschool." I told him

The somewhere behind me I heard another waiter snort loudly.

The Poo Blog

I was in the kitchen reading a magazine and drinking a coffee when Dan walked in. “Hey Mads, did you just go to the bathroom?”

I looked up “Yeah, like 10 minutes ago.”

“I knew it was you” he said chuckling.

“What? Why?” I asked, feeling like my bathroom secrets might be about to revealed.

“You have the floaty-est poo I’ve ever seen. I guess it didn’t flush when you went so it was still there when I went. Then I took a crap, put toilet paper on it and flushed and it still didn’t go down. Floaty poo.”

Feeling perplexed I asked him what I could do about it. I’d never had this problem before and hadn’t realized it could even be a problem.

“You’re holding it in too much Mads, you gotta let it loose more often.” He kissed me on the cheek and sat down.

“Let what loose?” I said, laying my head on his shoulder.

“Your farts. You hold them in too much and it riddles your poo with air.” He explained confidently, patting me on the bum

“How do you know this?” I laughed, knocking his hand away.

“It’s just common sense.” He took a sip of coffee into his mouth and winked at me.

myspace is good for the ego

Every now and then someone finds me on myspace and sends me a message only good for stroking my ego. I recieved one such message today, in fact:

Awww you moved to New Zealand....that saddens me. i had like a huge crush on you in high school. hope all is well.-M.P.

Pretty nice, right? Just a short message to let me know he cared, even if we hadn't talked since sophmore year when he told everyone that I was in love with him. Which wasn't true, I just had a crush on him but was afraid because he was a "bad boy". Later he found Jesus and now appears to be in the marines.

However nice that is, the best one I got was this:

maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadgieee!!! (ive forgotten the exact spelling of ur name (so ill just spell it like my sisters name) ) what ever happened to u after highschool? i wanted to go out with u soooooo bad. in fact i remeber one time u asked me if i liked u and i got really nervous and scared (i had no idea why u were asking(i know, idiot) so i said no, or something. i wanted u so bad... i mean wanted to go out with u :) (im drunk) ........ i miss u, u gotta come into houston sometime im in town

Oh, those happy golden years...

Simpsons Reference

Yesterday I overheard this conversation in the dishroom at my new job:

"Hey mate, watcha lookin' for?"

"I'm just lookin' for a little knifie to cut this orange with."

"How about this?"(Holds up a spoon)

"Mate, that's not a knifie, that's a spoonie."

"Ohhh, I see you've played knifie spoonie before!"

(Both fall into a laughing hysteria)

A kid in sport stays out of court?

My man list

Last night the flatmates and I made up lists of guys we like and then after our lists were completed we assigned them either to marraige material or sex only. This is my list in no particular order.

• Wes Anderson-Marry
• French Rugby team-Sex
• Johnny Depp-Marry
• Brad Pitt-Sex
• Slug-Sex
• Daniel Dae Kim-Sex
• Edward Norton-Sex
• Jason Schwartzman-Marry
• Seu Jorge-Marry
• Aesop Rock-Sex

What are you thinking?

"What're you thinking?" he asked me as we walked down the street after the movie.We'd been together 2 months and I knew he'd be wishing for me to say something thoughtful, possibly about him or the state of our relationship. Only I'd been thinking about what I'd name my dog, if I ever had one. What to say? Oh God, he's looking at me this is too much pressure I don't know what to say! With every moment that passed the expectations for the deepest thought possible became greater.

Has this happened to you? If so you'll know the anguish of being caught out by your partner and you'll be thinking to yourself, "There must be another way! Some list of answers to have for just this moment."

What Are You Thinking?

• Wooden...
• I was just thinking about what color our childrens eyes might be, if we had them.
• The stars are beautiful tonight, aren't they?
• Your hair looks strange in this lighting.
• You're more attractive than (famous attractive person)
• I think I have an STD.
  
• I was wondering why I told you that (odd thing they do) is normal.
  
• I can't decide if my favorite bread is multigrain or wheat.
  
• I...I think I could be gay. Is it gay or lesbian?
• I knitted you this hat!
• Fuck, I just love basketball!
• Is it normal to enjoy farting this much. Oh, I mean "Passin gas" heh.
• I once made beer from the yeast of a woman.
• I think thongs and lowrise jeans have given us the new cleavage.
• The Hulk is my all time favorite movie.
• I'd love to meet Indiana Jones.
• I was just thinking of this great part in Baby Sitters Club the movie.
• Whaddya say we get wasted and do it for the first time?
• I was just wondering what was air was made of.
• My cat's name is Mittens.
• I love you???
• Tom Cruise is the ultimate role model.
• You look just like my mother.
• I wish I were Japanese. Everyone loves them.
  
• Do you actually believe the Holocaust really happened?
• I have to pee so badly.
• Nothing, Jesus get off my back!
• Have you put on weight?
• I think I've just started my period. No sex tonight, haha!
  

Flight of the Conchords

These guys are a very clever, hilarious singing comedy duo from New Zealand. They are not, in fact as popular in NZ as they are in the states and Britan. This is a clip from a great show they did for HBO called One Night Stand. Check it out bro!

Oh, baby

My friend Natalie is pregnant. She's my age but already has experienced pregnancy twice before; Once when she was sixteen and again at 21. The first time she had an abortion, the second time she was due to miscarry so she had another abortion. This time she couldn't go through that again, this time she's decided to do everything she can to prevent a miscarraige and she is not considering abortion.

The father is a 34 year old man we'll call Mister. Mister freaked out utterly when she told him she was pregnant. No, that's not true actually. When she first told him they talked about it and he told her it was her choice, he'd support her no matter what. It was when she told him her choice was to keep it that he freaked out and refused to see her or talk to her about it. They have mutual friends and there have been times when she comes to visit that she can see him run out the back door, hiding till he can escape.

Recently she made her first doctors appointment and decided to tell him in the off chance he'd be interested. She wrote him an email:

Dear Mister,
Just wanted to let you know I've made a doctors appointment for next Wednesday in case you feel like coming, I'll be getting the first sonogram.

Natalie

The next day he wrote back:
Do not contact me. If you have to then you can do it through my lawyer.

He included the name of the lawyer as well as the phone number, she called it.

"I do not respresent this person" the lawyer told her.

Natalie emailed Mister:
The lawyer says he doesn't know you or represent you.

Mister wrote back:
Ok, don't contact me or my lawyer, I'll contact you when I want.


Now, I realise that suddenly being made a father can be a real headspin, but what has this guy not done in his life that at 34 he can't handle this kind of situation more maturely? He feels he's been left out of the final choice but as my friend Amy says "He made his choice when he decided it'd be ok to have sex without a condom, after she warned him that she was a really fertile person."

if you can't be a good example, you have an obligation to be a horrible warning

Your momma does not live here and if she did she'd tell you the same

"Hey, don't do the dishes, alright? I'll do them when I get back tonight" I said
"Oh, it's so nice to have another girl here" my new flatmate sighed "The guys never clean anything, you know how they can be."
"Dan never washes the dishes?" I asked
She laughed "No, he's always busy with school and Mada is, well...he's Mada and with Yaz gone it's just been me cleaning up."
She went to her room leaving me alone as I pondered womens lib and the progressive movement.

I made up a conversation between me and a male who made women do all the house work. It went like this:

"You don't do dishes?"
"No, it's pretty sweet huh? I don't have to do any house stuff, the girls do it all!"
"I am a girl"
"You better get crackin' then, I see a pile of dishes with your name on it."
"Hahahahaha! No way."
"Why not?"
"Cause I'm not your (pardon the obvious) maid. You have the same capabilities I have. I can't believe we're even having this conversation."
"You are ruining my life."

End.

Casey

Casey was the girl that girl that was never understood
You could see her every day in bright tights and yellow hood
She never spoke really but her smile was constant
She'd walk the streets from sun up to sun down reciting sonnets
Picking flowers for the children who all thought that she was crazy
Casey never stopped her mission of spreading poetry and daisies

She wasn't old or young but just one of a kind
I never saw another like her she simply was a divine
A bright light on a grey street, red tights on her light feet
She'd dissapear nightly to show up early and brightly
I don't know where she went though, to people who cared
Or sleeping in ditches or under the stairs, couldn't ask her though
Her senses weren't there, her mind was wandering, unaware

I left that street and never thought about coming back
Casey could still be there
Walking back and forth wearing a path
With her red tights and yellow hair

Patches

From The Office

What is Gareth thinking about?

Public Restroom Guide

When using a public restroom you must always:

-Check for toilet paper
-Check for droplets on the seat
-Check that there is a lock on the door

Also, it's a good idea not to use the middle stall if you have bad feelings about germs. The middle stall is likely to be the most used while the first stall is the least used.

-Hints From Madge

To use or not to use?

Plan B or The Morning After Pill causes arm waving, voice shaking debate on The View

The KKK game

This evening I was having dinner with my mother, Rie, and godmother, Elsie when I heard an interesting story from Elsie.
Elsie is a very sweet, funny woman nearing her 70's. She stays active and works at a bank a few days a week to stave off boredom. A few weeks ago, she tells us, they were all sitting around at lunch, talking about ear piercings. You know, how old they were when they first had their ears pierced, their first set of earrings, crazy peircings that people have...when Elsie piped up to tell the story of her first earrings and how they'd been lost.

She was very young, probably about 5 or 6 when she'd gotten her ear's peirced and in that same year while playing a game of Klu Klux Klan they'd been ripped out by accident.
The room went quiet. Everyone looked at the lone black man standing in the room.

"Thank God he had a sense of humor!" Exclaimed Elsie "I mean, I didn't realize what I was saying! When we played that game we were very young and didn't know what it meant. All we knew was that you wore a pillowcase on your head and pretended to kidnapp each other."

"Like Cowboys and Indians." I offered

"Exactly."

Her co-workers sat stunned, staring first at the man then at Elsie
(
"You know the ones most shocked were the ones feeling most guilty. I hadn't realized what I'd done, I was just telling a story"she frowned.)

He laughed "What exactly were the rules of this game?"

The room relaxed and Elsie explained that she didn't remember much, just that someone with a pillowcase on thier heads came to take you away, and they put a pillowcase on your head as well, which is when her earrings were caught and ripped out. No one was hurt.

A few weeks later the man left, he was only temping. On his way out he said goodbye to Elsie

"Hope I didn't scare you too much." He teased
"Ohhh now you know I liked you all along!" She laughed.

Come live with me in NZ

Think about moving to NZ
we could start a commune
there's plenty of land there
and we know nothing about farming

Two Girls and a baby-cat

Two girls are stoned and driving home from hanging out with a friend. Night is long past fallen and the windows are open to let in the warm breeze.

Kate: Amy is hilarious, we should hang out more often on the oh, shit I almost hit a cat!

Meg: Oh man, good thing you didn’t, that would have been terrible.

Kate: You know what would have been worse? If it’d been a kitten.

Meg: Or what if it had been a baby? Oh, that would be really sad!

Kate: Or a baby and a kitten?

Meg: Or a baby wearing a cat suit!

Gales of laughter carry out of the windows into the humid night as the car drives on unaware that a baby in a cat suit is listening. The baby smiles and shakes it head. If only they knew.

Picking daintily through the grass
he prances contentedly
wet with dew he shakes off
drops in one movement
and notices me with curiosity
and looks away, seeing the field as new
goes back as he came
navigating through the tall weeds
looking back in astonishment at his wet paws

"We create a reality that is a reflection of how we feel"

"A dog in hunt doesn't stop to itch it's fleas"

Happy Fourth of July!

The grocery store was crowded this fourth of July. People were buying hot dogs and beer as if our very independance depended on it. As I walked in with my roommates a man wearing a red HEB apron and hat greeted us. "Hey guys! How ya'll doin' today?" We said we were good, thanks, and you? "I'm doing good! Let me know if you need anything, except money Haha! I don't get paid till Thursday!" We smiled uncomfortably and began shuffling away. He waved to us "it looks like ramen again tonight!"

Setting: A cd and record store in downtown Houston. Two 17 year old girls stand in the popular music section slowly sifting through cd's on a lazy sunday. One of the girls picks up Blood On The Tracks.


First girl: Oh I have this cd. It's really good, one of his best.

Second Girl: Whose best? (Takes the cd to read the musicians name) Whose Bob Die-lan?

First Girl: What! Did you just say Bob Die-Lan? Your parents listen almost exclusively to folk-rock! You know who Bob Dylan is!

Second Girl: (Unimpressed) Oh. yeah, I don't like his voice, he sounds like he might be retarded.

First Girl:(Throws up on second girls shoes)

Second Girl:(Learns a lesson in music and in friendship.)

My friend Amy was driving home yesterday when an SUV next to her began to change lanes without noticing that Amy was actually already occupying that space. In an act of self preservation Amy honked her horn. As the car swerved away a little girl the back seat (aged about 6 or 7) turned around and simultaneously stuck out her tongue and gave the bird* . Amy was traumatized. Parents: teach your kids not to be so God-Awful at life.







*The finger, flipped her off, said up yours in hand jive, stuck her middle finger up without any of the other fingers being up

A question of gains

My history teacher once told me that in any war or battle in History people often give moral reasons for thier beginnings, but in the end it is more important to see who gained from the war if you want to find out how it really began.
This idea came to me while I was thinking about the debate of global warming. Why do people believe that it isn't real? Credible people, scientists, politicians, teachers...etc will show you the research but still it is widely believed to be just an idea, and probably a wrong one. Like it's just hippy bullshit,stirring up trouble. If this is true then the important question to ask is who gains from the global warming idea?

Perhaps if Al Gore had become president I wouldn't have this terrible sinking feeling in my stomach.

I was at work one night when I heard the customer entrance open and close. I went to the front to wait on whoever might have entered but recognized immediately that they would not be buying anything.
Her skin was mottled and red from sun damage and neglect, her body was swollen and shook uncontrollably. Her hair clung to her head in patches. In her hand was a plastic cup and on her face a frozen look of sullen suprise. I felt a pang of worry, people like this could go off to a bad direction and I didn't want to be a around if she freaked. On the other hand, she was looking at me intensely and I hadn't said anything yet.
"How can I help you?" I said loudly, cheerfully
"WATER." she croaked "I NEED SOME WATER." She held out her shaking hand. I took the cup.
I filled and returned it. She held it and said nothing. I said nothing. I walked off to the side where my co-workers stood huddled, giggling fearfully.
I shrugged, playing it cool.
"What's she doing?" They asked
I checked through a peephole in the divider.
"Just kind of...standing there." I replied
Eventually we heard the door open and close again and saw her sit outside. We went back to work, the thrilling moment had passed.

30 minutes later----------

Mac was a film student. A man of bravado, he constantly reminded others of how good looking he was, how many famous people he knew all the films he was currently working on. "Feel my stomach" he'd say " I can lift 200 pounds over my head" he'd say "I'm so glad I'm good looking."

He walked in from a delivery having missed the crack lady event and went straight to work by the front entrance. I stood behind the divider packaging cookies for delivery while he talked about all the hot girls he'd seen while he'd been out. I heard the door open and close and looked up to see Mac turning to help the customer. His eyes went wide with fear and his jaw dropped.
"Uh..."
"CAN YOU BUY ME A COOKIE?" She said forcefully
He stood in shock for a moment longer "I uh, I'm s-sorry. I..I don't have any money." He jangled his pockets to show they were empty.
"OH" She continued to stare at him and stood awkwardly, unsure of what he should do. Eventually he turned back to what he'd been working on, shoulders hunched, while she watched.
My shoulders shook violently as I fell to the floor, laughing as quietly as possible.

For the rest of the night Mac would stop in the middle of a conversation, in the middle of work and his face would freeze in fear, her image haunting him.

"I have a plan for immigration. Allow every Mexican in. Make them join the military. Then invade Mexico and don’t have an exit strategy.”

Rich Voss

Drunken packing: really just throwing things on the floor.

Ceiling Cat

This might haunt you every day. Think about it. www.ceilingcat.com

This movie...it's not good

This New Yorker review of the third X-Men movie pretty much sums up how I felt after watching it.

The discussion

During a recent conversation with Daniel over the topic of children I told him that I was interested in adopting.

"Why would you want to adopt if you can have children of your own?" he asked.

"Because you have the opportunity to change someone's life completely!" I said, flabbergasted that he would say such a thing.

" Why shouldn't you? It's not just about satisfying a need to have children, it's also about giving children a good home. There are so many kids that will go to shitty foster homes or to adoptive parents that don't care or are abusive."

"Well, yes that's true. But don't you want your own children? Maybe I sound selfish but I've always really wanted someone that came from me." He crossed his arms and sat back.

"I know. Most people want that and I think it's understandable. I just think there are people that should consider both ways if they can. I mean, if you have the means and the desire to raise a child why not at least consider both options?"

"There are risks with the kids though." Dan reminded me "What if they inherited a drug addiction from their parents, or illnesses or have big emotional problems?"

"Well, right, you've got to be careful. I mean you should always consider if you can handle something like that. But thats not all children and they should talk to you about it before going through the process."

"Ok, so would you want to adopt before having your own kid or after?"

I considered this. "Well, if we're talking about a big family, like more than 2 kids, I'd do the adoption either first or last, but not the middle.Maybe last."

"I'd go for last as well. I don't know though, I wouldn't want to adopt if it's at the expense of our own child." He said definitively

"What are you talking about, at the expense? Would you care for our biological baby more than the adopted?" I couldn't believe it. " Like you don't want the adopted kid's need for attention to take away from our own?! Why would having four with two of each be any different than deciding to have four of blood!!? Having the second kid would be at the expense of the first no matter what!"

"No, I mean I don't want to go ahead and adopt a kid and then you just decide you don't want to birth at all. You can just take it away!" He stuck his finger in the air as if pointing to the morals of the situation.

I laughed. "Ohh! why would you think I'd do that?"

" Why would you think I'd be mean to my adopted kid?"

I laughed,"Fair enough. Ok, so you'd at least consider going halvsies?"

"Yeah, I'd do that."

We shook hands.

"Whatever made you so into adoption anyway?" He wondered.

"I have no idea." I shrugged" but you know when you were growing up, how you'd sometimes think about what your life would be like in the future, when you were older. Just sort of took a glance at what you thought it would be like?"

He nodded so I continued

"And how for you, it was a big family, kind of like the one you grew up in? When I took a look it was always with adoption in mind, a small to medium family in a cool city that wasn't Texas..." I paused, smiling "and a hot foreigner as my husband."

"Sweet!" He grinned, "But we're going to have to talk about that 'small family' thing..."

I was cooking my dinner last week when there was a knock on the door.
I looked through the peephole and saw someone that I thought was my brother. Upon opening the door, however, I saw that it was someone I did not know. Specifically, an attractive male.
He turned out to be a census guy who wanted to know if I knew anything about my neighbor. I'd only met her once so all I could tell him was that she lived alone.
He thanked me and got my name and phone number and left me to my cooking.

This week I was coming home from a long day at work when I saw census guy sitting on the stairs that led to my apartment.

"Hey, you don't happen to live in apartment 411 do you?"
"No, I met you before, remember? I never see the girl who lives there."
"Ohhh right, Madge."
"Yeah, thats right."
"Well, do you know how many people live there"
"Should just be one" I said looking at him. He looked at me. It was one of those moments where you both know you've had this conversation before but are repeating it simply because it's easier than acknowledging it's repetition.
He thanked me for my help and left, I went to my apartment.

Tonight while I was at work I heard the door open and went to help whatever customer had just come in.
He was attractive and familiar.
"Meg"
"Census guy"
"I'm actually not going to be doing the census anymore" he seemed upset.
He explained that they were cutting the part time workers back. He was sad to lose the extra money.
"But don't get me wrong, I do fine."
I gave him his cookies and he paid me.
"No tax? excellent."
He left the building and I went to the back to finish scooping ice cream for the next day.
"Goddamn, census guy is fine"

The Unicorn

Last October I was in Wellington, New Zealand staying at my boyfriend's sister, A.V.'s house. I was nearing the end of my time in New Zealand and was travelling around seeing the rest of the country before I had to leave. We were at her friends house, just hanging out, listening to music. I was taking advantage of the internet while it was available when I got an email from CJ, my best friend, telling me that something terrible had happened and that I should call her immediately.
I stayed calm, CJ often went to extremes when describing events that were really not. I checked my live journal friends list to see if this terrible thing had happened within the group and not just with CJ. I read "I can't believe she's gone.", I read "She was so beautiful." I read "Cheleigh called me before she jumped, I had no idea." I jumped up, told Dan's sister that I had to go to her house to use the phone and ran up the hill to find out what was happening.

I called CJ but there was no answer so I called another close friend, both to me and to Chesleigh, and when he answered I told him what I knew and he told me the rest.
"She jumped off a 30 story building, a hotel. She just checked in, went straight upstairs to the pool on the roof. Apparently she texted a few people to say goodbye and she'd sent some packages a few days before. No one saw her do it but the police said she must have been running full speed, she was far from the building when she landed."

He was very calm, he'd known for two days and had already resolved how he felt towards it.
"I think after all she'd tried, the therapy, the clinics, the medications... she just felt like it was never going to end. It's been like she was just waiting for the right time."

I hung up with him and called CJ again. She told me the details of the memorial and who she thought was coming. She sounded tired and worn. I told her I'd try to leave early to make it.
I called my parents, told them I'd be trying to come back early.
I called Qantas and moved my flight up a week.
I called the bus station and scheduled a bus ride to Auckland.
I called Dan's other sister, V.V. who lived in Auckland to tell her that I'd be coming a week early, and why.

After that all I could do was wait. I was in Wellington and I wanted to explore it and have fun with A.V. and her friends and I did, but it was often from a strange and ghost-like point of view. When I wasn't with A.V. I would walk around the city, getting lost trying to find internet facilities or Te Papa.
Travelling alone can sometimes mean not talking for hours, sometimes days on end. Often while I was travelling the only break in silence I'd have would be to make reservations for hostels or bus rides and the occasional chat with other travellers.
I'd think about Chez and envisage her running off the building.

It was sunset, the pool reflected the rainbow sky as the walked up the stairs calmly. She smiled at the people passing by, wet from swimming, they were on their way down from the rooftop pool. They smiled back and continued on. Once on the roof the savoured the sunset over Dallas, breathing deeply, feeling everything inside of her come alive. She wanted to say goodbye but knew that she could not speak to her friends so she texted a few instead. " I screamed your name into the sunset" she wrote to her best friend, her closest companion. Her friend smiled, feeling loved when she read it.
Then Chez walked to the far end of the pool, away from the ledge. She breathed deeply again and ran as fast as she could, jumping as far as she could, she thought of everything at once. Flying, falling fast to and end.

I thought about her but couldn't really imagine her dead. I hadn't spoken to her in years, I'd been travelling and our group of friends had split off to various colleges or paths in other cities. She'd been going through alot and had checked herself into a few clinics, for eating disorders, depression, anxiety, for the terrible thoughts in her head that she could not believe but could not expell. I found her friendship unattainable and so did not try very hard to know her. My closest friends were her closest friends and they were all in love with her but it did not seem to me that she was able to love them in return and I only wanted friends that could. She was thoughtful though and she felt deeply for the pain of others. If you were sad she'd send a letter or possibly a stuffed unicorn, her totem animal.
She was beautiful and mysterious and too succeptable to the whims of her depression. It seemed like she was constantly trying something new to make it go away but after a while did not believe that anything would make the intense sadness go away.

Her memorial was amazing and enriched with her personality. The turn out was huge, from people who'd known her her whole life to those who'd only met her a few weeks before.
There were readings from her journals and her poetry, her father spoke about her as a child and how much they loved her, her brother played a song he wrote for her on his guitar, a few friends came up and remembered funny stories and one played the first song that she'd learned on the piano, which Chez taught her. She wore a hat with bear ears while she played. It was whimsical and deep and perfect. Seeing how many lives Chez touched and how deeply really amazed me. Of course everyone speaks well of the dead, everyone remembering perfection and Chez was surely not perfect. She'd still be here if she was.
I was glad I come home early for it becuase it showed me that her death was real and helped me come to terms with her decision. It was her decision and it was planned, not a sudden jump but I didn't feel it until I looked at the order of service and read "In memory of Chesleigh Pafford". It was there on a piece of paper, written by someone for her memorial. It was real now.

Child Labor

Accepted

I'm moving to New Zealand!

Thou art mumbling, sir

Calvin: "Hey (mumble), could you (mumble)?"
Taylor: "What?"
Calvin: "Could you (mumble something, sounds like opside flangly doo)
Taylor: "Flangly doo? What? What are you saying??"
Calvin:"I'm saying clean the fucking floor!!
Taylor: "In what language?"
Calvin: "In English! Jesus!"
Taylor: "Didn't sound like English to me."
Calvin: "It's the goddamn Kings English, alright?"

Mature Love

"The philosophy of mature love is marked by an active awareness of the good and bad in each person. It is full of temperance, it resists idealization, it is free of jealousy, masochism, or obsession, it is a form of friendship with a sexual dimension, it is pleasant, peaceful, and reciprocated (and perhaps explains why most people who have know desire would refuse its painlessness the title of love."

-Alain de Boton from the book On Love