Wednesday, July 29, 2009

August 29th

       My one-way ticket: freedom via rail. 

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Toiletry-inspired Tuesday

The color of today's shirt: mouthwash blue, not to be confused with astringent turquoise. 

Friday, July 24, 2009

My first time

A few hours ago, I had virgin hair. 

We're a rare breed, those of us who have never dyed. We feign in dramatic situations and never quite dive into uber-trends. We're slightly selfish, slightly self-conscious commitment phobes who speculate about what something as small as hair dye would do to the psyche. I was proud of my virgin status and stood firm in my meaningless natural-colored righteousness. But in my final summer of freedom, I decided that I would stage the ultimate act of adolescent rebellion and experiment with my grooming habits. 


Gone grape.



Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Excerpt

"In the late afternoon he came upon scattered bones where the wolves had made a kill. The d bris had been a caribou calf an hour before, squawking and running and very much alive. He contemplated the bones, clean-picked and polished, pink with the cell-life in them which had not yet died. Could it possibly be that he might be that ere the day was done! Such was life, eh? A vain and fleeting thing. It was only life that pained. There was no hurt in death. To die was to sleep. It meant cessation, rest. Then why was he not content to die?"

From "Love of Life" by Jack London

Monday, July 20, 2009

Weekend highlights, in no order whatsoever

1. Watching horror classics "Phantasm" l and lll in succession. 
2. Neko Case concert. Highlights include a goose bump-inducing rendition of personal favorite, "I'm An Animal," her three-legged dog Travis who wandered onstage, and this quote: "Good sex sounds like mac-n-cheese." 
3. Snacks. 
4. Staying up entirely too late for no particular reason and not regretting it. 
5. Buying this:

Vintage bikini. Eat your heart out, Gidget. 


 

Produce & Repetition

There's a man who comes into the market nearly each day, buying nothing but cantaloupe and bananas. Somedays, it's nearly a cart-full. Somedays, it's just one of each. He appeared completely confused by my "Are you feeding a monkey?" joke. 


But seriously, sir, where does it all go? I need to know. 

A dream called "Thursday"

I wake up startled in an old farm house, the interior made of beautiful deep-red cedar. Groggy, I walk into the small living room to find four of my friends drunk and dancing around in celebration. One was riding a child's tricycle and one had a noise maker - the kind you only use on New Year's. It's early and as I try to ask what they're doing, I only get laughter. As I look out of the window, I notice the snow storm. It's a blizzard by any standard - at least three feet of snow. 

My friends announce that they're walking to the store for something. I try to stop them but they walk out anyway. They return, I scold them for leaving in dangerous weather, and then they decide they forgot something and need to leave again. This happens a few times. Each time they return, they're drunker. 

Confused, I walk into the kitchen to find a friend's parents making breakfast. I notice another friend at the kitchen table, eating toast and reading the newspaper. (In reality, she lives with her boyfriend.) I ask where he is and she looks up at me, puzzled, and says, "Who?" Just then, a middle-aged man I've never seen before walks into the room, says "Good morning" and kisses her on the cheek. I stare at him, trying to make sense of what's happening, and turn back to my friend, who has morphed into someone else entirely. 

Reeling, I look out into the back yard only to see that it's springtime. The sky is that eerie shade of yellow that is only used for forthcoming spring storms and a loud wind rips through the field. Tornado's coming. In the back of the yard, I notice a person under the lone tree. I run out of the door to warn them about the storm. I'm suddenly barefoot and the wind makes it hard to move. As I get closer, I recognize the boy as another friend. He's sitting cross-legged, reading a book under the tree. I try to yell to him, but the wind is louder than the sound of my voice. I finally get close to him and when I can't get his attention, I snatch the book from his lap. His head snaps up instantly and that's when I see his eyes -  all black in the center. I gasp and look down at the book in my hand. It's blank. 

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Today's Horoscope

"Dear Gemini, the rains have let up but your cosmic skies are still drizzling ..."

Today's forecast, dismal no matter what. Great. Thanks a ton, stars.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Me & my 13-year-old self

Friday was two things: uncomfortably sticky, and, the day of my reunion with my inner Scrunchie wearing, bright-blue nail polish rocking, mall-roaming teenager. No Doubt made a stop in Indy, and four gals piled into a red Neon, turned on "Tragic Kingdom," and time traveled. We oozed with sweat, excitement, and girl power - the Stefani variety. 

As the curtain fell, the first few bars of  "Spiderwebs" cued up and suddenly everything made sense. Allow me to elaborate: 

- Once in a while I sit back and think about the planet. And most of the time, I trip on it.
- No matter, matter, matter, matter who calls. I gotta screen my phone calls. 
- You're really lovely, underneath it all.
- But I should have thought of that before we kissed.
- You've got me feeling hella good. So. Let's just keep on dancing.
- Oh ... I've had it up to Here. 

It's logical. It's passionate. It's all the advice I thought I'd need in life at the tender, assuming age of 13. Turns out, I was right. 

Excerpt

"Then we heard a far-off call. We listened and nodded to each other. One two three. Pause. One two. Pause. It was the metallic squeal of a basketball on asphalt, the teenage Morse code of indolent boys that said: I AM OVER HERE. We followed the trail." 

- From "Sag Harbor" by Colson Whitehead 

(The nostalgic sound of summer.) 

Friday, July 10, 2009

Work: A Haiku

The scanner beeping 
Is haunting my afterthoughts 
Won't you just hit "off?" 

Grammar, meet firework















"A" is for apple, Allie & ad nauseam ... as in the degree of my love for holidays. 

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Lyrical

"And my running feet could fly. Each breath screaming, "We are all too young to die!" 

- From "Between Two Lungs" by Florence and the Machine. 


Monday, July 6, 2009

On child rearing

"Use birth control." 

- Frazzled mother of two to me, while at work. 

Small Town Strut: The Best of Bloomington’s Fourth of July Parade

  1. A 20-something man sitting on a roof who hollered in the same faux-energetic tone for each group that walked by. Favorite: “Yeah Pentecostals!”
  2. The young boy with the not-so-subtle scowl who sat crossed-legged, chin on hands, on the edge of a church float decorated as Noah’s Arc. A woman with a self-important disposition marched backward as she instructed the row of children draped with animal-shaped hats to perform sign language to a Christian children’s song, which hummed from a small portable CD player. Note: In twenty years, these children will still recognize this as the day they swore off organized religion, or, all contact with the deaf.
  3. Semi-shaped go-kart. 

Friday, July 3, 2009

On where to turn for recreational advice

"I just Googled 'what to do this summer.' No. 1 on the list was 'skee ball tournament with your friends.' Depressing." - J

Excerpt

"I think we can all agree that sleeping around is a great way to meet people. Furthermore, sleeping around with midgets is a great way to meet midgets. The great thing about sleeping with a midget is that first you have sex with them and then you can use them as a pillow. Those little midgets have it so easy. Sometimes when I see one, I want to chase it." 

- From Chelsea Handler's "My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands" 

Absolutely not
















New glass decks on the 103rd floor of Chicago's Sears Tower. 
I've never been a heights person, but this could reach a new level of terrifying.