novembre
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this week's pride
1.
reading by streetlight is not the best idea, nor is it much past a petulant rebuttal to daylight savings. the sun sets before i leave work each day now. 2.
one of the models on the current season of america's next top model is rumored to have asperger's. this fascinates me. 3.
girls who have never had sisters bond together and then repel apart. and repeat, for strength. 4.
i love the hyperactive lady who owns slsh with jle. it's like she's naturally on coke. she thrusts 646s at me, jabbering about wholesalers in japan. i have no idea if she remembers me from the other times i've been in, but that seems a moot point. french tourists come in and oggle her cramped little store, carpeted with piles of jeans. piles that make sense only to her. i finger long-sleeved striped teeshirts (they are on a shelf in their own piles, on top of piles of jeans) and think about using this setting for something. a short story, a photo shoot. 5.
self-righteous berkeleyans eye my low-sulfur emitting diesel station wagon. one slipped me a card for biodiesel, and i will call to find out if the conversion is free. otherwise, the next time a hippie/yuppie hybrid in north berkeley sniffs at my car i'll roll down the window and ask for a donation. 6.
in an attempt to woo a statuesque hairdresser, my housemate made her cannoli. i find this incredibly sweet, and am so proud that he is in the world. has anyone made you anything? 7.
it is not that scary to talk to the dudes. they are the whatever. what does scare me is being stuck. but simply talking and trading laughs doesn't mean i'm destined to get sucked into marriage with one of the sweet guys at trader joe's or guy who gently chastized me for reading by streetlight. it just means that my body thinks his body is pretty, and maybe if we talk, our minds will too. yeah, maybe i'll look up from the book next time. i dunno. i told you i turned feral. 8.
in order to cover up the inane indie rock star on the middle of my lower back, i'm designing a new tattoo in my head. it's after mucha's winter and spring. i thought up this concept before i left on the tide-turning road trip, and now it's november and i still haven't figured out how to incorporate the text (text is tricky on the body, text with image, i am sparse and somehow feel that one should/can stand for the other, alone). i want the word "patience." if i could i'd go back in time and NOT GET my three tattoos. back to 18 when the bikers held me down because the star on my leg hurt so much, that hell's angel sure had a heavy hand. back to 20 when leslie mah coddled me with a juice box. back to 23 when rocio gave me the barn swallow named banana. but they're a part of my scenery now, the landscape of my battled funny body, and for some reason i can't fathom saving up money to simply laser them off. it would be like getting a nose job. i'm personally opposed. 9.
they tenatively offered me a full-time position at work, binding and repairing books. when they told me, i almost burst into song, but instead i just mumbled something about being excited because i desperately need health insurance. 10.
baby steps, dude. don't forget to laugh. 11.
children of heaven is a movie to make your uterus weep. if you happen to be biologically male, this movie will make you grow a uterus and then it will start weeping. 11.5
mary gaitskill. 12.
my body is lonely, but the rest of me isn't. how odd to feel this, but how good. it's the inverse of my late-twenties. 13.
lucky number thirteen. subvert all superstition. yes, such petulance runs deep, deeper than streetlights; i have two grandmothers (one great) born on fridays the 13th and my mother was born on halloween. it's in my blood to be this pig-headed. and i like it.
2:25 am - 11.17.07
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