It was a slow burn. Steven Spielberg reached into my head and tugged a beaded chain inside my brain when I was four years old. I was watching "Jaws" and my mind lit up so fast and hard that my ears burned. I wasn't afraid of his black eyes or his giant teeth which were bigger than my hands at the time. I kept taking baths and I learned how to swim with the other kids who were scared of being eaten. I learned the scientific name--Carcharadon Carcarius. I learned about the great white shark with the fervor of a mad scientist ten times my age. And then I learned about other sharks.
Two years later my ears still burned. I was six years old and I would still beg my mother to rent a different movie from the "Jaws" series every time she took my big brother and sister to the video store. There were no other movies. My reality was Mr. Quint's crassness and Chief Brody's reluctant heroism. I had thought Hooper was cute. He may have been one of the first celebrities that I was attracted to. Richard Dreyfuss. Strange, I know. But I knew the characters and I loved them. I knew every single line without exception. And there's nothing more precious than hearing a six-year-old little girl say, "Smile, you son of a bitch!" at family gatherings. I'm sure I had no idea what I was saying.
When I was ten I was still actively immersed in an obsessive world of shark-mania. I wanted to be a marine biologist. I participated in the Swim for Diabetes event every year and swam 200 laps each time so I could obtain a free pass to Sea World of Aurora. That Sea World is closed now but while it was here, I anxiously awaited its spring opening every year.
I liked boys but I wasn't the kind of girl who needed to like boys. I didn't matter. I was unattractive and awkward and I cared too much about strange things like sharks so that I scared most of the boys my age away. Older men thought it was cute that I was so clever and precocious. So I developed an interest in them as well but without the same enthusiasm that I gave to my finned friends of the sea.
It was during those years that I could feel most like myself in this one particular place. Each summer I would take trips to the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo with my family or with my cousins or with the boys next door and their mother. And each time I would look forward to the sweaty climb up the twisted wooden ramps that led to the Primate, Cat, and Aquatic Building at the zoo's highest point, and my favorite place on Earth. I would start slowly, then begin to skip, and then I would sprint up in the shade of the towering trees, feeling my young calves burn while my hands flailed around in nervous anticipation. I was on my way to the shark building.
I always waited to see the sharks. I'd save them for last. And each time I would plop down on the carpeted stairs to catch my breath and watch them swim around their deep, circular tank in the green glow of the saltwater. The tank was special, but nothing too spectacular. The walls were brown and ancient-looking and there wasn't a whole lot of room to swim, compared to other tanks I'd seen. Still, this place was sacred. I was attracted to it, enamored even.
There was a huge ugly purple grouper, bigger than me for most of my youth. And there were the sharks. Always two blacktip reef sharks, smooth and fierce-looking with intense, wide white eyes and catlike black slits. The whitetip reef shark was the king of the tank, long and fast, prone to napping on the bottom and then being stirred by the movement of the large nurse shark, a docile, monk-like bottom-feeder. There was always that stout-looking horn shark with his beady starless eyes and rounded fins.
Sometimes I would step forward and lean against the glass, trying to think myself into the tank, tracing their straight and sleek, wakeless paths with my fingers. I saw the water spiraling steadily above them and dreamed of diving in. Sometimes to get a closer look I would kneel beside the tank and peer at them through one or all of the four portholes, about a foot and a half in diameter, cut in the sides for viewing from different angles.
During my adolescence I started feeling lonely. At times I was depressed. I gained weight, I grew more awkward and uncomfortable in my own skin. And while the other girls were getting their first kisses and more, I felt unworthy of such affection. And I felt unlikely too. It was unlikely that I would be kissed or hugged or accepted by the boys my age.
So I sat, alone, and dreamed in front of the shark tank, of a boy who might come up to me right there and kiss me. In front of the blacktips, the whitetip, the nurse shark, the horn shark. He'd pull me close and I'd feel safe. I wasn't afraid of the sharks, of course, but he'd still protect me.
I came close a few years ago. I was in love with my best friend and I had an opportunity. We were standing there, stupidly, parallel. And I didn't kiss him. I feared that the fantasy had built up dangerously in my mind and that I would be disappointed. So much depended on this kiss because it would be our first. So I waited. I waited for another two years.
I often dreamed after that day that I was being proposed to in front of the sharks. I dreamed that a faceless lover of mine was diving with me at the bottom, stroking the nurse shark. I dreamed that this same lover might actually want to stroke me. The fantasies grew more lascivious and seemed less attainable.
Could I really find a man who would love me and want to touch me and want to kiss me and still know about this bizarre obsession that grew in my mind from childhood? Would he know to hold me in front of the shark tank?
And he did.
He let me wait a little longer, even. We walked around the building, casually observing the other lesser animals. The rising tension within me bubbled and burned within my ears. I felt varied degrees of frustration as we took circuitous routes around my shark tank. There were moments when I could see it from the corner of my eye but I averted my gaze. It was a game. A sexy, quiet little game within me. And it felt good to share with this man--this perfect, indescribably wonderful man.
We finally approached the sharks and I was struck by how changeless the tank seemed. There was another female blacktip shark. The grouper's once bright purple color was faded. But he was just as large--maybe larger, because usually these things seem bigger when you're younger, but he looked the same to me. My lover asked me to tell him about the sharks and I did. I don't remember what I said. I was hypnotized again by the glow of the tank, the serenity that overtook my body. I was reconnecting. I was dreaming a little too.
When he grabbed my hand and led me around the corner, my heart sank. I feared that I wouldn't get my kiss. I couldn't understand why he hadn't done it. My feet felt heavy and I was scared until I had the nerve to ask him where he was taking me. He thought there were more sharks. I wish there were, dear, but there weren't.
I led him back to the other side of the tank to look through the portholes and he knelt down beside me to peer into the clear green water. I knelt down and saw the nurse shark and the horn shark and the whitetip reef shark. I projected myself along with him into the water. I felt light. I felt as if I was floating until I became aware again of the weight I was placing on the toes of my tennis shoes. I turned to see him looking at me and I felt instantly as if the ground beneath me dissolved--as if the intensity of his gaze were suspending me over a dangerous abyss beneath my feet. We were breathing underwater. And then he kissed me. And I felt everything. I had eight senses.
After the kiss we stared at each other and I felt faint. I imagine that this is what it might feel like to time-travel or to fall suddenly in an anti-gravity chamber at the pull of a lever, or to break the sound barrier. I did not know where I was in relation to the universe anymore. Because this was a new universe. It consumed me. It wasn't until two days later that I wondered if the kids on the other side of the tank could see us through the glass of the portholes on the opposite side.
I don't know what I did to deserve this. I sustained that dream for so long. I thought it might have gone the way of everything else from childhood--I would never be a marine biologist, Sea World closed, I stopped talking to the boys next door. This one lingered though.
And it will linger in my memory. The best kiss of my life. The only lasting dream of mine that finally found fruition. I'm still glowing. It's as though the green water is surrounding me, glistening and wetting my eyes so that I must blink to rid them of the tears, to make sure that I am not merely dreaming once again. When I close my eyes at night the inside of my eyelids remind me to keep my waking reverie alive. It's real, they say. It's real. It's real.
Later in the evening he nibbled on my neck and I woke up this morning with the mark that he left. I smiled at myself in the mirror, imagining the scar story I'd tell to Quint and Brody and Hooper in the belly of the Orca. I hummed "Show Me the Way to Go Home" as I brushed my teeth, smirking all the while.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Saturday, April 08, 2006
The Golden Age of Musical Chupacabra
"Chupacabra"
Sing to the tune of "Oklahoma" from the Broadway show, "Oklahoma."
Chuuuuu-pacabra, see the blood go seeping from the vein!
When you use your teeth you bite so sweet
That your victim can scarcely feel the paaaain.
Chuuuuu-pacabra, Every hombre down in Mexico
Has a pitchfork set in case you get
a craving for sangre or for bone!
There aren't any goats in the land
So now it's human blood you demand
And when we say, "¡Ojó! ¡Qué lástima y mál!"
We're only sayin'
You're pretty mean, chupacabra! ¿Chupacabra, qué tál?
Chuuuuuu-pacabra he's got wings so he can fly up high
And then swoop down low just when he knows
there's a victim who's caught his rabid eye.
Chuuuuu-pacabra doesn't care if you're type A or B
And if you have AIDS it's a-okay
because the cells inside his bones are t!
There aren't any sheep in the land
So now it's human blood you demand
And when we say, "¡Ojó! ¡Qué lástima y mál!"
We're only sayin'
You're pretty mean, chupacabra. ¿Chupacabra, qué tál?
Sing to the tune of "Oklahoma" from the Broadway show, "Oklahoma."
Chuuuuu-pacabra, see the blood go seeping from the vein!
When you use your teeth you bite so sweet
That your victim can scarcely feel the paaaain.
Chuuuuu-pacabra, Every hombre down in Mexico
Has a pitchfork set in case you get
a craving for sangre or for bone!
There aren't any goats in the land
So now it's human blood you demand
And when we say, "¡Ojó! ¡Qué lástima y mál!"
We're only sayin'
You're pretty mean, chupacabra! ¿Chupacabra, qué tál?
Chuuuuuu-pacabra he's got wings so he can fly up high
And then swoop down low just when he knows
there's a victim who's caught his rabid eye.
Chuuuuu-pacabra doesn't care if you're type A or B
And if you have AIDS it's a-okay
because the cells inside his bones are t!
There aren't any sheep in the land
So now it's human blood you demand
And when we say, "¡Ojó! ¡Qué lástima y mál!"
We're only sayin'
You're pretty mean, chupacabra. ¿Chupacabra, qué tál?
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
A Cow Tale
I wasn't feeling well today so I closed my blinds and retreated into a heap of blankets with some looseleaf paper and a pen in the fashion of a true poet. I put on a pair of sweatpants which is notable because I never wear sweatpants. If you've seen me in sweatpants, then you know me on a very intimate level. Then I put on one of my favorite t-shirts. It's brown and it has a Rubik's Cube on it and it says "ADDICT" in bold letters next to the Cube. Anyway, nobody cares what I was wearing.
I wrote a letter to my boyfriend because I couldn't think about doing anything else at the time. Then I found a poem that I wanted to share with him so I crossed the street to buy a stamp and make a photocopy. While I was there I grabbed a bottle of grapefruit juice which I've never had in my life, and an apple. I figured I could use some vitamin c since I'm pretty sure I'm getting a cold.
When I came up to the copier, an attractive young man was standing at the candy counter across from me and he said to the lady:
"Do you have any Cow Tails? For some reason I really feel like eating a Cow Tail." The lady told him that they were sold out. Poor kid. However, being the great observer that I am, I was able to help this young man get some Tail.
Earlier in the day I passed a table where some students were selling tickets to a campus concert. The musician who is coming is named Josh Gracin. So needless to say, I won't be attending. Still, I noticed on my way past the table that there were three Cow Tales lined up along the edge of it along with some flyers advertising the concert.
"There are some Cow Tales on that table over there. They aren't tied down. You should just take one." I suggested to the kid, nodding in the direction of the three individually wrapped chewy, milky caramel treats. At first he seemed reluctant. "I don't want to steal somebody's Cow Tales," he said.
That's when the lady behind the counter stepped things up. She trotted right up to the table and picked up the three treats, reading a little label that was printed on the back of one. It was an advertisement for the concert!
"See? They want us to take the Cow Tales!" I exclaimed excitedly. So I sat down with the kid and we ate Cow Tales together. So did the lady from the candy counter. Eventually, the young lad introduced himself to me. I told him that I had seen him around and he said something like, "Yea, I have a tendency to hobble around here," and gestured towards his left leg.
Now, of course I noticed this man's walk. I notice everything. I knew that he always wore a leather jacket and that he had those glasses that turn to sunglasses in the light. He also had blonde hair that he slicked back in spite of its natural curl. This isn't creepy. I just see things. A lot of things. Still, I told him that I hadn't noticed his hobble. I wanted to see what he would say. "Well, I'm glad I pointed it out then," he said in a self-deprecating tone.
We talked for a bit longer and then bid each other good evening. And it was a good evening.
I wrote a letter to my boyfriend because I couldn't think about doing anything else at the time. Then I found a poem that I wanted to share with him so I crossed the street to buy a stamp and make a photocopy. While I was there I grabbed a bottle of grapefruit juice which I've never had in my life, and an apple. I figured I could use some vitamin c since I'm pretty sure I'm getting a cold.
When I came up to the copier, an attractive young man was standing at the candy counter across from me and he said to the lady:
"Do you have any Cow Tails? For some reason I really feel like eating a Cow Tail." The lady told him that they were sold out. Poor kid. However, being the great observer that I am, I was able to help this young man get some Tail.
Earlier in the day I passed a table where some students were selling tickets to a campus concert. The musician who is coming is named Josh Gracin. So needless to say, I won't be attending. Still, I noticed on my way past the table that there were three Cow Tales lined up along the edge of it along with some flyers advertising the concert.
"There are some Cow Tales on that table over there. They aren't tied down. You should just take one." I suggested to the kid, nodding in the direction of the three individually wrapped chewy, milky caramel treats. At first he seemed reluctant. "I don't want to steal somebody's Cow Tales," he said.
That's when the lady behind the counter stepped things up. She trotted right up to the table and picked up the three treats, reading a little label that was printed on the back of one. It was an advertisement for the concert!
"See? They want us to take the Cow Tales!" I exclaimed excitedly. So I sat down with the kid and we ate Cow Tales together. So did the lady from the candy counter. Eventually, the young lad introduced himself to me. I told him that I had seen him around and he said something like, "Yea, I have a tendency to hobble around here," and gestured towards his left leg.
Now, of course I noticed this man's walk. I notice everything. I knew that he always wore a leather jacket and that he had those glasses that turn to sunglasses in the light. He also had blonde hair that he slicked back in spite of its natural curl. This isn't creepy. I just see things. A lot of things. Still, I told him that I hadn't noticed his hobble. I wanted to see what he would say. "Well, I'm glad I pointed it out then," he said in a self-deprecating tone.
We talked for a bit longer and then bid each other good evening. And it was a good evening.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Now his hand is on your shoulder
This day is inspired. It's positively stimulating.
At first I was unsure about the possibility of today being a good day. I woke up with my face about an inch away from the wall and I freaked out because all I could see was beige for a few seconds and I had no idea where I was. I took some cold medicine last night and it knocked me out quite effectively so I was probably in a really deep sleep.
The weather made today. I actually had to play the Electric Light Orchestra's "Mr. Blue Sky" after I got back from my first class.
Earlier this week one of the boys in my class made sushi for everyone which was delicious. He made three kinds which he wrapped in nori (seaweed.) I opted for the veggie, which is usually my style. Tuna and crabmeat were the other choices. The stuff was actually quite good. It was a little weird eating sushi and soy sauce at 10:40 in the morning but it was a delightful treat. Today a girl brought in homemade samosas. That was a lot more unusual in the morning than the sushi. Indian spices aren't really good during the breakfast hours. Just so you know. But it was still very good.
I generally prefer Middle Eastern cuisine to Indian cuisine. I tend to appreciate the subtlety of their spices moreso than the taste bud blitz that a lot of Indian food is known for. Earlier today I had an intense craving for kofta. I'd never think to season ground beef with cinnamon but I'm very grateful that someone did.
Right now I'm heading out to meet with one of my actors for the film I'm working on. We're shooting his scene tonight and I have to get him to fill out a consent form and make sure his wardrobe is good and stuff.
I'm wearing my boyfriend's shirt right now. It's very comforting.
At first I was unsure about the possibility of today being a good day. I woke up with my face about an inch away from the wall and I freaked out because all I could see was beige for a few seconds and I had no idea where I was. I took some cold medicine last night and it knocked me out quite effectively so I was probably in a really deep sleep.
The weather made today. I actually had to play the Electric Light Orchestra's "Mr. Blue Sky" after I got back from my first class.
Earlier this week one of the boys in my class made sushi for everyone which was delicious. He made three kinds which he wrapped in nori (seaweed.) I opted for the veggie, which is usually my style. Tuna and crabmeat were the other choices. The stuff was actually quite good. It was a little weird eating sushi and soy sauce at 10:40 in the morning but it was a delightful treat. Today a girl brought in homemade samosas. That was a lot more unusual in the morning than the sushi. Indian spices aren't really good during the breakfast hours. Just so you know. But it was still very good.
I generally prefer Middle Eastern cuisine to Indian cuisine. I tend to appreciate the subtlety of their spices moreso than the taste bud blitz that a lot of Indian food is known for. Earlier today I had an intense craving for kofta. I'd never think to season ground beef with cinnamon but I'm very grateful that someone did.
Right now I'm heading out to meet with one of my actors for the film I'm working on. We're shooting his scene tonight and I have to get him to fill out a consent form and make sure his wardrobe is good and stuff.
I'm wearing my boyfriend's shirt right now. It's very comforting.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
The circle of warmth
This year's senior class gift at my college is called The Circle of Warmth.
It's essentially a massive firepit lined with bricks that members of the senior class are currently purchasing. It's a shady way to get the project done--coercing poor college students into handing over their cash in the name of a false promise of some sort of brick-lined firepit legacy. These kids are vulnerable. They don't know where they're gonna be next year or the year after that. They need to hold onto something *ahem* concrete here on campus. Might as well be a glorified chunk of clay at the edge of a hole in the ground.
The location of the Circle of Warmth (which actually sounds like an embarrassing stain on the front of a young boy's pants on the first day of school) is right in the middle of this beautiful section of lawn that I cut through daily to avoid the haste of the sidewalk. They're breaking up my lawn.
I like fire as much as the next girl. Actually, I really like fire a lot. Some might say that I like fire to a fault. But I can't imagine having a good time around a fire that's smack in the middle of the lawn facing the grease dumpsters behind the student union, the tennis courts, the student activity center (which looks like Auschwitz!), and one of the freshman dormitories. The whole point of having a bonfire is to escape into the mystery and seduction of the night sans apprehension. So how am I supposed to travel forth into a parallel nighttime universe of fire-inspired wantonness and lust while a bunch of haggard cafeteria workers stare across the lawn at me during their smoke breaks?
I want my bonfires to be in the woods in secret. I want to feel free to throw random items into the raging flames just to see what colors they make. I want to make out and carry on. I want to dance like those chicks from "The Crucible." I want to make out with John Proctor from "The Crucible." I mean, I understand that he's a fictional character but hypothetically speaking, that's the kind of thing that I would do around my bonfire.
And I certainly wouldn't engrave inspirational messages on a bunch of overpriced bricks around the pit. If I did they would say things like "Devo RULES!" or "I like rice cakes!"
My point is, this Circle of Warmth (or COW) completely goes against everything a good firepit stands for. And I don't want to take any part in it. And I will ardently oppose any event that takes place in this future firepit.
I hope that my senior class gift is a bookcase or a sapling.
It's essentially a massive firepit lined with bricks that members of the senior class are currently purchasing. It's a shady way to get the project done--coercing poor college students into handing over their cash in the name of a false promise of some sort of brick-lined firepit legacy. These kids are vulnerable. They don't know where they're gonna be next year or the year after that. They need to hold onto something *ahem* concrete here on campus. Might as well be a glorified chunk of clay at the edge of a hole in the ground.
The location of the Circle of Warmth (which actually sounds like an embarrassing stain on the front of a young boy's pants on the first day of school) is right in the middle of this beautiful section of lawn that I cut through daily to avoid the haste of the sidewalk. They're breaking up my lawn.
I like fire as much as the next girl. Actually, I really like fire a lot. Some might say that I like fire to a fault. But I can't imagine having a good time around a fire that's smack in the middle of the lawn facing the grease dumpsters behind the student union, the tennis courts, the student activity center (which looks like Auschwitz!), and one of the freshman dormitories. The whole point of having a bonfire is to escape into the mystery and seduction of the night sans apprehension. So how am I supposed to travel forth into a parallel nighttime universe of fire-inspired wantonness and lust while a bunch of haggard cafeteria workers stare across the lawn at me during their smoke breaks?
I want my bonfires to be in the woods in secret. I want to feel free to throw random items into the raging flames just to see what colors they make. I want to make out and carry on. I want to dance like those chicks from "The Crucible." I want to make out with John Proctor from "The Crucible." I mean, I understand that he's a fictional character but hypothetically speaking, that's the kind of thing that I would do around my bonfire.
And I certainly wouldn't engrave inspirational messages on a bunch of overpriced bricks around the pit. If I did they would say things like "Devo RULES!" or "I like rice cakes!"
My point is, this Circle of Warmth (or COW) completely goes against everything a good firepit stands for. And I don't want to take any part in it. And I will ardently oppose any event that takes place in this future firepit.
I hope that my senior class gift is a bookcase or a sapling.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
U-Haul My Heart
The other day I was snuggling with my sweetie and I began to tell him that he was like one of those rentable storage units. He interrupted me before I could justify the statement. And to be honest, at the moment I didn't really know where I was going with it. I just wanted to talk my way out of it. But now that I've had some time, I've really found ten ways that my partner in love is like a storage unit. I am changing his name to a pet name that I have given him to protect his identity. Becuase who wants to be linked to the creepy blog girl who compares her boyfriend to a storage unit?
1. When I'm with him I invest a lot of myself in him--my time, my energy, my own physical being. In this way, I store a large part of myself within the confines of Puma's heart. I would similarly store large quantities of my belongings in a storage unit.
2. When I am with Puma--that is to say when I invest these parts of myself in the storage unit that is Puma--I feel safe and secure. I feel like I can store anything in him. I can tell him everything and give him everything that I have and it will all remain completely unassailable. If I were to store my belongings with a reputable storage unit company, they would also be secure in this way (in a much more physical, literal sense of course.)
3. There is plenty of space in my relationship with Puma. Not only do we have much space between us, but we also respect one another's independence. Many storage units offer lots of cubic feet for spacious and comfortable storage. They are also often found in long strips, side by side, separated only by thin walls. In this way they share a close connection and an architecturally sound bond but they are still separate entities. Puma and I are related in a similar fashion.
4. Sometimes you only get to visit your storage center once in a long while. Maybe you have nowhere to put the stuff and then you find room or you buy a new place with more space to fill. And then you open up the metal storage unit door and you see all of the incredible things that you forgot that you had. And you're overcome by this wave of happiness and nostalgia for the things that you loved so much that you haven't seen for such a long time. I love Puma in this way. I only see him once in a while and when I do I am instantly reminded of how much I live for his touch and all of the wonderful ways that he loves me and I forget how I ever lived without these things in my presence for so long.
5. Often there are discounts for longer stays in storage centers. If you put your stuff in them for a long time, you save money. When Puma stays with me for an extended period of time, or I with him, we save money on gas and tolls.
6. A storage unit is not lactose intolerant. Coincidentally, Puma is also not lactose intolerant. I am. In this way, I am not like a storage unit.
7. When you get your own storage center, you get a matching key and nobody else has that key. It's yours, especially for you. I have given Puma the key to my heart for him to use at his discretion and I feel like I have the key to his. I'm not sharing with anybody. I don't want anyone stealing my stuff.
8. Squirrels often keep their nuts in storage units. Not necessarily in the big industrial ones that people pay for, but they actually do a fair amount of accumulation in special spaces. Squirrels also like nuts. I am nuts about Puma.
9. Many storage units offer optional temperature control so that the items inside can be safe from the elements. Again, we're dealing with an issue of safety and security here. When Puma is around, everything feels safe. Additionally, however, Puma does have the ability to control my temperature. If I were a vinyl record being stored within Puma the storage unit, I'd probably be in danger of melting because he is an incredibly dishy storage unit and I would likely be feeling a little hot and bothered inside him. (Provided that vinyl records have to deal with the raw aching heat of human sexuality.) When I am not with Puma I feel a little bit cold. His voice is my thermostat though. And when he speaks to me on the phone my temperature rises and I feel comfortable again. Sometimes even a little bit balmy.
10. The doors on storage units are often made of jointed strips of metal that curve and roll up slowly when they are opened. Sometimes they take a lot of time and strength to get into. My courtship with Puma was like this slowly rising storage unit gate. The promise of good stuff on the inside was gradually revealed each time I made contact with him. And as I got to know him, everything inside of him that makes him the incredible man that he is became increasingly apparent to me. Eventually the door was completely open and I saw everything that he had to offer and I passed through the threshold that the storage gate allowed me and I immersed myself in his love...or the sundry items that were stored beyond his door. There might have been an antiquated green sofa in one corner or an old rocking horse and a crib. Or just a bunch of comic books and action figures.
I feel like there is so much in store for me and my fellow. There will definitely be more awful puns too.
1. When I'm with him I invest a lot of myself in him--my time, my energy, my own physical being. In this way, I store a large part of myself within the confines of Puma's heart. I would similarly store large quantities of my belongings in a storage unit.
2. When I am with Puma--that is to say when I invest these parts of myself in the storage unit that is Puma--I feel safe and secure. I feel like I can store anything in him. I can tell him everything and give him everything that I have and it will all remain completely unassailable. If I were to store my belongings with a reputable storage unit company, they would also be secure in this way (in a much more physical, literal sense of course.)
3. There is plenty of space in my relationship with Puma. Not only do we have much space between us, but we also respect one another's independence. Many storage units offer lots of cubic feet for spacious and comfortable storage. They are also often found in long strips, side by side, separated only by thin walls. In this way they share a close connection and an architecturally sound bond but they are still separate entities. Puma and I are related in a similar fashion.
4. Sometimes you only get to visit your storage center once in a long while. Maybe you have nowhere to put the stuff and then you find room or you buy a new place with more space to fill. And then you open up the metal storage unit door and you see all of the incredible things that you forgot that you had. And you're overcome by this wave of happiness and nostalgia for the things that you loved so much that you haven't seen for such a long time. I love Puma in this way. I only see him once in a while and when I do I am instantly reminded of how much I live for his touch and all of the wonderful ways that he loves me and I forget how I ever lived without these things in my presence for so long.
5. Often there are discounts for longer stays in storage centers. If you put your stuff in them for a long time, you save money. When Puma stays with me for an extended period of time, or I with him, we save money on gas and tolls.
6. A storage unit is not lactose intolerant. Coincidentally, Puma is also not lactose intolerant. I am. In this way, I am not like a storage unit.
7. When you get your own storage center, you get a matching key and nobody else has that key. It's yours, especially for you. I have given Puma the key to my heart for him to use at his discretion and I feel like I have the key to his. I'm not sharing with anybody. I don't want anyone stealing my stuff.
8. Squirrels often keep their nuts in storage units. Not necessarily in the big industrial ones that people pay for, but they actually do a fair amount of accumulation in special spaces. Squirrels also like nuts. I am nuts about Puma.
9. Many storage units offer optional temperature control so that the items inside can be safe from the elements. Again, we're dealing with an issue of safety and security here. When Puma is around, everything feels safe. Additionally, however, Puma does have the ability to control my temperature. If I were a vinyl record being stored within Puma the storage unit, I'd probably be in danger of melting because he is an incredibly dishy storage unit and I would likely be feeling a little hot and bothered inside him. (Provided that vinyl records have to deal with the raw aching heat of human sexuality.) When I am not with Puma I feel a little bit cold. His voice is my thermostat though. And when he speaks to me on the phone my temperature rises and I feel comfortable again. Sometimes even a little bit balmy.
10. The doors on storage units are often made of jointed strips of metal that curve and roll up slowly when they are opened. Sometimes they take a lot of time and strength to get into. My courtship with Puma was like this slowly rising storage unit gate. The promise of good stuff on the inside was gradually revealed each time I made contact with him. And as I got to know him, everything inside of him that makes him the incredible man that he is became increasingly apparent to me. Eventually the door was completely open and I saw everything that he had to offer and I passed through the threshold that the storage gate allowed me and I immersed myself in his love...or the sundry items that were stored beyond his door. There might have been an antiquated green sofa in one corner or an old rocking horse and a crib. Or just a bunch of comic books and action figures.
I feel like there is so much in store for me and my fellow. There will definitely be more awful puns too.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
The best band of the world
I just found a blog on blogspot that is dedicated to Evanescence. It's in Spanish but my spanish skills are somewhat limited, especially when it comes to translating the excited and probably nonsensical rantings of an Amy Lee-obsessed Los Angeles teen blogger.
So for now I'm waiting on some friends from Notre Dame.
Yesterday I revisited "Reality Bites" and I feel like at this point in my life I'm ready to evaluate it for what it really is. When the movie came out, I was eight years old. I saw it a few months after it came out on video--my sister got it for her birthday and we watched it together. What I remember most about seeing it for the first time was that everyone in the movie reminded me of my sister--especially Winona Ryder's character. I didn't get anything they were talking about but I fell in love with it because the characters reminded me of the cool people that my sister hung out with. And I thought Ethan Hawke was cute.
I've watched this movie several times since and now it carries extra weight with me. Especially now that I get what's happening. But mostly I feel like this movie is really important to me and to other people for the same reason it was important to me when I was a kid. The characters captured the essence of Generation X (which is a term that I am reluctant to use, but oh well) and the film itself speaks really strongly of a particular time in history.
"Reality Bites" is different than a film like "American Graffiti" which profiles a specific pocket of time in retrospect. Ben Stiller made "Reality Bites" about a group of grungy college graduates in 1994...in 1994. If the film were to be made next week, it would be completely different because we'd have the ability to objectively evaluate culture in the early nineties. Ben Stiller took what he knew about himself and the members of his generation and exploited that information. It works.
I guess this is why I like films like "Reality Bites" and "Swingers" and "Slacker"--even "American Beauty" is one of these films in many ways. It always fascinates me when directors and writers are able to step back and realize certain aspects of their own humanity at a specific and current point in time. "Swingers" has been dismissed as a cult film because of the way it looks at the short-lived swing revival of the nineties. But it also explores some pretty timeless stuff. There will always be guys picking up girls in bars, trying to make names for themselves, and attempting (with difficulty) to move on from failed relationships. All of this stuff just happens to occur in the underground bars of LA in 1996. So maybe there's swing dancing and shameless homages to Quentin Tarantino. It happens.
So for now I'm waiting on some friends from Notre Dame.
Yesterday I revisited "Reality Bites" and I feel like at this point in my life I'm ready to evaluate it for what it really is. When the movie came out, I was eight years old. I saw it a few months after it came out on video--my sister got it for her birthday and we watched it together. What I remember most about seeing it for the first time was that everyone in the movie reminded me of my sister--especially Winona Ryder's character. I didn't get anything they were talking about but I fell in love with it because the characters reminded me of the cool people that my sister hung out with. And I thought Ethan Hawke was cute.
I've watched this movie several times since and now it carries extra weight with me. Especially now that I get what's happening. But mostly I feel like this movie is really important to me and to other people for the same reason it was important to me when I was a kid. The characters captured the essence of Generation X (which is a term that I am reluctant to use, but oh well) and the film itself speaks really strongly of a particular time in history.
"Reality Bites" is different than a film like "American Graffiti" which profiles a specific pocket of time in retrospect. Ben Stiller made "Reality Bites" about a group of grungy college graduates in 1994...in 1994. If the film were to be made next week, it would be completely different because we'd have the ability to objectively evaluate culture in the early nineties. Ben Stiller took what he knew about himself and the members of his generation and exploited that information. It works.
I guess this is why I like films like "Reality Bites" and "Swingers" and "Slacker"--even "American Beauty" is one of these films in many ways. It always fascinates me when directors and writers are able to step back and realize certain aspects of their own humanity at a specific and current point in time. "Swingers" has been dismissed as a cult film because of the way it looks at the short-lived swing revival of the nineties. But it also explores some pretty timeless stuff. There will always be guys picking up girls in bars, trying to make names for themselves, and attempting (with difficulty) to move on from failed relationships. All of this stuff just happens to occur in the underground bars of LA in 1996. So maybe there's swing dancing and shameless homages to Quentin Tarantino. It happens.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Isn't it good...
Sometimes I need days like this:
I woke up today a half an hour before my alarm was set to buzz, completely alert and ready to attack the day. Of course, I took advantage of the extra thirty minutes of sleep that I was awarded. And even though I would have slept to the alarm had I not woken up, it felt like a special treat to get that "extra" half hour.
I read about the economy in China. The numbers and the acronyms that assaulted me in Chapter 5 of "Understanding Contemporary China" were almost as numerous as bicycles in Beijing.
Before class I had a scare about a particular assignment that caused me to buckle down and get to work on it and a bunch of other things. So fear was the driving force behind my accomplishments this afternoon but at least things got done.
Everything else that happened today is secondary to the way the weather is making me feel. I jumped on picnic tables today. I skipped on the sidewalk. I hopscotched over the engraved bricks at the side of the Union. I'd never read those bricks before and some of them are quite amusing. My personal favorite was "GOD BLESS AMERICA AND BW!" There was one brick that said "Carpe Diem!" so I jumped up onto this new shiny picnic table that they put up over break and began to recite "O Captain! My Captain!"
The breeze is so refreshing. The ground is wet but the sun is shining. Even now it still feels like the sun is shining.
I mailed a letter today. If you've never mailed a letter before, do it. As soon as I dropped it in the box I got nostalgic for a time that I never really got to experience. I've never known days without phone calls. I lived more than half of my life without e-mail but now I don't know if I'll be able to function normally in society without it. My grandma used to send me letters. They'd be printed on these little sheets of white paper--just a few inches up and down. They were always eight and ten pages long and she wrote in this great pointed script that slanted at such an extreme angle across the page. I felt like I was on some great adventure, just moving my eyes along the text.
Those were the only letters I ever got. My cousin Meryl and I wrote to one another a few times but those were rare occasions. So this year I've sent more letters than I have in my entire life. I think I sent four to Kevin last semester and I got a few back. It's really cool to open your mailbox and to see something personal. I hand-wrote this particular letter. Hopefully the recipient will be able to read my handwriting. I'm kind of a slob but I tried to be neat.
Anyway, I have to see a lady about some sweatpants. How archaic is that?
I woke up today a half an hour before my alarm was set to buzz, completely alert and ready to attack the day. Of course, I took advantage of the extra thirty minutes of sleep that I was awarded. And even though I would have slept to the alarm had I not woken up, it felt like a special treat to get that "extra" half hour.
I read about the economy in China. The numbers and the acronyms that assaulted me in Chapter 5 of "Understanding Contemporary China" were almost as numerous as bicycles in Beijing.
Before class I had a scare about a particular assignment that caused me to buckle down and get to work on it and a bunch of other things. So fear was the driving force behind my accomplishments this afternoon but at least things got done.
Everything else that happened today is secondary to the way the weather is making me feel. I jumped on picnic tables today. I skipped on the sidewalk. I hopscotched over the engraved bricks at the side of the Union. I'd never read those bricks before and some of them are quite amusing. My personal favorite was "GOD BLESS AMERICA AND BW!" There was one brick that said "Carpe Diem!" so I jumped up onto this new shiny picnic table that they put up over break and began to recite "O Captain! My Captain!"
The breeze is so refreshing. The ground is wet but the sun is shining. Even now it still feels like the sun is shining.
I mailed a letter today. If you've never mailed a letter before, do it. As soon as I dropped it in the box I got nostalgic for a time that I never really got to experience. I've never known days without phone calls. I lived more than half of my life without e-mail but now I don't know if I'll be able to function normally in society without it. My grandma used to send me letters. They'd be printed on these little sheets of white paper--just a few inches up and down. They were always eight and ten pages long and she wrote in this great pointed script that slanted at such an extreme angle across the page. I felt like I was on some great adventure, just moving my eyes along the text.
Those were the only letters I ever got. My cousin Meryl and I wrote to one another a few times but those were rare occasions. So this year I've sent more letters than I have in my entire life. I think I sent four to Kevin last semester and I got a few back. It's really cool to open your mailbox and to see something personal. I hand-wrote this particular letter. Hopefully the recipient will be able to read my handwriting. I'm kind of a slob but I tried to be neat.
Anyway, I have to see a lady about some sweatpants. How archaic is that?
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Moments in the Woods
I traveled to the West Side Market with my mom today. Basically it's a year-round outdoor produce market in downtown Cleveland. I hadn't been there since I was a kid. I remembered getting stepped on amongst aisles of shouting vendors and mountains of strange fruits. I remembered the piles of pink meat under glass, the vacant eyes of the speckled silvery fish on ice. I remembered getting lost and feeling scared.
Not much has changed. In fact, nothing has changed. I'm aware of more now I guess. Today when I passed the bloody piles of meat I didn't think to myself that I didn't want to eat meat ever again. I thought that I would try to dismiss the image so I could keep enjoying ribs and burgers without remorse. Of course, later at Half Price Books my cashier proudly sported a hat that said "VEGAN" across it so I immediately flashed back to those awful slaughterhouse images of my afternoon at the market.
Anyway, I had a moment with one of the vendors. He was relatively young I guess--maybe twenty-some years old. He was Puerto Rican and he had a really suprising smile. It kind of caught me off guard as I passed. So I smiled back and caught myself lingering there in that moment. So a few seconds later when I broke my gaze I turned back to see that he was still watching me. For some reason I winked. I don't ever wink. It felt good to do it. I knew I'd never see him again. I wasn't that attracted to him. I wasn't going to buy fruit at his stand so it's not like I would have gotten a discount for flirting. I told my mom about what happened and she made fun of me.
So my mom bought some cabbage, I suppose for St. Patrick's Day. I got some mangos and encouraged my mom to get some garlic because it was decently priced and looked delicious. And really, garlic is one of those things that you just need to have around the kitchen at all times.
I wanted some pomegranates but they were really expensive. I hate that! People keep saying how good they are for you and how awesome the juice is but who wants to spend three dollars on a piece of fruit? Not me! But the seeds are so good! Garr! A lady heard me get excited about the delicious-looking starfruit and she asked me what it was like. So I described it to her. I felt cool. Ask me about fruit! Ha.
So back to Half Price Books. I'd never been there before but we passed it so we went in. This place is my toy store. I seriously had so much fun. It's all used books and a few new ones and they're so amazingly priced. I bought a novel called "The Last Cigarette" for 89 cents. It's pretty good so far. I'm only about40 pages in. I'll report back later. I looked at the store for a few items for my sweetie but nothing was good enough. And no Jackson Caine! I was angry.
They also had vinyl at this place and used CDs and tapes. I was thisclose to buying a Color Me Badd CD but for some reason I didn't think it was worth two dollars. Color me crazy...
My mom said that some kid was macking on me in the bookstore and following me around. I usually don't notice if men are showing interest in me. I wish I would have seen what he looked like because I always think it's funny when guys notice me. I guess I looked available today? Who knows.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
Not much has changed. In fact, nothing has changed. I'm aware of more now I guess. Today when I passed the bloody piles of meat I didn't think to myself that I didn't want to eat meat ever again. I thought that I would try to dismiss the image so I could keep enjoying ribs and burgers without remorse. Of course, later at Half Price Books my cashier proudly sported a hat that said "VEGAN" across it so I immediately flashed back to those awful slaughterhouse images of my afternoon at the market.
Anyway, I had a moment with one of the vendors. He was relatively young I guess--maybe twenty-some years old. He was Puerto Rican and he had a really suprising smile. It kind of caught me off guard as I passed. So I smiled back and caught myself lingering there in that moment. So a few seconds later when I broke my gaze I turned back to see that he was still watching me. For some reason I winked. I don't ever wink. It felt good to do it. I knew I'd never see him again. I wasn't that attracted to him. I wasn't going to buy fruit at his stand so it's not like I would have gotten a discount for flirting. I told my mom about what happened and she made fun of me.
So my mom bought some cabbage, I suppose for St. Patrick's Day. I got some mangos and encouraged my mom to get some garlic because it was decently priced and looked delicious. And really, garlic is one of those things that you just need to have around the kitchen at all times.
I wanted some pomegranates but they were really expensive. I hate that! People keep saying how good they are for you and how awesome the juice is but who wants to spend three dollars on a piece of fruit? Not me! But the seeds are so good! Garr! A lady heard me get excited about the delicious-looking starfruit and she asked me what it was like. So I described it to her. I felt cool. Ask me about fruit! Ha.
So back to Half Price Books. I'd never been there before but we passed it so we went in. This place is my toy store. I seriously had so much fun. It's all used books and a few new ones and they're so amazingly priced. I bought a novel called "The Last Cigarette" for 89 cents. It's pretty good so far. I'm only about40 pages in. I'll report back later. I looked at the store for a few items for my sweetie but nothing was good enough. And no Jackson Caine! I was angry.
They also had vinyl at this place and used CDs and tapes. I was thisclose to buying a Color Me Badd CD but for some reason I didn't think it was worth two dollars. Color me crazy...
My mom said that some kid was macking on me in the bookstore and following me around. I usually don't notice if men are showing interest in me. I wish I would have seen what he looked like because I always think it's funny when guys notice me. I guess I looked available today? Who knows.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Then I'm a Philistine.
Tonight I saw the Violent Femmes at the House of Blues in Cleveland.
I like the Femmes but I don't know a lot of their music--just a small sampling. And they have a pretty big repertoire so I guess I sort of expected to feel a little alienated at their show tonight. A friend of mine has a connection at the House of Blues and he offered tickets to me, my roommate, and another mutual friend of ours.
The Femmes were really polished. The middle of their set lagged terribly though. It wasn't until the end of the show that they really kicked it into gear and at that point my mind was in a completely different place.
I've never felt more isolated at a concert in my life. Usually I get really lost in the music and I can ignore the crowd around me and just enjoy the art. But tonight I was distracted by every little thing. I was constantly aggravated my the traffic patterns of the surrounding crowd. I got shoved in every direction by people who couldn't just have a drink at the bar--they had to keep milling in and out of the standing section. At least nothing got spilled on me. Eventually I just moved to the back of the venue against the wall. I couldn't see a thing from there so I got even more distracted and I began to observe specific people in the crowd.
There was a young couple to my left. The woman had dark knotted hair and bushy eyebrows and she hung dangerously from her lover's shoulders, totally drunk and oblivious to the fact that he was looking through her the entire evening. He kept his hands on her waist which gyrated obscenely against the natural rhythm of the music. I think he was trying to hold her in one place.
There were two young girls behind me who kept stepping on the toes of my Chucks. This was unfortunate because my feet were already uncomfortable to start with--don't ever wear Chucks for extended periods of time. I'm pretty sure they were a couple as well. I didn't get a good look at them but they were both fairly attractive indie girls which made me think that they were genuine for some reason. One of them had loosely braided blonde hair tied back haphazardly into a ponytail. I didn't see much more. At least I don't remember much more.
Another couple stood in front of me. I'm think that the man is a sociology professor at my college. He kept smiling at me which I'm sure his date appreciated. The two of them swayed a lot which didn't make much sense, given the genre and general driving pace of the music. I guess certain things slow down when you're in love or something. Or you want them to. So they swayed. I caught myself swaying with them a few times. He kept heading over to the bar and bringing her more drinks. Honestly I can't imagine how much he spent on alcohol that night.
I guess I just focused on the couples in the crowd tonight because I was feeling jealous of them. It's really funny actually. When I didn't have anyone I was always jealous of couples I saw together in public. Then for a while I got over that and I was jealous of people with iPods in public. Now I have an incredible man in my life and I'm back to my old ways again.
I'll take what I can get for now. I'll revel in the nightly phone calls, the delightfully irrelevant (and often irreverent!) voicemail messages, the occasional e-mails that get filed into a folder called "Sap." I'll wait a week or so between visits. I can do that. It's getting harder though. Spending those two nights and odd hours with him made me realize just how much I love being around him.
I'm happy though. I'm so happy. I don't know what to do with myself. I danced earlier tonight. So maybe I'll start dancing more now.
I like the Femmes but I don't know a lot of their music--just a small sampling. And they have a pretty big repertoire so I guess I sort of expected to feel a little alienated at their show tonight. A friend of mine has a connection at the House of Blues and he offered tickets to me, my roommate, and another mutual friend of ours.
The Femmes were really polished. The middle of their set lagged terribly though. It wasn't until the end of the show that they really kicked it into gear and at that point my mind was in a completely different place.
I've never felt more isolated at a concert in my life. Usually I get really lost in the music and I can ignore the crowd around me and just enjoy the art. But tonight I was distracted by every little thing. I was constantly aggravated my the traffic patterns of the surrounding crowd. I got shoved in every direction by people who couldn't just have a drink at the bar--they had to keep milling in and out of the standing section. At least nothing got spilled on me. Eventually I just moved to the back of the venue against the wall. I couldn't see a thing from there so I got even more distracted and I began to observe specific people in the crowd.
There was a young couple to my left. The woman had dark knotted hair and bushy eyebrows and she hung dangerously from her lover's shoulders, totally drunk and oblivious to the fact that he was looking through her the entire evening. He kept his hands on her waist which gyrated obscenely against the natural rhythm of the music. I think he was trying to hold her in one place.
There were two young girls behind me who kept stepping on the toes of my Chucks. This was unfortunate because my feet were already uncomfortable to start with--don't ever wear Chucks for extended periods of time. I'm pretty sure they were a couple as well. I didn't get a good look at them but they were both fairly attractive indie girls which made me think that they were genuine for some reason. One of them had loosely braided blonde hair tied back haphazardly into a ponytail. I didn't see much more. At least I don't remember much more.
Another couple stood in front of me. I'm think that the man is a sociology professor at my college. He kept smiling at me which I'm sure his date appreciated. The two of them swayed a lot which didn't make much sense, given the genre and general driving pace of the music. I guess certain things slow down when you're in love or something. Or you want them to. So they swayed. I caught myself swaying with them a few times. He kept heading over to the bar and bringing her more drinks. Honestly I can't imagine how much he spent on alcohol that night.
I guess I just focused on the couples in the crowd tonight because I was feeling jealous of them. It's really funny actually. When I didn't have anyone I was always jealous of couples I saw together in public. Then for a while I got over that and I was jealous of people with iPods in public. Now I have an incredible man in my life and I'm back to my old ways again.
I'll take what I can get for now. I'll revel in the nightly phone calls, the delightfully irrelevant (and often irreverent!) voicemail messages, the occasional e-mails that get filed into a folder called "Sap." I'll wait a week or so between visits. I can do that. It's getting harder though. Spending those two nights and odd hours with him made me realize just how much I love being around him.
I'm happy though. I'm so happy. I don't know what to do with myself. I danced earlier tonight. So maybe I'll start dancing more now.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Still thirsty!
List of the day's beverages:
9:00 AM: One Diet Coke--I started my day with a cool can of my favorite soda.
12:25 PM: One glass of water, one smoothie--I enjoyed a smoothie alongside a hummus Pita Wrap at Aladdin's Eatery after a day of scouting locations. I scheduled a day of shooting at Record Revolution in Coventry. (Yay for first choices!)
3:00 PM: One cup Guatemala--I actually have a Starbucks gift card (eesh!) so I asked Sam to meet me at our local shop for a cup. I treated. She had caramel apple cider. I tried the Guatemala. I noted a woody aroma and taste in what was a surprisingly elegant and bold cup of coffee. Later I found out that Guatemalan is known for that woody presence. Yay for my sensitive palette! Also yay for being with Sam. She rules.
5:00 PM: One Canada Dry--I came back to the casa and played through some of my songs. I like drinking Canada Dry when I sing because it is refreshing and it leaves a nice coat of syrup on my throat--diet drinks don't do that. I played through "Mad World" (the Gary Jules version), "Such Great Heights" (the Iron & Wine version), and one of the songs I wrote for my guy.
7:00 PM: One cup Caruso's Jazzy Java--I saw a coffeehouse-style play tonight. My friend Mike was in it. I went by myself and so I felt hip and important. I rocked pinstripes and tucked in my designer blouse. I felt totally artsy and intelligent. I even took notes in my program. Well, actually it was mostly prose that had nothing to do with the production. I had this drink before the show.
7:30 PM: One cup Caruso's Columbian--Since I love Columbian, I tried a cup of this before the show as well. Yes, I am a caffeine junkie. Bite my face. This one was rich and playful just like I like my Columbian to be. Kudos!
9:00 PM: One cup Caruso's Hylander Creme--Mmm. I had this at intermission between the two plays. Both plays were stage adaptations from old radio shows. ("Sorry, Wrong Number" and "The Hitch Hiker.") This cup was flavored with toffee and butterscotch or something I think. Delicious, and a perfect compliment to the slice of carrot cake that I ordered.
11:00 PM: One glass Shiraz--Since my mother was an usher at the theater where I saw the plays, I went with her to the theater. She works with a kid named Rob who is in a band called Return of Simple and they were playing at Wilburt's downtown tonight. So we went there. Rob graduated from BW and the other kids in the band go to BW. So there were a lot of folks from school there. My friend is the band's photographer so I rapped with her for a while when she wasn't shooting. Two of my really good guy friends were there and I spoke with them. The wine was good. I'm a big fan of shiraz.
So I've measured my day in beverages. Tomorrow it might be snacks. Or songs. I don't know.
9:00 AM: One Diet Coke--I started my day with a cool can of my favorite soda.
12:25 PM: One glass of water, one smoothie--I enjoyed a smoothie alongside a hummus Pita Wrap at Aladdin's Eatery after a day of scouting locations. I scheduled a day of shooting at Record Revolution in Coventry. (Yay for first choices!)
3:00 PM: One cup Guatemala--I actually have a Starbucks gift card (eesh!) so I asked Sam to meet me at our local shop for a cup. I treated. She had caramel apple cider. I tried the Guatemala. I noted a woody aroma and taste in what was a surprisingly elegant and bold cup of coffee. Later I found out that Guatemalan is known for that woody presence. Yay for my sensitive palette! Also yay for being with Sam. She rules.
5:00 PM: One Canada Dry--I came back to the casa and played through some of my songs. I like drinking Canada Dry when I sing because it is refreshing and it leaves a nice coat of syrup on my throat--diet drinks don't do that. I played through "Mad World" (the Gary Jules version), "Such Great Heights" (the Iron & Wine version), and one of the songs I wrote for my guy.
7:00 PM: One cup Caruso's Jazzy Java--I saw a coffeehouse-style play tonight. My friend Mike was in it. I went by myself and so I felt hip and important. I rocked pinstripes and tucked in my designer blouse. I felt totally artsy and intelligent. I even took notes in my program. Well, actually it was mostly prose that had nothing to do with the production. I had this drink before the show.
7:30 PM: One cup Caruso's Columbian--Since I love Columbian, I tried a cup of this before the show as well. Yes, I am a caffeine junkie. Bite my face. This one was rich and playful just like I like my Columbian to be. Kudos!
9:00 PM: One cup Caruso's Hylander Creme--Mmm. I had this at intermission between the two plays. Both plays were stage adaptations from old radio shows. ("Sorry, Wrong Number" and "The Hitch Hiker.") This cup was flavored with toffee and butterscotch or something I think. Delicious, and a perfect compliment to the slice of carrot cake that I ordered.
11:00 PM: One glass Shiraz--Since my mother was an usher at the theater where I saw the plays, I went with her to the theater. She works with a kid named Rob who is in a band called Return of Simple and they were playing at Wilburt's downtown tonight. So we went there. Rob graduated from BW and the other kids in the band go to BW. So there were a lot of folks from school there. My friend is the band's photographer so I rapped with her for a while when she wasn't shooting. Two of my really good guy friends were there and I spoke with them. The wine was good. I'm a big fan of shiraz.
So I've measured my day in beverages. Tomorrow it might be snacks. Or songs. I don't know.
Friday, March 03, 2006
PSH!
March is my favorite month for film. We've got the promise of the Oscars, the Independent Spirit Awards, the death of the February movie lull, and the Cleveland International Film Festival. That being said, here are my Oscar predictions for this year. This is truly a crazy year for the Oscars--lots of underdogs and huge discrepancies between movies that should win, and movies that probably will. (Thanks a lot, Ang Lee.) So I may not do as well this year with my picks. My record was set last year with 14 predictions out of the 20-some major ones. The year before it was 13. This year I've seen all of the nominated movies except for Transamerica and Munich. And of course I haven't seen some of the documentary shorts and foreign shorts and whatnot because I live in Cleveland and those movies usually take about a year to get here.
Best Motion Picture--Brokeback Mountain (But Crash should win)
Best Actor--Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote
Best Actress--Reese Witherspoon, Walk the Line
Best Supporting Actor--George Clooney, Syriana (But I believe that Paul Giamatti should win)
Best Supporting Actress--Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardener
Best Director--Ang Lee, Brokeback Mountain
Best Adapted Screenplay--Larry McMurty & Diana Ossana, Brokeback Mountain
Best Original Screenplay--Paul Haggis and Bobby Moresco, Crash (But it would be so kickass if The Squid and the Whale won)
Animated Feature--Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit
Art Direction--Memoirs of a Geisha
Cinematography--Brokeback Mountain (But Good Night and Good Luck should win)
Costumes--Memoirs of a Geisha (All those kimonos!)
Documentary Feature--March of the Penguins
Documentary Short Subject--God Sleeps in Rwanda (total shot in the dark)
Film Editing--The Constant Gardener (A total underdog but I'm sticking by it. Crash will probably win.)
Foreign Language Film--Tsotsi (South Africa)
Make-Up--Chronicles of Narnia
Original Score--John Williams, Memoirs of a Geisha (If Gustavo Santaolalla wins I will hit someone. And it might be you. Or Ang Lee.)
Original Song--It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp, Hustle & Flow
Short Film (Animated)--The Moon & the Son: An Imagined Conversation
Short Film (Live Action)--Six Shooter
Sound Editing--King Kong
Sound Mixing--Walk the Line
Visual Effects--King Kong
Best Motion Picture--Brokeback Mountain (But Crash should win)
Best Actor--Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote
Best Actress--Reese Witherspoon, Walk the Line
Best Supporting Actor--George Clooney, Syriana (But I believe that Paul Giamatti should win)
Best Supporting Actress--Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardener
Best Director--Ang Lee, Brokeback Mountain
Best Adapted Screenplay--Larry McMurty & Diana Ossana, Brokeback Mountain
Best Original Screenplay--Paul Haggis and Bobby Moresco, Crash (But it would be so kickass if The Squid and the Whale won)
Animated Feature--Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit
Art Direction--Memoirs of a Geisha
Cinematography--Brokeback Mountain (But Good Night and Good Luck should win)
Costumes--Memoirs of a Geisha (All those kimonos!)
Documentary Feature--March of the Penguins
Documentary Short Subject--God Sleeps in Rwanda (total shot in the dark)
Film Editing--The Constant Gardener (A total underdog but I'm sticking by it. Crash will probably win.)
Foreign Language Film--Tsotsi (South Africa)
Make-Up--Chronicles of Narnia
Original Score--John Williams, Memoirs of a Geisha (If Gustavo Santaolalla wins I will hit someone. And it might be you. Or Ang Lee.)
Original Song--It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp, Hustle & Flow
Short Film (Animated)--The Moon & the Son: An Imagined Conversation
Short Film (Live Action)--Six Shooter
Sound Editing--King Kong
Sound Mixing--Walk the Line
Visual Effects--King Kong
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Better Than the Dentist
The day was long. I made it a point today to be where there were people but for the most part I felt isolated and anxious, even when I came across good company.
I've been spending a lot of money on coffee lately. This is foolish because I could easily get a coffee maker for my room and get free coffee from my mom. But I've become so comfortable heading down into the basement of the union with my little punch card. I wait impatiently in line behind a few of the same sorority girls and philosophy majors who feel the need to order tedious custom drinks with names like "Mocha Monkey Meltdown" and "Orange Mango Paradise Smoothie." (The sorority girls are always sincere. The philosophy majors order to be ironic and take delight in giving their silly orders condescendingly to the barista behind the counter.)
My barista is tall and sturdy. He's got thick black glasses like mine and a chin that sort of curves upward at the tip which makes him look like he's smiling even when I know he's not. His green apron clings to his belly and when he leans forward I see it tighten around him.
I order a 16 oz cup of Columbian when I can. Sometimes they don't brew Columbian so I have Irish Creme or Costa Rican. On Tuesday they were out of Columbian so I waited nervously in a chair trying to concentrate on Lawrence Ferlinghetti while my hands shook unsteadily for their next caffeine fix. When the pot was finally brewed it was too hot to enjoy. So I waited some more. My barista fills it to the top every day. He stopped asking "Room for cream?" about two weeks ago. It was a big step for us.
Anyway enough about coffee. Tonight I had a Lifetime movie marathon. People lied about coming but we still had a decent turnout. The dialogue in those movies is priceless. I would love to have a job writing Lifetime Original screenplays.
In a few short days the roommate and I are going to be heading down to Beaver County. I'm overwhelmed with anticipatory excitement. I always feel amazingly clean and happy after a good road trip and this one is particularly special. Roommate, the open road, and two incredible gentlemen lie just beyond the horizon. Then there is the Violent Femmes concert this Thursday night with Mr. Green and roommate.
I'm having difficulty going to sleep. I don't think my heart wants to stop racing for anything right now. And it's not the caffeine. I'm sure of it. It's got to be the Devil's Sting.
I've been spending a lot of money on coffee lately. This is foolish because I could easily get a coffee maker for my room and get free coffee from my mom. But I've become so comfortable heading down into the basement of the union with my little punch card. I wait impatiently in line behind a few of the same sorority girls and philosophy majors who feel the need to order tedious custom drinks with names like "Mocha Monkey Meltdown" and "Orange Mango Paradise Smoothie." (The sorority girls are always sincere. The philosophy majors order to be ironic and take delight in giving their silly orders condescendingly to the barista behind the counter.)
My barista is tall and sturdy. He's got thick black glasses like mine and a chin that sort of curves upward at the tip which makes him look like he's smiling even when I know he's not. His green apron clings to his belly and when he leans forward I see it tighten around him.
I order a 16 oz cup of Columbian when I can. Sometimes they don't brew Columbian so I have Irish Creme or Costa Rican. On Tuesday they were out of Columbian so I waited nervously in a chair trying to concentrate on Lawrence Ferlinghetti while my hands shook unsteadily for their next caffeine fix. When the pot was finally brewed it was too hot to enjoy. So I waited some more. My barista fills it to the top every day. He stopped asking "Room for cream?" about two weeks ago. It was a big step for us.
Anyway enough about coffee. Tonight I had a Lifetime movie marathon. People lied about coming but we still had a decent turnout. The dialogue in those movies is priceless. I would love to have a job writing Lifetime Original screenplays.
In a few short days the roommate and I are going to be heading down to Beaver County. I'm overwhelmed with anticipatory excitement. I always feel amazingly clean and happy after a good road trip and this one is particularly special. Roommate, the open road, and two incredible gentlemen lie just beyond the horizon. Then there is the Violent Femmes concert this Thursday night with Mr. Green and roommate.
I'm having difficulty going to sleep. I don't think my heart wants to stop racing for anything right now. And it's not the caffeine. I'm sure of it. It's got to be the Devil's Sting.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Una Mezcla
One day I'll record my system for making mixes. It's a complicated process but I think it has the potential to blow minds.
Right now I've got my CDs laid out in front of me on the floor. Windows Media Player and iTunes are both open. There's a spiral notebook to my right and it's filling up quickly with little notes and question marks and sloppily scrawled arrows and stars.
The mix CD is a perfect way for me to express myself. I have an incredibly eclectic collection of music that I love sharing with/imposing on other people. As much as I enjoy knowing that other people are listening to music that I love, I also think that I'm a pretty generous and considerate mixer. The reason it takes me so long to mix is because I spend a large amount of time thinking about which songs the recipient of the mix would truly appreciate.
I once got a mix from a friend who didn't get it. I took two days flipping through my collection and creating a compilation of stuff that I knew he would really enjoy. And in return I got a generic disc full of current radio sap with a few of those "obscure" songs that everyone knows. And then I found out that he gave the same mix to his girlfriend the next day. So I still haven't listened to it. He, on the other hand, thanks me over and over again for introducing him to new music that he'd never heard of and that he really appreciates. I will never recycle a mix.
I always wonder if I take it too seriously but then I just tell myself that it's a hobby and people have a tendency to get really into their hobbies so it's okay. And usually the receivers of my mixes are happy with them.
The mix that I'm working on right now is tricky.
Right now I've got my CDs laid out in front of me on the floor. Windows Media Player and iTunes are both open. There's a spiral notebook to my right and it's filling up quickly with little notes and question marks and sloppily scrawled arrows and stars.
The mix CD is a perfect way for me to express myself. I have an incredibly eclectic collection of music that I love sharing with/imposing on other people. As much as I enjoy knowing that other people are listening to music that I love, I also think that I'm a pretty generous and considerate mixer. The reason it takes me so long to mix is because I spend a large amount of time thinking about which songs the recipient of the mix would truly appreciate.
I once got a mix from a friend who didn't get it. I took two days flipping through my collection and creating a compilation of stuff that I knew he would really enjoy. And in return I got a generic disc full of current radio sap with a few of those "obscure" songs that everyone knows. And then I found out that he gave the same mix to his girlfriend the next day. So I still haven't listened to it. He, on the other hand, thanks me over and over again for introducing him to new music that he'd never heard of and that he really appreciates. I will never recycle a mix.
I always wonder if I take it too seriously but then I just tell myself that it's a hobby and people have a tendency to get really into their hobbies so it's okay. And usually the receivers of my mixes are happy with them.
The mix that I'm working on right now is tricky.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Crazy Love
A List of Today's Better Stuff:
1. Excellent cup of Columbian. I went to the Cyber Cafe to hang out with Kirsten, Mia, and Dan and I conceded to what I thought would be a mediocre cup of coffee. It was actually delicious--a medium roast with a rich presence and a charming (and weirdly nutty) aftertaste.
2. Room Decor. I decided earlier today that I'd like to hang some imported burlap coffee sacks around my half of the room. I'm working on getting some from Costa Rica and some from Columbia, my favorites. Figuring out where to hang them will be an issue. But they will make our room look so much more worldly. We already have a creased National Geographic map behind our futon. Let's kick it up a notch.
3. I wash my hands of "The Laramie Project." After an entire year, I am finally finished with this play. Unfortunately I misplaced the script before I had the opportunity to cite it at the end of my paper. Eesh. I didn't even get to say goodbye!
4. Hearing his voice. Little Bunny got a phone call from her Puma today. We talked about ham cubes at Ponderosa and Poison t-shirts and whatnot. Nothin' but a good time.
5. Quality time with Ellis. I finally have my guitar back at school after a terrible musical dry spell. I played through some of my old songs and it felt so great. I'm in love again. I just moistened a washcloth and rolled it up in the case to keep it from drying out. Such a drought in this room. I'm reminded of the song that I wrote from a translation from this Indian text: "The monsoon had come and was gone for a song/The rivers are dry as these hours are long." Just a little excerpt. The original text was about a woman waiting for her lover to return after the monsoon season. I adapted it to describe my creative drought. I think that was the lyric--it looks wrong logistically or something. Whatever. I pay my own bills.
6. Having a party. Roommate, Mia and I are planning a party for this Thursday night. At the library today we found a Lifetime DVD combo pack--"Mom at 16" and "Too Young to be a Dad" so we're going to borrow a projector from our hall and show them in one of our lounges on a big screen this Thursday night. We're making everyone wear pajamas and we'll probably carry on like a bunch of idiots. I'm excited:
Christine: I'll bring the nailpolish!
Me: I'll bring Tiger Beat!
Adam: I'll bring...testosterone!
And alas, I have discovered the missing sleepover ingredient that I was lacking in my youth.
7. Toxic B-Movie Meltdown! I bought two awful B-movies today at Marc's. One of them is called "The Bat" starring Vincent Price and Agnes Moorehead (I know, right!). The tagline is "When it flies, someone dies!" Then I got "Jekyll & Hyde: The Musical" starring David Hasselhoff on DVD. Wicked awesome.
I need to find the two books that I misplaced. This is really strange. What's my problem?
1. Excellent cup of Columbian. I went to the Cyber Cafe to hang out with Kirsten, Mia, and Dan and I conceded to what I thought would be a mediocre cup of coffee. It was actually delicious--a medium roast with a rich presence and a charming (and weirdly nutty) aftertaste.
2. Room Decor. I decided earlier today that I'd like to hang some imported burlap coffee sacks around my half of the room. I'm working on getting some from Costa Rica and some from Columbia, my favorites. Figuring out where to hang them will be an issue. But they will make our room look so much more worldly. We already have a creased National Geographic map behind our futon. Let's kick it up a notch.
3. I wash my hands of "The Laramie Project." After an entire year, I am finally finished with this play. Unfortunately I misplaced the script before I had the opportunity to cite it at the end of my paper. Eesh. I didn't even get to say goodbye!
4. Hearing his voice. Little Bunny got a phone call from her Puma today. We talked about ham cubes at Ponderosa and Poison t-shirts and whatnot. Nothin' but a good time.
5. Quality time with Ellis. I finally have my guitar back at school after a terrible musical dry spell. I played through some of my old songs and it felt so great. I'm in love again. I just moistened a washcloth and rolled it up in the case to keep it from drying out. Such a drought in this room. I'm reminded of the song that I wrote from a translation from this Indian text: "The monsoon had come and was gone for a song/The rivers are dry as these hours are long." Just a little excerpt. The original text was about a woman waiting for her lover to return after the monsoon season. I adapted it to describe my creative drought. I think that was the lyric--it looks wrong logistically or something. Whatever. I pay my own bills.
6. Having a party. Roommate, Mia and I are planning a party for this Thursday night. At the library today we found a Lifetime DVD combo pack--"Mom at 16" and "Too Young to be a Dad" so we're going to borrow a projector from our hall and show them in one of our lounges on a big screen this Thursday night. We're making everyone wear pajamas and we'll probably carry on like a bunch of idiots. I'm excited:
Christine: I'll bring the nailpolish!
Me: I'll bring Tiger Beat!
Adam: I'll bring...testosterone!
And alas, I have discovered the missing sleepover ingredient that I was lacking in my youth.
7. Toxic B-Movie Meltdown! I bought two awful B-movies today at Marc's. One of them is called "The Bat" starring Vincent Price and Agnes Moorehead (I know, right!). The tagline is "When it flies, someone dies!" Then I got "Jekyll & Hyde: The Musical" starring David Hasselhoff on DVD. Wicked awesome.
I need to find the two books that I misplaced. This is really strange. What's my problem?
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Wrapped Up in Books
I had one of those perfect mornings today. My alarm sounded at 9:00 but I was still feeling lethargic so I turned it off and slept for exactly five more minutes. It was great. Then I rolled over and grabbed Rita Dove from my bookshelf. I spent about a half an hour turning her pages under my heavy down comforter with my cat nestled beside me in one of its thick white billows. The introduction that Ms. Dove wrote for her anthology was a sort of childhood recollection that reminded me so much of myself when I was younger. Shy and precocious and fuelled by literature. She did all of the same things I did--memorizing all of the titles on the shelves and being able to spot the new additions every week, beaming excitedly over a stack of books "chin-high" at the circulation desk.
I was so inspired that I felt motivated to head over to my library. I took a very nice, quick shower (I usually try to stay under seven minutes--water conservation and all) and had a cup of fresh black coffee. Then I threw on a sweater vest and my sister's old Airwalks and headed off to be a bookish little nerd.
There was a Friends of the Library Sale today so I headed in there first and looked through all the titles for some gems. I actually found a lot of great stuff but I didn't feel like spending too much money today because my funds are kind of tight lately since I don't have regular income at the moment. I found "Love Liza" on VHS for fifty cents. Since I'm in love with Philip Seymour Hoffman, I bought it. The movie actually is very well done but completely depressing. Still, it was fifty cents! And it's Philly! Then I took a chance on a novel called "Death Rat!" by Mike Nelson. It looks completely hysterical. The cover looks like an old 60's b-movie poster and the inside of the jacket described what could be a truly delightful literary romp. The prize that I found was a copy of "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" by Dave Eggers which I've been meaning to read for some time now. So now I have this giant list of books that I need to get through. I think this summer I'm going to try to read one or two a week--I'll make a calendar or something.
There was a big case with a bunch of the classics in it and I was paging through Ptolemy and Aquinas and then I really wanted to crack open Plato so I did and there were about three little cards tucked inside the front cover. So I started to read them. They were these really personal love notes from this guy named Paul to his lady, Deb. Some of the things he wrote made me blush. Actually, it sounds like they had quite a tumultuous relationship. Two of the cards said things like "Deb, I love you I love you I love you I love you. I never ever ever meant to hurt you that way. Please keep me" and he also quoted a song--I'm sure of it--but I couldn't place which song it was. I just knew that the words sounded way too familiar to be original. Then in one of them (a valentine) Paul said "I can't want to see you in that new teddie that you've been telling me about. You're so beautiful. Please wear it tonight." It was crazy! I kind of wanted to take the cards out of the book and carry them around and maybe use them in a poem or something. But I felt like a creep reading them in the first place so I just tucked them back in. I don't know how you could give away a book (especially Plato) without leafing through it or anything. Maybe Paul and Deb broke up and the books were a gift from Paul so Deb wanted to throw them out so she wouldn't have to think about him when she looked at her bookshelf. After all, the cards were addressed to her and they were obviously very comfortably tucked in that gathering place inside the cover.
So anyway I went into the library after that and picked up a few things:
Southern Culture on the Skids "Mojo Box." A guy I was in a play with recommended this band to me. I couldn't remember how I'd heard of them when I saw this CD on the rack but now I remember that it was him. I kind of miss him so I picked it up. He has a folk radio show now. They probably don't ever play Southern Culture on the Skids.
R.E.M "Automatic for the People." My sister had this CD growing up and I used to steal it. So now I'm gonna burn my own copy.
Rocket From the Crypt "Group Sounds." I'm actually revisiting this album. It's fresh. Good summer music--they definitely sound like a bunch of hard rocking Californians.
R.E.M. "In Time: The Best of R.E.M. 1988-2003." What can I say? Michael Stipe's voice makes me feel human.
Sam Cooke "Portrait of a Legend 1951-1964." Anyone who doesn't like Sam Cooke doesn't know what it feels like to love.
Then I picked up a giant book called "In Style: Weddings" upon my mother's request because of my sister's wedding. I felt really weird carrying it around. Usually when I'm at the library I try to give off an "I'm a young intelligent single woman" vibe just in case a charming gentleman wishes to discuss the finer points of whatever CD or book or film I have tucked under my arm. So today I have this HUGE coffee-table-sized book with WEDDINGS in giant letters onthe front cover. I can't hide it. Actually I can't even tuck it under my arm because it's so big. So for a while I feel like a bride-to-be which is pretty funny because all I'm doing is floating in and out of rows of bookshelves with little conviction in my step and frankly with nothing important on my mind. I'm sure that in a couple of months I'll be a little less carefree when my duties as Maid of Honor start to stack up. But for now I guess it's kind of cool to casually tote a book about weddings without worrying about how napkins are going to be folded and which flowers are going to be in season and which gifts are appropriate to give to the wedding party.
For now, I am going to settle in and get some studying done. Then I think I'd like to go thrifting. I feel so calm today.
I was so inspired that I felt motivated to head over to my library. I took a very nice, quick shower (I usually try to stay under seven minutes--water conservation and all) and had a cup of fresh black coffee. Then I threw on a sweater vest and my sister's old Airwalks and headed off to be a bookish little nerd.
There was a Friends of the Library Sale today so I headed in there first and looked through all the titles for some gems. I actually found a lot of great stuff but I didn't feel like spending too much money today because my funds are kind of tight lately since I don't have regular income at the moment. I found "Love Liza" on VHS for fifty cents. Since I'm in love with Philip Seymour Hoffman, I bought it. The movie actually is very well done but completely depressing. Still, it was fifty cents! And it's Philly! Then I took a chance on a novel called "Death Rat!" by Mike Nelson. It looks completely hysterical. The cover looks like an old 60's b-movie poster and the inside of the jacket described what could be a truly delightful literary romp. The prize that I found was a copy of "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" by Dave Eggers which I've been meaning to read for some time now. So now I have this giant list of books that I need to get through. I think this summer I'm going to try to read one or two a week--I'll make a calendar or something.
There was a big case with a bunch of the classics in it and I was paging through Ptolemy and Aquinas and then I really wanted to crack open Plato so I did and there were about three little cards tucked inside the front cover. So I started to read them. They were these really personal love notes from this guy named Paul to his lady, Deb. Some of the things he wrote made me blush. Actually, it sounds like they had quite a tumultuous relationship. Two of the cards said things like "Deb, I love you I love you I love you I love you. I never ever ever meant to hurt you that way. Please keep me" and he also quoted a song--I'm sure of it--but I couldn't place which song it was. I just knew that the words sounded way too familiar to be original. Then in one of them (a valentine) Paul said "I can't want to see you in that new teddie that you've been telling me about. You're so beautiful. Please wear it tonight." It was crazy! I kind of wanted to take the cards out of the book and carry them around and maybe use them in a poem or something. But I felt like a creep reading them in the first place so I just tucked them back in. I don't know how you could give away a book (especially Plato) without leafing through it or anything. Maybe Paul and Deb broke up and the books were a gift from Paul so Deb wanted to throw them out so she wouldn't have to think about him when she looked at her bookshelf. After all, the cards were addressed to her and they were obviously very comfortably tucked in that gathering place inside the cover.
So anyway I went into the library after that and picked up a few things:
Southern Culture on the Skids "Mojo Box." A guy I was in a play with recommended this band to me. I couldn't remember how I'd heard of them when I saw this CD on the rack but now I remember that it was him. I kind of miss him so I picked it up. He has a folk radio show now. They probably don't ever play Southern Culture on the Skids.
R.E.M "Automatic for the People." My sister had this CD growing up and I used to steal it. So now I'm gonna burn my own copy.
Rocket From the Crypt "Group Sounds." I'm actually revisiting this album. It's fresh. Good summer music--they definitely sound like a bunch of hard rocking Californians.
R.E.M. "In Time: The Best of R.E.M. 1988-2003." What can I say? Michael Stipe's voice makes me feel human.
Sam Cooke "Portrait of a Legend 1951-1964." Anyone who doesn't like Sam Cooke doesn't know what it feels like to love.
Then I picked up a giant book called "In Style: Weddings" upon my mother's request because of my sister's wedding. I felt really weird carrying it around. Usually when I'm at the library I try to give off an "I'm a young intelligent single woman" vibe just in case a charming gentleman wishes to discuss the finer points of whatever CD or book or film I have tucked under my arm. So today I have this HUGE coffee-table-sized book with WEDDINGS in giant letters onthe front cover. I can't hide it. Actually I can't even tuck it under my arm because it's so big. So for a while I feel like a bride-to-be which is pretty funny because all I'm doing is floating in and out of rows of bookshelves with little conviction in my step and frankly with nothing important on my mind. I'm sure that in a couple of months I'll be a little less carefree when my duties as Maid of Honor start to stack up. But for now I guess it's kind of cool to casually tote a book about weddings without worrying about how napkins are going to be folded and which flowers are going to be in season and which gifts are appropriate to give to the wedding party.
For now, I am going to settle in and get some studying done. Then I think I'd like to go thrifting. I feel so calm today.
Friday, February 24, 2006
On the Fly
I'm going to try writing a song in this blog--I've got my guitar in front of me and I feel some stuff rising up so here it is:
I don't believe that you are real
Most of the time
The sincerity in your eyes
convinces me otherwise
We meet in streetlit parking lots
Most of the time
But it never feels temporary when I'm with you
My fingers close the door and yours lock mine
And we're not wasting time
We're not wasting time
This kind of thing happens in the movies
All of the time
The two of us make a slow motion montage
sweeping across the screen in black and white
We share a jawline and pulse
When we've got time
Kissing at stoplights, studying friction
Making the truth more real than fiction
And we're not wasting time
No, we're not wasting time
I don't believe that you are real
Most of the time
The sincerity in your eyes
convinces me otherwise
We meet in streetlit parking lots
Most of the time
But it never feels temporary when I'm with you
My fingers close the door and yours lock mine
And we're not wasting time
We're not wasting time
This kind of thing happens in the movies
All of the time
The two of us make a slow motion montage
sweeping across the screen in black and white
We share a jawline and pulse
When we've got time
Kissing at stoplights, studying friction
Making the truth more real than fiction
And we're not wasting time
No, we're not wasting time
Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key
Every now and then I run across a poem that speaks so strongly to me in a certain moment. The poem that I am posting today arrived into my life this afternoon as I was leafing through books of poetry at Parma Regional Library. There was a middle-aged bespectacled man with kind eyes standing on the other side of the shelf and we smiled at one another over the stacks and when I looked down this was staring up at me:
His shirt
does not show his
true colors. Ice-
blue and of stuff
so common
anyone
could have bought it,
his shirt
is known only
to me, and only
at certain times
of the day.
At dawn
it is a flag
in the middle
of a square
waiting to catch
chill light.
Unbuttoned, it's
a sail suprised
by boundless joy.
In candlelight at turns
a penitent's
scarf or beggar's
fleece, his shirt is
inapproachable.
It is the very shape
and tint
of desire
and could be mistaken
for something quite
fragile and
ordinary.
-Rita Dove
I had the opportunity to meet Rita Dove two weeks ago and I missed it. I was completely heartbroken for a while and I picked up this book today as a kind of sweet penance. But after reading this poem, I feel like I've already met her and like she knows me and what I think every second of every day. Especially lately.
I think I'm going to be alright this weekend.
His shirt
does not show his
true colors. Ice-
blue and of stuff
so common
anyone
could have bought it,
his shirt
is known only
to me, and only
at certain times
of the day.
At dawn
it is a flag
in the middle
of a square
waiting to catch
chill light.
Unbuttoned, it's
a sail suprised
by boundless joy.
In candlelight at turns
a penitent's
scarf or beggar's
fleece, his shirt is
inapproachable.
It is the very shape
and tint
of desire
and could be mistaken
for something quite
fragile and
ordinary.
-Rita Dove
I had the opportunity to meet Rita Dove two weeks ago and I missed it. I was completely heartbroken for a while and I picked up this book today as a kind of sweet penance. But after reading this poem, I feel like I've already met her and like she knows me and what I think every second of every day. Especially lately.
I think I'm going to be alright this weekend.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Our Own Personal Hailstorm
Christine and I made a run for Borders today. I was pissed off because I checked online for all of the stuff I wanted and they only had one of the three items I went there for. And last night on the website they said that they had all three in stock! Bastards.
So I got the Awards Edition of "American Beauty" which is the one thing I really asked for for my birthday and the one thing I didn't get. They didn't have "Raise the Red Lantern" or "The 40-Year-Old Virgin"--well, actually they had the latter but it was $29.99 and that's rubbish. My gift card was for $30 and there was no way I was spending it on one DVD that I could get at Best Buy for $16.00. At least buying the one DVD got me a coupon for 30% off my next purchase. So now I can go to another Borders and save more money. I rule!
Anyway, the reason for this post is not to discuss my frugality or my frustration with chain bookstores. Nay, this post is significant for another reason.
On the way home, me and Christine were on the highway and I was just chilling in the passenger seat, rockin' to Kanye West and all of a sudden this slew of tiny little rock things poured down on us from above. It was coming off the top of this big ugly dirty semi that was chugging along in front of us. So we accelerated and tried to pass on the left and as we were passing I looked up to see the idiot who was driving the giant jalopy of spewage and it was this disgusting trucker who happened to be looking right at me. Like, his head was turned and he was staring me in the face. So what could I do? I looked up at him and smiled. Then he pulled on that chain thing and honked his horn.
The dude was disgusting and creepy. He had a terrible long, dark, unkempt beard ala ZZ Top and these giant aviator sunglasses. And his smile. Oh, his creepy, creepy smile. So I waved as we went past. And then I cowered into the soft grey fibers of my seat and wept softly as Kanye spit the second verse of "Golddigger."
So I got the Awards Edition of "American Beauty" which is the one thing I really asked for for my birthday and the one thing I didn't get. They didn't have "Raise the Red Lantern" or "The 40-Year-Old Virgin"--well, actually they had the latter but it was $29.99 and that's rubbish. My gift card was for $30 and there was no way I was spending it on one DVD that I could get at Best Buy for $16.00. At least buying the one DVD got me a coupon for 30% off my next purchase. So now I can go to another Borders and save more money. I rule!
Anyway, the reason for this post is not to discuss my frugality or my frustration with chain bookstores. Nay, this post is significant for another reason.
On the way home, me and Christine were on the highway and I was just chilling in the passenger seat, rockin' to Kanye West and all of a sudden this slew of tiny little rock things poured down on us from above. It was coming off the top of this big ugly dirty semi that was chugging along in front of us. So we accelerated and tried to pass on the left and as we were passing I looked up to see the idiot who was driving the giant jalopy of spewage and it was this disgusting trucker who happened to be looking right at me. Like, his head was turned and he was staring me in the face. So what could I do? I looked up at him and smiled. Then he pulled on that chain thing and honked his horn.
The dude was disgusting and creepy. He had a terrible long, dark, unkempt beard ala ZZ Top and these giant aviator sunglasses. And his smile. Oh, his creepy, creepy smile. So I waved as we went past. And then I cowered into the soft grey fibers of my seat and wept softly as Kanye spit the second verse of "Golddigger."
Sunday, February 19, 2006
I Make Myself Soar (and Sore.)
I'm on quite a high right now. I actually got to sleep in today for a change. I had some trippy dreams last night which is bizarre because I don't usually remember my dreams and I hate dreaming to begin with. Oh well. I woke up and everything was cool--I definitely sat up in bed though to see if the dude who tried to kill my parents was still bleeding on the floor after I had cut the tendons behind his knees. That was seriously one of my dreams.
A friend of mine once told me that there are still countries in the world where they make "yes or no" decisions by slashing the tendons behind the knees of one of the village peasants and if he falls forward the answer is yes and if he falls backwards the answer is no. Granted, this girl who told me this is the same girl who said that you can rearrange the letters in Michael Eisner's name to spell "Lucifer" but I still thought it was an interesting concept.
So anyway I had a bit of a sore throat this morning but I still had a lot of energy. I finally wrote a new song last night which was a good note to fall asleep on. I'm quite proud of the song really. I think he wants to be played slow. I'm not 100% sure yet though. Maybe I should slice through a peasant's tendons to decide.
I actually "worked-out" today. I wanted to listen to records and figured since I had all of this pent-up energy that I should burn some of it. So I jogged for a while on this small trampoline that we have at home (or the Urban Trainer as my mom and I call it) and worked with a few small weights and then I did a lot of yogic stuff for my muscles. I made it through two records before I quit. I could have gone longer I think but I have a short attention span I guess. I listened to NIN's "With Teeth" and the Police's "Outlandos D'Amour" which are excellent work-out albums. It's a hell of a lot better than sweating to the oldies.
That reminds me. Yesterday in the cars I was in at different times I randomly checked the radio to see if they were in fact still playing crap, and I ran into three Beach Boys songs. This was in a span of about six hours. And it wasn't like "Don't Worry Baby" or "God Only Knows." They were playing "California Girls" and "Surfin' USA" and "Kokomo." And I got so pissed. Because it's Cleveland. And I don't want to think about Kokomo. And they never play the Beach Boys this much during other times of the year when it's actually appropriate. I don't want to think about bodies in the sand and tropical drinks melting in my hand. It's depressing.
Right now I'm absorbing some new music. Yesterday I grabbed some stuff at the library again. In case anyone is curious, here's the list:
Common- "Be." I'm a big fan of Common. I was really into his one album "Like Water for Chocolate" a few years ago. This one is great as well. Not as good as the aforementioned though. Kanye stepped in and changed things around a bit.
Misfits- "Walk Among Us." I've been casually involved with the Misfits for awhile and last year my cousin's band opened a show for them and I got excited about them again, even though they are just way too old right now. Aging punks are depressing. They should all die young. Anyway, it was pretty shameful that I didn't have this album. So now I do.
The Concretes- "The Concretes." I was physically attracted to this CD because of its cover art, which reminded me of the art on the liner notes of the Wilco album "A Ghost is Born." I don't think they're connected since Wilco is on Nonesuch and the Concretes are on Astralwerks. Although Brian Eno did do some work with David Byrne on Nonesuch...and stop the dorkiness. Anyway, I made a good choice. The album is really easy and smart--a cool surf-beat on the drums and some tasteful guitar work. And the lead vocalist sounds tasty. Sometimes you can tell just by looking at a person..er, album.
Over the Rhine- "Ohio." My friend James recommended this album to me over a year ago. I really do enjoy Over the Rhine. They're one of those bands that I get cravings for. And this album is just superb. It's so much more powerful and packs a much more artistic punch than "Drunkard's Prayer." I'm in love.
Iron & Wine- "The Sea & the Rhythm." Greatest ever. This one's just an EP and after I brought it home I realized that I'd already heard all of the songs on it. But really it's good. And beards are good too.
And now some really great stuff that's written in the liner notes from Over the Rhine's "Ohio:"
"Like love, a voice can flood a life with possibility, the mouth of a river flowing from somewhere faraway yet familiar."
"We don't listen much to our own records after they get made, but we find ourselves replaying again and again many of the conversations that take place underneath and around those songs. We talked abotu Bob Dylan Starter-Kits and Tom Waits Finishing School. Sweaty hickey parties and haunted pianos with broken hearts. Shock and awe, oil and joy. We talked about how we're often more interesting when we're misunderstood. And about God, and meditation, and the waitress at the Greek restaurant. We talked about the fact that we had 21 new songs and not one damn hit."
And now I want to get back into the studio.
A friend of mine once told me that there are still countries in the world where they make "yes or no" decisions by slashing the tendons behind the knees of one of the village peasants and if he falls forward the answer is yes and if he falls backwards the answer is no. Granted, this girl who told me this is the same girl who said that you can rearrange the letters in Michael Eisner's name to spell "Lucifer" but I still thought it was an interesting concept.
So anyway I had a bit of a sore throat this morning but I still had a lot of energy. I finally wrote a new song last night which was a good note to fall asleep on. I'm quite proud of the song really. I think he wants to be played slow. I'm not 100% sure yet though. Maybe I should slice through a peasant's tendons to decide.
I actually "worked-out" today. I wanted to listen to records and figured since I had all of this pent-up energy that I should burn some of it. So I jogged for a while on this small trampoline that we have at home (or the Urban Trainer as my mom and I call it) and worked with a few small weights and then I did a lot of yogic stuff for my muscles. I made it through two records before I quit. I could have gone longer I think but I have a short attention span I guess. I listened to NIN's "With Teeth" and the Police's "Outlandos D'Amour" which are excellent work-out albums. It's a hell of a lot better than sweating to the oldies.
That reminds me. Yesterday in the cars I was in at different times I randomly checked the radio to see if they were in fact still playing crap, and I ran into three Beach Boys songs. This was in a span of about six hours. And it wasn't like "Don't Worry Baby" or "God Only Knows." They were playing "California Girls" and "Surfin' USA" and "Kokomo." And I got so pissed. Because it's Cleveland. And I don't want to think about Kokomo. And they never play the Beach Boys this much during other times of the year when it's actually appropriate. I don't want to think about bodies in the sand and tropical drinks melting in my hand. It's depressing.
Right now I'm absorbing some new music. Yesterday I grabbed some stuff at the library again. In case anyone is curious, here's the list:
Common- "Be." I'm a big fan of Common. I was really into his one album "Like Water for Chocolate" a few years ago. This one is great as well. Not as good as the aforementioned though. Kanye stepped in and changed things around a bit.
Misfits- "Walk Among Us." I've been casually involved with the Misfits for awhile and last year my cousin's band opened a show for them and I got excited about them again, even though they are just way too old right now. Aging punks are depressing. They should all die young. Anyway, it was pretty shameful that I didn't have this album. So now I do.
The Concretes- "The Concretes." I was physically attracted to this CD because of its cover art, which reminded me of the art on the liner notes of the Wilco album "A Ghost is Born." I don't think they're connected since Wilco is on Nonesuch and the Concretes are on Astralwerks. Although Brian Eno did do some work with David Byrne on Nonesuch...and stop the dorkiness. Anyway, I made a good choice. The album is really easy and smart--a cool surf-beat on the drums and some tasteful guitar work. And the lead vocalist sounds tasty. Sometimes you can tell just by looking at a person..er, album.
Over the Rhine- "Ohio." My friend James recommended this album to me over a year ago. I really do enjoy Over the Rhine. They're one of those bands that I get cravings for. And this album is just superb. It's so much more powerful and packs a much more artistic punch than "Drunkard's Prayer." I'm in love.
Iron & Wine- "The Sea & the Rhythm." Greatest ever. This one's just an EP and after I brought it home I realized that I'd already heard all of the songs on it. But really it's good. And beards are good too.
And now some really great stuff that's written in the liner notes from Over the Rhine's "Ohio:"
"Like love, a voice can flood a life with possibility, the mouth of a river flowing from somewhere faraway yet familiar."
"We don't listen much to our own records after they get made, but we find ourselves replaying again and again many of the conversations that take place underneath and around those songs. We talked abotu Bob Dylan Starter-Kits and Tom Waits Finishing School. Sweaty hickey parties and haunted pianos with broken hearts. Shock and awe, oil and joy. We talked about how we're often more interesting when we're misunderstood. And about God, and meditation, and the waitress at the Greek restaurant. We talked about the fact that we had 21 new songs and not one damn hit."
And now I want to get back into the studio.
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