I had this thought on the way to campus

I want to grab up all the old women and give them a hug, each and every one of them.

Conversation Topic:

So far, I have met Elvis Stojko twice. The first time I was under 10, at a soccer camp, and he bought a lemonade from the vending machine behind me. I was waiting in line for something in the recreation center. I guess that doesn't count as "meeting Elvis". But anyway, the second time I met Elvis he was no longer a figure skater. He was into martial arts then, and perhaps he still is now. He was shopping at the grocery store where I was a cashier. My manager insisted she serve him at the cash, because it's a big deal to help Elvis Stojko, I guess. She would flap her hands back and forth in excitement, god bless her, because to her he was a megababe. Mid-check-out the power went out and there he was, in line, with his bag of oranges, stuck. It delayed him about 10 minutes or so, and if I remember right he was good spirited about it. Stojko eats organic. I bet you're not surprised. I want to know about the time(s) you met Elvis Stojko, Kurt Browning, Kristi Yamaguchi, Tonya Harding, or any other famous figure skater. What was he/she like? 

Wasting Time

If you haven't lately, listen to Otis Redding's (Sitting on the) Dock of the Bay. And if you feel like it listen to it over, and over, and over again.

Oh baby.

Corner Garden

A visitor said something like: "Are those branches?"
And I said something in response like: "Yeah"
He said: "Why don't they have leaves like the other ones?" (All of the other branches (except the two in question) have so many leaves).
I said: "Don't know." They haven't had leaves on those branches since I moved here (late August). Since he asked (less than a week ago) one defiant little leaf has reared its cute little budding head and is getting bigger every day.

And I, like a real jerk, _still_ want more and ask the plant: Where are the flowers, buddy?

Archives

OLD PICTURES
From A New Year (2008-2009)

The Good News

My last issue of McSweeney's, a gift from a year ago, came in the mail. It's calling out to me and competing with Nickel and Dimed, a novel in which an upper middle class writer puts aside her PhD and decides to figure out the underpaid underbelly of America. I have to read Nickel and Dimed but I want to read James Franco's short story and phone conversation with Miranda July about moonlighting. I've already read Deb Olin Unferth's very short story because it was just very short. In the mail I also received (every single time I write received I still recite "i before e...") a pre-invitation to a wedding. The wedding will be taking place at the only place I know the person from; the place where, when I was 15 (she was older), the bride-to-be told me about the locations on the property where she had done it with her boyfriend (including in the human sized hamster wheel). I have a photograph of her on that same hamster wheel. And now this boyfriend is to become her husband and I think that is very sweet, sweet like elephants with their trunks entwined.

Over the last 6 months I have been making a list of inanimate objects that appear to be kissing when touching. I don't have the list with me but I remember thinking hammers was a good one, and teapots.

R&R (regress and regrets) (also rest and relaxtion)

I have a sliver. Wood working its way into my body. Maybe it will just stay in there. Or maybe it will work its way out.
(If I am brave and pull it out who is going to make me brownies?)