and then....
Category: Blogging

I have been battling a severe kidney infection and mono.....at the same time. That is why I have not been posting much. Because I feel like poo. It's really alarming just how tired--really, really exhausted--mono makes you feel. I mean...it's like having diphenhydramine hydrochloride on an IV drip. Even when I get a nice long sleep, I wake up sleepy. And itchy. That's the kidneys.

Today I was writing to a colleague and I finished my missive with "That is all." He wrote back, "To quote the famous song....'Is that all there is?'" and I wrote "Is that all there is....is that all there is....If that's all there is, then let's keep dancing....let's break out the booze and have a ball." He is quite older than me, and said, "Wow, how do you know that?" And so I told him.

When I was little, I used to listen to a radio station, AM 1260 WWDC..."The Music of Your Life." I didn't realize, at the time, that "The Music of Your Life" actually meant "The Music of Old People's Lives" or "The Music of People Who Experienced World War II and Can Remember When All the Kennedys Were Alive." It is very obvious, and has been for a long time, that I was clearly born in the wrong time, and most likely to the wrong people, if at all.

I was such a lonely child, a lonely, lonely child. Music was where my home was, if there is any such thing for me in this sad little life. And lord knows why....I gravitated towards...well, old people's music.

What in heaven's name was I doing--or am I doing--listening to Duke Ellington, Joe Williams, Django Reinhardt, Tom Jobim? I was doing this long, long before it became hip. I was eight years old, roller skating alone in the basement, where it smelled of mildew, stains on the concrete floor, spider egg sacs in the dark corners, yearbooks from 1968 and 1969 in cardboard boxes, an unusable pram. The basement was a sort of graveyard. And I would go down there, all the time, and turn on the radio to this station where I'd listen to Artie Shaw and Harry James and roller skate in a circle for hours.

I listened to this station constantly. There was some sort of comfort in it--since there was none in my daily life, none where I needed it, and from whom I needed it. I turned on this little black transistor radio in my room, when I would do my homework. I would put it on at night before I'd go to bed, and keep it on (since there was obviously no snooze button), and this music would creep into my dreams. Those dreams were often in black and white--I remember them. I remember them.

And one night, I was doing my English homework, listening to this station, and Peggy Lee was singing:

I know what you must be saying to yourselves,
if that's the way she feels about it why doesn't she just end it all?
Oh, no, not me. I'm in no hurry for that final disappointment,
for I know just as well as I'm standing here talking to you,
when that final moment comes and I'm breathing my lst breath, I'll be saying to myself

Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing
Let's break out the booze and have a ball
If that's all there is

I was eight years old. I remember the song clearly and how it haunted me, the voice somnabulent and resigned--I knew. That song....it was about this woman I loved, and always will love, that I needed, and how disappointed she was with her life, how she never became what she wanted to be--she didn't even fail, because she didn't even try. And then she blamed it on everyone else. I understood then, and did my best to love her but it was no use, no use, no use.

At the moment I am feeling sleepy, listening to Jobim with a tummy full of homemade chicken soup. I think I will be getting better and better. I need to rest. Hold a good thought for me. 

6:39 PM - 7 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

A mistake, a walking faux-pas.
Category: Blogging

Two strange things I heard while walking through Boston Common today:

A man yelling, "WHY WON'T ANYBODY LOOK AT ME???!!!"

I didn't look at him.

A woman talking to a man about an acquaintance. She said, "There are lots of things you can do with a broken rib."

The girls on the T, walking to the T, sitting on the T, talking on their cell phones. They have nice coats, and boots, and everything is coordinated. I am on the T, with my rose-scented old lady soap and my pants, which are black, which have been hemmed by cutting off the bottoms. They are dress pants. I didn't care, I just wanted them to stop dragging on the ground. My sweater is a lovely color, but nubby and natty.

When spring arrives, I will take out my vintage dresses. I will wear my nice shoes and my vintage dresses and red lipstick. But it's too cold to do that now. When spring comes, the magnolias will blossom on Commonwealth and in June, the city will smell faintly of hyacinth and lilac and musk. But right now it's cold.

Everything I have seems to have cat hair on it. I have a  lint roller, and I roll the cat hair off, but it comes back. It comes back and taunts me. It says Thought you could get rid of us, crazy old cat lady? I rescued these two cats. Brother and sister. I liked dogs. But these two cats were three weeks old, with worms and fleas, abandoned by their mother. I didn't want them to die. I also wanted a cat, because I was alone, and suddenly I liked cats. I took them to the vet. I fed them baby milk and sang to them while they fell asleep purring on my stomach. I fell in love with them. Now they are nine years old. But my god, cat hair.

I'm sort of exaggerating. I keep things clean, and I'm constantly using that damn lint roller.

So here.....no new clothes, the lint roller, rose-scented soap, and Duke Ellington playing as I eat my old lady dinner.

If there is God, and one day I am to face Him, I will ask Him, "Hey, that scheduling mix-up, how'd that happen?" and maybe God will say, "Sorry about that. I took a sick day from work. I thought everything was under control." And I will say, "How did I do?" And He will say

and He will say

......and He will say...."How 'bout that Duke Ellington, right? Wow."

4:04 AM - 10 Comments - 17 Kudos - Add Comment

’cause I been under a rock.

This weekend I was moping around like a piece of antique furniture, and I discovered the wonder that is the Justin Timberlake/Andy Samberg SNL short "Dick in a Box." I've been without TV for a few years, and finally got it hooked up, and when SNL re-ran last year's Christmas show with Timberlake, two very startling things began to happen.

1) I laughed out loud, alone, next to my cat.
and
2) I developed a teeny tiny crush on Timberlake.

He acquitted himself with aplomb, as Robin Gibb on the Barry Gibb Talk Show and, of course, he made it absolutely impossible for me to hate him when I finally, finally saw the legendary "Dick in a Box."

Unfortunately for me, I could not get the song "Dick in a Box" out of my head all day, and it took every last bit of strength I had NOT TO SING IT OUT LOUD AT WORK TODAY.

Currently listening : Amorosa By Rosa Passos Release date: 24 August, 2004

4:38 PM - 4 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

Keith Partridge in a pear tree.
Category: Blogging

Currently listening : Franks Wild Years By Tom Waits Release date: 15 June, 1990

1:08 PM - 5 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

Beatrice is dying, and other miscellany.
Category: Blogging

10:37 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Dane Cook is not funny.
Category: Blogging

I just wanted you all to know that I hate Dane Cook and do not understand his appeal. He's not smart, he's not charming, he's not funny, he's just annoying. Plus, he's starred in two of the worst movies ever made, with two of the dumbest Jessicas in the history of the world.

Can't he go away?

That is all.

8:18 AM - 6 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

So I guess that’s where you have to smooch, then.
Category: Blogging

Yesterday I was walking through this fake city, on my way to pick up a rental car, and I noticed a "Do Not Enter" sign, with another message underneath it. It said:

 Busses Only

And it wasn't painted on, or anything like that....it was actually printed that way, officially. Obviously nobody working for RIPTA can spell, or knows that the plural of "bus" is actually "buses," or knows that there is a difference between the words "bus" and "buss," so therefore nobody was aware that the City put up a sign that says, essentially:

Kisses Only

It would make me laugh if it weren't so bloody sad. It would even be charming and cute if I lived in another country and they didn't know English very well. But in Providence?  They don't know basic spelling and grammar?

And then, during the same walk, I cross the river, where it says Gondola Something (um,  don't remember the second word) and there's a quote from former mayor (and soon to be re-elected it seems), king of the Mob (no shit) who just got out of jail for Mob activity (no, really, no shit) Vincent Cianci, who has a quote about gondolas adding "romance" to this "resplendent city," and I thought, WTF is he talking about?

Don't be surprised if you never hear from me again, by the way. Lord knows the neighborhood I live in is owned by the You-Know-What-I'm-Talking-About.

I'm totally going to die and they're going to make it look like an accident.

Uh, anyway, so yeah. Kisses only, and Providence is romantic and resplendent. Maybe they should put up a sign near the Gondola Thingy that says:

Voulez-vous m'embrasser?

Yeah, because Providence, Paris, what's the difference, really. 

Currently listening : Cool Velvet/Voices [2 on 1] By Stan Getz Release date: 25 July, 1995

6:39 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Puppy love.
Category: Blogging

Today was a good day. Well, it's still going on, but it's been a very, very good day. I had some very, very good news. And I'm moving permanently to Boston soonishly. And I'm taking my lovely friend Jenn with me. And I just want to kiss everybody. Or, maybe just hug them. Or maybe if it's a cute guy, I'd kiss him. Or something. Uh, anyway, hey, listen to this:

After my good news, which one day I will tell you, I decided to give myself a nice little present. So I bought an Acela Express ticket from Boston to Providence, because I earned it. And it's pathetic that I consider buying an Acela Express ticket some kind of fancy schmancy present to myself, but it goes so fast and has such comfy seats. I sat in the "Quiet Car," where cell phone use is not allowed and you're hardly allowed to talk. So the train flew like a shot from pretty little Boston to....pathetic, ugly Providence, and then I went straight to my temp job where they are preparing for some hoity toity lawyer's thingy (yes, that is the technical term, shut up).

And then I went downstairs to grab some coffee, and a man was in the lobby, holding the most adorablest creature I've ever seen. He was a 9 week old beagle puppy, with sad brown eyes and floppy ears. He was extremely calm and well-behaved. The man holding the puppy (whose name was Max...the puppy, I mean, not the man) was very gracious.

"Hello there, little cutie," I said to Max.

Max looked at me with his sad brown eyes. Max leaned over to me.

"Yes?" I asked Max.

Max licked my nose repeatedly.

"I love you too," I said to Max.

I left promptly, because I was afraid that I would suddenly grab him and run away screaming, "MY PUPPY! THIS IS MY PUPPY!" I was even more afraid that I would eat him. Because he was so beautiful. I love puppies. I cannot resist the Power of Puppy, a force to be reckoned with.

Yeah, today was good.

Currently listening : Quintette du Hot Club de France: 25 Classics 1934-1940 By Django Reinhardt & Stephane Grappelli Release date: 19 May, 1998

1:16 PM - 4 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

I give you permission to smack me.
Category: Blogging

I've been reading Gawker.com for years now. It's the New York City Media Blog. It used to be all about New York, and most of it is (skewering socialites, the ultra-rich, obnoxious people in NYC who put up dumb ads on Craigslist), but it's evolved into something more all-encompassing.....It embraces the notion that most people are complete and utter and total f*cking idiots. Especially celebrities and those who want to join their ranks.

Gawker has an LA twin, Defamer.com, which is mostly about Hollywood, and so is generally more "gossipy" and less "hoity toity" than Gawker, but both of them are very, very good. Gawker, in particular, is run by some of the most quick-witted writers I've encountered in my sad little sheltered life. And because Gawker (...and Defamer...) are so well-written, and so, well, rather exclusive and in-the-know, they are seriously choosy about who can be a commenter on their site.

On most blogs, you can just comment away to your hearts content. On some, you must register, but there are no restrictions. Once you enter your (fake) name and (fake) email, you can get going right away. But Gawker does not allow you to simply "add a comment" when you read an article and have a response, and you can't just register neither. THEY have to choose YOU.

You become a Gawker commenter by either being invited (like if your best friend works for the Village Voice and tells Gawker about you, or if you have a blog they recognize and think is pretty funny and well-written), or you have to audition. You have to submit a comment, and if they like it, then they put it up on their site, and then they ask you to register.

Ladies and gentlemen. I am a Gawker commenter. That's right. I will not tell you how I became one, but I did. And I have to admit....I'm feeling pretty proud of it. The Gawker commenters are the best thing on that site. Gawker knows this too, by awarding them weekly "Commies" to the funniest and snappiest and most brilliant commenters of the week. Gawker reserves the power to kick you off, for whatever offense you've committed (....ha ha they booted Julia Allison off because she was unbelievably smug and self-promoting....and they like to now feature her on the site as an example of talentless famewhoring. A lot of commenters have commented that they should stop posting about her completely. I agree), but, truth be told, the rules probably aren't that hard to follow. The rules are, essentially, just be witty, and don't be a complete dickweed/twatwaffle and things will be fine.

In case you're deciding to pop over to Gawker and try to find me, I'm not going to tell you what my name is there. You'd never guess. I'm pretty proud of it, actually, though. I'm kind proud of the whole thing. Go ahead. Smack me.

ETA:

Oh you guys like "twatwaffle," do ya? There's more where THAT came from, chickadees. I swear. You don't want to know.

Hey, do you remember in MST3K when Joel was eating waffles and Tom reprimands him because it's not morning, and Joel goes "Nonsense, Tom! ANYTIME'S the right time for waffles!"

....That was funny.
[/Chris Farley]

Currently listening : April in Paris By Count Basie Release date: 24 June, 1997

8:20 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

All the good ones are taken. Or not.
Category: Blogging

A friend of mine asked me....has it always been this difficult to be single in a World of Couples? And I said, Oh my yes. I said, Haven't you read Jane Austen? D.H. Lawrence? Edith Wharton? The comics? Being single has always been a scourge. We judge our worth by our romantic status.

Women were given a brief respite in the 1970's and 80's when we decided to act like men and proclaimed we could "have it all"  (*snort laugh*) and Gloria Steinem used the words of Irina Dunn and told us "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle."

Psh. I pride myself on the fact that my interior landscape is rather like the illustrations of Dr. Seuss, and you know what? Fish ride bikes there all the time.

But even while we protest too much and we sing too loudly the praises of the single life, we are waiting for our happy ending. And those who have experienced their "happy ending" are wondering....Is this all?

Today on the train to Boston, I noticed two men--two average men, not ugly, not extremely handsome, rather genial--who sat in the seat in front of me. They were obviously coworkers. I have a bad habit (probably from reading too many detective novels, or something, but most likely just because I'm a freak) of really really examining people. I do it on the sly. I try to, anyway. I probably fail. But I think people are absolutely fascinating. And you know what people are more fascinating than the rest? Really boring people. Really boring people are often anything but. If you pay attention to a boring person, any boring person, you will be surprised at.....something. Their depth, or their hidden torture, or their glaring and glorious ignorance and stupidity, or the fact that they are very comical (though probably not deliberately comical, to be honest).

Married people are the most boring people of all. They bore the shit out of me. Whenever someone starts saying "My wife....blah blah blah" or, even worse, "My hubby," I often just turn around and walk away. Of course, this doesn't go over well with people I have to work with or people who consider me a friend, but please. Unless I know your spouse (and in that case, you'd just call him or her by their first name), I don't care. Why are you telling me. Usually when people bring up their spouses, it's just to show off that they have one. (And, interestingly, women have more possessive names for the men in their life. Men have "My wife" and "my girlfriend"....they may have "my mistress" or "my fuck buddy" but they don't really call them those, not openly. It's pretty much "wife" or "girlfriend." Women say "My man" --that one makes me laugh, it's so tacky--or they say "my boyfriend" or "my hubby" or "my hubbywubby" ....and I swear to God, I have even heard more than one woman call her whatever-he-is her lovah.)

And then I think....are people who get married more desirable or special than the rest of us who are unmarried? They kind of act like it. Like being single is some kind of disease. Well, maybe some of us are just picky. You know? Because I looked at these two guys on the train, and I noticed they practiced good hygeine and weren't dressed like total slobs, and then noticed the rings on their left hands, and (NO they weren't married to EACH OTHER) and anyway, I noticed that ....Yuck. For one thing, whenever one of them yawned, I thought, I don't think I would want to be sleeping next to that when I wake up in the morning, because THIS ONE has--upon further inspection--unruly nose hair, and THAT ONE has crazy simian hair on the back of his neck and then THIS ONE has fingernails that are too long, and THAT ONE has been checking out his own reflection in the mirror.

Then I felt bad for their wives. Because would you want to be married to that? I wouldn't. I can talk myself out of anyone, frankly. That's a bad habit of mine, probably. You could introduce me to the handsomest, most accomplished and intelligent and witty and compassionate man in the world....and one who just adores small brunettes....and believe me, I would fuck it up in a matter of seconds.

So I see these men who are all "taken," perfectly nice men, it seems, and I can easily find at least three fatal flaws in a single glance. It's a horrible habit, and maybe it's a defense mechanism: Reject them before they have a chance to reject you. Of course, I don't go after married men, so instead of rejection, it's more relief that someone with such ghastly defects is taken and I don't have to date him. Self-defeating? Oh my yes. Haven't you read Jane Austen? Wait, did Austen have any self-defeating heroines? No? Oh well. I'm shit out of luck, then.

....and yes, I am listening to ELO, bitch!

Currently listening : ELO’s Greatest Hits By Electric Light Orchestra Release date: 23 October, 1989

4:11 PM - 5 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Linus.

Yes, ladies and gentleman. This is the little guy who sleeps at my side and purrs and makes me rub his fat belly, and wakes me up in the morning, and will only drink running water, and climbs to the top of the bookshelf and cries for me to get him down. He is a cute little lovable pain in the arse.

Oops, I meant "Ladies and GentleMEN"....Yes, he is cute. I love this little cat. He's a wonderful tubby funny little pal.

11:53 AM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

That’s what I’ve been doing.
Category: Blogging

My life is still in overhaul, and it will be that way until I land a job and find a place to live. I won't talk about it much, except to say.....things are slowly happening. Or not slowly. Or whatever. I don't want to talk about it. I'm superstitious.

So here's the thing. I was helping my fat cat Linus down from the bookshelf. Because he is a wuss and didn't know how in the hell he got up there and then couldn't get down. The expression on his face was very "Call the fire department!" and so I stood precariously on a chair and got him down. Of course, then his wussiness was in full throttle so he got really scared and jumped. Off of my arm. As I was carrying him. And so now it looks like either I was in a knife fight or ......something. Three gashes on my right arm. Tomorrow I have an interview. So I will wear long sleeves.

The cuts are shallow so they won't scar. So I have that goin' for me. Which is nice. And it's a good thing it's not on my face. Though it might be fun to show up at an interview with a big bloody gash on my face and find a way to work in the phrase "I will CUT a bitch!"

10:11 AM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment