I'm Not Dead Yet,

and that is the good news. I'm looking on the bright side, and wow!

But why, why am I so grateful to Jesus? To be honest, I am not grateful in the least. I am angry and bitter and full of pessimism and fear. Because this morning on the way back from the mechanic's, sporting an expensive new back bumper & taillight and so forth, guess what Jesus decided to do?!?!? He decided to get me in another accident, that's what! Yay! Yay! I've been rear-ended again! Hosannah!

Things are really sucking ass. I was too terrified to cross three lanes and turn left into a gas station, so the guy who hit me is gone & we did not get to exchange information. The repairs? No worries, guy-in-the-truck, it's on me! Maybe if you hit me again, which at this point seems pretty likely, I could take you out to Red Lobster or Hooters or wherever you'd like to go! It's okay, I'll drive! Yay! I spent the day at work saying nothing to anyone and pretending that I am a normal human being with a regular life and listening sympathetically to the things that bug other people - inconvenient reschedulings, computer slowness, etc etc.

At the end of the work day I was thinking that I really couldn't stand it any longer. But now I figure I can sink even lower and I'd still make it, which is wonderful, because what next? I know, maybe I'll be struck dead! No, that would be too easy. I'm sure Jesus will shove one or two weensy little screwdrivers into my eye before the month is over, and then it'll start raining lemon juice and I'll be without an umbrella and then I'll get hit by a bus - AND YET, I'LL STILL LIVE ON! Yay!!

One Hour 'Til My Lunch Date

On Friday, my coworker explained to me how if there was an emergency, she'd absolutely save her children and husband before she'd help anyone else. "Isn't that normal?" she asked me. "To favor your husband and family, the people you love the most?" I told her yes, that it's natural selection at work. If there's a meat shortage, I told her that I expect she and her loved ones will cannibalize me. Not in a mean way - I was joking & she laughed. But in principle, the whole thing makes me sad.

I picked up a Saturday night shift at the bookstore. If my life gets any more lonely and sucky I'll see if I can pick up a Sunday shift, too, maybe. I dunno. Books & shelves cheer me up sometimes.

This morning I got up early to watch people run by in the Bay to Breakers marathon. I stood next to a man and his pregnant wife. They kept stepping on my feet & periodically the husband would remind people in the crowd to "be careful, pregnant lady!" I tried very hard to act like I was having fun while drunk guys pretended to fuck inflatable sheep, but I spent most of my time moving out of the way for groups of people and all of their best friends, or couples who were running together, or groups of couples cheering on their coupled friends.

Now I am at home, getting ready for a date. I don't want to go, and I'm in a bad mood.

Four Kinds of Couplets

Dunno why, but tonight I felt like writing couplets (or maybe I mean two-part poems), just for fun. It's been a long week. My mind is so tired.

Sometimes I enjoy being all by myself
My bulletin board, my shoes on their shelf

These days I'm thinking about other people,
Which makes them more difficult to understand.

In some places, springtime announces itself;
oaks in the valleys, snakes in the hills.

At least Martha Stewart served her time.
In heaven she will bake us scones.

*

I thought this Wiki article, which is a sort of neighbor to the couplet, was kind of interesting.

Nighty Night!

Wouldn't It Be Great

if everything could settle down for a year and we could all relax, go to work, come home, make food, read, sleep, get up, listen to music? Wouldn't it be nice to spend the weekends gardening and doing yoga stretches and writing and petting dogs? Sometimes we'd hang out with a friend, and sometimes we'd hang out with another friend, and sometimes we'd spend time alone, maybe drawing or making soup or listening to the radio. Maybe we'd drink coffee late in the afternoon and then spend most of the evening doing things that aren't lucrative. Maybe we'd lose all track of time and get to bed very late in the evening.

Lately, it's been tough to wade through it all. This weekend, in the midst of everything going on around me, I'm going to find the quiet center and stay there. I hope you'll do the same. We could all use a bit of rest, I think.



I am up late. I'm off to read until I can't keep my eyes open any more.

Africa

Yesterday I woke early to a muffled, ingratiating tune that drifted from across the hall, pounding at my door with wet oven mitts. Though I couldn't discern the lyrics, I could tell from the eager beat that the vocalist wore lots of makeup and wanted to help. Soft Christian rock, so precious it's lewd, at a time if day when all decent Christians are still in bed.

I turtled my head under the pillow, deciding that this would block out all sound. It didn't, and I couldn't sleep, because whenever I have a pillow over my face I think suffocation. I was angry and wanted to yell at someone. So I slid out of bed, put something on, and peeked across the hall to my neighbor's place. His apartment door was wide open, revealing nothing but a mattress, a sheet, and a radio. I gave up on the ideas of yelling or sleep, and I made coffee.

Then late yesterday evening, just home from a show, I saw that my neighbor had piled his furniture out on the sidewalk. He and his old dog were standing next to a wire closet organizer. Both of them looked lost. I asked if he was moving, and he said that he was. Where? I said, and he said, Africa.

Which is good enough reason to play the radio loudly at 8:30 am. Big changes are so disconcerting. I just wish my neighbor could get through it with something besides Christian rock. But here's what I'm saying: before you get angry, wait to hear the story behind the story.




This afternoon I have an appointment to look at a room. I may be moving in a month or two. (Well before you-know-when, ginab.) When things start to change, I know I have to pay attention so I don't walk into walls or step out in traffic or fall down holes to earth's center. It's a risky time, and right now I MUST be practical and not make any big decisions.

Our Chests Consistently Splendid

Today my luck did a 180, and the cotton in which I am shitting is really super tall.

Because this morning as I was headed down the front stairs to run to the BART station, I felt something cold fall down my collar, and then I discovered that a key had dropped into my shirt. Thinking maybe someone on a higher landing had dropped it, I examined the space above me, but all I saw was the clapboard ceiling, a cobwebby light fixture.

With the key in my palm I pushed through the front gate and down to the street, where someone had parked a midnight blue Jaguar with a black leather interior. No one was watching, and wanting to get a closer look at the seats, I went over to the driver's side window. The windows were shiny, I could see myself in the paint, and even the door handles were like something you'd find in a velvet-lined box. I traced my finger along a handle, and just wanting to test it out, I realized that the car was unlocked, so I slid in behind the wheel. Ahhh, leather seats!

I have no idea what compelled me to try it, but I felt the key all warm in my palm and I slid it into the ignition. The engine ingited, which much have tripped some hidden wire because the glovebox yawned like an oyster opening up to reveal a pearl. Inside, on a silver plate, sat a delicious jelly donut. Looking carefully over my shoulder I backed out of the parking spot. Then I heard this sharp little yelp, and backing up further, I realized I'd just run over my neighbor's barky little beagle.

Free donuts. A new Jaguar. My neighbor's dog is dead. Today has to be the luckiest day of my life so far!

Tommy, Can You Hear Me?



I don't really believe in luck. Not good luck, anyway. With the bad kind, though, the safest thing is to believe in it, a little bit, just in case. Because it might get really pissed if it finds out that not only are you fun to fuck with, you're also a nonbeliever. Maybe bad luck is a diva bitch who won't be ignored, sort of like Ann Margret in Tommy when she finally smashes the mirror and Tommy regains his sight.



I watched Tommy on Monday with Matty, and the movie gave me some much-needed perspective. At least I am not blind, deaf, and dumb because after my father died, my mother slept with another man. Nor did I receive injections from The Acid Queen's deadly robot-casket. My cousin didn't iron my back, and I never got lost in a junkyard while chasing my ideal self. I didn't pass through my Oedipal stage only to become a semi-dictatorial messiah standing on a ball that's been spray painted silver. Not once have I been mutinied by the masses of rebellious teens who once worshipped me, confusing the entire plot.

Things aren't all that bad, and they tend to get better. Like Roger Daltrey, perhaps we will all someday fly our own hang gliders to the ocean, where we will rip off Ann Margret's fake nails and jewels, then we'll swim around in our tight jeans, our hair sometimes dry and fluffy, sometimes wet, our chests consistently splendid. Perhaps one day each of us will stand like Tommy, on the crest of a hill, backlit by a blazing sunset sky.

Cursed Sleep,

does bad luck go on for seven years? Sheesh.

I was in an accident tonight and my new car is no longer new. Damn. I thought I was scraping by, and this year so far has proven that shit continues to happen. My problem: I am way too idealistic and too romantic for these times. Life keeps beating me down.

Nobody was hurt. I'm looking for a second job on the weekends - they might take me back at the bookstore, and since I loved that job anyway, I'm perfectly okay with the idea of the extra work. Well, maybe not perfectly. I'm angry that one full-time job alone can't support me. I've cut back on so many things, and now this. The struggle continues. WILL IT EVER END? Will something nice ever happen to me? EVER?

Damn. I'm so tired of life's beatings, and jeez, I'm a smart, funny, kind person. I'm fed up. Life just isn't working out.