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02/01 Direct Link
I found a short dark hair between the pages of a book that had been shipped from France. It was a young hair, a lively hair. “Why, this is a French hair”, I realized. What if I was fated to meet its owner? One day I would meet a young, lively Frenchman, a striking brunette. Calmly and solemnly I’d remove the fragile thread connecting our destinies from the locket around my neck. It was his now, to keep…or to share.

“Non, eet eez yours” he would answer, tenderly pressing it back into my hand. “As I am. Forevairrr.”

Like, cool!

02/02 Direct Link
I bought a very agreeable pony today. "I dub thee Melingar" I dubbed, staring steadily into his calm glass eyes. Melingar stood proudly on the palm of my right hand and started nodding his head. He couldn't stop nodding, even when the house music playing in the background stopped. A guy passed us and was freaked out: "You need to put that thing on the ground and step on it. That is SCARY". Melingar nodded at this too. I placed my finger gently on his noble head and the nodding stopped. Silent, strong Melingar grew even more beautiful in repose.
02/03 Direct Link
I'm eight years old and yeah, I'm a kid. But I also happen to be a huge rock'n'roll fan. Rex (that's my dog), Hugs and Rock'n'Roll! Brian Wilson is my hero! He wrote my favorite rock'n'roll lyrics:

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older?
And we didn't have to go to school?
We could watch TV and eat all day!
Nothing else could ever be so cool!

My dad played me a song by Lou Reed yesterday that I love! "Take a walk on the child side" - it's my theme song! I wonder how old Mister Reed is?

02/04 Direct Link
In fourth grade I laughed after my teacher said "breasts" and was sent out of the classroom in disgrace. I didn't think the word itself was funny. I only laughed because my teacher seemed so nervous. She brought the word out very hesitantly: "During puberty girls develop....ahem...breasts". Why the suspenseful pause? Maybe she was about to fill in the blank with other things: "During puberty girls develop...pubic hair...shiny noses....low self-esteem...eating disorders... " I probably would have laughed at anything she said. I was only nine years old and still felt sure that none of that would ever happen to me.
02/05 Direct Link
The field mouse had been shaking with fear for over three hours and couldn't stop, even after the fairies found him. He was a very small mouse but was still ten times larger than the largest of the fairies. (This was Manny, whose father may have been human). The child fairies hugged the little mouse and the grown-up fairies fed him a comforting mixture of bubbling spring water and dandelion leaves sprinkled with cinnamon (they put a spell on it to make it taste nice). Manny began to hope that his father had been a mouse instead of a human.
02/06 Direct Link
"Keisha! Keisha!". The man standing opposite an Italian restaurant on E. 32nd St. yelled this "like a broken record whose life depended on it", the Italian restaurateur muttered. A little girl in a white coat with pink trimming twirled and jumped around in place, like a paper parasol bobbing in a drink. She kept moving but didn't go anywhere because she needed Keisha too. Keisha was the key and now the key was missing. "Keisha!". Finally the broken record cut off but the parasol twirled faster and higher, as if the wind had suddenly caught her and swept her away.
02/07 Direct Link
If you tried to write "I love you" in one hundred words it wouldn't come out even. You'd end up with thirty-three "I love you"s and then an extra "I" dropping off the end. "I love you I". Who does "I" love if "you" isn't the only direct object of "love"? "you I" suggests a sicko, Lacanian love for a "you" forcibly molded into "I"'s mirror image. Or maybe "I" was interrupted by something more important. "I love you I love you I....oh... let me get the phone". The best explanation is that love just never works out, does it?
02/08 Direct Link
In 1990 I starting "euro-rapping" (I'm British) about peace + love, to save our planet. I'll freestyle a bit now if you like. It'll be easy anyway cos I'm writing and not actually rapping:

Tonite I'm talkin bout indigenous tribes
That’ve been around long before you and I
ever ‘globalised’ this earth with our fast food garbage
Now the whole world looks like the High St. in Norwich
We’re all part of the problem and for that we’re very sorry
We don’t even recycle but that’s another story

So yeh....I'm pretty sure I'm the one who saved the earth. Peace.

02/09 Direct Link
There was a free concert at Carnegie Hall yesterday, broadcast on the radio. Of course the ragged proles in the audience clapped between the first and second movements. I listened to the entire symphony just to make sure that they would continue to do this. The day faded into evening and the room darkened and they applauded every single movement. I sat in the darkness and hated the undiscerning masses. When the symphony ended I thought Well well, this deserves a standing ovation. I stood up and turned the radio off. I clapped my hands and the lights came on.
02/10 Direct Link
The couple sitting next to her on the subway snuggled closer together and the guy's hand brushed her shoulder as well as his girlfriend's. Ooh, indirect affectionate touch! What a two-timer! she thought and felt a little thrill. Just a few minutes ago on the street another guy had handed her a red heart-shaped leaflet. It was only an advertisement for a cellphone, but it'd be funny to carry it around on Valentine's Day. She would see the cellphone ad but the rest of the world would see a bright, loving heart and a smiling girl blushing in its glow.
02/11 Direct Link
Most of the crowd on the subway platform is watching the construction workers yell and hammer and drill. At least they're providing some entertainment. A blonde girl is holding three pink carnations that shine against her black coat. The rest of us of us sag around in our black coats with no carnations to brighten them up and the girl stands out against our dreary background. She holds the flowers to her nose hesitantly and smiles to herself. I'm glad she isn't blasé about pink carnations at 1am. I stand straighter in my black coat and let this entertain me.
02/12 Direct Link
There were rumors that the temp had had a miscarriage in the third floor women’s restroom. Marcy went in and saw blood spattered on the floor. “Like someone had cut themselves…but there was a lot of blood.” Doreen had already sworn that she’d seen what looked like empty Ex-Lax packages in the temp’s trashcan for a few day’s running. An ambulance came and the restroom was shut off for cleaning. No one used it for a week, even though it was opened later that afternoon. The temp never came back, and no one ever found out what her name was.
02/13 Direct Link
I found the nicest picture one day at the library, a photograph taken in the 1950s of two children pushing their grandfather in a swing. I photocopied it and wrote a little note on the back - "Isn't this cute? Thought you might like it". But then I couldn't think of anyone to send it to. Finally I thought that perhaps my sister would get a kick out of it, and mailed it to her. I missed my picture so much that I wasn't even surprised when two weeks later it came back to me: insufficient postage, return to sender.
02/14 Direct Link
I woke up one day and you'll never guess what I saw, looking me right in my face: Me! Nope, I wasn't looking in the mirror or dreaming. It was me all right, but me in miniature. It was the tiniest me I've ever seen, even smaller than the me's I've seen in photographs.

"Why are you so small?"
"Why do you think so?"
"Because...I'm small?"
"A part of you certainly is."

This made me feel just awful. Then I realized that this little me was little enough to be squashed. I did just that, and went about my business.
02/15 Direct Link
“Get your ass out of my face.” These were the first words I heard this morning, standing on the subway. I looked down and saw a young woman staring straight ahead, her precious face caked with foundation and eyeliner. She looked like Greta Garbo if she’d been kinda ugly. I’ve spent so much of my life underground in these dim orange subway cars I realized, sighing. At the next stop I exited and left mean ol’ Greta Garbage underground. Once out walking in the fresh sunlight I thought, “Well, at least you can tell my ass from my face. Nyah!”
02/16 Direct Link
Many of the older dolls developed cataracts and even glaucoma from sitting in the same place all day. They could only close their eyes if they were moved, and this almost never happened. Dusty and ignored, the dolls nevertheless remained vigilant, their eyes open for months at a time. “What a horrid stare she has”, a little girl would squeal from time to time. When the strain really started to show they were thrown in a box in the store’s basement marked "Surplus". By the time the elderly dolls hit the pile in the box their eyes had usually closed.
02/17 Direct Link
Ah..que je remember ze days and nights of my Parisian youth. Les nuits folles, les nuits blanches. Greying blue evenings cooled and became white nights, which warmed into orange sunrises and golden afternoons. We were so young, so foolish. You, reading this, are you that way? If you were plopped back in time in Paris 1922 like a misfired turd, would you know what to do? Where would you go, who would you talk to? I ask myself these questions as well. My memories have almost faded, and I would be as lost as you if I ever went back.
02/18 Direct Link
They decided to confine themselves to different parts of the house. He kept the bedroom and bathroom upstairs and she stayed downstairs with the kitchen. He had to go out for meals, she for the bathroom. It would be easy: there were plenty of fast food places in the neighborhood. Once they ran into each other at Burger King. She was sneaking out of the ladies' room and he was pushing his tray through the "Thank You" flap on the trashcan. It was very easy to ignore each other but they both felt some embarrassment, and even a little shame.
02/19 Direct Link
Keep It Simple, Stupid. This is how we need to live our lives. You hear someone laughing. Hmm...maybe he smelled that fart and blamed me. Or he could've seen me taking fifteen minutes to tie my shoe by the side of the road yesterday. What if he's read my diary? Or maybe....he isn't laughing at me because he doesn't have a clue who I am! When I went home sick in elementary school I always suspected that my class threw a party as soon as I left. I should have Kept It Simple, Stupid. Most people don't give a shit.
02/20 Direct Link
Life is full of unsolved mysteries. Maybe it isn't for less nosy people. I was just thinking of a young man I worked with for over half a year, in England. I always found him rawther asexual, but suspected a live-in boyfriend. He never mentioned any friends, just a "roommate" who went on vacations with him. At the end of the day he briskly dialed a number and left cryptic messages like "Hi, it's me. I'll be home with the ingredients." He croaked the words quietly, so I wouldn't hear. I decided to respect his privacy and enjoy my mystery.
02/21 Direct Link
I wouldn't say that I'm a "good-for-nothing". I'm more like a "good-for-a-few-specific-things-which-all-lack-a-definite-use".
Here are some things I've decided I'm good at, in less than 100 words.

1. Making jokes that close friends who understand my sense of humor usually laugh at.
2. Being polite.
3. Being nice.
4. Not patronizing children.
5. Typing.
6. Spelling.
7. Keeping my mouth shut.
8. Really, being terribly nice.
9. Quitting while I'm ahead.

Har de har, geddit? I'm doing ol' number nine right now. Just to be nice. (See nos. two, three and eight. And don't forget nine. And have a nice day).
02/22 Direct Link
My favorite part of the circus is the clowns. The people part, you know? I hate the animal stuff. I think it'd be cuter to have people walk out into the ring in animal suits. None of that lion tamer shit or that elephant shit…shit. Why animal suits,even? Real people in their own skins would be better. And who wouldn't want to be a people tamer? Then you'd have to find people willing to be tamed. Just round up some convicted criminals, and make it part of their rehabilitation.

Yep, circuses need to start providing some good, clean family entertainment.
02/23 Direct Link
As a teenager my dad exposed seeds to radiation from the x-ray machine in his father’s dental office to see if any mutations would occur in their growth. The seeds didn’t take root and died. “You should have tried it on humans”, I joked. I inherited my dad’s sick sense of humor. But he didn’t laugh like I thought he would. He just smiled, patted my head and looked down at the floor. I looked down too, down at the stumps where my feet should have been and didn’t see him leave the room, only heard his slow, heavy footsteps.
02/24 Direct Link
I want to start making phone calls the old-fashioned way, with classy exchanges and extensions and an operator who wisecracks and flirts with you.
“Hello Central! Give me Murray Hill seven-two-oh-seven. Thanks, sweetie. What are you doing tonight? Hm…and me? I’m busy.” It might be hard to come up with a wisecrack every time you make a phone call. You’d have to be pretty sharp.
I’ve decided to name my imaginary exchange Roebling, after John Roebling, who designed the Brooklyn Bridge. “So..what’s your cell?” “I assure you it’s a palace, not a cell, young man. Ring me at Roebling four-two-double-eight!”
02/25 Direct Link
On Greyhounds there’s so little space that your seat partner feels more like your marriage partner. On my last trip the man next to me was snoring louder ‘n’ a neutron bomb. If we had conjugal relations I could push him onto his side and whisper “You’re snoring again, dear”. My friend only had half a seat because of the big guy sprawled next to her, dead asleep. “Too bad you can’t just snuggle up against him,” I said.
“Yeah, but he smells and he’s a stranger”.
On the bus, it’s a small world in only the most literal sense.
02/26 Direct Link
A librarian I work with came over to talk to me today and she caught me eating raisins at my desk and I could barely talk for a few seconds, my mouth was so full. I was blushing so much my head almost boiled over. Eventually I reached peak temperature and started to cool down. I must’ve dropped some raisins in my panic cos I just found a few stuck between the pages of a new book we got in. I took them out but there are still raisin fossils imprinted on a few pages. My humiliation will never die.
02/27 Direct Link
I dug up my old roller skates on a visit back home, and as a gag I guess I sent an e-mail to most of the people I know here in the city, about forty people, asking them all if they had skates too and if they wanted to skate with me sometime. Most of them wrote back and said yeah, I got my skates. That weekend we all skated through Central Park and then over to this huge diner on Third Avenue. A woman asked us if we were skating for charity and I said “Nope, just for kicks”.
02/28 Direct Link
I couldn’t believe it when I found him in the Jewish Week, in the lower right hand corner of a photo collage of Jewish Singles entertaining themselves with Bagels’n’Books and Shabbat Schmoozes. He’s pointing at something in his hand, trying to get the attention of a woman turned slightly away from him. Showing her one of his magic tricks, I bet, the same old game. I’ve got to stop going to these JS events myself; I don’t know what I’d do if I saw him again. Oy, I’m shaking like a leaf on the G-ddamn tree of life right now.