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uno de mayo--may day--saturday--twelve hours at the hospital saving lives and wiping asses. i didn't sleep enough last night because it was friday night and i decided my time would be better spent drinking beers on my boyfriend's back porch and listening to records and chit-chatting the evening away. i was right. that was most definitely time well-spent, and i made it through my shift a little bitchier than is my norm. now i'm a little tireder than is my norm and i have another 12-hour shift to look forward to tomorrow. sionara pendejos.
i have big plans of winning the powerball. its drawn every wednesday and saturday. if i buy one ticket for each drawing, that equals 8 tickets (or 8 dollars) per month. not an unreasonable amount to spend on a healthy gambling habit. i don't smoke cigarettes anymore, and i definitely don't drink as much as i used to. in my mind, this is actually a healthier and less expensive habit. and it's the only one with hope of a big payout. but why should i feel the need to rationalize? it's my party and i'll gamble if i want to.
TPN: the ultimate in laziness. TPN stands for "total parenteral nutrition" and it's what you get if, for some medical reason, you can't eat. it's a thick white fatty emulsion that drips into a person's veins via a central line usually placed in a person's chest. what i'm proposing here is that we should make elective TPN for those folks who are just too busy to eat. doctors, lawyers, businessmen, people on long road trips who don't want to stop, or just super-motivated craftspeople such as myself. there is chicken downstairs in the refrigerator, but who has the time?
the avett brothers totally sold out with their rick ruben release. they lost their jive, but i never will. jipicito's not coming even though he sent us a text that said "hey what you guys are up to?"
"he even texts in broken english!" i thought that was so hilarious. billy just smiled...cause he's used to it.
billy just got two twenties at darts. "most people they talk about things they don't know about" he sings at the top of his lungs. and here we are and this is us.
but jipicito's not coming over and we are drunkies.
cinco de mayo and i celebrated by buying a laptop. not very mexican, but oh well. i named it margarita, which was also my name in high-school spanish class. i thought i was such a rebel because i chose a name that was also an alcoholic beverage. now when i think of margaritas, i think of sour mix and getting a stomachache, or at least acid reflux. i also think of tequila, which has gotten me in a bit of trouble in the past. and i think of perfect margaritas from applebees: my favorite corporate chain sell-out drink.
guy talk: jimbrowski. we need a paper towel because there's a wet tequila on the table. c'mon turkey balls, do it, turkey balls. i'm gonna do ya, i'm gonna do ya, i'm gonna do ya, whoa whoa whoa. church on time. wii bowling, darts. let's go to the store and pick up more cigarettes right guys?. dude did i pull a tube outta there? "you guys wanna make any burgers on the grill or something like that like for a night-time snack?" yeah let's play a round of golf; i will fucking trash you guys. you are head-injured.
marriage is the great collapse of everything that may have once been decent about our society.
"i'm sorry, but the notion of spending your whole life with one other person was created in the ice age, when people ONLY LIVED TO BE 35!" one of my favorite 80s/early 90s movies points out.
of course nobody is happy when they're tied down. the whole "i need you to do this; i need you to do that" gets overwhelming at times.
"i'm not your bitch" i would say back. and if that didn't work, i'd jump on the next train heading...
we all wonder why certain folks are allowed to breed. today a wonky-eyed lady with a rash on her face who twitched and smelled a little rotten came up to me and asked me for a spoon. "zee bay-bee ees hankree" she said in a creepy eastern european accent. spoons are hard to find in the ER, so i handed her a tongue depressor to use and ran away. when they left the department i had to run after them with their car keys and their baby's pants they had forgotten. their baby's pants. on a cold day.
i bought a new laptop a couple days ago and this is the first whole day i get to spend alone with it...with nothing else to do. (besides the fact that it's mother's day and i will most likely soon be pulled from my antisocial activities by my sister, mother, and plans for a group pedicure.) i have been sitting here all morning downloading, formatting, watching media files. if only coffee cured hunger, i wouldn't have to even bother going downstairs to find something to eat. this is one of those days i wish i could be fed intravenously.
i get antsy with novels..not necessarily bored with them, just antsy. i'm impulsive and would sooner start a million novels than finish just one. but i know that if i hang in there, it'll be worth it. i'm the same way with any project. i have 3-4 quilts at home that need to be finished. i've recently started yoga, making a zine, and learning spanish. previously i've started playing the fiddle, the piano, guitar, learning how to silkscreen, relationships with men, etc... of course some of these things have no discernable endpoint. it's the journey that matters, right?
here's a quote from the eggers book i just finished: "thoughts are made of water and water always finds a way." eggers named the book after an inscription left in a tree by a nomadic tribe of people that said, "you shall know our velocity." the people believed they carried the souls of their ancestors with them. because of this they felt dense and heavy, like mountains. so they spent their time attempting to fly. this they never quite got, so they ended up running and jumping around all the time and were known as "the jumping people." genius.
i made a deal with myself that if i bought this laptop, i would write a novel. now i have the laptop and i'm not sure what my novel should be about. i asked billy via text-message and his reply just came through: "unicorn harvesting in the land of nod." not a bad idea. i'd have to do some research.
now he writes back, "not much help, i know. what should my novel be about?"
"antarctic surfing expeditions," i said.
"oh good," he said, "i have about 300 pages already on that subject."
i had already traveled about 5 miles down the highway and was stopped at a red light in town when i noticed the little bug scurrying around on my windshield. one of those little non-descript grayish brown guys with fluttery wings. i let my window down a bit and caught him in my hands and let him outside...seems like that's what he wanted. "he'll probably fly all the way up there to that streetlight," i thought. then i thought about how five miles is a long way in bug-land, and i hope he doesn't miss his friends.
this is not a bad thing or a good thing. it's just a thing.
i've noticed that a lot of people get stressed out about their laundry. whether it needs to be done, folded, put away and organized, or whatever. the stress it causes people is disproportionate to the challenges it presents.
you throw the dirty clothes in the washer..go do something for a while..come back and throw the wet clean clothes in the dryer..go do something for a while..get the warm dry clothes out, fold them up, and put them away.
worse things have happened.
no powerball winnings on this date to speak of.
numerology facts: last drawing, i won three dollars, so i bough three tickets. this is billy's third time playing, earlier tonight billy and i both got yahtzees on threes. so we thought for sure we were destined to win the jackpot. nice try, no cigar.
oh well, back to our normal charmed life...it's the next morning and billy and i are both trying to shake off the tequila shots we did lastnight. he's in the shower, i'm drinking coffee, and we're working on a trip out to the record store.
we're in the cult of personality and it's party night at A2 and frank is very nice. his turn is after mine and every time i get done and return them to him for his turn he says "how'd you do?" this time i had to tell him "not good, frank, not good." generally, darts just isn't my thing. but it's good to have fun. frank is a visitor. "franklin's tower" is what his brother and billy call him. i have no idea why. these are boys and you just shouldn't question their antics. i will always be there, dude.
not being able to talk gives you a strange perspective. i wouldn't say it makes you a better listener...just sad that you can't join in the conversation..at least not with ease. when talking becomes hard work, you get choosier about what you say. my roomate came up to me asking what new menu items i think she should include at her restaurant..."i can't talk" i mouthed back. i can talk minimally, but that is just not the sort of thing i feel like wasting my breath on. also, my dog doesn't listen quite like she used to.
its tuesday and i haven't been able to speak since friday. this episode was preceded by a horrible sore throat, prompting my mother to diagnose me with laryngitis...based on the fact that she's had it before. hers only lasted two days; internet sources say it can go up to two weeks. according to my soruces, the only thing to do is rest my voice, gargle with warm salt water, take echinacea and vitamin c and wait. meanwhile work is like living hell being that i can't communicate and have to wear a mask on my face for twelve hours.
when i could talk i wanted nothing more than to be able to sing. now i can't talk anymore and all i want is to be able to speak.
"well don't it always seem to go
that you don't know what you've got till it's gone
they paved paradise,
put up a parking lot."
my friend rav, an attending physician at the local hospital, texts me that he'll make me a cure.
"i don't think it's ever gonna come back," i reply to him.
"indian cure: trial and error x4000 years," he sends.
"sounds reliable," i type on my blackberry.
on the other hand, marriages don't always end up in the shitter, leaving both parties miserable. i've seen happily married 80 year olds, and 80 year olds grieving the loss of their spouse. i've seen several examples of long-married couples dying within weeks or months of each other. i read once in a book that soulmates die together. it happens often enough that we have a term for it in nursing: "swan syndrome," stemming from the notion that swans are one of the few animals that have one partner for life. swans, cavemen, and a few lucky old folks...
i wonder what will become of us...how much does being in love matter between two people who quite possibly want different things? is this compromisable? or is it a dealbreaker? are we better friends than lovers? if so, isn't that what everybody says is the best kind of love? i can't imagine letting go of the things that i want. but i also can't imagine letting you go. i don't know what to make of it right now so i guess at some point we'll have to stop beating a dead horse and just let time work it's magic.
nostradamus is laying on the covers in my bed, talking about a purple-sashed man and visions from the mirrored glass. he fixed my dvd player for me, as he is mechanically inclined, or "techno," as he puts it. he predicted the gulf oil spill in a dream he had on april 10th. he's predicting we'll watch a movie later..i'm predicting that dustin hoffman will be in it. he says he'll make me dinner but now i think he's pushing his luck.
"in the day when all the decay starts when maggots feast on private parts."
i've been working on keeping my mind empty. or if not empty, focused on just one thing at a time. it makes it more difficult to come up with these tiny writing topics. when i vowed to put a stop to my agitated mind, i failed to realize that i would actually miss certain aspects of it. they say that with time the creativity flows as it never has before. that a floodgate opens up, and you careen down over the edge into the bliss of the water. i wonder sometimes if peace of mind can actually be so exciting.
when i was a teeny-bopper, i would spend entire evenings in my bedroom making tapes from the local college radio station. that was how i came upon a little gem called "kayaking" by the group domestic science club. after that, i introduced everyone i loved to the kayak song for approximately five years. then the tape broke. and i couldn't remember the name of the artist. i feared the infamous kayaking song was gone for good...until today. just got an email from an old friend i haven't seen in years with the mp3 attached. how cool is that?
"if you miss the moment, you miss your life." i don't feel i'm missing the moments, but i feel like i could be more certain. kinda like an orgasm: if you're not sure whether or not you've had one, then you didn't have one. if i was always in the moment, then i wouldn't worry about relationship problems, what i'm going to do with my day, whether or not i should be putting my efforts here rather than there...this sort of thing. i'm a needle on a record player, and i like it better when i'm in a groove.
we live so much each day that there's too much to tell at the end of it. why does it break my heart that nobody will know all the beauty i saw? i waded in rivers, lit fireworks with a child, walked in the sun with my dog. who can ever know but me how amazing it was? i will take it to my grave, not because it's a secret, but because it's my life. you're born alone, you die alone; we all know that. but you go through each day alone too, and that one they never told me.
"we all have to be little rays of sunshine," cordelia said to me. she said it in reference to the way the world sucks so bad, but it's still possible to be happy.
"i had a feeling you would be talking about fabrics," billy said to me later when i told him i had been talking to my aunt cordelia. "what should i call her? auntie?"
"no," i told him. no, because that term is reserved for people who know for sure they wanna stick around.
"you can call her cordelia," i told him, like a little ray of sunshine.
"mankind is kept alive by bestial acts," says tom waits. most likely, that sentiment is true. cultures were never saved by love and kindness. the nice guy never wins. it's survival of the fittest. you need to prey on those who are weaker than you if you want to remain. keep your eye out for a straggler who's fallen behind...when the moment comes, eat him alive and put all his energy toward the good of your cause. life's is a big energy-sucking game of dungeons and dragons where only the strong survive. but where does it get them?
i feel a kinship with the morton salt girl. i wonder what little miss salt would be like if she ever got the chance to grow up. i think she'd enjoy roller derby and bowling, and have a mild/moderate gambling habit. she may have partied too much in her twenties, and is a little confused as to whether to look back on those times with laughter or regret. i picture her beginning her thirties with a sense of relief that there's a future for her still, and proud of the fact that she continues to feel alive and free.
it makes no sense to mourn the passing of a month's worth of days. i try not to latch on to the time as it goes. i try not to get sad about fun times that have come and gone. i try not to want things at all. because when you get what you want, you tend to want the opposite. it's less about the objects of desire, more about the habit of desiring that we become so accustomed to. it is a trap that is difficult to escape. so i will breathe, again and again, until may is gone.
currently i'm learning about jack kevorkian's love life. apparently he was engaged. he didn't wanna talk about it on this movie that they made about his life. "i just think girls make you shake in your boots," his lawyer said to him. jack agreed. a man who faced death without fear couldn't find the strength to let himself love.
i don't know the moral of this story except that love seems to be the hardest thing you can ever do. harder than murder, suicide, death, social graces, harder than the banality of the ins and outs of every single day.
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