Tuesday, December 9, 2008
it is now 12:14 pm the next day
and i am still not over it. in fact, i am almost completely under it, is how not over it i am.
Monday, December 8, 2008
i am an Onion whore
It is 12:32 am. I read this at about 10:00 PM:
http://www.theonion.com/content/news/staten_island_historians_piece
I am, as yet, not over it. One might think that after convulsing and weeping in mirth, I would have at least exacerbated some latent onion giggle matter floating around in the lower depths of my large intestines. Alas, no.
The real question is, does this better the bunny with a pancake on its head:
http://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=e2724a9862&view=att&th=11dbbcaadff5b425&attid=0.1&disp=inline&realattid=f_fnrww7ug0&zw
which I have conveniently saved as a shortcut. It is a tough call. There is such simplicity to the bunny with a pancake on its head. One might argue that its shitgiggleability is transcendent due to the instantaneous wetting of pants. Life is full of grey areas.
I love the onion like I love my unborn child...with a pancake on its head. I'm going to go cry myself to sleep and count some sheep.
http://www.theonion.com/content/news/staten_island_historians_piece
I am, as yet, not over it. One might think that after convulsing and weeping in mirth, I would have at least exacerbated some latent onion giggle matter floating around in the lower depths of my large intestines. Alas, no.
The real question is, does this better the bunny with a pancake on its head:
http://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=e2724a9862&view=att&th=11dbbcaadff5b425&attid=0.1&disp=inline&realattid=f_fnrww7ug0&zw
which I have conveniently saved as a shortcut. It is a tough call. There is such simplicity to the bunny with a pancake on its head. One might argue that its shitgiggleability is transcendent due to the instantaneous wetting of pants. Life is full of grey areas.
I love the onion like I love my unborn child...with a pancake on its head. I'm going to go cry myself to sleep and count some sheep.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Dog saw me
Tonight, I was driving home and, stopped at a red light, I turned to my left. This is what I saw:
Except that the window was closed, because it was cold outside. Not only did the dog look at me, he looked at the man behind me, back to me, and then turned back to face the front.
At another red light, I saw another dog: a Great Pyrenees. He looked at me and then looked out the other window.
Monty sometimes veers right during our walks. It's usually at this point that he pauses and looks over his right shoulder at me. When I wave to him or say his name, he turns back and keeps walking. I need to learn how to make that expression.
Except that the window was closed, because it was cold outside. Not only did the dog look at me, he looked at the man behind me, back to me, and then turned back to face the front.
At another red light, I saw another dog: a Great Pyrenees. He looked at me and then looked out the other window.
Monty sometimes veers right during our walks. It's usually at this point that he pauses and looks over his right shoulder at me. When I wave to him or say his name, he turns back and keeps walking. I need to learn how to make that expression.
Dream Job 2
I used to have a very primitive jet fighter computer game and I would blow up buildings with my little module knob thing. My jet would always stall at high velocities.
*update to posting! the picture has disappeared into the depths of the internet. apparently, not even my internet fantasies of jet fighterdom can exist material. good thing i am already legally blind, or i would feel pretty bad about this.
Some friends out there
Last week, I was supposed to be writing a paper on medieval femininity. My topic was attraction and repulsion to the eastern aesthetic in the Katherine Group, with focus on mythology of the medieval hybrid. I felt safe, surrounded by my books, reading about monsters and mermaids. Every now and then I read the onion and giggled.
But I was distracted. I kept going back to my last column, rereading it, memorizing it, trying to understand myself through it. I did this for hours. I'm a reserved person. Most people see me at best, stoic. But I feel deeply. I think about life every moment of every day. I have that luxury.
I wanted to be honest. I didn't want to hide behind abstraction. People will think I'm boring or melodramatic. They want Palin/Polar Bear. They don't want just me- they won't understand me. But I tried to be honest. So I read every line painstakingly.
People seemed to understand. I was so surprised and sad, because I won't be able to know these people. It's always been my problem: wanting to know people and not knowing how. I remember someone saying offhand that we all think we are so alone, so different. And that is what makes us all the same. We are collectively lonely and scared. But every now and then a connection is made and endures, anonymous.
Anyway, all I wanted to say was thank you all for giving me that.
But I was distracted. I kept going back to my last column, rereading it, memorizing it, trying to understand myself through it. I did this for hours. I'm a reserved person. Most people see me at best, stoic. But I feel deeply. I think about life every moment of every day. I have that luxury.
I wanted to be honest. I didn't want to hide behind abstraction. People will think I'm boring or melodramatic. They want Palin/Polar Bear. They don't want just me- they won't understand me. But I tried to be honest. So I read every line painstakingly.
People seemed to understand. I was so surprised and sad, because I won't be able to know these people. It's always been my problem: wanting to know people and not knowing how. I remember someone saying offhand that we all think we are so alone, so different. And that is what makes us all the same. We are collectively lonely and scared. But every now and then a connection is made and endures, anonymous.
Anyway, all I wanted to say was thank you all for giving me that.
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