The venue for the Muse concert was much less frightening than previously imagined. I’d been there before and there was a problem with a dry-heaving Japanese tourist and backed up toilets. This time was fine though. It was even nice.
I have sweaty armpits, but only usually when I’m chilly, which is most of fall and winter. I used to worry about this. I used to worry that I had “overactive sweat glands” or something. No antiperspirant would stop it. Then, in grad school, I had a teacher with sometimes-sweaty armpits, and I thought she was beautiful and healthy and suddenly having sweaty armpits didn’t seem so bad. In fact, it even got to be pretty. Now, if I sweat, so what? It means I’m alive. It means I’m healthy, that I work out, that my body functions. Today was bad, eyes were darting from armpits to eye contact. I pointed out things on the board. I waved my arms around for emphasis. I listened with one hand on my hip and one hand on my chin.
In other news I had deja vu at work. I’ve been having deja vu for the past month. I dreamed all of this a couple of years ago in grad school.
Have you ever baked a chicken and then eaten it? I suppose not, since most people reading this don’t eat meat. I’m back to my single, lonely days. This reminds me of Bellingham when I would bake a chicken and then eat it. It also reminds me of Repulsion, which I watched in Bellingham. There comes a point when I realize I’m alone, very alone and have been for awhile. I realize that the last thousand calories I ate were in nibs and diet pepsi. I realize that I should have something substantial to eat. It’s times like these when I bake a chicken and eat it. Now you know the truth.
Winter is here, skipped fall and went right for the kill. Killed my petunia(s). Or at least threatened them. They’re still periwinkle out my window. Out my window is also a green gum drop evergreen up to my sternum. Blighty rose bushes in front. In the middle is a space heater, cold floors and a brown recluse or hobo that made one bloody hole in the skin of my hip, like the one that scarred into an ugly mole behind my knee on the opposite side. Schizophrenic weather depresses me. I need commitment and stability from my weather. If it’s going to storm, storm. If it’s going to shine, and so forth.
I have internet at last! Now I can get back to replying to emails 2 minutes after you send them.
hit me baby one more time!
This has been a dark time. A time without internet. A time where I can’t remember ever having gone grocery shopping alone. Tonight I’m eating baked beans from a can and hard boiling a dozen eggs. There are some good things, I suppose, but until there is internet, what does it matter?