real life, briefly

i know posts here lately have been dribbling bits of fluff, having little or no bearing on my real life. so i’ll do a rare comprehensive health/work/love update, for those of you who care. for those of you who don’t care, please take this time to clean out your ear wax with a brand-name q-tip®. they no doubt need it.
health being what it is, the thing you don’t notice until it starts violently malfunctioning, my health is fine. after the great appendix debacle and its subsequent illnesses, i started to become mildly hypochondriac about going to the doctor, always expecting something else to spin wildly out of control, organ-wise. knock on wood, everything seems to be functioning at normal capacity. drinks to that!
work is really two things in my life – my job and my law school preparations. my job is proceeding apace. on a certain productivity level, i’m always one step ahead of the axe. there are honestly whole days where i do piddlingly small amounts of work, spending most of my day chatting to friends and reading blogs. but there are some great, frantic bursts of productivity, and not always right before a major deadline. i get excited about small projects, like organizing expense reports or chasing down invoices. my complete inability to open my mail on time (right, penny?) remains intact. on the law school front … wait, no, i don’t want to talk about that, thanks. it continues to suck. that’s all.
love is a tricky thing, how do you evaluate the love in your life? i have my friends as always – strong, funny, loving people who make my life a joy and are so entertaining and engaging that my bank account is always teetering on the edge of disaster just from the sheer amount of time i spend having fun with them. i love them dearly – all of them, through all their moods. and lucky for me, they love me through mine. and yes, you’ve been picking up the hints correctly .. i’m rather off the dating market again. sorry, lads – i’ve fallen for J‘s irresistible combination of intelligence, friendship, a cute ass and a killer smile. tough combination to beat.
so that’s health. love. work. my days are filled with work, my evenings are either quiet nights at home or raucous nights with friends. after a rocky few months of love lost, awkward attempts at dating, organ-malfunction, the heat and intensity of summer has cooled into the breezy, cooler dusk of fall. drinks to that.

OMG IS THE OC BACK YET?!?

new digital camera loan + cute outfit = mirror picture!

now that the preppy look is in, let me just say, i knew it all along and i’ve been ready, people. very ready. i’ve got the button-downs, i’ve got the argyle sweater, i’ve got the peacoats and the plaid scarves and the loafers and the kick-pleat skirts and …
just trust me. i’ve got it.

so glad to meet you, angeles
elliott smith is one of those rare musicians that’s followed me through life. many other bands, i may only own one album, or like a handful of songs, or whose music only fits a certain phase of my life. i went through a blonde redhead phase, a ben folds five phase, a garbage phase. but from the moment my friend beth introduced me to smith’s music, in mid 1998, it stuck with me.
x/o was actually the first album i bought, amusing because over time it became my least favorite. but i was enamoured with the song independence day. x/o reminds me of my first elliott smith concert, at the now-defunct tramps, in the fall of 98. beth and i were freshman at slc, with scant friends, but we bonded over concerts like this, and we bonded over smith. i’ve never been the moony-fan type, but i spent long hours getting to know his music, finally understanding what the nirvana generation – my generation – had been trying to teach me through adolescence: that it’s sometimes therapeutic to listen to depressing musicians. x/o reminds me of crisp fall evenings in my new home, getting to know new york city, and being lonely for the first time in my life.
either/or was on heavy rotation all through the summer of 2000, that i lived alone in new york city. i spent many nights in my room with the album on my treasured record player, drinking tea and staring out my big glass window on the lights of the village, wondering where i belonged and where i fit in. some nights weren’t so morose – my then boyfriend and i would fall asleep somewhere in the middle of the second side, and my dreams were quiet and disturbing. but between the bars and rose parade always stayed with me as my favorite songs on the album. either/or reminds me of hot summer, of flip flops, of being alone, of being drunk, and of growing up.
but by far, figure eight remains my favorite album. this isn’t based on some snooty dissection of smith’s music – but on memory. i bought figure eight right as it came out, and i was heading to live for six weeks on fisher’s island off the connecticut coast. at night, after putting the kids to bed, i would hop in my honda and take off down the desolate, winding island roads, all the way to the easternmost tip of the skinny island, and park the car on some gravel overlooking the ocean and a not-to-distant lighthouse rock. i’d turn on the stereo and lay on my car hood and write or read, listen to the beautiful pianos and thin, smoky voice and enjoy the sun going down behind me, setting over the island, turning the water from piercing dark blue to a slate grey. figure eight reminds me of winding roads and the grip of the tires to pavement, of trees flashing by and wind in the car, of seagull cries and the smell of beach bonfires and the flashing of the lighthouse at the easternmost point of fisher’s island.
i’m sad elliott is gone – but not for myself. i’m sad for his family, for the people who actually knew and loved him. i’m not going to tell you i’ll miss him, because what i have of him, what all his fans have of him, is only and was only ever his music. and the memories they play for you.
i could make you satisfied in everything you do
all your secret wishes could right now be coming true
i’ll be forever with my poisoned arms
around you
no one’s gonna fool around with us
no one’s gonna fool around with us
so glad to meet you, angeles.

bullshit talks, ducks walk
last night i saw a commercial on TV, for dawn dishwashing liquid, where they were washing a cute little duck that had been badly coated in an oil spill. so the preternaturally friendly voice-over is all, “if this duck could talk, she’d tell you how glad she is to be clean again”, you know, thanks to dawn detergent.
and i’m thinking, whoa. nuh-uh. if that little duckie would talk, she’d be all:
“BITCHES! you go SPILLING OIL *QUACK* into my HOME and then you PUT ME IN A BOX and cover me with SMELLY BLUE LIQUID and then you SCRUB MY HEAD *QUACK* WITH A TOOTHBRUSH, all so that some asshole in the midwest can power his THREE SUVs and *QUAAACK* TEN BEDROOM HOME with oil that you carry around on ships and then DUMP ON INNOCENT DUCKPEOPLE? if i could talk, you slimy motherfuckers, i’d take you to the CLEANERS, bitches, I’d wring you in court for everything you’ve GOT. and then i’d DRAG YOU BY YOUR HAIR into an OIL SLICK and i’d chain you *QUAAACK* and your mothers there for ETERNITY. DRINK DAWN AND DIE, BITCHES. QUACK.”
that’s what the duck would say.

weekender!
tonight, drinks and pizza and pool at wang‘s fabulous bachelor pad. tomorrow, early morning laziness with J, followed by unspecified fun in the city. saturday night – baseball! sunday, brunch for six! quiche, potatoes, belllinis, and friends!
hurrah for blustery, hand-holding, scarf-wearing fall weekends!

all i’ve got to say to red sox nation is …
PPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBBTBTBTTBTBBT.
and
HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA.
gracious winner? you must have me confused with someone else. i’m currently too busy dancing all over the grave of red sox world series dreams.

tumbleweeds always stop at water
i’m sitting on the floor in a house. i’m looking out the window in front of me – i see the ocean. not the beach, or some cheesy bay, but the majestic, enormous ocean. deep, unapologetic blue, teasing white crests of waves. the ocean. the window is uninterrupted glass stretching from left to right, and all i can see from my house is ocean.
inside my house i have very little furniture. perhaps a couch, facing the infinite ocean windows. perhaps just two arm chairs. perhaps just one, since i’m alone in this house. in my kitchen there is food, of course, and even a small table to eat it at, but nothing else. no whirring appliances, no dishwasher, no stacks of clattering plates.
my bedroom, in this house, also faces the ocean. of course it does. the ocean is the only reason i am in this house. my bed is large but white and the only thing in the room. along a wall in my bedroom there are many books. but no television, not in this house.
the house is perched on rock, peering at the ocean. perhaps this is the californian ocean, the mighty pacific. perhaps i’m in carmel. it does seem likely, doesn’t it – the soaring windows, the hardwood floors. but perhaps i’m in maine, overlooking the brooding dark atlantic. sunrise, sunset, is the only difference. what matters isn’t where this house is. nor does it matter if it exists, exactly like i see it – a delicate glass and wood and steel cage for me, perched at the edge of blue indifferent water. what matters is that it’s mine, it’s empty, it’s quiet, and it’s where i wish i was, right this instant.
cross-legged on hardwood floors. supported and surrounded by sunlight. staring through the glass. at the ocean.

TRAVELOGUE
friday, 10:30 pm – arrive in austin. get picked up at airport by world’s best gal pals, erin [otherwise known as erwin, mind, eeyore, j-master E, kolache, poopy pants] and raychul [aka raych, shanti, kanga, soul, loquat, wombat queen, and "rachel" to those not in the know].
11:30 pm – fantastic brother-figure luiz arrives. brings beer and hugs all round.
12:30 pm – smoke. meet up with amy. head to the all-important magnolia cafe to sit for two hours and eat queso and smoke cigarettes and drink fountain soda. this was the point where erin makes clear that she has “lost a word”. there is a word she uses a lot, that means haphazardly predicting the future. she can’t remember word. i tell her she probably smoked that brain cell.
2:30 pm – collapse in bed. giggle. giggle more. fall asleep.
saturday, 11 am – wake up. decide breakfast is in order. make plans to meet raychul at fabulous breakfast place up on burnet and 50th, the Omlettry. pile into jetta, drive to Omlettry. eat absurd amounts of breakfast food. make fun of new californian governor.
2 pm – go to raych’s pretty grown-up married-person apartment. hang out with fabulous raychul-husband, matt. play with fabulous and devilishly cute raychul-matt-married-person-cat, neville. eat a cookie. decide to go to sports bar and watch Texas-OU game.
3 pm – go to Trudy’s with erin and luiz. sit on porch and watch rain, drink mexican margaritas, smoke cigarettes, talk about sex, ignore football game completely. erin continues to attempt remembering word. fails. extrapolating? projecting? no.
5 pm – slightly sloshed, head back to erin-pad, shower and get ready for night-out fun. drink beer. smoke. get fabbed up. discuss dirty sexual things and forget Brother is in the room.
8 pm – convene at guero’s on south congress in a massive group of 11 people. wait hour for table. discover from middle-school gal-pal kathleen that First Boyfriend, Michael S., has now come out of closet. hurrah! eat dinner of mexican food. discuss halloween costumes and high school.
10:30 pm – head back to house. smoke. get ready to go gay-dancing.
11:50 pm – go gay dancing at boyz cellar. watch pretty twinks writhing with other pretty twinks on dance floor. laugh at the pretty twinks. dance feet off.
2 am – head across street to halcyon for “night cap”. erin continues to drunkenly attempt remembering word. fails again. bailey’s is had. cigarettes are smoked.
3 am – drunken sleep.
sunday, 11:30 am – wake up. get coffee at local starbucks where erin is barista. thus, coffee is free. drink tasty free coffee. discuss plans for day. decide to drive to san marcos to hang out with matthieu and have world famous bloody marys.
3 pm – arrive in san marcos. go with matthieu to showdown, for world-famous bloody marys. also indulge in: scoping cute bartendress and goading matthieu to ask her out, discussing the manipulation of media, playing ms. pac-man and tekken three and pinball, drinking more bloody mary.
6 pm – return to austin. make girl-night plans to meet amy and raychul at what food-twin amy assures is best fajitas in town, cerranos. sure enough, eat best fajitas in town (austin, sorry austinites, is a terrible fajitas town. gotta go h-town way for the good sizzlin stuff). stuff face with fajitas.
9 pm – head over to amy’s fab pad to smoke, drink, and watch goonies. smoke, drink, and watch goonies.
2 am – back to erin-pad for last night cuddling up with erin. decide to smoke and make brownies. smoke and make brownies. eat brownies. giggle a lot more. make fun of hipster-next-door-neighbors. discuss plans for me to flee Big City and move to austin and live on erin-couch. confirm wiseness of such plan. fall asleep at 4 am.
monday, 11:30 am – wake up. get stuff ready. be sad about leaving brownies/apartment/austin/erin. sad sad sad.
1 pm – meet raych at starbucks. erin tries again to remember word. fails. i remind her she smoked it. drive to airport with fresh coffee and heavy heart.
2 pm – fly home to new york, slightly less in love with life here. miss friends/fajitas/driving/erin/raychul/amy/austin already. consider jumping off plane to return.
EPILOGUE
wednesday, 8 am – phone rings while on subway platform.
me: “what the hell are you doing calling me at goddamn thirty in the morning?”
erin: “I REMEMBERED THE WORD!”
me: *squeal* “really?!”
erin: “SPECULATING!”
me: “well THAT makes sense!”
erin: “so i didn’t smoke it AFTER all!”
me: “yes, you did. did you smoke last night?”
erin: pause “no!”
me: “then there you go. you got it back.”
MORAL..OGUE
SEE WHY I MISS TEXAS BEFORE I EVEN LEAVE?

feminism, the reason behind
i want to think it’s funny. god knows, when men read it, they laugh. but i didn’t print it out and frame it above my desk because i think it’s funny.
i did it to remind myself why i do what i do every day. why i have a bank account that runs so low i fly into a mad money-less panic, but still manage to survive without begging my parents for money. why i struck out in new york, determined to find a job, determined to live on my own. why i dragged myself to the hospital two months ago even though i was crying buckets that there was no one there to take care of me. why i sneer back at men who catcall me on the streets, but refuse to stop wearing gorgeous sexy tops and five inch heels. why i curse, smoke, drink, laugh too loud, and still manage to be sexy. why i’m inordinately proud to be an independent woman – mood swings, character flaws, and all.
i’ll look at that list every day, and i won’t laugh – but i’ll smile. because i don’t bring a man his drink, his conversation isn’t more important than mine, and i wouldn’t know “my place” if it hit me on the head.

just to remind you…
i’m still in TEXAS AND IT’S ROCKING THE FACE OFF YOUR STATE’S FACE.