Archive for March, 2010

happy lunchtime, everyone.

i feel like i’ve been on a spaceship.  the last hours, day, two days have flown by.  the first part of the week was tooth-pullingly slow.  that einstein fellow was onto something.  but it’s a damn good thing these days have been going by quickly, because  in my immediate circle of friends, over the last two days we’ve had: illness; lost house keys; set off building alarms (two of them, one requiring an evacuation); diverted traffic; a day’s worth of lost work; relocations and other assorted life changes; a misplaced coffee order; and SNOW.

i have become the keeper, the foster mother, of the wayward excel documents, but in more sad news, this month i will have to abandon them for six very time-sensitive projects.  alas, the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

on the bright side, i have a MAGICAL new corkscrew thanks to dan in honor of my birthday, and ventured to get myself an itrip and an ipod dock.  this renders my enormous CD book obsolete, as dan rightly pointed out.  it’s the end of an era.  a dangerous era in which I was trading ben folds for talib kweli while either cruising down the highway at 75 mph or swerving to avoid reckless pedestrians and thoughtless boston taxicabs — but an era, nonetheless.

and i have pretty excellent birthday plans in the works, to wit: mixed drinks; gazpacho; general merriment; better weather (ARE YOU LISTENING, CLIMATE?).  so there is a lot to look forward to.


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for an otherwise reliable person, i can be awfully unpredictable.   a drizzly afternoon, a ray of sunshine.  they’re like death and birth to me.

one sip from the cup of human kindness, and i’m shitfaced.

just laid to waste.

every time there’s the slightest change, i’m convinced it represents a new status quo.  this is pretty human, but it’s a trait i find irritating in others.  i’d like to think i know myself well enough to not only recognize it as a shortcoming, but to rationalize my way out of it.  that does not seem to be the case.

dammit, i’m no good at talking myself out of things.

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i baked a birthday cake

it has pretty flowers


–with thanks to smitten kitchen.

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i’m returning in force lately, aren’t i?  maybe it is just the time of year.  (or maybe it’s the time of man.  i don’t know who i am, but you know, life is for learning.  apologies to joni mitchell.)

this beautiful offering from paul simon got a shoutout from me around this time last year, but for a different reason.  and now there’s no reason at all, just that i am immersing myself in some music i haven’t heard in a while.

for reasons i cannot explain,
there’s some part of me wants to see graceland.
i may be obliged to defend every love, every ending,
or maybe there’s no obligations now.
maybe i’ve reason to believe we all will be received in graceland.

and it’s been nearly two years since i heard christine mcvie wrap her voice around these words — not since a really lovely night in a part of my life that’s now passed — but i am immeasurably sorry that i let the song slip away for so long.

and the songbirds are singing like they know the score
and i love you, i love you, i love you like never before.

there are also a few that i’ve studiously avoided.  i’m going to try to stop that, because it’s bad for me.

do you think you could
answer all the questions in the world with just one word?
i think you could.

and if you do not want to see me again, i would understand.

i’d say my music library qualifies as “pretty badass.”

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things have been catching me off guard lately.  it’s not that i go about mindlessly, heedlessly, waiting to be surprised by the next everyday thing.  it’s just that some things are unexpected, and for some reason i am really not prepared for that at the moment.

last night, with a belly full of pasta and ice cream, i walked into dan’s living room prepared to settle into a corner of the couch with a fleece blanket and a food baby.  ‘gangs of new york’ was on the television, and i happened to enter just at the moment when daniel-day lewis dispatches a political foe with a meat cleaver.  now, leaving aside for a moment the fact that the last role i saw daniel day-lewis occupy was tortured, noble john proctor: a meat cleaver.  the next forty minutes were filled with shrapnel injuries and lynchings and the new york draft riots in all their bloody horror, and i was so horrified and fascinated and so close to tears that i nearly left the room.

my sensibilities were softened, i suppose, by dinner.

on the other hand…

i had a nightmare last week that woke me from my sleep, the sort where you can’t breathe right away and you certainly can’t close your eyes right away.  i think it was about snowboarding on wet snow.  there had to have been more than that.  i have had vivid, wake-up-gasping nightmares before, but generally they’re about being chased or raped or some other real horror.  not about snow that’s too damp for winter sports.  i wasn’t attuned to the emotional import of the dream.  the dream, as far as i can recollect, had no emotional import.

and there have been other similar instances lately: things that should not have made me laugh, things that should not have made me cry.  i’m out of tune entirely at the moment — not like a piano or a guitar, predictably flat and quickly remedied.  i just feel emotionally tone-deaf.

i’d like to hear the pitch again, please.

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