Month: December 2009

Success all round

Waffles = success.

Stationery trip = success.

Band audition = success.

Leftovers = success.

Priceless moments with our furry housemates = success.

Laundry = success.

Walking in the brilliant, glorious, dazzling, heart-drenching sunshine for 40 minutes while carrying a mandolin = success.

This line deleted on advice of counsel, but trust me, it was delectable and loathsome, like a verbal confection of the Marquis de Sade translated by Patrick O’Brian and interpreted by Hunter S. Thompson, and afterwards rolled in a dusting of H.P. Lovecraft.  Still with me?  I guarantee it equalled success.

Watching Mickey Rourke, Marisa Tomei and Evan Rachel Woods in The Wrestler = success. Evan Rachel Woods supposedly getting back together with Marilyn Manson = you must be kidding = hope he’s quit drinking.

Having transcribed some of Dennis’ interview already = success.

A brief descent into vers libre, big kisses to the one reader of this blog who will actually appreciate this….

the what I do the thinking with, o

it makes a buzz

just like a beehive

teenaged boys have whacked.  So much

to think about . life echoes in continuance . life dancing

through doorways . life unfurling its logic . life burgeoning .

life expiring on its own pyre .

life continues

to have that golden glow

Tonight in the fey

the fading moonlight

I am an avatar of the Parking Goddess

soon this divinity will drop

into the day / day

into whispers . into a rush of sea-borne sound . into the pale

and steady light of winter .

Just a backhanded comment

Young men are all very well, but I prefer women my own age for conversation.  Needless to say, my dinner with Katherine poured balm on my wounded soul.  Since it was all informational gossip (as opposed to judgemental gossip, and yes, there is a distinct and important difference) about third parties, none of it can leach out onto the blog, but, wow, yeah.  Fade into inarticulate gratitude.

And for visuals, this time lapse tour of the alps.

sunburn in December

about noon, when I’m feeling very sorry for myself, the phone rings, and Mike says, “Guess where I am?” and I say, “the beach” because that’s what I always say, and he says, “Nope, next best thing, get over here.”  SO I WAS SUNBATHING on his balcony and drinking Winter Ale on December 1, and it re-set my little brain clock. That killed a few hours.  Mike loved the new chill tune, so I played him the tune it was extracted from.  I loves me that Kaossilator.

Home again around 5, called Katie, made her a nourishing dinner of pot roast, yams and broccoli with gravy, and then we went to the Roxy for Red City Breakout, as she has a planet sized crush on the entirely charming lead singer.  Got home around midnight.

Complete with my sunburn.  Me happy!