just another day at the office

one of my students got held up at gunpoint last night while working the counter at the coffee shop a block away from the school. that was only one of the traumas revealed to me today. perspective on my own life and problems is a good thing...as in, mine aren't so bad.

i get flustered at the hipster espresso bar so i don't go there. until today. i figured out the trick - just be weirder than the cokehead behind the counter. done. and done. never understood lattes (soy or otherwise) anyway. onward...

ouchie

snow, he called me this morning to say stay in bed wait for me...no...but late anyway, she makes me cranky, i try my best to be kind but too often i fail. diva fight, mouse battle, swipe, wipe, breathe, just move. remember to feel loved, remember to forgive, the point is not actually to feel miserable though sometimes we sure wonder. only one, i cut my finger with a pair of scissors...wait for the ethiopian bread then bed.

roasted garlic

johnny died of aids at the age of twenty-nine

and in some small pocket of hell, there must be at least one soul condemned to riding a bus aimlessly in circles through a suburban subdivision, following a schedule that exists only on paper and searching for route numbers that change in the blink of an eye.

yesterday i added forty-four cents worth of stamps to my credit card bill at the post office, to help a stranger in need...trying to chip away at my karmic debt to the universe.

sigh.

new wave

back before she was famous, sarah jessica parker was on a show called square pegs. i was a kid. the show was about valley girls. i loved it.

my one actual memory of the show...there was a guy named johnny. he had a band. he wrote a song that went something like this:
i'm tired.
i'm so tired.
i'm very tired.
i'm really tired.
i'm totally tired.
totally.

my mom's car died. tomorrow i will wake up too early and take a train to the suburbs, then a cab to her house, so that i can teach her how to ride the bus - something she probably hasn't done in thirty or forty years.

totally.

ocean pillow blue

gaps in our knowledge and understanding are filled in with our desire

i miss him

peach licorice roundup

there's lots going on but nothing feels significant. the world gets boring really quickly when you stop looking for the hidden meaning in everything. let's see...don't remember monday, don't remember tuesday, i look at the calendar but it's december now so that doesn't help and i'm too lazy to stand up and look back. don't remember wednesday. thursday* i saw some good dancing, and the cute boy in the coffee shop gave me two cookies when i only paid for one, which was a nice bonus since it was my dinner. i chose the one with hazelnuts, for protein. (*edit - a lie - thursday was disco night, and friday came next with cookies and the like).

friday i wrote this, but was too lazy to post: it was such a gift for me to find out that there was a difference between being intuitive and being crazy. but now i have learned that being intuitive counts for shit/is a curse when the world is full of people who don't want to know. i realized today that's what i love about teaching - people pay to hear what i see that they can't. (i actually got an email from one of them on the weekend, thanking me for this...proof i'm not crazy, right?).

then i thought i should post the glamorous life by sheila e but i didn't and now i just tried but the only video on youtube has no sound so that's that. silence.

saturday: i used to come here and write because i had hope and i could laugh at myself but now it's not funny or fun, it's just sad. too many tries, too many fails, too many moments of anti-epiphany where i realize that there is a life i am not meant to have...what i find interesting, thinking about who likes me, thinking about being my mother's daughter with the veils of childhood innocence lifted from mine eyes - men who only want to fuck me or have me fix them...i come home from a family afternoon and make a punk rock booty call. sunday i wash my sheets and do battle with a mouse who is disturbed by my invasion of its home inside my home.

monday he uses a word that i haven't heard before. this is significant. little else is these days. i think i said that already. a new old song, maybe...maybe?

pain in my gut, in my head, in my shoulder. forget about the pretty blonde who somehow gets by when i wouldn't. forget about boys who would be perfect if only...fade to black and white. i should sleep.