May 21, 2008

Debate It At The Bar

  • Tyson vs. black bear
  • Tyson w/ bowie knife vs. black bear
  • Tyson vs. mountain lion
  • A chimp can lift 300 pounds up a tree
  • Tyson vs. hippo
  • Ralph Macchio vs. _____
  • Karate Kid vs. _____
  • Can a man pry open the jaws of a pit bull?
  • Tyson vs. nurse shark (in 4 feet of water)
  • Jesse Ventura (in his prime) vs. nurse shark (in 4 feet of water)
  • How to kill a nurse shark with your bare hands

Directions: Quaff beer, enough to make you start feeling a little belligerent. Argue heatedly over the likely outcome in each/any of the above situations. Assert any vague impressions you have formed about the various qualities of the listed parties as points of hard fact. Act very incredulous about whatever weak argument the other guy is whining about. Punch each other in the face if you want. Part ways believing you have argued your points convincingly. Feel you are just, and also true. 

P.S. Everyone should totally click that hippo link.

May 20, 2008

Only in Cambridge

Heard on the subway between the neighboring stops for Harvard & MIT:

"So I told him: Joe, I'm a geologist. I'm in Colorado. I'll FIND something to do."

May 14, 2008

Google Doodles Puked on My Shoes

Spare me your canned answers, kids. Granted, the question suux, but come on! Your world revolves entirely around junk food and boy/girl cooties/relationships, and not at all around using Google "to search for the peace." Please don't expect me to buy your moralizing about ending racism and reversing global warming. The world will never be "full of magic and fairy tales." As a matter of fact just your mentioning that has caused the Chinese/Tibetans/Israelis/Palestinians/Rwandans/Anarcho-Syndicalists to communicate with one another using American Sign Language even less often than previously. And after all those rainbows and flowers there was not one mention of homosexuality in any of your spiffy little ideals; don't the teachers who put you up to this think that fags might want to live "in a world where prisons are empty and churches are full" too? I wonder if there were ever any doodling crusaders for controversial issues, or if- ahem- Google just filtered them out before putting the entries up for voting. Either way, I can't help but notice there's no Google Doodle entry about "what if there was a world with no female genital mutilation."

Anyway this whole exercise seemed so censored and disingenuous it wound up exasperating the hell out of me, so I went back to the K-3 age group to try to get fucking real already. Long live the weird science-y kid who thinks it would be cool/possible for humans to live underground someday! I voted for this:
Insidetheearth
"What if we live inside the Earth also in the future. It will give us a lot more room. We can have air vents for oxygen, tunnels for transportation, food storages, drinking water generators. We can use a lot of energy from the Earth's core."


Runner Up goes to the kid who believes that people will all be happier if they can just rock out the way they like to rock out:
Rokk
"I think that the whole world would be happier if they rocked out to the music they love."


Living Under the Sea is not a bad idea, but loses due to a lack of specific ideas regarding means of execution and to major demerits for cheesedick rhyming.

 

Winner for grades 10-12 is the kid who wondered what if "we distorted our flesh to the extent that so little remained of what made us human that we became but a twisted, robotic caricature of our former selves." Now that's what I call a plausible adolescent fantasy. The rest is all bullshit.


May 11, 2008

Things Worth Doing

Maggie started this and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. So, without further ado, here are some of the scenes I hope to relive as my life flashes before my eyes:

1. Camping in Southern Utah with friends and the dogs; no one else around for miles.

2. She-crab soup in Charleston, S.C.

3. Sunset on the beach on Hawaii, staring as I hard as I can at the horizon to try to catch the green flash.

4. Dancing as if my life depended on it.

5. Any of various caffeine rituals I have had over the years.

6. Watching the path of moonlight across my bed under the skylight; not being able to sleep because the light was so bright, but not minding because the full moon was so stunning.

7. Racing wagons fast down the steep hill of the sidewalk on our street.

8. That party we threw was a terrific success.

9. Riding bikes to the Saturday morning farmer's market, the breeze in my skirt.

10. Taking a standing-room-only train to Karlsruhe, Germany to sit on the ground outside the town zoo with hundreds of multinational strangers staring at the sky and sporting funny sunglasses. Feeling awed as the clouds parted just in time to reveal the total solar eclipse.

11. Making out with a stranger.

12. Dogs, mountains, me. 

13. Phoning my singingest friend from La Scala opera house.

14. Turning twenty-something (24, maybe?). First/only real birthday party I ever threw myself. Friends and family, little kids and pets and everybody all gathered in my own backyard. They like me, they really like me!

15. When I wake in the morning next to my new forever lover he opens his eyes, sees me, and sighs, "Yay!"

16. Christmastime evenings when the only light in the room comes from the tiny colordy ones on the tree.

17.  Walking Prancing out front door and down the steps of my high school right in the middle of 5th period while the rest of the class was in chemistry to be picked up by my older boyfriend in his car so we could go make out at his apartment.

18. Turning twenty-one in Paris on Bastille Day.

19. Bedecking the Girls' Hideout at the cabin with a literal carpet of moss.

20. Returning to The Hideout the next day to discover that deer had been by in the night to appreciate our decorating scheme- by sleeping in it.

21. My very own puppy!

22. Walking at sunrise over prairie hills; a tiny plane flies low overhead- it's a friend of ours! We can't see him in the tiny yellow plane in the giant outrageous pink-orange sky, but I know he sees us and is waving down hello.

23. Sunday afternoon naps.

24. Paddling across the lake, the water under the canoe is so blue that, peering over the side I can see clearly every fish, every stone in the white sand.

25. Sipping a cocktail in my pajamas on the balcony of my apartment downtown, recalling that as a kid I had a fantasy of what "adulthood" would be like and this is exactly it.

March 04, 2008

Dear Internet,

It's not you, it's me.  I'm just not feeling it right now. I couldn't really pinpoint when our priorities first diverged, but it seems like we've just been into different things these days.  It's not that I'm breaking up with you, I just think we should cool out for a while. Okay?  Let's take a little break.  It will be good for both of us.

Love always,

Em

January 23, 2008

Come out for a visit here

I find Joanna Newsom almost endlessly make-fun-of-able for her singing. I recall mornings cleaning up after big parties cleaning up with the girlfriends and wailing frustratedly back at Joanna about how she was exacerbating my hangover. But even I have to admit there are moments when the girl just gets the job done. One such example being rainy mornings in a wooden house on a tree-blanketed hillside with a bowl of cranberry and toasted-pecan oatmeal, a cup of dandelion tea and a small, sympathetic dog in your lap. I am a modern-day lady of the canyon and Newsom is my indie Joni Mitchell. It's been such a rare feeling lately that I'm caught off guard by my own contentment.

January 21, 2008

Czech it out, I'm a banner-haver now.

I'm exited about it because I never did huv one a' them before. Used to be that I was too tech-tarded to figure out how to make one. Since then a combination of my not having the right image and my just plain laziness has kept me from joining ranks. But a timely trip to Brooklyn presented me with the spleen graffiti which I took as a message from the universe that this was meant to be. I can get a bit of the mystic going on from time to time, you betcha.

January 11, 2008

It's a seasonal thing, Part I

Well, I'm fighting the good fight. And it's going... okay, some of the time. It’s just the damn seasonal depression has got me so down. The thing is: I really wanted it to not get me this time, not here, not here in our exciting new town, not here in our new life. But here I am and here It is, and it's the same as all the other years- insidious and gripping- and it reminds me of all the other years, which makes me feel even more shitty because I have this insane idea that I should have gotten over it by now, that it's something I should naturally grow out of. I thought this tendency in me must be diminishing a little each year, going the way of my collagen, but boy did I have another think coming. Now I’m left with just as much angst, but significantly less of the plump-faced youth that helped me pull off angst so poetically in the past. At my age the cancerous, obese, hypertensive reality of depression starts to set in, and it’s not a very pleasant aspect.

Not that it was ever so rad, before, the depression. Looking back now it is woefully apparent how major a role the seasonal blues played in my dropping out of school all those times. At the time I was just taking it day by day, not recognizing my own patterns, but now it seems so clear- if I had only been on a quarter system and skipped the middle quarters, or if I only I had gone to college in southern California instead of in Utah- I might have earned a degree after all. I might have slept around more while I was still in my early twenties, too. That would have been fun.

Last year I didn’t get the depression so bad. I got it, but I was so busy with work and family and social engagements and so distracted by all the righteous fury I was building up toward my insane, abusive boss that I didn’t have time to sink into the usual ennui. Instead I just developed general anxiety and routine bouts of irritable bowels. Also I was out in the daylight birding or on the farm almost every weekend and I have to consider that that helped a whole giant lot at the time.

This year I’m mad because the shit sneaked up on me in a mean, sudden way. I was doing fine, we were all fine, it was a fun year, I liked our town and we had a lot of visitors and everything was moving along and then I had this desultory Christmas and I just couldn’t get feeling festive. By the time we went to New York for New Year’s weekend I had completely lost all inclination to socialize and spent the weekend not talking to people and getting angry at Stan for no reason and crying all over Brooklyn. Even then I still didn’t get that This was It and it wasn’t until last weekend, the better part of which I spent in the apartment just sitting, staring, doing nothing (me not typically being a do-nothing kind of gal, when I am well anyway), without even the least inkling of a desire or idea swimming around in the fog that I began to consider that I may be depressed.

On Monday It began to affect my work, and that was the final straw. I cannot be low-functioning at this job. I cannot be slow or cloudy or God forbid cry- ever- at this job. Not at this firm. Not in this atmosphere of hyper-educated, highly ambitious, workaholic overachievers; I just can’t. Not only will it not fly; it’s not even conceivable. So if there’s not room for me to be foggy on the job, there is certainly not room for me to be abjectly miserable and weeping, or to think seriously every day about calling in sick, or to find I am speaking aloud without realizing it, saying things like, “I have no joy in me now,” because not only is that unacceptable at work but it’s also just really fucking embarrassing.

To be continued...

January 03, 2008

x365 #5: Tragicomic Sorrowful Drunk

I never knew you were my neighbor until I heard a loud crash, followed by wailing through my open window on a hot Kansas night. All night. It was like a song; like a chant, peppered with further crashes, pounding of fists and stamping of feet for percussive effect at key points of emphasis. My Mormon self was very disturbed, but the pre-post-Mormon self I was already nurturing understood you somehow. I'm sure you don't remember what you said that night, but I'll never be able to forget. It was this:

I don't want to live like this no more.
I don't want to live like this no more.
I don't want to LIVE like this no more.
I don't want to live like this no more.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry...

I don't want to live like this no more.
I don't want to live like THIS no more.

. . .

I don't want to live like this no more!
I don't want to live like this no more!
I want my FAMILY!
I want my WIFE!
I want everything!
I want my LIFE!

I don't want to live like this no more.
Idon'twanttolivelikethisnomoreIdon'twanttolivelikethisnomore.

I'm sorry I'm sorry.

I'm SORRY I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry...

. . .

I don't want to live like this no more.
I DON'T WANT TO LIVE LIKE THIS NO MORE!

I.
DON'T.
WANT.
TO.
LIVE.
LIKE.
THIS.
NO.
MORE!

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

I don't want to live like this no more.
I don't want to live like this no more...


The next morning I saw you come out your front door and cross the street straight into the liquor store. I never begrudged you that. It was too artistic to be held against you.

I suppose a lot of people will find this tale tragic, but my vote's for it being a comedy. Maybe a tragicomedy.



December 25, 2007

To Santa from me, circa 1984-ish

Dear_santa_2

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