Wed, Oct. 12th, 2005, 05:34 pm
organs for sale
we've been in texas almost a month, and even after the car got totalled last week, i've been doing an okay job keeping my panic about money pretty well tamped down. i was actually still kind of enjoying my joblessness until this afternoon when i got turned down for another library job and brushed off by the same bookstore that had scheduled an interview with randall an hour earlier. it is confounding that i somehow got my clumsy ass into the toughest derby league in the country, but i can't get a foot in the door doing something i actually know i'm good at. something'll come through soon and i'll feel stupid for feeling sorry for myself today, but for the time being i am in need of a pep talk and the money for a case of beer.
less angstily: as of last sunday i'm a honky tonk heartbreaker
, and i think my butt might just hurt for the rest of my life. ice is nice!
Tue, Sep. 20th, 2005, 11:56 am
i'm a texas rollergirl
shock. shockity shit. wow.
i spent yesterday all upset because my tryout went bad and i was going to have to find some other socially acceptable way to get my iron thigh/knocking people on the ground jollies, but it turns out i just missed the call while i was drowning my disappointment in lonestar and video games. oops.
yesterday i also applied for a job at the ransom center since the one i was gunning for coming down here didn't work out, and randall and i got bank accounts finally. things are totally alright despite the fact that the new fridge keeps freezing our produce and we have a toilet tank full of weird, water-loving ants.
now i am going to go eat migas and drink coffee until my bladder pops.
Thu, Sep. 15th, 2005, 03:35 pm
i am in austin and i haven't gotten hot sauce in my eye even once yet. score!
i will post pictures of our apartment soon. it is impressive not only because of the orange counters and wood paneling, but because somehow we managed to cram all our crap into a place with only ONE closet for storage. we hung the arnold palmer picture before we stocked the fridge and we got dsl before hot water. our priorities are right, i think.
i am alive and not in michigan anymore. happy, happy days!
Wed, Nov. 3rd, 2004, 03:52 pm
1) hijack truck full of RU-486
2) learn kung fu and wilderness survival
3) find foreign lover
4) stop snickering every time someone says "christian taliban." that is important breath that could be spent screaming at the television/radio/computer
5) buy lozenges for throat (see 4)
6) take a huge, nasty dump in ohio
7) buy more whiskey
Fri, Oct. 22nd, 2004, 12:16 pm
your man, he is
jaysus. last weekend randall and i came home from breakfast and opened soulseek to find that someone was downloading leonard cohen's jazz police
from us. i think jazz police
is the only leonard cohen song on our computer. it is there because it sounds like a shitty casio demo and it made me cry with laughter the first time i heard it (and had been drinking w/o sleeping for three days prior). Jazz police are looking through my folders
Jazz police are talking to my niece
Jazz police have got their final orders
Jazzer, drop your axe, it's Jazz police!
"It took 9 years (1979-1988) for the song to develop and be recorded; a testament to Cohen's well know practice of working and reworking pieces of poetry and songs in time consuming detail."
Thu, Sep. 30th, 2004, 04:17 pm
i hurt my foot. every day this week at about 4:00 i have started to daydream about a bag of ice and three advil. the foot feels tight and squeaky on the inside, and squeaky foot is definitely worse than creaky/crunchy knee or gimpy hip. some intrepid young noise musician should get a contact mic on me and make beautiful noise music from my swollen, undercartiledged pain.
last night i got hit on by an octogenarian. at the time it seemed ludicrous and funny, but not so much now that i'm thinking about how i creak and crack and limp around. pappy and i were both drinking to dull the pain (the literal pain, not the pansy-ass figurative pain) of living. y'all boys ain't even understand.
Fri, Sep. 24th, 2004, 10:10 am
yesterday i saw myself acknowleged in a book (a biography of voltairine de cleyre
!) for the first time. the only slightly disappointing thing about it is that they chose not to use one of the the pictures we provided them of vdc lookin' all homely and making a cat wave at the camera.
this morning i also had to help my first patron who wanted to look at dirty pictures of nekkid wimmins. it has been a banner week.
Sat, Sep. 11th, 2004, 11:27 am
when i was 14 or 15 years old, my father and i had far too many conversations that went like this:
dad: "i just don't get the music you kids listen to these days. you can't understand the words, and even if you could there's no message. the music i listened to when i was your age meant something."
franki: *sullen stare out the window* "whatever, dad."
dad: "your generation has no john lennon. what are they going to play on the oldies stations in 20 years? none of what you listen to has any lasting appeal. like this. what is this on the radio right now?"
franki: "nirvana. it's nirvana. GOD. you'll never understand me."
dad: "do you think people will be listening to this when you're 40? i can't imagine it. there's no substance."
last weekend at dinner he lamented the fact that nextell doesn't offer BTO's "takin' care of business" as a ring tone.
Wed, Sep. 8th, 2004, 12:35 pm
i went to a wedding reception last weekend. it was sweet and i cried. i am a wedding crier.
i bought the bride and groom a case of two (three here in michigan) buck chuck because i am the classiest friend anyone has ever had. my mom helped me wrap it in (classy) brown paper and was worried that we weren't doing a neat enough job and that my ugly gift was going to be a black mark on the Very Special Day. she told me that it was too bad that the safe sex store
in ann arbor was closed and i couldn't get them something there.
i looked at her in horror. "it's still open. you just must not be looking for it when you come for lunch. ... and NO. no. i will never be at the point in my life when i feel okay giving a sincere gift of massage oil. NEVER. no." she said "we'll see," and rewrapped my half of the box.
my legs are pitted with scars from when i was younger and obsessed with scabs and blood. for years, i could not get bitten by a mosquito without clawing a bloody crater where the bite was and cultivating a thick scab for the rest of the summer. i remember sitting in a sun beam in the house where i grew up pulling scabs off my legs and tie-dying kleenexes in blood for fun. i'd often sit and watch scabs form, which is about as fun as it sounds. the point where the blood would just be solidifying and would be like thick pudding was my favorite. to this day i have a hard time leaving scabs alone. the tattoo was torture. those were some good ones -- unique because they were black with ink.
i don't know why i'm thinking about this tonight. i'm tired. maybe i will join some body mod communities because i am obviously so totally into that shit.