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Archive for September, 2000

 
|| September 25, 2000 || 10:09 am || Comments (0) ||

Oh oh deep water / Black and cold like the night / I stand with arms wide open / I’ve run a twisted line / I’m a stranger in the eyes of the Maker

I could not see for the fog in my eyes / I could not feel for the fear in my life / And from across the great divide

In the distance I saw a light / Jean Baptiste walking to me with the Maker

My body is bent and broken / By long and dangerous sleep / I can’t work the fields of Abraham / And turn my head away / I’m not a stranger in the hands of the Maker

Brother John, can you seen the hopeless daughters / Standing there with broken wings / I have seen flaming swords there over east of Eden

Burning in the eyes of the Maker / Burning in the eyes of the Maker / Burning in the eyes of the Maker

Oh river rise / From your sleep

// Daniel Lanois, “The Maker

 
|| September 25, 2000 || 9:23 am || Comments (0) ||

MAKING B.L.T. SAMMICHES

Him: “I am making some vegetarian bacon here if you would rather have it than that.”
*waggles finger at the package of pork bacon that I am holding*
*I dance around with the package gleefully, pretending to lick it*
Him: “Yeah, well, it’s not gonna be so funny when you have colon cancer.”
Me: “NO…no, it’s not. What’s gonna be funny is when you’re having to tote my colostomy bag around for me. That’ll be DAMNED funny.”
Him: “Do you HEAR yourself sometimes? DO YOU??”

No one understands me. No one.

 
|| September 21, 2000 || 4:25 pm || Comments (0) ||

Oh yeah, Unx asked me just what I thought of this discussion…like, “Hey, what’s your stance on this issue?”

I would like to post my own query….just what DO you think my opinion is? E-mail me or ICQ me (the digits are 61954884) with your guesses….maybe I will post some with my response at a later date. Catch you on the flip side.

 

“You’re a celestial being who’s slumming between jobs. You like your associates, although it’s hard not to feel superior. When it’s time to perform, they won’t have the vocabulary to describe what you’re doing.” So sayeth the horrorscope. Makes me laaaaaaaugh, d00d.

Had a great day today! I am lucky to be me today! YAYAYAY!

And, uh, I despise my postie, too….

 
|| September 17, 2000 || 9:54 am || Comments (0) ||

I woke up and all was well. I got into the shower and all was well. I got out of the shower and somewhere in the process of toweling off and brushing my teeth, the day just took a slide. Happens every so often. I eschewed the family outing to go shopping Huntsville, something that I never do. I don’t really know why this day turned ass-up; I am usually on such an even keel emotionally. The only thing I can figure is that it is about time for my muse (Delores?) to visit and I am gearing up for the creative whirlwind that is about to sweep in by downshifting.

I went to mass. I’m not even Catholic and I went to mass. I pulled on some Levi’s and a Mets cap and a loud orange t-shirt with long sleeves. I ate Doritos and listened to Ned’s Atomic Dustbin on the way there. I think God likes Doritos and Ned’s Atomic Dustbin; how do you think that he feels about the Mets?

 
|| September 17, 2000 || 12:51 am || Comments (0) ||

Welcome to my latest adventure. I just so happen to be fresh off of it; it is ripe to the touch and ready for the telling.

I went out for a pack of smokes. It was late for around here, 12:30 a.m., so I had to  make a 7-mile trip, passing several darkened stores along the way. I pulled into the parking lot of my destination, a Shell station with a Sneaky Pete’s attached. Just so happens that I was the only patron in attendance at that particular time…. I saw through the plate glass that the guy on duty was working a mop with a great deal of fervor.

I happen to take note of these things, who KNOWS why.

I strolled in, leaving the car running because I really liked the song that was on the radio at the time (“Shout” ~you remember, the Tears for Fears jinga-linga-ling~ as rendered by Disturbed). I had a twenty dollar bill clamped in my hand; the minute my hand hit the doorpull the guy stowed the mop and bucket and he was behind the counter before my clad-in-heavy-boot foot even hit the first tile. He didn’t acknowledge me, and I returned the favor.

I prowled up and down the the aisles created in miniature for the rat race shopper (coincidence that these stores are mindful of mouse mazes when you really think about it? I think not, kind reader…). I really only set out for cigarettes, but my brain saw fit to alert me to the fact that I’d not eaten anything since 10 a.m. on day previous, so I searched for the suitable snack in
Carbohydrate Land. I finally settled on a Hershey’s with almonds and headed for the formica.

I placed the hunka nutty chocolate on the countertop along with my slightly-crumpled bill and said in my mostest politest tone,

“Packa Marbro Lights in a box, please.”
Dude looked me in the face and replied, “I need to see your I.D.”

I muttered, “Just a sec, I gotta go to the car.” and I walked out to find just where the hell it is that I may have stashed my heavily-abused plastic ticket to legal drinking and driving (but not both at the same time, Heavens NO). I placed it on the counter as he was ringing my purchases and said “I KNOW that I look older than 19.” I know he knew so; his eyes had slid all over me the entire time
that I was in the store.

“Yes you DO” was his simpily-delivered reply,”I’m just doing my job.”  Now, normally I would not DREAM of giving someone shit for just trying to do their job, but this was different. He was being a prick. He was doing it just for the sake of doing it, not for
the purpose that it was created. I know this because I have been in this same store any number of times, at any given time of the day. Not ONCE have I ever been carded there. NOT ONCE. Not even the time that 2 cops were standing within 3 feet of me waiting to pay for cappuccino and struedel (DON’T ASK. That’s a whole other rant waiting to boil over).

This guy was a disgruntled peon worker bee and it was my turn to profit from his angst. FUCK a DUCK. I love being in close proximity to the sheep that has just figured out that its collar is way toofucking tight. The word ‘tight’ triggers in him/her/it a physical reaction that prompts his/her/its lips and asshole to illustrate said word.

I stood there and took my change. I unwrapped half the candy bar, broke it off, laid the half down on the counter.

“Here. Sounds like you need a little boost in the serotonin levels.”

I turned to walk out and he called after me,”I have to ask if you are under thirty.”

My reply? “Well, my I.Q. is well above that, so now you know!” He began saying something else, but  I turned to face the slowly-closing door and placed my palm on it. I closed it purposefully. It angers me that someone is so pissy about their job, but they make no effort to change it. Some people willingly stand there while their brains and egos and bodies and attitudes rot. They make no effort to better their position (prone is only suitable for martyrs and sleep, boys and girls…REMEMBER that). Sessile is so convenient, so fucking easy. If you are unhappy, slap it into B for Boogie and get the hell outta there. Can I get an “AMEN”?

I happened to catch sight of his vehicle, a beat-up minivan that spoke of its owner’s lack of a merciful fate/existence and my acidic thoughts in reference to him sort of drained away. My measured clunking across the parking lot softened into steps and I think I thought, “So THAT’s it.”

I turned onto the highway to head home and pulled a final glance in. It was amazing. He picked up the chocolate bar and began to eat it. *boggle*

 
|| September 16, 2000 || 3:50 pm || Comments (0) ||

All day today there have been people running around in the woods surrounding my humble abode shooting off what sounds like some large weaponry. Please consider the following:

  • I have no problem with people running around in the woods.
  • I have no problem with people popping off rounds from weaponry of any sort, large OR small.
  • The problem comes in when they do either (most especially BOTH) in close proximity to my home. ESPECIALLY when it is done all fucking day.

    Surely they don’t want me to pull out my large weaponry and come looking for them. Surely. They. Don’t. ///MORE LATER…///