"STRETCH OUT AND WAIT"

I threw my back out, and I wasn't even doing anything sexy or heroic. That's, as the very cool kids say, rather unfortch. I'll be aiight, though. I just need to make myself sit still and rest. (Yeah, right, that's totally gonna happen.)

So, today, I was sitting in my car, rocking out to Iggy & The Stooges, taking in the sunshine, and a dude drove past me and shouted love ya marry me you rock owwwww! Then passed me a second time and tried to shout his number at me. No, I mean he did shout his number at me, but I, obviously, didn't take note of it. Ew.

Otherwise, I got nothin' tonight. I'm chillin' with my cat.

Happy Solstice, if that's your thing.

"FIVE SECONDS TO SPARE"

Going through an old steno pad, I found the following scribbles, by my own hand. No clue.

"Sharpei Marxist-- funny idea!"

"Bee shit, stupid stuff"

"autonomous grumbles"

"if I see another chariots of Fire spoof, I'll die"

"disco drummer character"

"cat food, rice, cat food, lotion, cat food, tampons, don't forget the fucking cat food"

"cell bill isn't going to pay itself, Guthie"

Anyway.

News still positive out of Louisiana about my grandfather. We, my peeps, are tougher than we probably should be. I like that quite a bit.

Three men have just walked into this coffee shop and called the barista "boss" when he is actually the newest hire.

I am in the midst of a funny activity that I will be shortly be writing about. People are so predictable, aren't we?

"I WILL SEE YOU IN FAR OFF PLACES, OR, UH, MAYBE NOT"

My eyeball is totally doing this. Only on the outside half as opposed to the inside like this illustration shows. Bleh. Many of you know how creeped out I am by veiny, vesseley things. Bleh. Bleh. Bleh. I keep feeling my hands get weak and the tops of my feet feel precarious when I catch sights of this freak thing in the mirror.

Luckily, a little Googling seems to indicate that it isn't serious like this. And, the list of things that contributed to it can be narrowed down to one very good possibility:

"The use of alcohol or certain anticoagulants can contribute to a subconjunctival hemorrhage during the coughing or sneezing episodes."

I say this: When I sneeze, I sneeze again and again and again, rapid fire. So, let's consider that I've been in a different flora area sneezing my head off and hanging out, going out every single night... well. I think we have our answer, no?

I've got sneezy-boozey eye.

"STRETCH OUT AND WAIT"

Today was gloriously low-key. I ate a big lunch with my brother and grandparents. We drove out to the old farm (yes a farm) my grandmother grew up on, that still is a working farm, though they pay someone to run it, anymore. I was reminded of fun times goofing around in the swampy woods nearby and watching bees do their thing in the walls of the front room of the house. It's almost enough to make me want to buy an organic farm and say screw it.

Then I remember I don't know shit about farming.

I paid my respects to my great-grandmother at the cemetary, the woman who taught me to sew in the very room I sit in now. Women live a long-ass time in this family, that's for sure. Tough beyotches.

Anyway, I'm cooking dinner for everyone tonight. I love that my grandparents are so down with composting and living off the land. Calming. Mellow. Earthy.

"I DON'T MIND"

My brother is so talented with a camera. He made me look like a rockstar.

The reading last night at Sixth Street Live could not have possibly gone any better. The crowd came, a dear old friend gave me an introduction that brought tears to my eyes, we laughed, I read, we chatted, I sold many books, I had a great night. Last night earned the "favorite reading ever" title. For sure. Without a doubt.

In fact, I'm still kind of at a loss for words. Just a wonderful, gratifying, meaningful experience. Absolutely.

"STRETCH OUT AND WAIT"

If I sent you a text message between 1am and 5am, I sincerely apologize. Alcohol makes me chatty and hyper and, apparently, unable to read a watch.

So, I am pretty hungover. No, I was hungover, but I'm okay now, just a bit slow. My brother and I caught up with an old friend, made a couple of new friends, and drank our faces off last night. I drink socially, but last night, I seemed particularly exuberant and paid for that dearly this morning. Luckily, it wasn't anything a little breakfast covered in hot sauce didn't fix.

Prior to getting tanked up like a fratboy on a mission, Lil Brother and I went for veg sushi and hung out. Before that, we trekked around various parts of the city, soaking up the sunshine and sort of playing tourist, stumbling into a presidential memorabilia shop and leaving with cool 8x10s of FDR. Lovely times. The day began in one of the finer establishments in this area, the Ol' South Pancake House, which boasts the motto, "Sho good eatin'! Cain't be beaten!"

Today is one of those days I don't allow myself nearly enough of. We're hanging out. (Okay, my Lil Brother lives in Swanksylvania, so I am usurping his washer and dryer, so I suppose I am technically accomplishing something.) Lil Brother is in the other room playing the guitar. I'm typing and checking email, but not with too much urgency. It's all quite nice. We're going to track down a friend later, but for now, hanging out suits us both just fine.

"ANYTHING IS HARD TO FIND, WHEN YOU WILL NOT OPEN YOUR EYES"

I wonder, sometimes, how many emails I have deleted because the sender thought to be clever and use a subject line that looks like spam to me or my spam filter. Eh well.

Yesterday was a good day in so many ways, mainly because it toed a wonderful line between silliness and seriousness.

Though I knew Mermaid Head was super-busy and I only aimed to stay a short while then get out of her hair, catching up was lovely so our visit was most of the afternoon. We talked about SCUBA and adventures, discussed our treks (past and future) to the better beaches the world has to offer, a stubborn sewing machine thread, and everything else, really, and just existed for a few hours. I really like this about Mermaid Head-- she's the kind of friend to just sit and exist with. No deadlines, no stress, no stuff. Even stressful times are rather serene in her world because she's just earthy and genuine and un-fussy and open and non-judgemental, probably without even realizing. I admired her mama-to-be belly and, I think for the first time, thought about the quality of person she'll raise up into the world. This kid will be an astonishingly good person, that's for sure.

As a belated gift, Mermaid Head gave me "Lookin' Good For Jesus" lipbalm and a stabby Avenging Unicorn action set. Einstein now will have company on the road.

Then, off to celebrate Irish Ho's birthday. We went to dinner at a Thai place on Division and people-watched then off to a drink at a bar that once was low-key and off-the-beaten-path but apparently now is, uh, well... it was hosting (we learned after hanging out for a few hours) a late-night 80s retro night. Only the DJ was born in 1985, so I don't feel like I entirely agreed with his depiction of the 80s. Perhaps it was a bit 1989-1992. Maybe I was just painfully aware of a general lack of (a) Smiths (b) Cure (c) Joy Division, etc. Anyway, Irish Ho and I were joined by Super Sarah and the three of us snickered at complaints of the 1983 and under club such as, "Shaddup you 1986er, I was born in 1984! I'm totally feeling old!"

Finally, with the statement, "So, either we have to take some drugs or we have to leave." was issued, we made our exit, but not before a rather funny scene in the restroom. While waiting on line to pee, a pretty young blonde woman came in and took her place in line. A woman not having her finest moment, let's say, looked up and asked the blonde if she was on Top Model. Instead of a simple "yes" blondie comes back with a huge Miss America grin and replies, "THANK YOU. I was." and the two have the weirdest conversation that involved the preoccupied woman asking many questions and the blonde thanking her for compliments never issued, then half-complaining that her weekly shooting schedule was brutal.

I don't know. I left with Super Sarah and Irish Ho, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in a sense. We're past the phase where it's fashionable to try to convey maturity with complaints of feeling old, but rather at a point where it feels good to be independent and feel healthy. We're a little tougher than we were a decade ago and have had a decade plus to have gotten our respective shit in order. We've already had a few adventures and learned to rise above some petty nonsense and enjoy things as they come. It's a good era, that's for sure.

But, I'll admit that it was nice to be carded, too. Har. We parted ways, but only after giggling that we all remembered the words to a particular Motley Crue song and singing it for a moment on the street corner to the dismay of passersby. Mature, see?

Serious, silly, serious, silly. Just as it should be.

"AS I LIVE AND BREATHE, YOU HAVE KILLED POTENTIALLY CURSED ME"

Folks, I have had a very long and slightly (okay very) weird day. And, I still have a ways to go. Let me see if I can get this whole schpiel out.

I got a lot of stuff done, for starters. And, managed to have a whole lot of fun in the process. I started out at Cafe Maspero for the veggie mufaletta, as soon as they opened. Then, I walked and walked and covered the entire French Quarter, just clipping along and taking it all in. I took a few pics for you, too:







Okay, then the tiny dead frog marks where things start getting a little iffy. I walked about a block and saw another chicken bone and laughed, thinking about how months ago, we all joked here on this blog that I had been cursed after finding a chicken bone and now here I am finding a chicken bone in the French Quarter en route to the Vodou museum.



I am walked past a group of men sitting on a stoop eating lunch. As I pass, one of them does a hey-mama-you-re-the-prettiest-lady-in-the-quarter catcall, which I ignore. so, as I pass, he mutters something about regretting ignoring him and he throws a handful of something at my feet! I stop and look at my feet, covered in bits of something that looks like flower petals, granola, breadcrumbs, beans, shells and gravel. What did you throw? What was that? I demand. All the men grinned and laughed and the man responsible for the toss laughs and says You'll find out soon enough.

What! The! Fuck!?

I'm not too superstitious, but you know, why take chances with these sort of things. And besides, I don't know what he did. Did he curse me? Hex me? Bless me? Charm me? I don't know. (Moral of the story kids: Sleep with everyone who whistles at you or you'll be cursed. Wait, no! That's terrible advice. Nevermind.) So, I pressed on to my Vodou place, which only runs on appointment since Katrina. So, I went to the nearby Vodou shops.

The first one I entered, the woman behind the counter, I kid you not, averts her eyes! I greet her pleasantly and she still averts her eyes and asks, a bit agressively, what I need from the store. I felt like I was being pushed out before I was even started. So weird. But, it was interesting enough to stick around. I mean, short of calling the cops or pulling a shiv, she can't make me leave, right? Right. So, I mill around the shop, looking at the odds and ends and dolls and altars and noticed that the majority seems more Santarist than Vodun and wondered about the reported increase of the hispanic population lately and wondered if there was a connection there.

Anyway, she still won't look at me. And, it's kind of freaking me out because she is behaving normally to other customers. So, I sort of hover near the couter and try to ask her some questions about different items, but she still won't look at me. She goes to the back, I hear a muffled conversation, comes out and still nothing! I really don't know what to think at this point, so I start working my way towards to door when she asks me, again pretty demandingly, what I need. Then she tells me-- holy shit, you guys are going to flip out-- she tells me that my "energy" overpowers her energy. What? I started to say something like, Sorry, I didn't realize, I mean, I didn't mean to but she went back to the agro customer service.

I'm not saying she was sane, I'm not saying she was nuts. I'm also not saying this is related to the dead frog or the chicken bone, or the guy throwing stuff at me, but the fact remains that these things all happened together and they are all rather abnormal events. Yes?

Anyway, I split. I went to two other Vodou shops, and a slew of other shops in the area then strolled along the Riverwalk for a litle fresh air, spotting the Aquarium. Water. Yes, water and fishes and plants and shit. That's exactly what will undo the weird-weird.











(This is a section from a whole-wall, two-story fountain in the lobby of the Aquarium. Uh, would anyone be interested in re-creating this for me in my home? No? Eh, well. Worth a shot.)



(This is from the inside of the Aquarium, too. I am loving the bolts in the wall.)





And, before heading back to my hotel for a bit, I stopped at the Holocaust memorial beside the Mississippi. There was a nice breeze and sunshine... and suddenly a teenager shouted to his friends, Damn, it stinks like butt crack here!



Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez, as they say.

"REEL AROUND THE FOUNTAIN"

It is slightly unnerving to me when I stay up really late and manage to wake up very early and without the prompting of an alarm. Ah, but let me tell you. I woke up sprawled in the center of the greatest king-sized bed ever. I am thinking that my queen-sized bed's days could be numbered. Man, the sleeping is good here.

Anyway, so last night was a scream. I found good company then an excellent veggie burger at Coop's, poked around the Louisiana supreme court building (the statue out front is really menacing and creepy), strolled the antique shops and art galleries of Royal Street, strolled past Cafe du Monde but didn't stop (will do, though, fear not), Jackson Square and its pretty green gardens, all the way down Decatur Street, had my obligatory hurricane on Bourbon Street plus a few other sips here and there as I popped around (couldn't tell you where) laughed at the sight of The Frat House bar, the totally seedy strip clubs (these really skeeved me) and the delightfully lively drag crowd and managed to make it back to my hotel in one piece.

I understand there is a VooDoo museum that I was dangerously close to last night. I must check that out. Long-time readers might recall I think Vodou is really interesting. I feel like I should go just to offset this image from last night-- crossing the street, I look over and realize a powerfully-lit Jesus statue is positioned to make a giant Jesus shadow on the building at night. That'll make ya jump. A good dose of Vodou might balance that out for me, karmically, right?

But today is about work. I'm sure I'll sneak in an adventure as I pop around working and getting my weekend stuff lined up, but for now, away I go.

Oh, and if you're interested, the lit fest is being blogged if you want to keep up with the particulars. I've, ahem, already gotten a tiny, tiny shoutout.

"SWEET AND TENDER HOOLIGAN"

Today I had one of those check-everything-off-the-list-and-achieve-a-balance-of-fun-and-work kind of days. So, here at the end of my day, I feel the best kind of tired. But, there was, ah, a few minutes this evening with a friend of mine that involved us pressing our ears against a garage door thinking we were hearing abandoned puppies. No, we in fact did not hear puppies but we did hear bats. And they, the bats, very suddenly popped out and scared the shit out of us.

Mind you, I like bats. I would even say that I love bats. But having a bunch of bats pop out and get up in your grill in the dark is not as cool as it sounds like it would be. However, it is monumentally funny a few minutes later.

"SWEET AND TENDER HOOLIGAN & MIXED UP 18"

Oh, you saw this one coming. This week's "If It Could Only Still Be Socially Acceptable To Make A Mix Tape, This Is What I Would Put On One This Week" Saturday is, quite predictably, in honor of my shower challenges this week.

1. Shower The People/James Taylor
2. Digital Bath/Deftones
3. Shower Your Love/Kula Shaker
4. Bath/Bjork
5. Water/P.J. Harvey
6. Public Bath/Shonen Knife
7. Shower Me With Your Love/Foxy Brown
8. Bath Music/Greyboy
9. Standing In The Shower... Thinking/Electro Addiction
10. Buddha Bath/Bhangralution
11. Shine, Shave, Shower (It's Saturday)/Lefty Frizzell
12. Strange Bath/Jon Brion
13. Shower Scene/Saint Etienne
14. Rain Shower/Sizzla
15. Blood Bath/Cocteau Twins

Now, everyone get a cup of coffee and settle in because I have to recount my adventures of yesterday to you and bring you up on some adventures today. Okay.

Sometimes things pop up on Shabbes that I do decide to attend. I don't really go out on Shabbes, other than to go to synagogue and such, but once in a while, if something comes up, I will. Last night, I went to a wonderful little gathering thrown by the very lovely and fun Bookslut. I brought dear Accidentally Jewish along because (a) most importantly, she is my friend and I enjoy her company and (b) she help keeps me gregarious when I sometimes feel inclinded to clam up at occasions such as cocktail parties.

As I have blogged many times, I am working hard to overcome a fear of cocktail/schmoozey settings because I often clam up and say too little or I feel like I just ramble on about nonsense, boring everyone to tears. I am happy to report that after the art opening I attended a few weeks ago that went so swimmingly I did just fine last night, even forgetting that cocktail settings make me nervous and managing to have some fun and meet a few new people. Could it be that I am making leaps and bounds in the fear-of-schmooze arena?

Anyway, I'm getting off topic here. Accidentally Jewish and I had a wonderful time and after we bid our hostess goodnight, we realized it had been hours and hours since dinner and a little late-night breakfast was in order. So, we plopped down in the booth of a nearby diner and became engrossed in a serious conversation about how the lack of running water this week really made me feel behind in my work at an already terribly busy time. She was just generously offering to lend a hand if there was anyway she could when suddenly a very loud and very drunk broham fratboy came in and was seated a few booths away. Then another came in. Then another with a date. Then another couple. And another. Suddenly, Accidentally Jewish and I were confronted with the realization that we were going to have to eat our breakfast with a lot of shouting nearby.

(As another aside here, once, maybe a summer ago, Accidentally Jewish and I were dragged into a fratty bar by two friends who were in stitches to see us (me and AJ) immediately lock arms and whimper, victimized by one too many traumatic teasings years and years ago by the jocks in Jr. High and High school, for as I am sure you know, and although it only built our character in the end, nerdy girls get picked on as kids.)

Anyway, there we were with the popular kids, and they were wasted and noisy. Suddenly, the perhaps drunkest/dumbest of the crew, was heard saying to the waitress, "Can I have some gizz? Like a side of gizz? You know what I mean? Gizzum?" Can I will pay any of the cooks in the back to gizz on this guy's (points) food."

But, he was jus getting started! He then shouted for a few minuts about seeing a hair enclosed in his menu and assured the entire restaurant that he had stumbled upon a "long fuckin' pube" and asked us all to join him in imagining said incorrectly-labeled hair "wrapped around and all fucked up around some guy's junk and stuff".... did I mention AJ and I were trying to eat breakfast? I did. Right.

But then, another liquored-up broham aproached our table, squatted as if to slide into the booth next to me but proceeded to pantomime taking a shit ont he floor next to me. "What are you doing?" I shot at him. He waved my protests aside and continued his improv quest, adding the prop of a paper napkin to show us how he wipes his ass. Our shocked protests continued until he turned to rejoin his little club.

Delightful.

We sat, shocked, a nearby table of faux-hawked women taking a moment to make eye contact with me to express their contempt. The manager read the look on my face and came over to assure us he'd keep a close eye on the large group and that throwing them out would probably make this worse, but that he was indeed on top of things. Okay. So, we sat and finished eating and talked a bit more about this and that between shouts of, "I honestly believe a midget will come out of nowhere, and kill you" and, "Fuck that midget, dude, that was a bunch of bullshit" and, "Miss? Excuse me? I would like to poop on that guy's face" and, "Ask me how many girls I've hooked up this month and then ask the person to your right how many girls he's hooked up with this month and just see who the fuckin' man is" and, "Like 800 chicks, dude" and, "Dude. Yo, fuckhead, were we in San Diego this month or last month"...

Just drivel. Just nonsense. But wait! Fratboy broham was coming back! And he seemed surlier than before, and since the our shock had by then worn off from the improvised toilet ritual, we were far more prepared this time. He approached and said, "Listen ladies.." and before he could say another word, I wiggled my neck with a stern pointer finger and prepared to launch into my customary, "Okay, first of all..." Bronx-style monologue when Accidentally Jewish, no-nonsense badass that she is, fired off with, "Get the fuck away from this table. Seriously. Just get the fuck away from us." When he began to protest, she continued, "No, just get. The FUCK. Away." louder and louder until he put up his paws in defense and backed away, mumbling something about a lack of charm school.

A small group of endearingly nerdy couples came in and sat nearby, regarding the fraternity meeting-in-progress with the same sort of contempt.

We sat silently, nibbling on our breakfasts, and I tried not to smirk as I basked in the light of her badassitude. Finally, I whispered, "That was badass." She said something back about adrenaline waking her up more than coffee at that hour, not that I heard her over the din of chatter about midgets, claims of great sexual prowess and shouted orders to the poor waitress and the group's unnervingly quiet dates. Oh, and the faux-hawked women's shouted rendition of Sweet Caroline before being hushed by the manager. We sat in the tension for a few minutes, waiting to have insults hurled at us before I giggled and whispered, "Okay, if anything happens, you go get the table of nerds, I'll get the singing lesbians."

Avoiding any further nonsense, we left, and left the poor waitress a good tip, hoping it would make up for the bad tip she would probably get from the fratboys.

I woke up this morning and my shower would not work. So it goes. So it goes.

"AS I LIVE AND BREATHE"

Last night, I was a little pissy about the week of clanking pipes, no water, bailing water, the total mess that was left in my apartment after all the repairs, how behind I felt (since the clanking certainly lessened my ability to focus) and I just got hit with the weight of the week and just felt ungood.

A bit later, I got into the car, drove out into the well-below-zero weather late at night because I realized I hadn't seen Lake Michigan this winter. I don't live terribly far from the lake, so I was there in minutes. I didn't want to hang around and see anything (what was there to see, afterall?) so after clomping up a snowdrift to get a good view of the iced-over water, I ran back to the car (brrrr) and took off.

Now, the lakefront parks in Chicago are wonderful and lovely, but in the winter, at night, they are hard to navigate. Is that an exit road or a bike trail? Is that a snowed-over parking lot or a frozen pond? You have to consider these things. And, while I thought that is precisely what I was doing, I still managed to find myself driving along the running trails in northern Lincoln Park, following sharp turns and dodging trees. I've run these trails many times in warm weather, but this is, without a doubt, the first time I have driven on them. Once, I realized my error I couldn't just turn around when there was surely a road crossing just up ahead... up here... no, it's just a little bit more... finally.

Finally, I found an actual driving road crossing the paths and got myself street legal minutes before driving by a cop, as he headed into the park himself. Heh, he probably heard there was a crazy woman joy riding around the running trails and had to see for himself.

"SHYNESS CAN STOP YOU"

Thoughts on the new pic over there to the right? Eh, something different. I'm all about staleness prevention. So, I still have very little to report. Type, type, type... but at least I'm getting there. In fact, I'm nearly finished with edits and rewrites. For now at least. I'm sure something will pop up at the eleventh hour, but for now, I have a sense of accomplishment.

I went to brunch this morning with three creative ladies at a fantastic hippie cafe. We laughed and managed to offend everyone nearby with conversation like: the endless possibilities of vaginal anomonopia, dumb kids, smart kids, baptists, republicans, the theory behind the refusal to make-out with or perform oral sex on a non-vegetarian, armpit hair, fiber-optic/black velvet Our Lady of Guadalupe paintings, bands, MySpace, the effects of coffee on the bowels, Morrissey, how hilarious it would be to talk like Morrissey sings for an entire day, a dude that wasn't worth feuding over, dudes, girls, my approachig family reunion, my grandparents, vibrators, pride v. shame when shopping for sex toys, cats, widespread assholism, sublets, Shakespeare, whether or not, "Shabbat Shalom. Your hair is fabulous!" is an okay name for a cat, Promises, Promises by Naked Eyes and whether or not it is an "awesome" song, The Pineapple Theory, neighborhoods, subway train lines, cell phones on vibrate.

I suppose you had to be there. Anyway, back to the type, type, type...