Might as well call me a Krispy Kreme Donut Worker....not that's there's anything wrong with that...

There is something innately wrong with being up in the morning even before God!

I might just lose my brain today.

Skills...I got 'em

"All I've got is humor," I said tonight while at a friend's house cutting her hair.

"That's not true," she smiled, "you know how to cut hair, too. And without any proper training."

"Fine," I respond, huffily, "All I've got is humor and hair cutting skills. That's never going to land me a woman."

I've decided. I've decided that I'm working a random job making good money, will be out on my own soon in a city that is fucking ridiculous, can cut hair for reasonable prices, have no clue what graduate school program will ever suit me, and have friends that make zero sense but make me incredibly happy. I've decided that I am content, but at the same time, I have no idea what the fuck is going on every minute of every hour of every day. *shoulder shrug*

I am a Life Coach...when did this happen?

I have spent the better portion of the day trying to convince myself that I a) do not have stomach ulcers, b) am not a tool and c) am a charming individual.

It all started when I got home this morning, and my mom told me that the huge lump that has been on my left ankle for the last year is probably cancerous and that I need to go to the doctor to get it checked out. Then she went on to describe that my stomach aches are probably peptic ulcers. After downing four Tums and a Gas-X, I went up to my room with a huge glass of water and changed into some sweat pants. Then one of my best friends called me and said the following, "Since I've now decided that you're my Life Coach, I need you to solve my problems." Later, another good friend of mine, who I haven't spoken to all summer, called me to hear about my latest drama sagas (which in my mind negates my supposed abilities to be a successful or even somewhat helpful Life Coach--but no one listens to me anyway). Her response was validation of my charming personality, and then she promptly hung up on me.

So, what is a girl to do? Naturally, she is to watch Bravo television all evening. The line up included several Project Runway episodes which were followed by a showing of Legally Blonde (which I have now watched twice in a row). I'm going to bed, maybe my dreams will validate my existence. And if not, at least maybe I won't be so grouchy in the morning.

The world has become a mass of moving self-centered bitchiness (i.e. Civilization and It's Discontents should be recoined to the following:

I am Discontented with Civilization. Ugh

When you go to your local grocery store to purchase alcohol or cigarettes, don't you expect to be carded? Don't you especially expect this since it's the law for whomever is selling you one of those substances to card you?

If and when you got carded, would you have the gall to look the salesperson in the eye and tell them to fuck off?!

Yea, if you answered no to that last question, then we can totally be friends, if not, then don't talk to me ever again. Or at least don't talk to me today.

i don't hardly know you but i'd be willing to show you i know a way to make you smile

As is my routine (sadly enough) after running my library errands today, I went by my fruit stand on Doc Bramblett. Mr. Peach Pusher was out of peaches. *sigh* So he gave me an orange. He prefaced the gift by saying that it would be the best orange I'd ever eat. He was right. It was seedless, sweet, easy to peel and the slices separated quite easily. I ate it at my field up the road from the fruit stand.

Often I go to this field (to eat peaches/oranges) to think.


Today, when I arrived, I got so excited. The cows were out! I actually yelled this in my car. alone. to no one in particular. I was pleased to see that the port-o-potties were gone, also. So, I sat under a tree and moo'd at the cows and ate my orange. The cows were really confused about my presence. Also, I thought about sharing the orange, but I don't think the bull would have had it. The girl cows seemed happy to see me. I didn't have my camera but this is kinda what they looked like. Please note the boy cow is on the right and the girl cow is on the left (I figured I should probably not worry about drawing cow genitalia, just cuz that would be kinda creepy and plus I'm not a vet or anything). The girl cow also has rouged lips, just cuz I thought this would help the differentiation?

captions read:
Girl Cow: "Yay!"
Boy Cow: "What the fuck? also, she smells funny..."

if there's something you want to hear, you can sing it yourself

Eventual Proteus

I held you
through all your shifts
of structure: while your bones turned
from caved rock back to marrow,
the dangerous
fur faded to hair
the bird's cry died in your throat
the treebark paled from your skin
the leaves from your eyes

till you limped back again
the daily man:
a lounger on streetcorners
in iron-shiny gabardine
a leaner on stale tables;
at night a twitching sleeper
dreaming of crumbs and rinds and a sagging woman
caged by a sour bed.

The early
languages are obsolete.

These days we keep
our weary distances:
sparring in the vacant spaces
of peeling rooms
and rented minutes, climbing
all the expected stairs, our voices
abraded with fatigue,
our bodies wary.

Shrunk by my disbelief
you cannot raise
the green gigantic skies, resume
the legends of your disguises:
this shape is final.

Now, when you come near
attempting towards to me across
these sheer cavernous
inches of air

your flesh has no more stories
or surprises;

my face flinches
under the sarcastic
tongues of your estranging
fingers,
the caustic remark of your kiss.

--Margaret Atwood (Selected Poems, 1965-1975)

Story: "The Library" by Joely

He drifted, as he often did, when he found himself in the library. Up more and more staircases, to get lost in the older less renovated upper stories. Away from the clacking keys and hushed whispers of everyone, everyone else who only came to libraries now because they had to or because they needed to but not because they felt or wanted to feel anything.

They were like tourists in a cathedral.

Upstairs the hallways no one went down and no one remembered were darker and smaller but somehow grander and stronger than the rooms downstairs. Up there, the stone walls and squeaking wood floors had not been replaced with plaster and tile and lit by the sterile glow of fluorescent lighting. The brass fixtures that lit or were supposed to light the upstairs rooms were more often out than not, and in their warm glow, he could see rows and rows of old books. He'd never been in this room before. It was one of the many that contained the valuable books that had never been allowed to leave the library and now, forgotten were moldering in their graves. He loved these rooms of the library and the things he could find there. He leaned up against a box to think and it, being lighter than he'd assumed, slid away from him along the wall. He jumped up, shocked at what he'd discovered. The box, only half full of parts of old books and papers, was about half the height of a door and had been concealing exactly that. The bottom half of an old carved wood door he'd failed to notice, covered the top half. He was pleased with his discovery having never been this far into the library, and pleased that there was even more to be discovered. He twisted the ornate brass doorknob and pulled open the door.

"Come on in, and we'll find yours" said the last thing in the world he expected to see, an old man in wire rimed glasses behind a desk in the messiest room in the world. "What" the boy asked. "We'll find what it is you're looking for. A book, right?" the man asked, as if he already knew the answer and started digging through the piles and shelves of papers, books, pictures, music sheets, and other debris littering the room. All the while muttering to himself as if he was making a mockery or looking for something, but knowing where it was the whole time, pretending he didn't.

"Where could it be?"

"It's got to be here."

"Oops that's not it," the man stood up and came over to the boy. "There it is!" he yelled and reached his hand straight at the boys chest, however he must have seen it wrong because before the boy could look down, the mans hand was holding an enormous book that must have come off a shelf behind him. The boy had seen it wrong. The man must have reached a little to the left or right of him and it had only seemed like he had reached into him. "Who are you?" asked the boy. The old man looked old and wise as he thought, "I suppose I'm the reason people come to this place" he said. "But what reason is that?" asked the boy. The man laughed, "If I could tell you that, how could you tell anyone else?" "And you just sit around in this room in the library all day?" the boy wondered. "Ah, a library," said the man, "Is that where we are." He looked pleased. At first, the man had seemed old and neglected, but now seemed spritely, alive, and full of potential. It was as if the old man mirrored the boy's interest in him. "Here's your book," said the man, who, with ease handed the book to the boy who at once dropped the heavy thing. "I can't lift it" said the boy, "I can't open it, either." "You'll have to do better than that," said the man, "if you're going to get it out of here, and it won't do you any good in here." The man looked sadly down at the boy as he tried again to pull the book out of the room.

....to be continued? (I'll try to convince Joel to finish the story, but in the mean time I thought it was a nice ponderant piece and also, I just love libraries).