there is no goodbye, bobo and salma

so i'm away from my dogs. no walkies or treats or morning belly-rubs until at least thanksgiving.

the last night before i left, i was snuggling with bobo before bedtime, and salma was asleep at my feet. i started to get sad, and then i said:
"nope.
no more time for crying.
at least not whle we're together."

and yesterday, bobo and i did our morning routine, even though it was much earlier than usual. the alarm goes off, and he looks at me and waits for me to say good morning. when i say it, he comes over to me and snugs up on his back for belly rubs. if i stop petting him, he'll nudge me with his nose. then i'll say "g'morning bobo!" in a certain tone, and he'll jump up and start giving me kisses. he'll stay there as long as i'm using both hands to pet him. it must be both hands--he has to have my undivided attention. whenever it's time to get out of bed, i'll say "wanna go outside?" and he'll jump over and go to the door (if i've paid sufficient attention to him...if i haven't, he'll lay on my chest and give me kisses).

riding the big, silver bird

and yes, that was meant to be sound a little dirty. i'm back from colorado. i spent most of my first few hours at home trying to cry (because i miss my dogs, because i'm just a psycho), but could only do the tear equivalent of dry-heaving because those damn transderm-scop patches are bigtime anticholigenics. also, after a few hours with that baby on behind my ear, i can squeeze my nostrils together...and they'll just stick. being all dried is out one of my least favorite feelings in the world.

so yeah, i'm back. am i happy to be back? i don't think i am. i've left my two best friends (bobo and salma...e-mail me if you want to see pictures of the best dogs ever) and all the delight that goes along with them. one thing that will help ease the transition from vacation-time to home-time is that, tonight, i'll still be sleeping with a hairy, snoring beast.

ba-dum-CHUH!

i'm too drugged up right now to right anything decent...i'll come up with something for tomorrow...

little lucia

i'm posting this on both this and my other website, because this one gets a little more traffic....

i was snooping through my mom's scrapbooking stuff, and i guess i found the stuff that didn't make the cut. i made two very interesting discoveries:

(1) i was not, in fact, an ugly child. not even medium. i really did have a pretty face. i can't believe this. why did the neighborhood kids never let me be princess leia? i'll never understand that. heather, who always got to be her (i was a stormtrooper), was actually kinda funny looking. the kids in my grandmother's neighborhood in west virginia always did, but it's not because they had better taste--i was the only girl.

(2) some poems that i wrote when i was but a child. i think i had something published in some book in the fourth grade...i remember the principal coming up to me...it was something like "in a dream i saw the spirit of my hamster" or something like that. i wonder if i have a copy somewhere. anyway, these were all (apparently) from the third grade. enjoy the pre-bipolar ferg, if you will:


"what sparks my imagination" by lucia honeychurch, grade 3

once i looked upon a cloud,
i called it santa claus.
it had a beard and nose,
a hat and eyes, too,
so i decided to behave.

another time,
another cloud.
i looked up and saw
a ray that lead to heaven.
i knew that He was watching me,
so i was very proud.

another time and cloud,
i looked up and saw
a zoo of lions, turtles,
a zoo of peacocks, too.
but, to tell you the truth of all,
it was a zoo of imagination.

"time" by amy ferguson, 1985 (i guess i was 8 or 9)

people say that time flies
i don't quite think that's wise.
you should not take time for granted.
after all, its no shape or form or slanted.
without time, what would you do?
think about it, will you?

"mouse" (1985)

i scurry around
looking for food
yes,
i'm such a little mouse
and when a cat comes along
i scurry back inside
my little house.

"from liberty's view" (1985)

everybody from another country,
i welcome you
to each of our states
old and new.

my torch is lit,
my crown stands high,
to welcome people to freedom
who have said to their other country "goodbye."

i was a gift of friendship,
an everlasting friendship,
as strong as a ship
that could never tip.

and god bless this country
full of love,
giving everyone your blessing
from far above.

and may those countries
who wish for freedom
be granted their wish
and liberty for all...

"balloon" (1985)

you may wish that you were free
like a balloon
after all, what goes up
must come down.
but balloons aren't so lucky
after all.
when they are free in the air
they are fine.
but when they get too high
in the sky
they must pop and, plop
land.

sorry sorry sorry

it was a gretchaninoff lullaby, not rachmaninoff. my fingers were moving while my mind wandered. oops. sweet dreams everyone.

frequent indecencies only one like me
transmittin frequencies only you and me could see, space time infinity
i can see for miles and miles, your smile, i keep my mind beyond
"meet you halfway," princess superstar


i just put that quote up there, walked away, and completely forgot that i was in the middle of posting. good work, lucia. awesome.

well here's something i can say: thank you, stupid effing car commercials for ruining "rock 'n roll" for me. thanks a lot. and thanks a lot to led zeppelin for whoring out the song. good work, fellas.

i'm feeling very musical today. i sung last night and today--finally, i'm putting my money (spent on voice lessons and voice therapy and music) where my mouth is and practicing somewhat. i sat at the kitchen table and worked on my scrapbook and sang while the dogs slept. later on, i went over to bobo and sung him a rachmaninoff lullaby, but i don't think it helped him sleep. i have a very light soprano voice, but i'm too tight right now (ha ha yeah i think it's funny too) to sing softly and float those high notes.

my hair is dirty, but i really want to take a bubble bath. i can always wash it tomorrow. but it might be fun to do both. hey jupiter, your apocalypse was fab. i really didn't think i'd have to be a magazine with you...

get it? GET IT????!!!!! i am not an ear with feet. i'm sorry, ears with feet, but it is possible to be a fan of tori amos...listen to her music...love her music...absorb her music, and not make it your life. her music fits into my life, not the other way around. for the longest time the denial of a "casual appreciation" of her music stopped me from getting into it, but hear me now: NO MORE. scarlet's walk freaking rocks my world, and maybe just maybe i will go see her in chicago while i'm at wizard world...but i will not quit my teaching job to follow her around the country.

and neither should you unless you get healthy...you hear me? don't be mad at me, k. these words are spoken with love, missie. i'm not being disrespectful--my own lack of passion is my problem. (sigh)

speaking o' music: i was just thinking about how awesome eric whitacre's music is. holy cow. amazing. i'll put a link to him on the side, too. i dare you to listen to "when david heard" without crying. "godzilla eats las vegas" kicks ass, too. sean has mentioned the possibility of me interviewing him, but i just can't. i can't do interviews, and i fall to pieces in front of people i respect and admire (except for my husband of course--but i've seen him naked, so the whole "picture the audience...or whoever makes your nervous....thing keeps me from fainting).

i could barely blink when i met morten lauridsen at an ACDA convention.

when i met sylvia mcnair backstage at the met (as tytania in a midsummer night's dream, yummy yummy), i told her i loved her. she smiled and said "aww, that's sweet." and i said "no really--i love you, sylvia." i almost asked her if she'd be my mommy.

if i had met my friends or husband later on in life, i wouldn't be able to talk to them. that's why my husband and i had to fall in love and be a disaster area for so many years. if i had met him now, i would have crawled under the nearest table and gone fetal (the way i wanted to when i met phoebe gloeckner, sylvia mcnair, and morten lauridsen). i put people up on a pedestal...i'm so glad my friends snuck into my life and revealed their talents to me gradually.

sean and lauren, i wish i could write. josiah, i wish i could draw. karolyn, i wish i could paint. susan, i wish i could put stuff together. barbara, i wish i could teach.

I WOULD LIKE MY CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM NOW.

it's a good thing that i'm not a star.
you don't know how lucky you are.
though my record may say it,
no one will play it.
sad songs and waltzes aren't selling this year.
"sad songs and waltzes," cake

well, last night's post seems to have confused the bee-gee-zus out of everyone. needless to say, i got a phone call from my hubby last night, hubba hubba. it was written with you, my dear blogaudience, in mind. my husband's pretty hot too, but i don't want that fact to make you feel any less special.

i've been feeling pretty rotten today. it was like there was a 3-minute period in which my mood could have gone either way, and it quickly plummeted. maybe i just need to get my bee-hind to bed earlier, because i won't let myself sleep past 8:00. or maybe it's because i'm freaking bipolar, and these things happen. i thought, should i pop another neurontin? it's a mood stabilizer, and i was supposed to go up to 3 times a day, but i never did. but then again, do i really want to stabilize my mood at "crappy"? this is my life folks, as my husband would say.

i was hoping italian food and a hot hot hot bubble bath would help, and i think it did a little, but i'm paranoid that i overate at dinner.

speaking of food, here's my favorite:
blend 3/4 cup of water with one scoop of chocolate genisoy shake (the kind with all the vitamins added...not just the protein stuff). cut up one cup of strawberries (small pieces...eight per berry) and add them to the mix. blend. add 1 shot of coconut flavoring (the kind they have at coffee shops...i use sugar free, and this part is optional anyway). add 10 ice cubes. blend. drink with a straw. enjoy. be in heaven for a mere 200 calories.

i feel guilty because i know bobo wants to sleep in my parents' room, but i just never could sleep in their bed. i'm all set up in the guest room, and pretty comfy. salma doesn't care...she's already snoring away in my room. i worry about these things. i also wake up several times during the night and feel their bellies to make sure they're breathing. i'm going to be a disaster when i have kids (in 5 years, according to the mystic). okay, that's only a tiny fraction of the reason i'd be a freak of a mother, but i consider myself forewarned that i will get NOOOO sleep once my womb is open for business.

i'll feed you fruit that don't exist
i'll leave graffiti where you've never been kissed
do your laundry, massage your soul
i'll turn you over to the highway patrol
"nicotine and gravy," beck

i'm settling in with my din-din, ready to watch some law and order, chillin' with my dogs (and i really mean dogs...although my dogs is my dawgs. shit, dawg!). i eat yummy yummy, and i can't concentrate on law and order.

it's because you're on my mind. i can't stop thinking about you, baby, so i had to come back here and write you. i've been thinking about you all day. i think it's time we take our relationship to the next level. i know it's soon, but you just can't deny the chemistry that we have. maybe i'm just a naughty girl, but i have to have you RIGHT NOW. don't ask your friends if it's right or wrong while i burn for you. sex. sex sex sex me, baby.

puppy love...
and by puppy, i mean a 12-year old beagle/jack russell mix and a 5-year old silly mutt

bobo is sitting on my lap as i type, but he keeps putting his nose under my hand so i'll pet him.

i DO have something to say, i know it. well, an update: 93.

i feel like slightly less of a loser today, but only because of outside forces. it's hard to feel like a TOTAL loser when your second favorite author thinks you're worth writing back, and you're married to your first favorite. maybe i'm not that bad. i mean, it's not like "drop dead fred" is one of my favorite movies. usually i'm not a hater, but i must indulge when the playa is playin' my bro. this is a direct insult to someone else: SUCK THAT FOR BREAKFAST.

but here are my favorite movies (in no order):
flirting with disaster
dream for an insomniac
a room with a view
the first two lord of the rings movies

i think if i were in middle earth, i'd be an elrond elf. i'm not round and jolly enough to be a hobbit. although i'm crotchety at times, i'm not hairy enough to be a dwarf (although, if i keep it up with the testosterone, maybe i will be, because--i shit you not--hairiness and irratibility can be side effects at high doses). i guess i could be a woman, as in a man-woman, but i think that elf suits me better after what the mystic said. i am profoundly psychic, and i have good vision. i'm not blond, so that leaves me an elrond elf.

that's hot. damn right it was a good day.

i think my husband would be a hobbit though. we sorta have like "jungle fever," third age style. ho!

how could i forget?

one of the sexiest parts of women...i like my back. it's thin-looking. i look particularly hourglassish from behind. but i slouch, so i'm gonna have to work on that if i want to continue to be a hot and sexy mama.

how am i supposed to go to bed tonight with a signed, hardcover edition of blankets next to my mediocre book???? (see side...be prepared to swoon...for more info).

"look at me, why won't you look at me?"
"i'm looking at you, why do i have to look at you?!"
flirting with disaster

i've decided to write a description of what i look like, so all 10 of my readers (9 of which know me in real life) will know what i look like. i get TERRIBLY curious about what people look like.

let's start with the basics.
5' 6'
95 pounds
small bones
hourglassish figure (my boobs have shrunk since i went off the pill)
very pale
just-below-shoulders reddish-brown, wavy hair
brown eyes

now for more detail, toe to head:

i hate my feet. i like the shape (narrow, okay arch), but the soles are too dry. my husband has baby feet. they're so soft. i love them. my feet are often cold. when they sweat, they smell like vinegar.

skinny ankles, skinny calves.

my legs--knees especially--look like those of a 10-year-old tomboy who frequently falls off her skateboard.

okay thighs, i suppose.

i'm not that nuts about my ass, but my husband is. it looks pretty good in boy-cut stuff, but i think it's otherwise kind of lifeless.

slight potbelly, but my hip bones stick out. again, it depends on your taste.

i have a naval ring and a tattoo of three hearts just above my naval. it hurt.

boobs. different now. smaller. perkier. i like them, but i kind of miss the big 'uns.

my chest is very white, almost translucent. between my breasts and my collarbone, you can see the veins really well. makes me look like i'm from interview with a vampire.

i like my hands. they're small, and i have long fingers. i have a freckle, by my left pinky, which i adore. i wear a size 4 ring and my nails are too soft to grow out, but i don't bite them either.

skinny arms.

long neck.

face. okay. pale. ovalish. deep set eyes. medium nose. i don't like the slope. it's not cute and perky--it's too straight, and it messes up my profile. good skin. some light freckles when i've been out in the sun. tiny mouth. tiny chin. good ears. k says i look like jennifer jason leigh (esp. in the hudsucker proxy), but i hear from a lot of other people (especially my husband) that i look like helena bonham-carter.

you decide.

oh, my hair. i don't ever do anything with it. i'm too lazy. i may cut it off. i think the chin-length bob is the universal haircut.

press my face up to the window
to see how warm it is inside
see the things that I’ve been missing
missing all this time
"guess i'm doing fine," beck

my efforts to find my niche are so pathetic, so sad. i'm actually starting to think that i peaked--emotionally, physically, musically, vocally, creatively, intellectually--about ten years ago. i can't tell you how much that idea haunts me.

i am NOT one of those people who loved high school. i liked singing, i liked learning, and i had plenty of friends in different areas of my life. no one bugged me in high school...i was the girl who sang, and that kept them from beating the crap out of me.

i knew what i wanted to do, and i did it. all of that seemed to disappear in college. of course, i went to the awful, college-joe-and-college-jen, sorority/fraternity lovin', state party school. it was a money thing. i was a loser by november of my freshman year...admiring skaters from afar, but not exotically beautiful/interesting enough to actually make friends with them. i had my music, but that started slipping away by my junior year. by my senior year, i had given up on my voice, even after a judge NATS told me i should pursue singing professionally. it was too late--something that had been dying inside of me for 3 years was gone by that point.

i'm still goal-oriented, but i'm just thrashing around from ridiculous idea to ridiculous idea. i have very few friends, and certainly no "circle" of friends. i still don't know where my "talent" lies, what i'm meant to do. vocally, i'm a disaster area, and i am farther away from finding my musical place than i was when i was seventeen. i haven't even found a hobby that "sticks." i've had to just kind of adopt my husband's friends in order to try to feel less like a loser. i'm a loser, and not in the underappreciated-outcast-in-high-school-who-grows-up-to-kick-ass-creatively.

i just was never cool enough. i saw friend after friend to whom i was the "alpha" friend become much cooler than me.

so that's my sad tale of woe. one of them, anyway. i'm still trying. i thought i was close a few weeks ago, but i'm not sure that was true. i find things that i'm "good" at, but they're either not good enough to satisfy me, or i'm not good enough at my endeavors to feel that i'm making a decent contribution to the world. you'll know if i give up though -- i'll be locked up.

not in jail, silly. i'm a lover, not a fighter.

10:15 pm. denver time

i just finished a cup of peppermint tea, and i'm watching salma breathe (i can't stop watching the dogs breathe) and i miss my sean. he's 1600-something miles away, and watching a movie that he can't watch when i'm there because of my fears. i'm going to gather up bobo and salma, and take my mediocre book ("prozac nation") and read and then snuggle up for sweet dreams.

g'night, babies all.

now it's time

time for me to write about something other than craig. honest, i'm not a stalker. i get enthusiastic about the possibility of a new "friend" the way a 14-year old girl gets enthusiastic about her crush asking her out. it's just the most interesting thing in my life right now. i'm even getting sick of the doctor's appointments and talking about IT.

hm.

i heard from one of my best friends from middle school or high school. i hadn't talked to her in years. i tried to keep her from falling off the face of the earth our junior year, but it wasn't really for me to decide that. anyway, oh yay! now she'll be one of the two people i still talk to from high school. high school wasn't hell or anything, except for two things: (1) it started really, really early and (2) i literally never used the bathrooms there because they reeked of smoke. apart from that, oh and the daily fights clogging the already overcrowded hallways, it was okay. i was the girl who sang really high. that was enough to stop people from harassing me, bullying me, or otherwise making my adolescence more difficult than it already was.

anyway, she sang too. we had the same voice teacher, and i still have tape of our recital from 1990. she was too shy and wasted time NOT STRUTTING HER STUFF. after auditions, we'd get a thing of toffee ice cream, and dig through and fight for the big pieces.

alright, i give up. i'm hungry now. i'll eat something.

waitin' for you on needles and pins
and then...this world is gonna be mine
"about a quarter to nine," forty-second street

sean gave craig my letter, and he said he'd read it on the plane on the way home yesterday. seanie said he thinks it made him happy. i was thinking about this yesterday though. what's the point? i am a very selfish person, and i didn't just write this letter to let him know what an incredible artist/writer he is. i wanted him to know that, but i also wanted to purge some stuff from myself that i had never written down in such a comprehensive and cohesive format, and i also have delusions of being pen pals with this guy.

he has a LOT of friends though. friends who knew him before, who supported him when he was working at mcdonald's. he doesn't need more friends! (i do, but that's my own fault).

so here's what will happen. he will write back, and i will be ecstatic. i will pour my heart out into another letter, and it will become a burden to him. he will feel vaguely guilty that he doesn't have the time and energy to give to someone so low down on the friend totem pole, and i will end up feeling like an ass for getting so into it.

on the other hand, what the hell is so wrong with sending someone love and not getting anything in return? i'm just so pathetic right now. phoebe says that she is bad at writing back, and that makes her less dear to her fans, but it doesn't make them any less dear to her. i'm just scrambling for concrete evidence of friendship from everyone i know.

except for bobo and salma.

...i see snuggles with cute doggies in your future...

i never did follow up on the jungian esoteric alchemist woman. she said that i was "profoundly psychic, not like 'ooh, i knew my neighbor's cat was going to die,' but really psychic." she said i'd make a great analyst. she said not to worry about it, because i'll find my way into that sooner or later anyway. she said that teaching is good because i know what the kids need me to say, and that i'm working with a group that other people write off as too difficult to get inside or get through to.

well, middle school sucked. that's all you need to understand!

what else...she said that something inside me is eating my life force. a parasite, endometriosis, something, and that i should see an infectious diseases specialist. (this is the woman who identified the rarish syndrome that my friend had been suffering from for years). hm. she said i have an incredibly strong spirit, but right now it's taking all my strength just to live every day life. she also said that i hate the body, it's like i'm from another planet, and i just want to float around rather than inhabiting such a limited casing.

true.

hey, look. i told you i was going to tell you about this. did you really expect something not-weird from tori's psychic? go scratch if you don't like it.

"i been thinkin' about craig's ass"

have i complained enough about the fact that i wasn't at comicon, and therefore did not meet craig thompson (among all sorts of other interesting people, but i might as well be honest about the fact that my mission would have been to meet craig, shop at san diego loehmann's, and just generally cause trouble)? the last night, my husband went to a party on the beach, and the fellow was skinny dipping. (not my husband...he got there very late...perhaps HE WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN IF I HAD BEEN THERE TO NAVIGATE, BUDDY!!!). but my husband did get there in time to catch a far-off glimpse of craigy-poos bee-hind. that's hot.

my husband, too, has a hot bee-hind. i admire his body and his beauty, if you will.

and i rode alongside...

tomorrow, i'm going to meet with tori amo's mystic. she's an esoteric jungian person, and k knows her. stay tuned.

the incredible sleeping therapist

have i told you about my husband's therapist? he goes to this guy for his add. the guy has add. and, AND--he's narcoleptic. one time, i was there with sean--this was early on, too--and we lost him, of course in the middle of me talking. we didn't know what to do:

"..."
"is he narcoleptic? didn't he say something about that?"
"no. ahem. dr. m?"

so when we got him back, he all tried to cover, saying something about how there was significance to the fact that he fell asleep then, that it was powerful. whatever, dude.

i double checked with my therapist (yes, we're yuppies, thank you very much), and she said that strong emotions don't bring on sleep. he was probably being bad and having caffeine and not eating right.

how do you afford your rock and roll lifestyle?
cake


i have these protein packets ("equal to six cups of soymilk") that dr. k says i have to use and gain weight, so i used the blender for the first time and mixed it with strawberries and ice and it was pretty darn good. strawberry must be the theme of the day, because i had two skinny (not for long) cow ice cream sammidges ("strawberry shortcake").

i was taking pictures of things around my kitchen, and my husband got suspcious. probably thinking it was pictures of him or dirty pictures. or close-ups of his bee-hind. nope.

i'm going into the city tomorrow for some girly fun. it's k, so trouble and psychics will be involved. i'm thinking about going to an alchemist that she recommended that tori amos recommended to her. this is a good time for it; i'm told i'll be given books to read. another assignment to fail to do: hierarchy of fearful situations, scrapbooking, letter, practice singing, eat more...

i'll explain about my wings soon.

but one day we'll float
take life as it comes
"we float," pj harvey

i am high. i am on air. i swiped craig thompson's e-mail from seanie, and wrote him. and he wrote back. i'm going to write him the LETTER OF ALL LETTERS because otherwise i fear he won't write back. he said he would though. have you seen page 145 of blankets? you haven't. buy it when it's in stores. buy it and devour it and it's still there when you're done, hooray.

and then read goodbye, chunky rice, but be warned of animal cruelty because of human cruelty. pages 23-24.

i try to help people with that, because i need it. i didn't read chunky rice until a week ago because of that. i also need help with the whole vomit thing. i'm afraid of vomit. not averse to it -- AFRAID of it. you have to understand that.

i feel so manically high today....i could grow my wings any time now...

i'm like sam the butcher, bringin' alice the meat
like fred flintstone, drivin' around with both feet
"shake your rump," the beastie boys

does anyone know the origin of the song "my dog has fleas"? please write me if you know.

i think what this blog needs is more structure. something you can count on (apart from mediocre writing from a person who's too lazy to edit their own work). a regular feature. i think it's either going to be a description of a friend-a-day (which will keep you occupied for about...2 days...maybe i should include family and my stuffed animals) or what i'm wearing. what do you think? right now i'm wearing snowman boxers and an adult swim t-shirt. damn i'm hot...take a cold shower, then write me with your opinion.

alright. i'm gonna do it.

"i know how to love you,
i know how to do it to you,
i know how to make you feel like you wanna feel
shit--i can't lose with what i use"
"i'm qualified to satisfy you," barry white

the world is a much less sexy place today. we miss you, barry!!! rest in peace, darling walrus of love!!!

in other news, i'm in my underwear right now. i'm doing my part to fill the sex vacuum that exists today.
of course, it's underwear my mom gave me (the panties my mother laid out for me, as it were).

if you haven't checked this out yet, you have to RIGHT NOW:
http://www.alltooflat.com/pranks/cube/

i think that was originally my husband's idea. being a big ol' (and by "big ol'," i mean 96 pound) vegetarian, i tried to get them to change the big-ass mc donald's sign from "big 'n tasty" to "big 'n NASTY." but this prank was a pretty decent substitute.

not too much else going on here. i'm still taking the testosterone, and so far i haven't found myself trying to be slick (and failing) about scratching my crotch in public. i'm still capable of multi-tasking and making plans to go out. so far so good.

i'm also determined to be cold-turkey about the sleeping pills. that's right. not even a tylenol p.m. i actually think i might be getting a deeper sleep. i don't think i woke up once last night, and i slept until 11:00 (!!!). i think i had sweet dreams about my doggies. i also had a dream that i was back in middle school, and i liked this cute boy with curly brown hair, and i spent the whole dream flirting with him in the smiling-self-conscious way 13 year olds flirt. if i had realized it was a dream, i'd have just jumped him. i haven't had a lucid dream in a long time, unfortunately. i was on a train where we were supposed to eat lunch, but there was no water. i guess the dream was sorta freud meets urinetown.

doot doot.

ANNOUNCEMENT

NOW THAT IT'S SUMMER (or, as my drunk buddy said at our faculty drinkin' boat trip last week, "the month of summer"), I WILL BE POSTING A LOT. PREPARE YOUR MENTAL STOMACHS FOR THE FEAST THAT I'M COOKING.

(take my love in real small doses)
"obstacle 2," interpol

i seem to have stumbled back-asswards into fangirldom. i read comics now. i've figured out that i prefer indie stuff (not because i'm a snob, but because it's very difficult to get into superhero comics at the age of 27--it's much easier to accept and internalize the conventions when you're younger), especially if it's autobiographical. think phoebe gloeckner, jordan crane, super-nice nick bertozzi and especially (sigh) craig thompson .

so here i sit, dying to write craig thompson fan mail. getting my husband to call top shelf because he wants to do an interview with him, then asking for his address. writing his comic friends and asking for his address. possibly pissing off those friends, because they deserve interviews too, dammit.

i even bought new paper, because i only have 2 pieces left of my special paper from japan, and i have so many things to say to him (that i pray don't come off as idiotic).

that is the song that was going through my head while i was studying craig thompson at mocca that day, before i had read blankets, before i had any idea, but somehow it made sense, especially when i read the thank yous. it seems a good song for him. the snow, the wine, friends...i don't know. it's been stuck in my head ever since. good thing it is one of my favorites from that album.

i feel dopey, but i didn't take anything tonight. i'm trying to not, for the whole summer. not a halcion, not a dramamine, not even a tylenol pm. wish me luck with that. i think i'll be okay though. "i have my puzzles," as space ghost would say.

maybe i'm just a dope. maybe i'm just DOPE, YO! and STOO-pid fresh!