I Wish It Would(n’t) Rain

First of all:  YAY, I went away for the weekend!  Sorry.  I’m very excited.  We can argue about the meaning of “vacation” all day, but I’m counting this.  So there.

Also, before I move into quasi-content:  vote on the 2016 Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame.  I can’t actually buy your votes, but why aren’t more of you voting for The Smiths?  I’m not even talking about music here.  I’m talking about how this would somehow involve trying to figure out how to get Morrissey and Marr on the same stage.  Or in the same building.  At the very least, it would be a very, very exciting year for this ceremony.


Also, to go ahead and get this out of the way, I was going to quote something from Furiously Happy at the end (I did anyway).  When I flipped to find it, I realized I had inadvertently written something pretty much along the same lines thematically as the Australia chapter of that book (except not clever, funny, etc.).  That was probably part accident and part some sort of back-of-mind recall.  In my defense, that was the first book I’d been able to complete since August, owing to a mental crash-and-burn (which I’ll say again, but that’s due to no current external circumstance; I get paranoid about that sort of thing re: myself, so I feel like I need to say it), so I’m still getting the pieces picked up.  It’s also after 2 AM.


Photos Go Awry . . . Before I Even Leave Town

I had a nice little plan set up, which is probably when the universe decided to heave buckets of rain down.  See, I was anticipating one of those photo albums of mountain-type fall pictures to show (read:  prove) that I’d been outdoors and all that stuff that I hear other people do.

I’m already taking weird pictures to demonstrate I do normal things.  I realize other people Instagram fascinating meals and exquisite culinary preparations.  I took a picture of this . . . whatever I made last week:

WHOEVER is currently in charge of the kitchen on OITNB (because I lost focus so many times last season, except when some favorite character was disappearing) will now have to relinquish it to me.

WHOEVER is currently in charge of the kitchen on OITNB (because I lost focus so many times last season, except when some favorite character was disappearing) will now have to relinquish it to me.

Technically, I sort of used a recipe.  More importantly, EXCHANGES.

Oh, I did take a picture of coffee last week.  This reminds me of a chromosome pair I saw once in a photo, but I haven’t figured it out yet.  Let me know if you recognize it.

Requisite coffee photo of vaguely biological looking splotch.

Requisite coffee photo of vaguely biological looking splotch.


“He Says They’ve Already Got One!”

Anyway, that’s why I wanted some more impressive pictures.  Most of the ones I take around here are of garbage and other street debris.  Seriously.  Tons of those.

However, the weird-person-staring-at-street problem could be remedied, if I could have taken home my new friend, the Trojan Moose:

Calling him/her/whatever Bullwinkle seems very obvious.

Calling him/her/whatever Bullwinkle seems very obvious.  Please note that it is really raining indeed.

I also grew attached to a kindred cow and pig inside (not so much the raccoon; I was afraid it would go through my kitchen trash).  I’m not sure if I could have also remained in this apartment if all three had come home (and how I would have gotten them here), but it would have been lovely to have them around.


Apple:  Now Bringing U2 to All Devices

This is in a parking garage elevator.  Some enterprising soul made it picture-worthy.  It may be that I don’t have a great concept of what constitutes vacation picture material:

Good one, Banksy-in-training.

Good one, Banksy-in-training.


I think I did better with the yarn-bombed bike.  Of course, A) taking a close picture while B) not walking away might have helped.  I was distracted.  There were also things up ahead.  So sue me.

I just want to ride my motorsickle. Stop fighting me on this one, autocorrect.

I just want to ride my motorsickle. Stop fighting me here, autocorrect.  It’s a word if Arlo Guthrie says it is.


The Ballad of the . . . Well, Not Sad Anything, Really

What else have I got?  Here’s a house I saw that was falling apart and looked cool:

#lifegoals: be known as the creepy old woman who lives here in a distinctly Southern Gothic manner

#lifegoals: be known as the creepy old woman who lives here in a distinctly Southern Gothic manner

There was a version of that one that had me standing in front of it.  It does not appear here.  No pictures of me will be in this post.  The vacation was good, but I certainly don’t like the way I seemed to look in it.  This has been a message from the voices in my head.

Other assorted buildings:

Roofs! Tiles!

Roofs! Tiles!

Some sort of really interesting church!

Some sort of really interesting church!

No idea, but I stalled everyone on the sidewalk to take a picture because it was interesting.

No idea, but I stalled everyone on the sidewalk to take a picture because it was interesting.  I have even made it larger here, for your viewing pleasure.

Classy ™ Starbucks ™.

Classy ™ Starbucks ™.


“Sweeping Every Category Except Congeniality, Which Is Not Something the Women in My Family Aspire to, Anyway”

There’s some other stuff, but I’m not going to deluge anyone with a slideshow.  What I am going to say is that the past five or so days have been a lot better than some other recent ones, not for any reason relating to external circumstances (read:  no one’s fault, etc.).  I already put in a brief plug for Furiously Happy [link to blog; it may cheer you up] in the previous post, and I’m going to do it again here.

Here’s why:  most people would probably think I had a boring vacation, and I certainly don’t have a lot of wild ‘n’ crazy pictures to show.  Everything I did (well, except for the getting soaked bit) was something I like to do, though.  I probably went too slow for most people.  I probably took more naps.  Lord knows I had a more “interesting” eating schedule.  I also veer off sidewalks to look at strange things, duck into oddball shops where I will buy nothing, and pretty much set up shop in bookstores.  I even like old bricks.  A lot.  And if none of that is your thing, that’s also fine.

Here’s where I’m going to stop babbling and quote the book:  “It doesn’t mean I’m a failure at appreciating the good things in life.  It means I’m successful at recognizing what the good things in life are for me.”


“Better to Light a Flamethrower than Curse the Darkness”

I would absolutely not say I deserved any of this weekend, but it was such a wonderful relief to have five days where I felt like a human instead of a mole person.  When I try to tell people what the “good things” I’ve done or experienced are, I feel pretty paltry and want to fade away again.  So tonight I’m not caring about that part.  I’m going to bask in the feeling of not feeling like crawling back in bed and staying there.

Is this a picture of someone on a good day or a bad day? You decide.

Is this a picture of someone having a good day or a bad day? You decide.

And I also really want to thank [this sounds like a speech.  I should sleep.  I’ll be doing a pageant wave next] a few of you who helped me keep this up these past few days, especially since I’ve been so bad about hiding from, um, everything. Also the person who told me to quit shading everything on social media (none of it’s a lie, incidentally; it’s finely-presented truth) so that things look like they’re going fine until I end up in some train wreck situation (this isn’t social media per se, so those who never want to read this blathering will simply be able to ignore it).

I’m going to try to return the favor and be better about responding.  I will try to answer. I’m working on it.  I may be asleep or have the phone off at some times.  Otherwise, I’m  trying.


Finis, in the usual manner:

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Hello, Insomnia, My Old Friend

I was talking to someone about, um, innovative blog ideas tonight, and then I realized there’s already a pile of weird beside me.

I also recently finished Furiously Happy (read that) and identified all too much with the statement:  “These are the things that eventually happen when you’re alone at two a.m. often enough.”  Except her story was funny and mine’s just me being the zombie version of me.  And I would have worked 3 AM in there somehow for the dark night of the soul etc.

Moving on.


Disclaimer:  I.  Do.  Not.  Sleep.

I am sitting here trying to Netflix (I just verbed something!  Except someone probably already has) myself asleep after several sleepless nights.  I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that I need to pick up the mess on the couch, and then I realized it was all books.  And I don’t know why.

The books beside me on the couch:

Infinite Jest— David Foster Wallace

British English A to Zed— Norman W. Schur, revised ed.

local weekly paper

The New Yorker (okay, technically, that’s today, and I really was looking through that)

Waiting for Godot— Samuel Beckett

Bible, open to Ecclesiastes

Tell the Wolves I’m Home*— Carol Rifka Brunt (there’s a pen stuck in this one)

Nick Cave:  Sinner Saint (The True Confessions)— ed. Mat Snow

something completely illegible on a napkin– presumably me

*Tell the Wolves I’m Home is a few years old now, but I’m STILL trying to get people to read it.  Please trust me:  it’s excellent.  Not happy.  But excellent.


I’m not sure why it’s this piled up, because things were pretty clean (especially since I’ve fallen asleep here multiple times lately).  I have no idea what was going on with all this.  It would be nice if I woke up with something publishable on my computer screen, but it looks like the napkin is the product of the research here.

IMG_3732

Wide, wide, wide awake.

Time elapsed:  less than a minute.  Seriously?

Time elapsed: less than a minute. Seriously?

Explosion Site’d

This post updated 10/12/15 to reflect the fact that I pretty much never update the other site.  Maybe I’ll get back to it, maybe I won’t.

After much sifting through WordPress documentation and determining the vast differences between the .com (mine) and .org versions of the two (which I wish I’d been much more aware of before creating the site), I’ve set up an additional site.

There is a purpose here.  I wanted to separate out the more “serious” stuff from the fluff, but I couldn’t figure out a good way to do it on a single site, beside simply hiding it beneath a line (while still posting it to the main page).  What I was really looking for was the ability to make it viewable if you’re interested or to make it out of sight and out of mind if you’re not.

Commentary, amateur readers’ advisory, book reviews, journal entries (et al) repurposed for blog entries.  In other words, more content!  Everybody say it with Felix now:

Felix: the voice of reason.

Felix: the voice of reason.

In the meantime, there will be a Super Bowl recap from my perspective for this site– tomorrow/today, as in not now.  Video footage of my own making will be involved (featuring Fraggles, a menacing broom, and wire clippers– really, there are three videos, and I’m not doing justice to the weird here).

Yeah, I know what you’re all doing as you read this.

Are you watching this show? I'm making a point here. WATCH ORPHAN BLACK.

Are you watching this show? I’m making a point here. WATCH ORPHAN BLACK.