after watching Courtney for 45 minutes, noticing C. make his way through the crowd noticing me then turning away, thinking it would have been so nice if he (or I ) had just said, "Hey - how's it going?" and laugh of the drunken FB message from Saturday, finds me attempting to drift to sleep amidst the humidity and heat, thinking about C, and J and all the others and back to the simple thought that is so absolutely incredible when you embrace it's truth:
There is no need to worry about that over which you have no control.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Thursday, June 13, 2013
what the buggery bollocks is this?
was going to say, Guess who's back? but JFC? what the hell is this thing?
it used to be so much simpler then...
sigh...
this all comes about from wanting to recall more specifics about the Tale of 52 Pilot, in which your hero finds himself ten years later, on Scruff, chatting with an adorable guy in the neighborhood, and presently still unable to recall "who started it?" as I, frustrated with the short bursts of conversation after the initial chat, deleted the messages only to find him messaging back to me via text and thus beginning the Current Crazymaking. It was after I watched his show, then finding out that he's the same as the guy on that Early Reality Show, with whom I had chatted on Nerve ten years ago, under 52 Pilot. A few weeks before I moved to SF I went to Dan'l s' birthday at the Slide, and I guess told 52 Pilot that's where I was going, and he said he'd be there too see you there. And the slightest hint of the memory is of me standing near the back and him coming up to me with his cute hair and we chatted but for the love of Isis I can't remember about what (which is indeed shocking, because I was still regularly writing on this - which brings me to my sidebar about this whole Google+ connected fiasco that Blogger has now become), and it all clicked who he was Now. And here we are on a rainy night where I am certain our dinner plans are once again Foiled.
all I can say is that if I am Really going to Really do This again it means I may have to write my own code again....
it used to be so much simpler then...
sigh...
this all comes about from wanting to recall more specifics about the Tale of 52 Pilot, in which your hero finds himself ten years later, on Scruff, chatting with an adorable guy in the neighborhood, and presently still unable to recall "who started it?" as I, frustrated with the short bursts of conversation after the initial chat, deleted the messages only to find him messaging back to me via text and thus beginning the Current Crazymaking. It was after I watched his show, then finding out that he's the same as the guy on that Early Reality Show, with whom I had chatted on Nerve ten years ago, under 52 Pilot. A few weeks before I moved to SF I went to Dan'l s' birthday at the Slide, and I guess told 52 Pilot that's where I was going, and he said he'd be there too see you there. And the slightest hint of the memory is of me standing near the back and him coming up to me with his cute hair and we chatted but for the love of Isis I can't remember about what (which is indeed shocking, because I was still regularly writing on this - which brings me to my sidebar about this whole Google+ connected fiasco that Blogger has now become), and it all clicked who he was Now. And here we are on a rainy night where I am certain our dinner plans are once again Foiled.
all I can say is that if I am Really going to Really do This again it means I may have to write my own code again....
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
WSA
What is this, 8, 9 years since I last wrote anything, deleted this thing and decided to write now because I happened across the most ridiculous of absurdities while flipping through the new Williams-Sonoma catalog, filling my "need" and "want" list for the kitchen - hand mixer, tongs, Kitchen Aid Mixer and whatnot.
It's the Mother's Day catalog, so I paid no heed to the "fruit trees & berry bushes" page, as the previous page was for scented soap. I turn the page and there's a Vitamix blender, no big deal, and below - a yogurt maker. "Why not?", I tell myself, adding "yogurt maker" below "mandoline". Next page, an image of from the nursery radicchio heads and various greens tidily arranged in a Farmer D. wood box, garden hose artfully coiled to the side. A perfect layer of wood chips adorns the ground and you would actually maybe think that you are somewhere in Hudson County - more Edible Brooklyn than Williams-Sonoma.
The next page literally made me fall out of my chair: the "Alexandria Coop", for $879.95, plus a $55 dollar delivery fee. I'm really at a loss for words...
...until I get to the next page.
They're fucking selling a log that has been imbibed with Shitaake spores. Why go local when local can come to you?
It's the Mother's Day catalog, so I paid no heed to the "fruit trees & berry bushes" page, as the previous page was for scented soap. I turn the page and there's a Vitamix blender, no big deal, and below - a yogurt maker. "Why not?", I tell myself, adding "yogurt maker" below "mandoline". Next page, an image of from the nursery radicchio heads and various greens tidily arranged in a Farmer D. wood box, garden hose artfully coiled to the side. A perfect layer of wood chips adorns the ground and you would actually maybe think that you are somewhere in Hudson County - more Edible Brooklyn than Williams-Sonoma.
The next page literally made me fall out of my chair: the "Alexandria Coop", for $879.95, plus a $55 dollar delivery fee. I'm really at a loss for words...
...until I get to the next page.
They're fucking selling a log that has been imbibed with Shitaake spores. Why go local when local can come to you?
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