touchee

love notes, eleanor and marianne:

<<Milady
Well darling, it seems like you didn´t know me.
Yes, i can be a bitch.
Hello big news.
But I am not a baby or a spoiled brat
And frankly my dear,
you are the bitch.>>

<<gracious miss adler,
point completely taken, my deah. after establishing that I sometimes show all the sensitivity of a styrofoam cup, and that you are just a wee bit intense, I do believe we might shake hands, spank each other a little, and mayhap afterwards have a good cup of tea.
shall I put the kettle on then?
p.s. I send thee these melodies for you to sing during the daily toil..
top 3 tunes for the ladies
1. disco 2000 -- pulp
2. shiny happy people -- r.e.m.
3. drop dead gorgeous -- republica>>

and the beat goes on

I meant to go to work earlier today, but I got sucked down a black hole and now I think I want to write a little, maybe. so all the tea in china can wait. literally.

T opened his own blog --dunno if he wants me to link him-- and he's been writing a whole lot like the very industrious blogger he is. it's kind of funny to read about stuff you think you know so intimately, told from the point of view of the other.
sometimes it's scary, but sometimes it's good to remember that some things did happen the way you remember them, and that all's well, you're not insane, that's the truth. it's reassuring to know for a fact I haven't spent these last three years daydreaming myself into oblivion.

this week has been such a whirl, in every possible way. marianne is still not talking to me, and I still don't know why. I even amuse myself trying to figure out what exactly can it be this time. is it that she's tired of closing the wardrobe door after me? maybe I'm wearing her shoes too often again. yesterday I sent her an email along the lines of whazzup, what are you so angry about? word, etc etc. still got nothin, nor in my inbox nor at home. we just glide by each other in perfect courtesy and make very little noise.

ahwell, such is life. off to the teahouse now.

top 3 allman brothers songs today
1. ramblin' man
2. statesborough blues
3. jessica

in the back burner

saturday afternoon. I was feeling pretty ok with myself, because I got up early(ish), washed most of my dirty laundry and the dishes, worked a lot, had a healthy saturday lunch with marianne, then we went shopping for groceries. fantastic, isn't it? that was until we drove by the WTC and the anglo, and I remembered that my stupid exam had been rescheduled for today... at ten o'the morning. and I completely forgot.

ahwell, that satisfied feeling just couldn't last for long. I was bound to fuck up at some point, right? well, at least I got everything I needed from the supermarket.

we're going to the movies tonight to watch derailed, if only because it has two super hotties in it (clive owen and vincent cassel) and it's the only movie we both agree we want to see and that is showing tonight. also tonight at 8, the ficco shows 1973 at the world trade center; a documentary by director antonino isordia, born in that very year, and through three characters in this movie he gives us his insights of the dangers of his generation so go see it.

that's the end of the commercial for bad kitty productions.

before the movies we're swinging by my new dealer's place, because I'm outta me lucky charms. I'm sure this time it'll last more, since I'm not going to be getting everyone high for a change. I'm also starting my seeds soon, probably tonight, so I'll probably be full of plantlets by this time next week.

being a stable, mature person is so terribly boring, you know. read above for elaboration. I really have nothing else to offer, except that I wish something interesting --whatever-- would happen.

top 3 of
1. where is my mind -- the pixies
2. all these things that I've done -- the killers
3. only the good die young -- billy joel

I'm going to have a girl moment

I just watched bend it like beckham. it was on the tube. it's a very watchable sunday movie, if you ask me --I also love parminder nagra and I cry and weep for neela's fate every thursday on ER --but that's not my point just now.

what is it with irishmen and their sexy way of saying words? it just kills me. I mean, it's understandable that I should pant when I see norman reedus in the boondock saints, I mean just look at the guy:



yes, all that and french fries, please.



but what about jon rhys meyers? I can see how he's a knockout, but he's just not my style in any number of ways; he's way too girly cute for me.



however, when he opens those nice thick rosy lips and says "turn arOund" with that sexy sexy gargle-gargle... it just... makes me feel faint and queasy inside.

I suppose I should be somewhat grateful that I've met no irishdude to enslave me to do his bidding, being my immediate circle chock-full with UK-landers.

why must I be infatuated with the bad boys? and why aren't there any left around?

top 3 Erin go Braugh! (grrowrr)
1. irish blood, english heart -- morrisey
2. brown eyed girl -- van morrison
3. I don't like mondays -- boomtown rats

10:15 on a friday night

so I'd been looking forward to actually having time to write in my brand-new, shatteringly pink blog and now, friday at eleven *drumroll*

I got nothing.

well - except for the lover thing -- maybe I should elaborate on that now, in lieu of a better subject. I want a lover. this sounds like such a simple request, doesn't it? a fairly straightforward transaction, given that I have all my limbs and I still keep all my teeth. well, it isn't -- and though I know every man that ever reads this will be rolling his eyes and going "balls. girls *never* have trouble getting laid, I can't think of a single girl (not lacking limbs that is) who doesn't have a host of blah BLAH". well balls say I. I've found that men from all over lack in so many respects, it's not even funny.

marianne and I have decided we're definetely too old for having casual flings. guys just don't casually get it right on the first go, that's for starters. on the other hand, we're decidedly at the very worst disposition to look for a long-term relationship; she lacks the stamina and I lack the humour. the problem is, it seems we're also at the worst possible age to seek contact of any kind with the opposite sex; guys seem to be totally into girls in their early twenties, or mad about women in their early thirties, but for some reason, us in between 25 and 30, either you're already in a relationship, or you're untouchable goods. it's like being back in fourth grade, and maybe some boys talk to you when there's no one around, but when their mates are there, they'll pretend not to know you.

why, I still can't figure out why. is it maybe that we've generally become too bold, and too aggresive? do they know they're living up to a standard now? or is it simply that we aren't to be taken for fools by them anymore, and that we might not be ready with the chicken soup the moment the claim a little melancholy on thursday morning? or that now we dare to say that that joke was definetely NOT funny instead of giggling nervously and changing the subject.

top 3 I need a lover
1. coin operated boy -- dresden dolls
2. do you want to -- franz ferdinand
3. I'm your man -- leonard cohen

way too much coffee

wow. I'm still a disaster zone, but hell man, look at this:

Hello, my name is Annie, I HAVE BEEN MARRIED TO MY HUSBAND FOR 29 YEARS, HIS NAIL BITING HAS FINALLY DRIVEN ME RIGHT OVER THE EDGE WE cannot GO TO A MOVIE, WATCH TELEVISION, VISIT WITH FRIENDS NOTHING WITHOUT HIM CHEWING, BITING KNOWING HIS NAILS. I DO NOT THINK I HAVE ENJOYED WATCHING TV WITH HIM FOR AT LEAST 20 YEARS, I LOVE THIS MAN TO DEATH BUT HE IS MAKING ME A NERVOUS WRECK, I HAVE TALKED WITH OUR FAMILY DOCTOR ABOUT THIS AND HE HAS SUGGESTED DRUGS FOR HIM STATING IN PLAIN TERMS HE IS A HEAD CASE, PLEASE HELP DRUGS ARE NOT THE ANSWER. HE ALSO CHEWS HIS FACIAL HAIR AS WELL. HOPE YOU CAN HELP.

someone should slip this lady a xanax. top five dedicated to her:

1. I used to love her, but I had to kill her -- gunsn'freakin roses
2. ball and chain -- janis freakin' joplin
3. old habits die hard -- mick freakin' jagger
4. you're just too good to be true -- frakin'frankie valli encoring
5. you're gorgeous -- babyfreakinbird

mila is slowly chewing on my foot. for her not being my doggy, we have a sound time together; we walk around a lot, I scratch her a lot, I talk to her a lot, it's like all the advantages of having a dog and none of the unpleasantness.

except that she's taken the apparent vow to chew through my lingerie, the prettiest first. I'm tired of finding that what looked like a integer pair undergarments is actually just a collection of scraps. of very fine lace, by the way.

good news today is that I got some money in the account, so I could eat today. the bad news is, it's not enough to pay for the rent tomorrow even if I fast for that purpose; I might as well.
so... I'm probably going to be late, but I ate a whole lot of tacos. quid pro quo, and a lot of salsa.

wow. she just ate through the shoe. marianne has to take me shopping now.

last night I dreamed that somebody loved me

tengo una infección en el oído. lo cual de más está decir, no es agradable y ni siquiera digno; nadie me cree que desde el jueves padezco una dolencia que me hace inclinar la cabeza como el perrito de la RCA.

m me dice:

"claro, es que deberías cuidarte, deberías comer bien, deberías comer TRES veces al día, no una vez cada que te acuerdas, hacer ejercicio, dejar de fumar cigarrillos, no fumar tanta mota y tomar algunas vitaminas".

a lo cual yo digo, ok, compraré unas vitaminas.

y mi vida mientras tanto, en el hiato permanente. qué le va uno a hacer.

termino de leer High Fidelity de Nick Hornby y encuentro que en la portada hay algo que me choca un poco. "... so sharp about sex and manliness, memory and music."

manliness. he descubierto que ya me cansé del club de toby. este libro es brillante sobre ambos sexos, y sin embargo no es esta la primera vez que se me indica que ésta es una historia de niños. y entonces me enojo, pero sé que la batalla está perdida de entrada, porque ésta es la forma en que probablemente el mismo hornby describe su libro, y entonces ya perdí desde antes de empezar.

oh, ya véis como todo es de fastidioso.

mila cumple hoy un mes en la casa, el catorce de febrero entre cualquier día. qué tierno. lo bueno es que a ella realmente le importa un pimiento; si pudiera hablar diría que siempre ha vivido con nosotras, y que poco importa cuánto es eso en huesos de carnaza o paseítos mañaneros.

me cae re gordo san valentín; y ¡demonios! por supuesto que tuvo que caer hoy, ¿a que no? es decir, que hoy hace dos años ocurrió algo que cambió mi vida en ese entonces; y ahora, me cae el doble de gordo san valentín.

lo cual no debe traducirse en que sufro; por el contrario, me siento como quien contempla a alguien derrumbado sobre la acera, y lo pateas con el pie para comprobar si está vivo, si se mueve, si respira.

creo que está vivo, pero profundamente dormido.

o en otras palabras, creo que perdí la razón hace un par de días... y no me siento ni bien ni mal, sino exactamente igual... aunque me duele el oído.