Friday, November 2, 2007

Trick or Treat

Ok, so it wasn't even Halloween yet when I wrote this... this is Tuesday morning I'm talking about here, and things have already gotten weird... Imagine what Halloween was like and maybe I'll tell you later.

So, it's not even Halloween yet and already all sorts of strange things are happening...

I know, I know, I haven't kept up with the blogging. Sorry. Life happens. I haven't kept up with a lot of things (like bills...) lately. No great surprise that journaling would fall by the wayside.

Let's start with the most recent, shall we? And by that you can judge the less recent past; tell me, have things gotten better or worse?

This afternoon, at a quarter to two, when I should've been on my way to work toting candy corn for the boss (we'll get to that) I was instead in bed. More importantly, I was not in bed alone. It was my bed at least, but that's where the similarities end. The other (obviously nude) occupant was a decently attractive if skinny man holding a crack pipe while porn played on his laptop in the background. He was in fact perched on my pelvic bone at the time. And all the while, I kept thinking, How on EARTH did I get from Point A to Point B?? What happened? Where did this train de-rail?

Now perhaps you're thinking I've dropped my standards just a bit. Well, you'd be wrong. Honestly, he's intelligent, charming, attractive, in the right age bracket and unattached (who wouldn't want such a catch, right?). He has a graduate degree in Biochemistry, he is well-behaved and well-groomed. I swear to God the crack pipe came out of the blue for me. Ok, he was a little tiny bit sketchy. I'll give you that. But we all know I like the crazy, and I was trying to figure out his accent... very Mark Twain, unlike anything I've ever heard before. But he had a car, an apartment, said the right things, did the right things (the rest of the naked time was FUN)..... how was I to suspect things would end up where they did?

From personal experience, borrowing a drug addict has it's pros and cons. Yes, yes, this is not something I should have experience in, and it shouldn't, from a moralizing standpoint, have pros, but it does. Tom with the Camaro in Nevada loved his meth. He adored the ground I walked on and never forgave me for not introducing him to my family, but he also loved his meth when he didn't think he would see me... Problem is, some of those nights, he did see me. And I went home with him like I always did. And I learned something interesting.... if they're too high, they cannot perform, no matter how much they want to. This stands to reason, given the "whiskey dick" phenomenon. But if they're not That high, not only can they perform, but they cannot finish despite wanting to and they really do have the energy to go all night... and long into the morning. It is endless. Really. You become afraid that something important might wear off in the tireless friction. There are bruises and swelling and limping and stumbling and dehydration issues to be minded that are not normally there. They really want to finish and will see a thing through to the end. It is impressive, if later painful. It's actually kind of fun (for the first 4 hours). Thus, if you can limit them somehow to 4 hour or less sessions, it can be very rewarding. But of course, they are not for keeping, no matter how many puppy dog looks they give you. And they are unpredictable. I say this as a woman who knows exactly what to expect from violent psychopaths, manic depressives and schizophrenics; they are unpredictable. Almost anything can induce great paranoia which you do not have the background of trust to deflect. And they will sink to great depths to get another high. Great depths. If they have to use you, steal from you, hurt you, abandon you to do so, they will without much hesitation. Do not be the obstacle between them and their next high.

So we had a good time. And he's going into Rehab soon (he says... he has started packing, that's a good sign) and by the time he gets out, I'll be long gone. The healthy thing to do. It was odd, but not really bad. Just really odd. I really did need to get laid. And I didn't lower my standards too far.

I'm not one for porn either, but whatever. He wanted it and he got it, he just had to bring it himself. It doesn't offend me so greatly that I could not bear to have him play it. I don't care for it, and in a real relationship, it upsets me substantially more than strippers, really, but when one is on a borrowing basis, it is understandable that a man needs more than your occasional and impermanent company. Besides, it's a feather in my cap at least when the porn is playing and no one pays any attention.... there are more pressing things to attend to. The movie could've stopped and we wouldn'tve noticed.

ok, off to bed with me or I'll be a zombie for halloween. more later.

Monday, October 15, 2007

On absence and it's inclination to make one absent-minded..

So it's been a while since I posted... In fact, I may just break this up into two or more posts, because I can...

What you need to know: I am... crazy (as usual). I was planning to move to Portland, that may have fallen through. It's too early and I'm too upset to tell. The plan was contingent on staying with Lloyd, who is being a MAJOR poo-head... after telling me from day one that he would LOVE it if I would "narrow the bandwidth" to just him, he is now retracting that statement and declaring that "us" would be a bad, bad idea (which I second...). After telling me constantly since he arrived in Oregon how much he misses me, how much he would like for me to come there, and how he wouldn't bother coming back to New Orleans if I'm not going to be here, he is now saying that there is no room for me in his life there.... busy, busy, busy, drama, drama, drama, etc, etc, etc. Silly me for believing him.

I didn't really want an us... I wanted something familiar. Lloyd=familiar. Portland=familiar. That's all I wanted. A little comfort in an unsure world... just temporarily... but Apparently, that's too much to ask... obviously, he is much more comfortable with the un-tarnishable image of me that lives in his head than with the reality of me in his house. Unfortunately, not surprising.

Also not surprising is the fact that neither of us have contacted the other since that conversation. I will forgive him, if he'll give me the opportunity. I should've known better than to believe him.

However, Melissa is planning to come stay with me for November and leave for Seattle the first week in December... Which was my ride to Portland... and a great road trip... How I'm going to pull that off now I have no idea. I don't have the money to get a place in Portland by myself and we all know how I feel about roommates. Sarah is unavailable and anyone else wold be untenantable. Spell-check hates me tonight.

I suppose I could just de-clutter my house and take a road trip to Seattle anyways... if I could get my boss to give me the time off... I'm tired of him anyways. I could fake an emergency, couldn't I?

I don't know. We'll see.

There are other plans on the table, and some interesting facts acquired. For example, did you know that it is distressingly easy to ex-patriate to Canada? (That means emigrate... look it up.) Apparently, there is a points system. Out of 100 points, you need 67 to get Canadian citizenship. You get 16 for speaking English, 16 for graduating high school and 10 for being between the ages of 21-49. You also get ten for having a job offer, which is good because if you don't have a job offer, you have to have $10K in your bank account. I don't have $10K in my bank account. You get 16 for having One year's work experience in a "qualified profession" of which cook is one... Yeah, if I had a job offer, I'd have about 82 points... Ex-pat here I come... Socialized health care, no litter, no Bush... now there's a goal I can go after... Besides, everything's easier for Canadians... travel, obtaining Chinese produce, visas, dental care, respect in the global community... yup. I could go work in Australia easy too... something about Commonwealth states... just need a plane ticket to australia, really. And I could say I expatriated because of stupid old Bush... that would be nice. I know, I know, Canada's cold. But Vancouver's not really that cold. But Vancouver is EXPENSIVE. Being named the best city in the world to live in for like 5 years running has made it ridiculously difficult to get an apartment.... But Victoria's not far away... and it's even warmer there... the water keeps it more temperate. I wouldn't mind living in Victoria for a while. I think you're not allowed to leave Canada for a long time though... but I could rent a boat and sneak over, I'm sure... it's not far. Or I could just make everyone visit me in Canada.... that's an option too.

There's a company in Dallas that's DESPERATE for talented female chefs.... I could go there. Although, having been banned from the city of "Big D, little A" once, I'm hesitant to go back. I don't like Texas much. And the public transit is total crap.

There's always Florida, of course...

And Jen says that if I want to stay a while longer and save some real money (moving to Canada money??), since I have to be out of this place by new years, I could move into the warehouse where she lives. It's not much, but it's cheap. And it would definitely make me want to leave here quicker... and they wouldn't mind the cats at all. But I would need less stuff. It's a one-room kinda deal.

So, I don't know. That's my official conclusion. I intend to put off decision-making until it becomes absolutely necessary.

In other news, Dennis is on vacation in Seattle after having worked an appalling number of double-shifts and having had no time/energy for me lately. I'm reaching new lows of sexual frustration. I have resorted to dating other people but so far none of them are making it to the putting-out portion... depressing really.

Thusly, I bought 5 sweaters at a rummage sale and am destructing them in record time....

I also knit myself a lovely pair of fall-colored armwarmers. pictures to come.

I'm devoting a fair amount of energy to knitting my hats for hookers, and that's going pretty well. Two lovely small hats, one right-sized hat for Melissa and now a slightly large hat for a hooker... I've promised 6 total, which means I need 5 more good-sized ones... The little ones i'll donate to the kids in Colorado. I should do that soon... meaning I should finish weaving in the ends and send them off... it's cold in Colorado by now.

My knitting group has by and large decided that we will form a happy hour knitting circle, which I'm delighted about. We now meet Thursdays from 7-11 at the Courtyard Marriott, which is about three blocks from my work. Ok, four and a half. Awesome. Beer, knitting, and me getting to join in because I usually get off work by 10 on Thursdays. I like this plan. I even stopped by for a while on Saturday and knitted with Lynn (the bartender; which is why we have this meeting now..).

I also created an entire (if smallish) black cat pinata for a pinata exchange... Pictures to come. I liked it very much. It was an adorable little black cat. I stuffed it so full of stuff it overflowed into the box. A lot. But that's ok, it was a flat-rate box. In exchange, I got a lovely skull pinata, which I've hung on my pot rack to await a bad day. It's full of lots of neat stuff (I peeked) and lots of spider rings. Which I've decided to use as stitch markers for a while. I think I will also string some on some black and purple fluffy yarn and make a Halloween scarf. just a little one. Hell, I have the time... I'm not getting any...

It's really appalling how much I'm getting done lately.

I've started to re-organize the house. But I've declared that Melissa is in charge of the actual removing things from the house, which means that I need to find somewhere to put the pile until she gets here.... which is the real problem.

I've reduced the bookshelf by a LOT, as well as the cookbook shelf (which is depressing enough...). I found the back of the closet today, and sent off my 30lb bag of beads to Jen who will use them for art projects. She's excited and so am I... one less 30lb bag to deal with. The rest of the closet's contents... well, let's just say, I would REALLY like to just shove it back in the closet. But I can't... so I have to deal with the pile of John's shit and some piles of mine. Presently, the bedroom is strewn with electrical cords I spent an hour untangling (did I mention the lack of action I'm getting??). The living room is strewn with an unraveled sweater I need to form into hanks, wash and then ball. I think I'm gonna have to borrow Jodi's ball-winder... I've been balling all the ribbon yarns so that they take up less space, and balling my box of string on cards instead of bobbins for the same reason. It's slow work, but it's effective and hell, I don't have anyone (uh, I meant anything...) better to do...

In book news, Do Not Read "Hustlers, Beats and Others". It fucking sucks. The author largely devotes the book to touting his method of research and denouncing current sociological methods... and then you get to his racist treatise... it's not pretty. It's like publishing the worst face of your ego... and calling it science... ick.

In house news, Jeanna is coming on Thursday, staying through Monday and we're all hoping she is having a good sanity day. Four of them. Cross your fingers for me, please. I can't deal with Psycho Jeanna right now.

One Brick is coming back 11/5-9 and there will be lots of people who want to see me. Should be fun. Sherry will be here, and she's bringing a friend. Tracy might be here, which should be interesting if Melissa's here as last time they got drunk and hung all over eachother... Or rather... maybe interesting isn't the word as they're both planning on staying at my house and I don't wanna see that. I think it's retribution for Lucinda walking in on me and Lloyd.

I've finally gotten to spend some time with Jen, which is great. I miss her. She's cool. She says I should get bonus points on my Canadian application for Gibson. She says that maybe if I send in a picture and a note about how cool he is they'll give us extra points to immigrate... they give extra points for well-educated spouses, why not awesome cats??

And I have to ball some yarn and mail it to Sweden today. Yippee. That's gonna cost some money...
And I haven't written my obit to send to wherever I'm supposed to be sending it... need to do that.
And I then there are other swaps to be dealt with... like this mess of red yarn that was a sweater... the knitting supply bag is almost done, but I was kind of hoping that the counter I want to buy her goes on sale so I can buy it cheaper... doesn't look like it's gonna happen though. Damn. And she wants replacement cables for interchangeable circulars and I need to ask her whether she has Boye, Denise or KnitPicks... probably Boye. My hands are tired from knitting armwarmers, untangling knots and balling yarn and string... I think I'm gonna call it...


Wednesday, September 19, 2007

i fucking hate this place, but I love this bunny

So these are your gifts today...

And of course, the bunny . Even you Melissa, can knit this bunny.

Monday, September 17, 2007

In the Dark

Aww.. look.. I wrote a poem for my sweetie...
But it doesn't have a name yet...

Seemed like a good place to put it... I always did like expiration dates.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

The Ride of Your Life

So it's been ages since I posted anything... the usual gentle wobbling and low din of my life suddenly went to roller-coasting roaring... and I'm afraid I found myself walking the tracks.

For a while there, I was happily riding along on the roller-coaster, thinking I was safe inside, but all of a sudden I realized I was instead simply lodged on the front car...

Lloyd is still gone. He says he will return when the gainful employment he is still in seek of has yielded enough savings to get a proper apartment. He is using me as an excuse, saying he wants to have me over sometime and can't now. It is a thin excuse as I never asked for such treatment nor will I prolong my stay here in New Orleans until such a thing happens. I'll likely never see him again.

I'm left with Dennis... who bailed on me the Friday before last, claiming poor health and a poorer mood. At the last minute. He then offered to take me out, and upon being reminded that I'd be spending my days off in another state, issued an IOU. He came over Sunday morning. The first time he's ever seen my apartment, and I swear, I cleaned like you wouldn't believe. He was not impressed by the cleanliness so much as the clutter. What can I say? We all know I have clutter issues. They are linked to abandonment issues which is funny because I'm usually the one that does the leaving... can anyone say "pre-emptive strike"?

He was... Dennis. It went well. Then I kicked him out, brought Jodi the house key, and left for Melissa's. Ahh... did we have fun in Wisconsin or what? Everyone thought I was mad to vacation in Wisconsin.... what a boring trip they imagined for me.... complete with weather and scenery... I barely noticed the weather and the only thing I can tell you about the scenery is that corn fields really do seem to loom. And apparently, dairy farmers do not encourage visitors. Especially not ones that think cows are made of tasty bits.

It was a wild adventure and I enjoyed every minute of it. Thank you, Melissa. Next time, you can come visit me and we'll do it up right again. You, of course, are welcome to start bar fights. I won't mind a bit.

So now I'm home and well, things are in ribbons again. No, the cats destroyed nothing in my absence, rather I destroyed them as soon as I came home. Dennis made it perfectly clear that he believes I'm his and his alone. I tried to gently disabuse him of the notion, but I don't think it quite took. I went over Friday, as usual, with cheese and a bottle of wine. Things went as usual. He was not feeling well however, so I was restrained.

Well, the text messages kept up... from when I left to long into his overnight shift... and he offered a "coffee soda" which to me sounded like pure magic in a cup... not so, really... as I discovered when I went to claim my prize. The streets of New Orleans have two things at 4 am: drunks and cab drivers. I did not see a single person walking that did not wobble wildly. I was repeatedly yelled at in an indecipherable manner by drunks in cars and out. I cannot tell you what they were yelling. It made no sense. I arrived, and through virtue of very poor security in his hotel, walked undisturbed into the kitchen. I should not have gone. I know that now and I had an inclination that perhaps that was the case when I left. But I've never been one to turn down a challenge. I got my coffee soda... not as magical as it sounds... and a tour of the kitchen. I then proceeded to stand around and watch him close down the kitchen.

I asked for, and was denied, a kiss. I waited for him to change and we left. Back at his place, the usual routine. But he'd been picking on me all night and at last my patience wore too thin. I said, enough, if this is how I'll be treated, I'll go home. At least my pillows there don't talk back. He didn't realize I was really leaving until he lifted his head to see me putting on shoes. He grabbed my hand, he pulled me to him. But all I wanted was a few kind words and he could not muster them. All he said to me was 'there's half a bed here' and 'with or without you, I'm going to get some sleep'. I told him that wasn't good enough. He gave me the sad look, he pulled on my arm and refused to let go. Are a few kind words so hard to muster up? Is it so much of a defamation of His ego to soothe Mine a bit? I wanted to stay. I stayed. I sat up. I paced, I fumed, I puttered, I smoked and I sat and watched him. I was tired. I curled up on the very corner of the bed and waited for him to react. He never did. He came closer a few times, but he never reached for me. I got up, I paced, I fumed, I smoked, I sat and watched him. I touched him and he made a low happy sound and held my hand. He didn't wake up. I climbed back in the bed. I didn't want to go. Going would've made it irretrievable. I stayed in the far corner. When I woke up and touched him he was so surprised he jumped up and grabbed my hand as though he'd forgotten I was there. Immediately, he realized it was me and he held me. I stayed all afternoon waiting for a reaction... a word, a gesture, an opinion, a reaction. Eventually I gave up and actually did go home. At that point, he'd had plenty of sleep and I could've woken him and had resolution or sex or whatever I wanted, but it was hollow by then.

It still feels hollow. I have a date Wednesday night and it's not with him. I cannot tolerate this monogamy. It is too heavy. Far too heavy. I am not so charming when I must take him seriously. He will take me out, and I will hate it as I always do when he's in public. But he'll likely be charming again. And he'll demonstrate that he knows how to treat me, most of the time.

a Missive on Joy and Simplicity as they apply to Cookies and Sex

Sent to Dennis early last Sunday:

For a couple of reasons, I'll e-mail this instead of texting it...

If you'll recall, the original premise of our... well.. our arrangement... was a massage in exchange for cookies. You agreed to it, I agreed to it, and really, I feel that keeping it that way makes things simpler. I know, I know, I'm making you fat or some nonsense... but I really do take great joy in the baking... and... at least from my perspective, odd as it may be, it keeps the relationship simpler. There's a give and take in it that keeps things grounded.

I know, I know, you and your highly ordered lifestyle... everything in it's place... alles en ordenung... But remember for a moment that if I shared your highly ordered lifestyle, I'd never have met you. I'll make the batches smaller, hell, I'll even make 'em low-fat, I've done worse... you can drop them off at the homeless shelter for all I care... hand them out to strangers like I do... But I Like baking. I do. Sure, sure, I suppose I could just make cookies for Eddy every week... but it wouldn't be the same. I gave him a batch of failed chocolate madeleines (they came out like little brownies) and he told his sister I made "the black ones" just for him...

I am an indulgent creature, pray indulge me... try a cookie just for show and then leave them on a random doorstep on your way to work.... I promise not to make you any more cakes... even though I was just thinking of making the best cake I know for your birthday. You'll break my heart to take my food away... you have no idea how much I enjoy having someone to cook for.

If you insist, I won't bring them. Can't say I'll be happy about it. Can't say that at all... but I won't bring them if you'll just snub them. To think how recently you told me that you wouldn't let me in if I didn't bring cookies...

Breakfast is whenever I damn well get around to it. I'm packing now and then I have some housecleaning to do. I have to catch up with Jodi around noon to give her the key, and then I have to go to the airport. Which means I'm not lugging breakfast to your house and then passing out and missing all the things I have to do this morning. If you care to join me, I suppose you can. You'd have to eat a waffle though...

Thursday, September 6, 2007

i just can't fucking...

Ok, internet's been out for 5 days. It's finally back on and I'm having one of those days where I just can't process shit. I can't figure out what the fuck is going on so I can't tell you. Obviously, I can relate events, but I have no perspective today and i need perspective, so here...

My pirate name is:

Iron Anne Vane

A pirate's life isn't easy; it takes a tough person. That's okay with you, though, since you a tough person. You tend to blend into the background occaisionally, but that's okay, because it's much easier to sneak up on people and disembowel them that way. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from
part of the network

That's what you get, and that's all you get and you'll like it. I gotta go review my waffle recipe. Again. Oh, and sleep... it's 4 am and I'm running on 3 hours yesterday. Damn. not enough hours, I swear...