Go to Vinnay’s blog immediately. DO IT! NOW!
And just like that it’s a dead heat for Clareified person of the year!
Archive for September, 2009
Go to Vinnay’s blog immediately. DO IT! NOW!
Wear your seatbelts! Always no matter how short a trip you’re taking. Wear them in cars, planes or busses! If seatbelts are installed, there’s a reason. Also make sure your kids have seatbelts on them if in a moving vehicle. Ok, sermon over.
Ok, I don’t want to be one of those tools that writes an intro that’s longer than the poem and this poem is hella short, so we may have already failed.
I used to put this poem and the book that made it famous, “The Outsiders,” in the category of “waa, whiny white teenagers boo fucking hoo.”
See Caulfied, Holden.
It’s all about how life changes quickly; and the good and innocence giving way every time. Nothing gold *can* stay. It’s inevitable.
As a poor, chubby black girl who lived in the ghetto with her immigrant single mother, I had no sense of nostalgia for anything. Except for my mom, EVERYTHING sucked. My apartment sucked, my building sucked, my clothes sucked, my hair sucked, my block sucked. You name it, it sucked it.
So, as I went off to fancy schmancy prep schools and Ivy League universities, I had no patience for any idealization of “childhood” or “poverty” or “oh, you came from the streets, how wonderful.”
It sucked. Now put your blazer back on and shut the fuck up about how ever since the divorce, your daddy will only pay for four weeks of space camp. Yeah, he’s the douche.
For me, everything in my life was getting better. And that’s the way I liked it. I didn’t want any of that shit to stay. But today, the days are shorter, the nights are cooler, October – and the end of the first decade of the millenia – loom just on the horizon, I can appreciate the sense of loss. I understand nostalgia for friends and good times long gone. I see the value in thinking on the wonders you took for granted or didn’t even notice because you were moving too quickly or your mind was preoccupied with whatever thing you thought was more important. But at the same time accepting that it was so precious because it couldn’t last. And so, to close out September, we choose another Robert Frost classic.
Here’s to the gold in our lives, now gone forever.
Not to my childhood though, that still sucked.
Nothing Gold Can Stay – Robert Frost
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
I just checked my voice messages and I got an awesome one from Kaz and Tito! hahahaha Your friends may be better than my friends, but you don’t get to blog about them on my blog, so it doesn’t count. #thismakessense
Okay, so normal people tell other people these things on the phone or in person, but I’m me and my blogs need content! Pearatty is just the most amazing person ever! First thing this morning she texts me: why are you sad?
I’m at work, so I can’t answer and about an hour later she texts me again: Don’t make me call you. I’ll do it!
I laughed so hard. (Cause dude, she totally would. Evil.)
And then later that afternoon when my day took yet another awesome turn, she was totally there with an awesome awesome thoughtful solution. Dude, how do people survive with no pearatty to text? I feel so bad for you guys. You can’t have mine though. I’m already drafting shared custody agreements with Mr. Pearatty and Brady Zac. They get her every Noonsday in Septober. That is totally a real day.
Here’s hoping they don’t get an attorney to look it over.
Listening to music now: Morrissey – Ouija Board, Ouija Board
But feel free to hit up these other fine blogs: Petitedov wants comments, so go comment and engage and encourage her unique voice. It’s @astinto’s birthday and it’s his fault I busted from the AL Can’t Hang Eliminator, which is good cause I never knew what to pick after I was told I couldn’t just pick the Riots everytime. So go say happy birthday to him…in Canadian it’s probably something like “How aboot the leafs, eh?”
As for me, thanks for your concern, we’re just feeling cheerleader these days, we’ll recover. Or we won’t and we’ll be forced to punch ourselves to death. One or the other. (What? You weren’t concerned? Well, then bite me.)
I entered a flash fiction writing contest via Twitter. I believe the London Times is running it. I submitted three stories. Want to read them? You do? Okay!
1.”You said you’d always love me.” She smiled, “I do love you.” And then she slit his throat. #tctc
2. The test was positive. She threw the box and its incriminating contents in the trash. She’d be lying for two now. #tctc
3. Watching the flames lick the contents of her office, she began to cough. Ella shut the door. What now, she wondered. #tctc
I liked the exercise. I started coming up with a million characters and scenarios. Made me realize how much I like fiction…my problem though is when I try to write long fictional pieces I just end up printing fucked up shit people have done to me and then invent a monster that eats them. Like this one:
“Fuck NO! If you make me share a bed with that fat ass bitch, I’ll just go to the Taj and play poker all night!”
His girlfriend and cousin laughed.
Stephanie stood quietly outside the hotel room door. She had come to warn them. But now…
She slid the keycard out of the door and walked toward the elevator.
The screams echoing from the room a moment later, told her they already knew.
Nice, right? Problem is they’re all like that. Which, I think is cute when you’re a little kid, but as a grown-up, will elicit the raised eyebrow.
“Really? Another monster?”
“Yeah, she shuffled her feet and walked away.
She stopped and turned around. No, she thought, she will not accept this one quietly.
She cracked open the editor’s office door only to see the soles of his shoes disappear behind the two rows of yellow teeth and drool.
“I’ll…um…come back,” she stammered.
I started the new job. Sorry, Tae, I did not win the Main Event. I didn’t even play because Fisch refused to stake me. And then he said a bunch of racist stuff about black people always looking for handouts. And then I said I was latino and he said “mexicans, blacks same thing.” And then I cried and he said derogatory things about women. And then he said “whatevs, clean slate on Monday.”
(The best part, is that of all the things I attributed to him in that paragraph, the only one that will offend him is that I have him saying “whatevs.” #Truestory)
Where was I? Oh, right, new job. Okay, someday, when I am rich and famous I will write a book called “ridiculous jobs I have had.”
This job will be Chapter Four.
Although, I am supposedly being paid a shitload to do it. (I say supposedly because the numbers used to lure me into the position have not been mentioned ONCE since I got there.) So, we’ll see.
Anyway, that’s not why I’m writing this post. Here’s the thing:
There’s this guy. He is a short, chubbyish middle aged white man. He always wears a striped shirt tucked into his khakis and a belt. Oh yeah, AND he has like old timey classes from the Russell Crowe movies where he talks like an American and everyone smokes! Sometimes this dude at my job also wears a tie. But sometimes he doesn’t! That’s not the weird part, though. He is ALWAYS smiling! Like ALWAYS! Staring at the computer, pushing the elevator button, walking to the coffeemaker…ALWAYS. And not in the perfectly normal way that some people smile to themselves because they’re writing the post in their head about the obviously psychotic coworker who is smiling all the time. (Oh, and can I get a what up from Grammer Queen for perfect usage of their and they’re?)
So my question is, do I have enough to call the FBI? You just know that there are girls chained up in this dude’s basement! I feel like if I had the handshake power like Christopher Walken in that movie, I would touch his hand and hear the screams of his victims; feel the blood of the innocent seeping through my pores. (Wow, am I glad I don’t have that power.)
Anyway dear readers, please advise! There are lives at stake! Maybe literally! (Who knows what Smiley McSmilerton is up to at night.)