july '03

Choolie-woolie!

That’s what lilbear woulda said if he had been up and gone outside at 2.30 this morning. Choolie-woolie is how he says chilly-willy… it’s too darned cute. Oh… and to mention him again… Yesterday he continued on with his conversations with the inanimate. He was wanting me to open a bottle of brand new bubble bath, one of those deals where there’s a safety seal, so there was no taking the cap off. I told him no, and he promptly turned around and asked Grandma to open it for him. She, of course, told him no too. So he looked from one of us to the other rather quizzically, and then turned to his dump-truck and said, “Dump truck open it?” Then he asked a stuffed frog, “Froggie open it?” Alas, nobody was willing to lend a helping hand (or tire or flipper, as the case may have been). In some ways I’m really happy that I don’t remember what it was like to be two years old. It had to have been frustrating at times.

Yesterday, flaxen headed one linked to an entry by one of two blowhards who was writing about… well, he begins with the statement

“I’ve decided to (in my own small way) to imitate Charley B and do ten posts about things I enjoy as a parent. One of them is spending time with children’s books that I liked as a kid.”

And now I find myself thinking about other “things of childhood.” I have one question to anyone out there who knows. Do they still make erector sets? If so, can I lobby Congress and the Senate to have them outlawed? I’ve already explained to lilbear (though I don’t know how well he understood) that as he got older, I would emphatically *NOT* be helpful in building all those “Some Assembly Required toys that will be coming up the pike. This afternoon, I put together one of those stupid metal shelving units that everyone’s dad has in his garage. What would have taken a normal man 15 minutes to assemble took me 3 hours. And I called my ma to help. I sure hope I never live *too* far from my brother, otherwise, lilbear’s gonna be riding a bicycle box around the block when he gets older.

But that’ll be some time from now. Right now, though, time is weird. I’m currently working a 3.00-11.00 a.m. shift. I am, by nature, a bit of a night owl. This schedule is not at all amusing. I’m fine at work, and as a matter of fact, I have every intention of using the non-work part of the day ahead of me productively while I am at work. I actually spent time today jotting down a list of things I planned on doing once I was off today. The list is sitting somewhere around here. I think.

The adult erector set was not on the official list of things to do, by the way. It just sorta happened.

Oh, and I managed to find a few links: the first is that cool Moon Phases Calculator thingie I used to have a link to. And I stumbled across not one, but two Chinese language sites that may be of interest to me at one point or another. And I toyed around with this Alphabet Synthesis Machine, but I don’t know quite yet what I would do with it. Maybe I can use it to create a language when the Terminator movies become reality, or, since I need to use the computer to use it, maybe not.

posted 07.30.03

somewhere…

over the rainbow…

I think I must’ve become a caricature of myself.

I used to feign an air of self-deprecatory that I imagined was quaintly attractive because it appeared humble where I felt anything but. Yet, somehow this air became the breath I breathe. It is what infuses me now. It is, for all intents and purposes, who I am.

When I went to college, I was warned (along with other things) to remember that I was used to being a big fish in a small pond (even though I really wasn’t), and that the change in water would be quite a shock to my system.

Well, the change in water *was* quite a jolt.

I became a self-assured aristocrat. A Master of My Universe. Or so I thought.

I didn’t see the crumblings for quite a long time. And when I did see them, I didn’t acknowledge them as flaws in my Almighty Armour. They were just who and what I was.

Now, though, I have been reminded, over and over again, who and what I used to be. *Now* I have become that small fish in a *HUGE* pond.

I revel, though, in some of the glories of my past. I listen to some of the same music and it evokes the kinds of things that only the b-side of the Beatles‘ Abbey Road nowCD album could. I remember what it was like to talk about Vom Vessen des Grundes (and actually “know” in my own paltry way) what it was I was talking about. Since then, yes, I have had moments of cabbage laden lucidity… but I really do long for what my mind used to be.

It would be nice, wouldn’t it, to have a mental periscope to poke up through all the detritus, if only to catch a fleeting glimpse of what used to be.

Here I am, though. Waving through a mist, a haze, a fog.

posted 07.27.03 (02)

sometimes…

...I just feel a lil bit of Sunday-blue.

All in all, though, it was a wonderful weekend. I am, however going to remain on the early-early-early morning schedule for another week, so my sleep schedule is still doomed for the time being, which probably doesn’t help with sometimes-sadness. Ah, well. I will adjust.

It was flaxen headed one’s b-day on Saturday. She’s a year younger than my brother, and born on the same day as Mick Jagger, in case I ever forget again. I made a GIGANTI-batch of chocoNpeanutbutter chip cookies for her in the morning, and salmon for dinner. I didn’t eat a whole LOT of the salmon dinner, but I can attest to the fact that the cookies were GREAT.

posted 07.27.03

X-mas in July is a-comin‘

And, since I’ll more than likely miss it, I should wish you all a very merry Christmas, or, if you’re not into all of that Christ imagery, maybe I should say, “Happy Santa day,” to you. Whichever greeting you prefer, perhaps you should shun giving gifts of underwear to those you love. Just a suggestion.

posted 07.23.03

Who you callin’ a bitch?

This ruling from a few days amused me, but I haven’t known how to really present it. I wanted to be witty and whatnot, but my humor hasn’t been with me of late. I wonder if “strumpet” and “tart” are slanderous? They’re much better words anyway.

I’m too tired to even be jackin’ with this thing really, but I get to get lilbear tomorrow, so I *know* I more than likely won’t be typin’ much for awhile. Not that I even have anything to say of late. I’ve been kinda outta whack what with the new schedule. Alas. The best laid plans of mice and men.

posted 07.23.03

random flitting

First thing first: I’ve put a “notes” link over on the top-ish right side of the main page. On occasion, I may resort to using it instead of posting right here. It’s gonna be a place where I can write just “notes” to myself. Most of them will probably be (for the time being) stuff I may or may not refer to when nanowrimo comes around. We shall see.

So, a couple of weeks ago I was unemployed. Last week I was employed and working 8-5. This week, I guess to keep me on my toes, I am working (as of today) from 3-11 a.m. This is wreaking havoc on me.

So, while I was at the Flaxen Headed One’s over the weekend, she hurt her foot. Hurt it pretty bad, too, though I’m not gonna mention exactly “how” it happened. Perhaps she’ll note it. Anyway, she took the day off yesterday. During her day off she went through a box of old papers she had stored. Turns out that some of my writing had ended within. This is something I wrote back in ’95 for/to her.

As this moon climbs through the window
and the sun sets unseen
fading the sky fast as
the time we roller skated down that hill
and you misplaced your vertical
skinned your knees and
broke your arm, but you, too proud
to say anything but -- I'm sorry --

We raced through everything,
always too fast for me,
like I was trying to catch up
to you catching me.
And when it died
it wasn't over.

As this moon climbs through the window
the sun gives into its reflected glow
and the stillness of the crickets' chirr --
(the same crickets, I'm sure, that sang the night
we made hasty love on the bank of the river
while our friends waited our return.

Those crickets laughed because
they knew I would lose you.
They were wrong.
You would always be there, only different.)
Our fire gave in to a reflective glow
and the crickets of stillness chirr
longingly to the moon that has escaped
and left the sky through the window black,
moonless, but still contentedly loved.

Man, have I been pining and “mooning” for about forever, or what?

posted 07.23.03

A love affair is not a lifetime.

But is a lifetime a love affair?

Well, okay. *Technically* I haven’t known her for a “lifetime.”

But I have a picture of her shoes.

But then, who cares about this picture of two shoes?

Is love a work of art? Or am I chasing my tail (or it’s homonym ? Yeah, she wears these shoes whenever she opens the earth, but what happens when I steal this paltry digital image of them afterwards? What, if anything, have I unconcealed?

I have small welts on my arm that prove that I cannot move throughout the world without having it touch me. I was pulling weeds from the cracks of her driveway, and stacking the mulch-to-be in tidy piles. I was not unaware of the plethora of ants that poured forth from one particular bunch of unwanted greenery as I plucked it from its home. I was made more aware of the tiny tribe, however, after I picked up the quickly wilting bundle and dropped it into the pile that was to become the food for future foliage. I soon thereafter noticed several welts.

From Van Gogh to Warhol. And I cannot even keep my shoes on in a restaurant. I’ll figure this out someday, won’t I?

posted 06.20.03

Sometimes we’re clunky

Once, out in a field, I groped her. We had walked through tracts of forest, and then meandered through the side-rows of farmland. We were hand in hand for as much as we could be. Then I stopped and kissed her. And that kiss became a fondling with my awkward hands. And then… well… I had my hand in her pants. I muddled her for as long as could be endured at the time. When I was finally brought to my senses, my leg had all but paralyzed, having been locked in a stock-still standing position for so long.

Later on, the same day even, we sat before a bonfire. She was sitting on a hunk of log, several inches higher than the slab of concrete I was making a seat of. We made out like a couple of school-kids, kissing frantically. It was only after quite some time that I mentioned to her that she had been stepping on my foot the whole time, inadvertently twisting my ankle into a contortionist’s bend.

Sometimes, too, when we are on the couch, either listening to music, or watching tv, or even just sitting… sometimes one or the other of us will crawl up close. The couch, though, is not a very comfortable place for some spontaneous affections. We’re not teen-agers, despite what she does to my hormonal flux most of the time. I so adore these times of “dis-comfort”. They remind me of just how human, how utterly tied to our bodies, how infinitely appealing our senses can be.

posted 07.17.03

auftn making no sense

The candles flickered a pale orange hue against the off-white tiles, giving the room a soft glow only hoped for in soft-core porn and only imagined in romance novels. The scent of those candles was subtle in the heavy, steamy air. The water in the bathtub lapped at the porcelain, muted beneath a lush bloom of softly hissing bubbles. The day had been spent in utter nudity, so bath time didn’t demand a shedding of clothes.

There was a brief debate about who should get in first, but I already knew I wanted to be first in, despite my denials.

As I slipped into the water it seemed scaldingly hot at first, but my body adjusted easily with the anticipation of having her against me. When she finally followed me in I sighed deeply, a shiver of contentedness goose bumping across my flesh. She nestled between my legs and filled a huge sponge with water. She drizzled the steaming heat over her arm, over her shoulder, and then onto me. The gentle waters caress my skin, make me soften even more. She leans back, her long blonde hair matting to my bare chest as we kiss succulently.

It is over, though, all too soon.

“Maybe,” she would later say, “we should have sat facing each other.”

“That would have meant one of us had a faucet in our spine.”

“But I didn’t get to do anything for you,” she answers back.

Later still, I would wake from a nightmare after only having fallen asleep for an hour. I would ask, still semi-locked in the haze of unconsciousness, if she had peanut butter before realizing that she is crying.

When she said that she didn’t get to do anything for me I should have thrown up my arms been defiantly contradictory. The bath, drawn lovingly, the subtle flicker of the candles and their amorphous scent, the silky white foam of the bubbles., and last, yet certainly not least, the way it felt when she nestled herself in between my legs.

(I lose my words as I am writing them, settle back into my seat for a moment and decide to shuffle a Tarot deck. The card I choose, which is eerie to me, because I had a penchant for choosing it in the past, is the Two of Swords. I had held her in my “lap” while we sat in that narrow bathtub together. I had crossed my arms, above her chest. I had closed my eyes, blind as he robed woman on the card, as I kissed her neck gingerly. Where does my trepidation come from when la lune and la mere are so close behind me?)

I should have told her, when she said that she didn’t get to do anything for me, that all that she had done was more than I could have ever hoped for.

Candle light, orange and soft, its color is directly across from the pale blue wonder of her eyes. She created, in that luxuriant realm, a transcendence that hop-skip-jumped, a place where, in my recent reclusiveness, I can submerse myself and remember the sweet allure of sleep once again.

posted 07.15.03

The Joys of not Being a Temp

Alrightie. I survived my first day as an official employee. Wow, huh?

So, it turns out that my first task is to fill in for Joy (how a person with her name could come off any less like her name, I’ll never know) when she’s on vacation on Thursday and Friday. I’m gonna be a “Billing” guy for the time being.

It’s odd, this not being a temp anymore. There were tiny perks to being a temp. One of them was that I was at a work station that was hitherto occupied by someone, and thus had all necessary desk supplies. I’m not complaining or anything about my lack of office accouterments, but hell, they put me at a desk that doesn’t even have a garbage can. I guess I can be really neat.

Ah, and working full days… while it is quite a relief, and much more satisfying in the big picture… sure does cut into my personal life. No more afternoons of messaging my flaxen headed one. And, can you believe it, the frog princess actually started riding *without* training wheels? (sigh) Sometimes the world just races by.

posted 07.14.03

le sigh

Man, I sometimes just need to get a clue.

I have no explanation, nor excuse, for my actions, yet they made me ache with sadness. She’s told me in the past, “You need to be a nicer person.” I really do have to agree.

I hurt her feelings. Made her cry. I apologized and apologized, yet that doesn’t take away the fact that it happened. That I was a cause of pain for her.

I don’t want to dwell, though, ‘cause it’ll only make me sadder since I can’t be with her now.

So…

Thursday night I got there… I was early, so I explored her back yard for a bit. The raspberry bushes she got from her dad had what seemed like tons of berries. I, naturally, plucked a few and popped them in my mouth. The rest of her plants seemed to be doing okay as well, and I meandered aimlessly along their edge for a bit (okay, so the rose bush didn’t seem all that hearty, but hey, I’m no wizard when it comes to gardening). Eventually I sat on her back porch and patiently awaited her arrival from work, my bags and belongings stacked neatly beside the back door. I pulled out a book of crosswords and faced myself toward the driveway so I would see her when she rounded the corner. Oops! She tricked me.

“Hey, you,” I heard behind me. I twisted my head around suddenly and my heart burst out in a big ol stupid smile. We’ve known each other for so very long, and still… when I see her after any prolonged absence (okay, so a week isn’t normally what one would call a prolonged absence… deal with me), it just makes my entire being turn into some sort of shy and silly kid somehow.

Sometimes I say too little, and sometimes I say too much. And sometimes I say things just to fill in the quietness that I imagine makes her feel awkward. I need to stop doing this, but it (like so many other things I do) are so deeply interwoven into the alphabet of my existence (a.k.a.: the abcs of me (thankyouverymuchlilli)), that I need to somehow learn a new language. But there I go again, dwelling.

We went into the house; she helped me take in some of the things I’d brought. “Did I bring too much?” I asked? “Nope,” she replied, “it doesn’t look like everything you own.” I smiled. I looked back at the patio table at my crossword puzzle book and cup of coffee. Eh, I could get them soon enough.

She had been promising to make me dinner. I was, of course, anxiously anticipatory. After so long of hearing of her culinary tastes, and after having subjected her to so much of my own cooking, I was looking forward to what she would make.

First, though, we made love.

Afterward, I noticed it had started to rain. Funny how the rain creeps up on us sometimes. Just like la lune. La lune, however, does not soak my crossword puzzle book and dilute my coffee. Ah, well.

Anyway, she had stopped on her lunch hour and picked up some fresh vegetables. While I sat at the kitchen table and sliced and then chopped some onions, she was busily preparing other things. She sent me out for raspberries from the bushes and a bit of chive. I merrily darted out to cop a quick cigarette and gather the harvest. She made a wonderful dinner of apple laced sausages in sauerkraut and onions, green beans with chopped almonds, and little baby potatoes. I may be mistaken, but I believe there was chive sprinkled over each (I was a little zealous in my chive snipping).

It was really wonderful, and despite its simplicity, definitely something that Paul would do well to experiment with for food blog.

So, completely sated, I, being the slug that I am, settled onto the couch and asked if we could catch elimiDATE on tv. And, yes, she must truly love me, because we did.

Friday, as I’ve mentioned in an earlier post, I had planned on going into the city with her and wandering. I had pretty much settled on the idea that I would go to the Field Museum. I should have thought this idea out a bit more thoroughly. I did end up walking (over a mile) out there, and I did manage to interest myself with seeing Sue, but I failed to remember that this is, of course, summer. And summer in the city means that every day camp/child refuge on the planet makes a visit to the Field Museum eventually. Needless to say, I left before lunch. I hiked my dupa back up toward the heart of the city, and after a mightily fulfilling lunch of two Great American Burgers (which I don’t recommend to food blog, but which I scarffed down nonetheless) and a cup of coffee, I was off to The Art Institute. I should have chosen going there from the beginning. I just adore Monet’s haystacks, so I know I’ve nearly always got *something* I can engross myself with there. And somehow I always discover other things I become enamored with. This time it was Joseph Cornell. I swear, I could have spent open to close (if I had found them in at the crack of open) just exploring the collection of his boxes that are there. And then there was Unknown Maker, an exhibition of daguerreotypes, that completely floored me as well.

Unfortunately, though, The Art Institute closes before it was time to meet her after work, otherwise, I would have dragged her back to look at these things with me again. As it turned out, though, she had to stay after her usual time for a little bit finishing up work. I gave her a small green polished stone heart that I bought at the Museum and watched her as she finished up making copies.

Once free from work, the weekend was ours. She drove us up to the north side and we stopped in at Early to Bed and got a little… um… “toy.”

Well, it’s getting late. Tomorrow’s my first day of a new job. I think I am going to tumble off to sleep.

I had (except for having hurt her feelings) a wonderful weekend. Saturday, despite my lack of charm, it was wonderful to just be bare with her.

Oh, and by the way… she has purple toenails now.

posted 07.13.03

Okay, I‘ll bite…

So, I commented on those green Pringles. I wonder if they were X-TREME Pringles.

I stumbled onto Maddox via injust-spring via Heather. While reading about corn nuts and such, I about pissed my pants laughing.

But I didn’t poop.

Oh, and speaking of poop. I was morose a few days back because I was let go from my temp job. If you don’t remember that, it’s because I somehow managed to lose that entry while updating others to this page. Sometimes I think I’d like to try blogger and see what it’s like, but I really enjoy being able to do what I do here, and… well… I’m a creature of habit.

But I was saying… I lost my temp job back on the 3rd. It was nice of them, I suppose, to let me know that I was going to have a *very* long holiday weekend. But what with my birthday coming… and having to part ways with lilbear for awhile… I was not amused by their timing.

The nerve of them.

But anyway… they hired me today. I start Monday. I mean… *they* hired *me.* I’m not gonna be some temp schlep. I’m gonna be a COMPANY schlep. Complete with insurance and such. Wow.

I haven’t been anything but a temp for so long.

oh, and BLOG, Martha, BLOG!!!

posted 07.09.03

It’s been pretty rough here of late when it comes to precipitation. I mean, sure, the plants are prolly diggin the hell out of it, but crimony, I’ll be glad when the humidity dies down a bit.

I had a couple of posts earlier this month which I lost because sometimes I lose things when I’m trying to save them onto this site. I don’t know what it is that I’m doing wrong, but usually I have backups saved onto my puter here, and I didn’t this time.

And, since I’m missing him ferociously (and her as well), here is a sketch my flaxen headed one drew of lilbear and my ma a couple of weeks ago. Speaking of lilbear and my ma… I cannot *believe* that my ma brought… all the way from MI… the ripped out remains of a “flower” that lilbear picked for her. It’s hilarious. He picked her a daisy, only thing is… the head was off of the daisy… and he didn’t “pick” it, so much as he UPROOTED it from the ground. What she has (and I understand completely why she loves it, because it is from him) is the stump of a wild daisy with some remnants of root attached. She put it in a small water bottle and brought it all the way back from MI with her and says she’s gonna plant it. She kills me. It’s no wonder her yard is so filled with dandelions (no offense to other yellow-like-my-freakin’-head people out there), what with all the “flowers” my niece has picked for her in the past… I bet each and every dandelion in the yard each spring is the gift of that much loved frog princess.

To distract my little pea-brain (and speaking of peas… I picked a bowl full of sweet peas from the garden and gave them to lilbear the day before yesterday… gracious… he could have chewed them a little bit :-X oops. more talk about poops!)… from the fact that I’ve been somewhat morose of late, I am thinking I’m going to visit my flaxen headed one come Thursday. I think I’ll go into the city with her on Friday when she goes to work and maybe visit the Field Museum. I considered the Art Institute, but figured the Monet’s would probably make me more maudlin than I already am.

posted 07.08.03

For some reason, I wasn’t able to find a link to the fact that Pringles now come in colors usually reserved for ketchup. Anyway, I only wished to mention this fact because one of those shades of chip make for VERY interesting diaper changes in one particular lilbear.

Okay, so I’m back to talkin’ about poop again. My apologies.

I guess one good thing about being let go from my job on the work day before my birthday was that I got to spend the whole day with lilbear. He’s gonna be with his ma for 3 whole weeks, and today I got to spend the day with it being just the two of us (for the most part), which hasn’t happened in awhile.

As I’m sure I’ll continue to mention, he just blows me away. Something he has been doing a lot of lately not mentioning the terrible-twos and hoping they are fleeting is playing with various stuffed animals and having little conversations with them. Some of the talks that these animals have with each other are really intriguing, and much more advanced than I would expect from him. After I thought about it for a little while, though, this kind of play isn’t particularly new for him. He’s actually been doing it for quite awhile, but I didn’t realize it at first because he was doing it with toy cars and trains.

Well, that bit of drivel was written in a notebook while he napped. I later ended up dropping him off with his ma. I miss the hell out of him already.

Happy birthday to me. Yay not :(

posted 07.07.03
~well, it woulda been ifn a storm hadnta messed up the phone line and kept me from being able to sign on… yeah, i still live in the internet dark ages

“such sweet sorrow” my dupa

Well, I still think my birthday sucks.

The execution of my birthday in the celebratory sphere was soft and sweet., but I am still dreading the actuality of tomorrow, the day itself.

MI was, as MI always is, beautiful. Granted, it rained both Friday and Saturday mroning (and quite ferociously, I might add), and when it was not raining it was pretty warm read hot and humid for the most part (until, of course, Sunday). Oh, and the bugs were at times more torture than all of the treatments the patients at Guantanamo Bay have received. But, as I have said, all that aside, MI was wonderful.

We “celebrated” my birthday on Saturday night. It was some short time after dinner, and lilbear was on my lap while we sat at the kitchen table. My ma brought in a small cake as everyone else began to file in. The Happy Birthday to You song was sung (don’t tell these people) with my ma holding a Bic lighter over the cake. lilbear helped me make my blow-wish for world domination (with my ma stopping the candle before there was a flood of saliva spewn upon the chocolate cake).

All in all, it was a good remembrance for a birth.

Oh, and then, later on in the evening, as she was getting herself a piece of the chocolate (my favorite, of course) cake, my ma dropped it onto the floor of the porch. Ah, well. It was, after all, my birthday.

Later still, the month still Mars’
and you and I make love abruptly.

it is a second floor bedroom of
an over a century old farmhouse

the bed creaks, the floor answers in kind
we are furtively silent in our kisses

our kisses, our kisses, and breath
mixing and warming, the night black.

we make some sort of frantically languid
love, complete and utter in its rhythmic grind

a breeze floats over our electric skins
and melds us into a wet and sordid bliss.

relinquished, I move to light a cigarette.
out the window, the moon.

she has been watching, in tacit approval
the whole time

Poems ~
they can be so horribly written, can’t they? What if allusions were left to hypertext? Onion skin after onion skin, peeling off until all that is left is a Quale potato crumble of dirt.

posted 07.06.03