still home of the rambles.....
I started rambling about life in the late nineties because I felt I didn't have a place or a voice or anything to make my own. Now I've had eleven years out in the "real world" and it turns out, you never have a place or a voice or anything that isn't your own. Whatever stamp you make, it's the cut and the color of your own making.
Today I'm on the hunt (or shortly, will be) for old kid's books like Trixie Belden mysteries, and stuff by Josephine Lawrence. Later I'll cook dinner for a friend. I'll probably pet my cats, kiss my boyfriend, and drop something on the floor. I'll likely drink a beer (or three), peruse the facebook, edit some photos and laugh a little.
It's amazing to think that when I started this "online diary" (which mimics blogs in a way I could never have anticipated) the internet was just getting off the ground (Thanks, Mr. Gore) and I spent hours in chat rooms like Stipey and CC. It's amazing to think that we were all just learning pager code. X-Files was still on television and David Duchovny was just a heart-throb, not a sex addict. I had hair three feet long and the love of my life was a boy I'd met in an airport the week Kurt Cobain died.
Now we've got Sidekicks and too much television, text messaging and so many social networking sites and blogs that whole words have been created to deal with them. We've got a country divided not by a blow job, but a black president. (That's a whole other discussion, though.) There are iPhones and apps and all kinds of technology designed to make life easier, but really, just distracts us more. This is the first time I've sat down in awhile where I just sort of vented, streamed the thoughts as they come. And you know why? Because I'm usually looking at a LOLcat, or a fail, or composing the most brilliant status update ever. Or watching television, or playing video games
It was simpler when things were simpler. I can understand why my grandfather Kinsey liked to tell the story of working in a gas station outside of Irvine. I can see now why it's easy to look back at pictures of good times and think they were "better". Age does not bring wisdom or assurance- if anything, the times we have now make me question people even more than they did when I was seventeen. The only difference is that I had a lot more energy to care about it than I do now, and I had a lot more fervor because I'd experienced fewer disappointments.
So what does it all mean? Nothing, everything, silly silly me. Right now I think it means I should lose the pajamas for some jeans and go check on those books, get some oil for the car, and behave like a grown-up, despite the feeling that it's a masquerade, that I am some sort of impostor tooling around in my mother's shoes.
Oh, for the love of Jeebus. I need a car. Well, need is maybe not the right word, because that would imply dire circumstances if a car is not obtained. But I really want a car. I wouldn't have to put useless information on the internet while avoiding reading my book because I want it to last longer that two days. I could go shopping for new work clothes (this is a need- i'm down to bare minimums) or even just take a nap. Or bring clothes to go exercise in... there's a novel idea. Exercise.
The boys are away and the cats will play... no really.. not really... We went out tonight. L and I caught some drinks at the Piano Bar and wandered around Oakland with Ron (Righteous Omniscient Neurotic) and that was fun. So then we came home and acted like it was a slumber party.
Who can blame us? The boys are fishing. They are gone. Tomorrow night we are going into the City to go dancing. That should be fun. Maybe sublounge, maybe luna lounge, maybe somewhere completely different.
I'm so glad that in all of these years L & I have remained friends. She said, put that in your poetry and smoke it and I have ever since then... years now... and I love it. As much as I complain, I'm not sure I would change my life. Maybe my house, but not my life.
Just started listening to the new Handsome Boy Modeling School joint-- pretty good shit.
The thing is that nobody knows themselves. Every day we go through, we're all just guessing. We live every movie we've ever seen, and the world has gone crazy. Like some kind of surreal Crayola crayon box.
I look at who my president is; I look at what purports to be Democracy; I think to myself that these things can't be real. When M says... "It's all going to be privatized; schools, prisons, everything owned by a corporation; it'd be just like all the futuristic movies..." and I'm sure that it will and everything they say is simultaneously true and false like a wacky truth or dare escapade...
These are the days I live in. And this is the history of the moment. Sometimes I wonder if I ever have a child (but this is a vague and extremely distant vision) if that child will look back at my eras the way I look to my mothers: the fifties, where ambiguous memories are best; the sixties, where everything changed rapidly and with/out reason; the seventies, where she found her truths and followed through; the eighties, where everything lifelike rioted again; the nineties, dealing with the four to ten of us... the 00's, building houses...
I got no time to get to where I don't need to be... Oh, please, just let me just break down.. I need this, oh dream, to break down...let me please break down...
M says it's good for Jack Johnson to break out of the mainstream. So far on the first listen through I'm all for good ole Handsome Boy Modeling School.
I should probably go. I'm clacking away on a friend's computer. We moved; we live below M & L now. Our best friends are our neighbors. We all have keys. It's actually a pretty good deal; so far.
Maybe one of these days I'll post something in regards to fiction that I write... whatever. I'm being asked what I'm doing. That's never a good sign.
SO! here we are in good ole '05... and I'm a lazy girl. I don't have much to ramble about; it's FUTON DAY; I'm very excited. We got rid of our crappy broken down loveseat that was most likely infested with fleas. Some poor sucker picked it up off the street. Hope they like the itching, the spring popping, etc...
Anyway. I am lazy and almost out of time, so I've got to be a good little secretary and get my shit and everyone else's in order. Peace out, ya'll...
PS-- Dan Chafin (or Chaffin) You still out there? Ever visit this place? I've tried to email you at all the addresses I had but none work. You refused to disappear and yet now I can't find you!!! Anyone got a heads up on Dan??
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