Friday, September 30, 2005

why do you hold your hands back when you see yourself falling?

Lyrics: Man it takes a silly girl to lie about the dreams she has
Lord it takes a lonely one to wish that she had never dreamt at all
Oh look now, there you go with hope again
Oh, you're so sure I'll be leaving in the end
Reading: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers

Sometime in the Past: February killed me, March held my hand, April let it go. I drank a lot of wine, the blood of the French; I changed my voicemail message to say, "I've lost faith in people. Don't bother leaving a message because it's too late." Some boys thought they could try to change my mind and tried affection, surprises, movie-worthy declarations of feelings. I turned them all down because my heart had left with his departing sails. I stared into far distances and traveled even further, a girl with the pirouetting heart. When I returned from journeys, I kissed a boy I didn't even like and I watched myself burn a year away, to the lowest blue flame before nothing.

this pen is pressed from the pressure of thought: what is it about nights that are blood, colors that won't fade, and emotions that flood my heart in rivulets of silver? how can i explain the intimacy we saved? how i used to say your name like a delicacy i craved?

why say you love when you won't? why do i trust when i don't?

Thursday, September 29, 2005

gripes, whines, and general "ughs"

I shut off my exboyfriend's cell phone line because it was under my name/account, and I refuse to pay for him calling his online service hookers. Yesterday, I found out that he'd managed to get his service back *the very same day* I'd called to turn it off. What is wrong with you T-Blowbile??? It's not a joint account--just mine--and he should not have any authority to change any of my settings. So on top of having to pay an extra $20/month just so someone can't chat with hoochies on my credit, I've got to remember another new password.

Other News: I joined the Rock Dump (a climbing gym) yesterday. That's not a complaint, but walking there was. The rain blew in, up and sideways, and it was a 1.5 mile walk of hilarity all the way there. Here's a map, so you can empathize and send me funds for a car. Cris and I were brainstorming better public transportation options and came up with the idea of heated pink bubble cars on magnets along the sidewalk, and you can hop on and off where you please. Stops would include: the Rock Dump, Nugget Mall, and a fabulous hair salon.

Other Other News: I am sick. I am frustrated. I am avoiding the problem.

Reunion Pictures pt. 3

My older sister and I and our fabulours flowers

My immediate family

My brother-in-law is a lucky guy.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Real Men of Genius

Bud Light's ad campaign to salute the "real men of genius" is, genius.

Bud Light presents real men of genius (real men of genius)
Today, we salute you Mr. Really Really Really Bad Dancer.
(Mr. Really Really Really Bad Dancer)
Arms swinging, knees bending, head bobbing to no particular rhythm.
You're either dancing or having a seizure.
( call me a doctor!)
As soon as you hit the dance floor the taunts begin.
"Is that all you got playa?" Unfortunately, yes that's all you got.
Who's in the house?
Some guy who can't dance, that's who's in the house.
( you're a star)

So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light Mr. Happy Feet because you really put the ogie in bogie.

I can't link directly to this mp3, but you can hear a bunch of them at (you'd better be 21!)


I just heard this song on WOXY 97X called "The Start of Something" by Voxtrot, and I can't stop listening to it. Check it out.

This time of night I could call you up
I'd get angry with athletic ease, break common laws in twos and threes
If I die clutching your photograph
Don't call me boring,
It's just 'cause I like you

Take me on back take me on back, take me back
To the place where I could feel your heart
Is this the end or just the start of
Something really, really beautiful
Wrapped up and disguised as something really, really ugly,
Won't you...

Come by and see me, I'm a love letter away
I'd break your name before I'd say, "I really love you, love you,"
No I don't care if you saw, I watched every inch of film
Flash across your Roman features,
And I loved it, loved it; No I don't care if
You think I'm eager to shut your eyes, well I'm sorry-everybody knows you can't break me with your gutter prose

Would you believe it, she sent me a letter,
The ring, it nearly weighs her down, she's got another boy, oh boy
Steady your ears steady your ears read my lips
Poetry is not a luxury, it's how I'll break this home
And when I'm really ill, won't you cradle me?
Man is not a noble animal, but maybe woman is, remember,
I heard you...

Inside your room, you said, "You never really live
Until your back's against the wall," oh did you really mean it?
I never break my gaze, if just to see this scar remain reflected in your eyes
I think it's time to go home


Oh, tell me your thoughts, tell me your thoughts on liberty,
See there's a place where I sink to sleeping
She said Oh, my vote is as red as my blood
Will you join me for another round?
I haven't had the chance to speak yet
God speed...

I break the law once every week to feel your touch,
What's a book to you in bed,
Do you feel better, older?
This just makes me ill, your name is dripping from my pen
Still you're not around to curse,
I'll drop the gun now, I'm still under you...

Marianne, let the ghosts sleep tonight.
Marianne, let the ghosts sleep, just shut your eyes and burn the past. (x4)

They're from Austin, TX; I'd been wanting to apply to UT-Austin for grad school. It's fate.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

More Reunion Pictures

These get bigger if you click on them. But I mean, they get REALLY big.

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Monday, September 26, 2005

City of Angels

I had a family reunion in LA this past weekend; over 100 relatives showed up!

Seafood extravaganza: I had lunch with my aunt and uncle from Hayward at this place on the Redondo Beach wharf area. We ordered: two lobsters, clams, oysters, conch, sea urchin, smoked fish, two loaves of bread, a Corona 40, and shrimp/octopus ceviche. It was awesome.

The reunion was a blast. We danced to campy music all night, one of my uncles disco'ed like there was no tomorrow, and my mom boogied to "It's Electric!" My little sister sang the national anthem of the Philippines, "Bayang Magiliw", and it made my grandmother tear up. Another cousin-in-law is a ballerina and did a dance for my grandma, and she started tearing up doing it. I looked around at my family and felt so proud and so happy to be with these people, and it was such a beautiful evening, and I want all my days to be spent with family close at hand. Although my grandma kept asking me in frustration, "Why Alaska???"

Early Sunday morning, after the party and clubbing with my cousin and before the 5a.m. cab ride to the airport, I was alone on a hotel balcony thinking about this city where I dreaded coming just a few days before. This city and I have a history together. This was the place where I had given up a perfect scripted life for one of failures and pain and yet of small miracles and joy. (the good fight? i fought it. the solution i sought it. mistaking illusion for solid.) I felt like after 5 years, we could now come to closure, so we had a little chat, Los Angeles and I.

"I treated you badly, I know, and I'm sorry for that.""Yeah, it's okay. I said a lot of hurtful things about you for a long time."
"No worries... You're a good person."
"Thanks. You're not such a bad city yourself."
"Well, take care you. Don't go breaking too many hearts."
"You too. Those girls who like you are a fragile lot."

And then we kissed the long day goodbye.

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Thursday, September 22, 2005

what a risky game we play

Guys in Juneau adore this game called "Risk". Two years ago, some Jesuit volunteers even created a Risk table that depicts Juneau geography and landmarks. It's actually an awesome piece so I thought, 'well the game must be decently riveting for people to make such a big deal out of it.' But people also make a big deal out of giant balls of twine so what do they know?

Last night, we went to the JV house because some guy named Seabass is going down south, for good apparently. So I'm sitting in the living room at the famed Risk Table watching 6 people play this with so much enthusiasm and vehemence and unspeakable joy, and I'm thinking what. the hell. There are these wannabe plastic GI Joes so tiny they wouldn't have even dented my forehead if I smacked my face against the table like I wanted to do. The only reason I even sat there watching this abysmally tedious game as long as I did was because my only other option was the kitchen where Spoons was, and boy would THAT be a bad idea waiting to make someone bleed.

Finally, I rationalized that if I were to blow my brains out from boredom somewhere, it may as well be in the kitchen; that way, it's easier to mop up. Bored houseguest I may be, but never a rude one.

First thing Spoons does is rectify my usage of "Booya". Because after all, he is super fly for a white guy. Then he turns to me during a lively game of Cranium and remarks, "You know what makes your jokes work, Val? Because you "recycle" them." And he said it just like that and used the finger quotes and everything, so a JV asked, "Why did you put that in quotes??" And I answered, "Because recycle is a big word for him." BOOYA.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

my favorite internet radio station Cincinnati's own 97X WOXY. They play stuff like Modest Mouse, Massive Attack, The Beta Band and hip songs with titles like "Luke Vibert Can Kiss my Indie-Punk Whiteboy Ass". Hahaha.

I have never said 'crazy' this many times before.

Last night, I had the craziest random phone call in the world. Ever. Seriously. I cannot stress this enough because it was. Crazy. Around 10pm, the house phone rings, and I'm sort of spacing out and didn't recognize the voice so I asked if the caller wanted my roommate.

"Is this Valorie?" weird voice asks.
"Yeah... who is this?"
"It's *****. Do you remember me?"
"...... no..... Can you refresh my memory?"
"We met at Clau, two years ago."

Oh my god. I went to this crappy trendy Cinci club one time because some friends dragged me to it, and I ended up flirting with this barback, pressing my number in his hesitant hands. Call me, I had insisted. Maybe a week or two later, he did, and we hung out for one night. I had to even sort of convince him just to do so because it was blizzarding and icy, and he didn't live that near me, and then I had to walk to meet him in the snow because he was too lazy to find my door. And I mean all these things which scream lack of interest does NOT, in any parallel bizarro world or this one, translate into straight-from-left-field phone calls two years later.

Now I was already speechless; I couldn't wrap my mind around how he got my house number, why he was even calling me after so long, and part of me also kept thinking my ex was putting me on somehow. Like he would suddenly come on the line and yell, "You dirty skank whore #$!@#" or something crazy. So when ***** suddenly asked me, "What kind of panties are you wearing??", I was already in such an elevated state of shock that it didn't initially occur to me to be surprised by this question.

So I'm thinking, 'Is he joking or he is seriously trying to have phone sex with me??'

"I want you to wear them for two days then mail it to me. Would you do that? Can I text you my address tomorrow??"

Phone sex it is then.

"oh my god, you are CRAZY!!! You practically ignoring me once a long time ago then calling me after I move to Alaska two years later is crazy! You finding out my home phone number in Juneau is crazy! You asking me for my underwear like I am a mail-order service is crazy!! Go away!"

"I've got a secret to tell you... I've been using this pump. And I can [**this sentence has been censored by your Internet provider**] in my mouth."

"Sick!!! You're crazy! I'm hanging up, bye!!"

Monday, September 19, 2005

live it gently, with fire

10 cigarettes, 4 white russians, and nothing to eat. my stomach full, my heart empty. (we pushed and pulled like an ocean wave. don't leave, i plead. you return, then i recede) why? the questions we ask the universe begin and end with questions like this.

i always wish a little that i were made simpler, that i did not have to feel this weight of space and light and life exploding inside me during nights with only myself and the flickering of twenty three candles.

"it's about a boy and a girl, who spent their whole lives never being got, and after one look, get each other completely." an impossibility, i once scoffed. even if not, there is always the inevitable coming apart. atoms split, islands drift, we are no longer Pangea. blame thor and his thunder bolts for tearing us apart. i still had the blood in my eyes.

Last year: "When I used to think of you, my heart would fold in on itself, like an origami disaster. It crumpled into a melancholy ball. A failed attempt at making something beautiful, for you. I did not know then, that perfection wasn’t something you could tailor, that my love alone could be enough."

... you are supposed to say this then i am supposed to say this, and this is how things will be. everyone is content because it fits and makes sense and isn't it all written down already anyway? i throw these old scripts out the window, let the pages flutter over Mt. Juneau. they were made of recycled pain, cyclical actions, and you deserve more than tired lines and choreographed habits. i'm not afraid of what's behind the door. amidst the rain, i will turn my head sideways and look between raindrops to find you. surprise me, love.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Dejé mi corazón en Oaxaca

¡Hoy es Día de Indepedencia de México!

I have a soft spot for Mexico, especially the southern states, because a) I studied Mesoamerican archaeology and b) I heart Oaxaca and could totally live there for awhile.

My first salsa lesson was in an awesome Oaxacan club called Candela in the centro, and I was taught by "Rumba Roy", a gay guy dying to get in my ex-boyfriend's pants. He didn't speak English, and my ex didn't speak Spanish, and I was a naughty, naughty translator.

Since then, I had no opportunity to dance salsa again until I moved to Juneau which has a surprisingly vibrant salsa scene. Last night, salsa instructor Heather taught Cris, Seams, and I a Cuban dance style called rueda, and I got invited to start going to Intermediate Salsa lessons on Tuesdays, woooo. Then this guy I know danced with me and swore what he was doing was salsa, which it totally wasn't, it was a cross between merengue and assault with a deadly weapon.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Boardwalk Boogie

I am so going to this next year.

A sunny May day perched on the edge of a deep, narrow fjord surrounded by steep, snowcapped mountains, eagles soar overhead and seven different bands play everything from country western to funk punk. Is this heaven, or is this just Pelican, Alaska, during the Boardwalk Boogie?

Pelican is a tiny, seaside village in Southeast Alaska, founded in 1938 by a Finnish fisherman, Kalle Rattikainen, who didn't want to haul his salmon all the way to Hoonah or Juneau to get paid. Most of the year the population of Pelican is 115. There are bear paw prints on the public trash bin and easy chairs in the bars, and it's the only Alaska town I've been in that doesn't have an airstrip-if you fly in, you land on floats. Pretty much everything in Pelican is on pilings: homes, school, library, two bars and one church, held up just out of reach of the 13-foot tides, all of them connected by a boardwalk. You can walk the length of the town in 10 minutes, if Rosie doesn't drag you into her bar, talk you into pinning a dollar bill to the ceiling and pants you.

The stories about Rosie are legion, including the one about a certain gubernatorial candidate but, well, no, this is a family magazine and, besides, "Nothing you do here follows you home," says Curtis Edwards, a guitar picker from Juneau. "That is the rule of Pelican," his wife, Sheela McLean, agrees. Sort of a Bangkok in Alaska, I guess.

"Pelican," Mayor Kathie Wasserman says, "is one of the old rubber-boot, working class communities." Fishing is Pelican's major industry-salmon, halibut and black cod. I'm here because John and Jan Straley, who live 35 minutes south of Pelican by float-plane, said incredulously last spring, "What? You've never heard of the Boardwalk Boogie?" and made immediate plans to correct this deficiency.

The Boardwalk Boogie "sort of started around this totem pole," Kathie says, pointing to the pole standing in front of City Hall. "Five years ago a carver from Klawock came and with the kids in the school built a unity pole. We had some Native dance groups come in for the pole raising. By the time of the pole raising we had a couple of bands, and by the second year it was the Boardwalk Boogie."

A button that costs $35 gets you into all the events. The $35 provides transportation, lodging and free beer for the musicians. "This boogie is so totally Pelican," Kathie says. "One big jam."

The music starts Thursday night in the Brown Bar (Rosie's only competitor) with Juneau band Dag Nabbit playing what Curtis calls punk funk. Everybody is dancing, and everyone who isn't dancing is next door at Rosie's jamming in a pickup band, unless they're taking turns sitting in with Dag Nabbit (banjo, mandolin, harmonica, everybody's welcome). I thought the pilings were going to melt out from beneath the Brown Bar, and it goes on until 3:30 a.m. "It started to get ugly, people started to fall down," Jay Caputo, Dag Nabbit lead guitar, says the next day, "so we packed it in."

Friday afternoon someone throws down a sheet of plywood over a couple of pallets, runs an extension cord into the mayor's office to light up the mikes and the amps. A band from Sitka called Belly Meat ("And there's nothing wrong with that," says Ernie the bass player), consisting of Ernie, Lee on guitar and Gary on the hottest harmonica in Southeast Alaska-accompanied by a fiddle and a banjo from Juneau band Sofa Kings-steps up to make the welkin ring with some acoustic blues. They play a couple of songs, then I read a story about my mom and Belly Meat plays a few more songs, and John Straley reads a great bit from one of his Cecil Younger novels involving Nike sneakers and a survival suit, and then Belly Meat plays some more. Eagles soaring overhead, hummingbirds darting around, the sun beating down, great stories, great music-it's just one of those perfect afternoons, you know? It is, to date, one of the best things my writing has ever brought me.

That evening it's a barn dance at the community center featuring Ruben's Old Time Band playing square dance, and rock and roll from Danny & the C-Notes at the Brown Bar and jazzy, swingy bluegrass from the Sofa Kings at Rosie's, and me and a hundred other people ping-ponging back and forth until the sun starts to come up.

On Saturday there's an arts and crafts show and a children's concert and the blessing of the fleet, and at 4 p.m. there is the Filthy Song Contest at the Brown Bar.

There are 16 entrants in the Filthy Song Contest, and there's no way Alaska magazine is going to let me tell you the lyrics even to one of them. Moving body parts are involved, as are various less organic items. Neptune's daughter makes an appearance. So does Bigfoot and Pelican's only virgin. I think the true test of a filthy song is how soon the audience starts singing along.

Ernie shows up at our apartment that evening with fresh rockfish fillets (not just a bass player but a god), and then it's back up the boardwalk to the Brown Bar to listen to Belly Meat. It's the best music I've heard all weekend and believe me when I tell you that's saying something. "This is why we come here," Bob Bell, a banjo picker from Fairbanks and a member of RayJen Cajun tells me. "We get to play with some of the best musicians in Alaska."

Belly Meat gives way to the Bobb Family band doing that country-western thing, while over at Rosie's Ray-Jen Cajun blasts off the world's tiniest stage into some kind of zydeco orbit.
And then comes Sunday. You can repent during Catholic mass at City Hall or the ecumenical mass at the church on the hill or, if you're aboard the Alien Marine charter heading back to Juneau, participate in the Bum Voyage, what you might call a lunar farewell salute.

I tell you true, I was of two minds whether to write this column. I don't want the Boardwalk Boogie to change, I don't want it to be ruined by too many people coming. Kathie says it won't happen. "We'll limit out at 200-250 people, because that's all the beds and campsites we've got." More than that "wouldn't be any fun because it would be just too crowded." She smiles. "No shops with two p's and an e has always been my goal."

Well I went to the doctor and he said to me
Your arteries are plugged you need some omega-3
I said Doc don't you worry, I got me a plan
Gonna throw me some salmon into a pan Come on baby love that belly meat.


DANA STABENOW is the author of 20 novels and a Belly Meat groupie. She can be contacted through her Web site at

Copyright Morris Communications Sep 2003. Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.

clothes exchange party!

Last night, my friend and coworker -G and I went to a "clothes exchange party" at another girl's house. Oh man, those things are like Christmas except better cuz you can get rid of crap you don't like anymore too. Since I came to Juneau with minimum amount of clothing as it is (I packed everything I owned in two suitcases, and all I shipped was bedding), my contribution was pathetic: a pink argyle sweater that would only fit a skinny 9 year old, a black sweater that would only fit a pregnant man, a white shirt, and a black velour jacket. And that was like, 50% of all the winterwear I'd brought at all so I was crossing my fingers for some sweater finds for myself.

I hit the mother lode baby! I got like 3 zipups, 2 cute tops, a purse, & satiny pj pants with blue stars. Sweet. One person's trash really is another person's treasure. Well, except for the clothes I brought; nobody wanted them :( We ended up with 4 garbage bags of clothes and accesories, which will be donated for the Hurricane effort.

Speaking of, there is a silent benefit auction/family night at Nugget Mall this Saturday starting at 6p.m. My boss is going to make and sell gumbo and give all the proceeds to the Big Brothers Big Sisters agency in New Orleans, which was devastated, like so many other good things down there...

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

of drink and desire

Life isHigh onMe: you were the first girl i drank myself out of a crush iwth
Life isHigh onMe: aren't you honored
Life isHigh onMe: at least you inspire passion

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

where i live

Next to our house
This is my sister, brother-in-law, and me right next to my house. Mt. Juneau is behind us, and Cope Park is below it.

Our kitchen with a new skylight, the construction of which has caused ceiling plaster to fall on recently washed dishes. Next to the skylight where you can spot the pink blanket, is the infamous "nook".

Our tiny bathroom with separate doors for the toilet part or the shower part and a tiny opening to squeeze through in between.

Yay for Rich, my roommate. He is awesome. That's our dining table which has more crap BESIDES food on it.

Our backyard. Literally. This is my view from my bedroom window, and it's always breathtaking, and I always feel blessed when I see it.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

what i would say

...if Spoons ever asks me to go on a hike or anything else that would mean one-on-one time for longer than 5 minutes:

"Hm, I'm sorry. I'll be busy breathing, and that is going to occupy me for the rest of my life."

At our housewarming party last Friday, he made my roommate's girlfriend bleed, not unlike this picture except she was female and not wearing wrestling attire, during a game of Spoons. He got violent about it because he kept trying to steal all the spoons away from me because I hadn't lost yet, so he would dive across the table and sweep all the spoons willy-nilly into the air and apparently, into people's faces. Total party foul. Also, I can't remember exactly what we were joking about, but then he called me the Missing Link because he is clueless about social boundaries, and it was NOT cool man. My drop-kick-people-in-the-face leg muscles wanted to spring into action, but I was like, ok, no worries, I'll just blackball him from future house get-togethers. Apparently, even his own roommates have the sense of mind to deny knowing our phone number, so what does Attacks-With-Kitchen-Utensils do but keep, coming, over. Who knew sweet innocent Steens would be such a heartbreaker??

I mean I don't really care if he hangs out, I'm just saying I wouldn't go in the middle of the woods for 7 hours with the guy.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

"I'm ready for amazing things to happen. I can handle it."

"We're not sick of each other yet!"

Me And You And Everyone We Know was a poignant, satisfying movie on a day where just that afternoon, I was IM'ing with a friend about crushes. The kind of pubescent crushes where you can't breathe for two weeks because your heart seems to freeze around that certain person. The kind of crushes where it was enough just to see someone in the hallways at school but never speak a word to them, and the feeling alone was enough to sustain you on cloud nine for months. When what you daydreamed about was holding hands not kinky behavior. Before things got complicated and people got jaded, and sex became tedious and formulaic, and those intense little moments stopped being enough.

And then this movie came along and took that fantasy and nostalgia and injected it into adults, and the outcome is endearingly irresistable. In a flip-flopped but seemingly realistic world, the kids are the ones getting all the (risque) action. They aren't damaged enough like the rest of us to only want comfort from the opposite sex. Two Lolitas flirts obscenely with a neighborhood man and gives another teen a "jimmy ha-ha" as a curious experiment. One super adorable 7-year-old even accidentally makes a middle-aged woman fall in love with him via Internet with the oh so memorably hilarious chat:

"I want to poop back and forth."
"What does that mean?"
"I'll poop into your butthole and you'll poop it back into my butt and we'll keep doing it back and forth, with the same poop. Forever."

I laughed so hard at this little boy explaining it, tears streamed down my face, and I honestly thought I would never stop laughing. Two scenes later, normal breathing finally commenced.

Meanwhile, its the grown-ups fumbling with awkward emotions and flirting without any innuendo. They don't even get so much as a kiss, but you don't care because that's not what it's about. I totally relate when the main character is sitting on her bed psychically willing the guy to call her and bemoans, "We're supposed to spend the rest of our lives together. Fucker! It can't happen unless you call!" And I want that short walk symbolizing a lifetime together or to lean against someone's back with your arm around his stomach just standing there at dusk, and it is enough, in fact it is all you could possibly desire in the whole world.

In this film where the kids are blazing forward in sexual explorations, the adults are retreating from them, diving under windows hiding from them, preferring instead to sleep together all day, like little babies.


"After the kiss comes the impulse to throttle,
Break the embraces, dance while you can." - W. H. Auden


no mis palabras pero las hermosas

La vida es bella ya verás
como a pesar de los pesares
tendrás amor tendrás amigos.

life is beautiful already you know
how in spite of the griefs
you will have love you will have friends.

~José Agustín Goytisolo

Thursday, September 08, 2005

fade into you

I want to hold the hand inside you/ I want to take a breath that’s true/ I look to you and I see nothing/ I look to you to see the truth/
You live your life/ You go in shadows/ You’ll come apart and you’ll go black/ Some kind of night into your darkness/ Colors your eyes with what’s not there.

“You must have gone through a lot,” he said inexplicably.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the way you stare off far away. To something that’s not really there. People do that when they’ve seen a lot.” He looked at her with his dark, dark eyes, inscrutable. Maybe she looked that way to him too.

She smiled suddenly, imagining herself looking down at them walking under a Juneau moon, imagining the party up the hill with Sam and Aidan and Aime and all the rest of them, imagining the entire town, and on and on like a satellite picture until there was nothing but empty space and points of light. And when you see things from that far off, things certainly don’t hurt as much anymore, so she looked at him with renewed appreciation and said, “Thanks Cy. What you just said means a lot to me.”

Awkwardly, endearingly, he reached over and held her hand, and at least for that brief moment, the distance fell away. Lightning bolt to outstretched bough. Flame to paper. Adam's hand reaching out for god.

That was just an excerpt from a story I wrote a long time ago, but I'm finding it ironic right now. While Stina's story came true--sort of--mine is still pie-in-the-sky fiction. Because Juneau's dating scene is bizarre. Not bazaar like a cool market where you can find a variety of goods with sexy Middle Eastern flair, but bizarre like, "Are you kidding me? Am I in the Twilight Zone? And what is up with your third nipple?!" Seriously, that third nipple freaks me out; you'd think people would prioritize.

That Guy's TO DO List:
1. Get rid of third nipple
2. Breathe
3. Have breakfast
4. Check in mirror to see that nipple is gone
5. Go to work

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Katrina Relief Effort

So there's nothing like a City Hall meeting about Hurricane Katrina relief efforts to bring stupid piddly problems into perspective. Dear Lord, I feel like an ass. There was a woman there who had just visited her family for a BBQ in New Orleans, and now she has 42 relatives missing or displaced, and she has all these recent photographs of everyone, and boy, "the things that kill me these days" fly out the window.

StoryPeople of the Day:

trying to remember when it stopped being theory & turned into real life, because theory was a whole lot easier

Maybe Noble Goble was right?

What kills me these days...

simple things turned complicated because
there is no rewind button like in run lola run
people don't own emotions but they aren't mine to pursue anyway
since dibs are called before anyone has a chance to figure out what they want
when fingers are intertwined and pressed tight against his heart
it just fucking kills me.