scrawls
still cheaper than therapy*


whaddaya know: they do come in threes.

...

m's granpa is dying by leetle-bitty-degrees. he's been to the hospital often enough before, but the docs have decided he's pretty much not coming back from this one.

...

it's very much like when my (more recent) grandmother died: we all knew it was happening and showed up in advance, and everybody else went to visit her and see her (but i didn't, and m asked if i regretted that, and i don't, not in the slightest - what can you do with a person in a coma? why is that something i'd want to do? would they honestly want you to see them and remember them like that? what do you do, listen to the beepy machines, and go to the nurses' station to get more kleenex, and watch them die by inches? and, really, if you think they can sense you when you're there and all medical lore says they can't, then can't they sense you being sad elsewhere just as easily?) and then she died and we had that big ... party - memorial - thing with all the hungarians.

...

so it's sad. and i don't get to go up for it. it'd be complicated and expensive and ... i dunno. it's complicated enough getting just m up. i'd like to hug people. but it's okay. mostly. i just hope his grandma doesn't ... wilt. now. like people do sometimes. 'cuz then i wouldn't have any grandparents again, of any sort; i haven't met his other ones and all mine have been gone for ages. and i like his.

...

i think i was a good granddaughter-in-law, more or less. he liked being kissed on the cheek by pretty girls. i was accomodating.

...

hmm ... i guess i'll post this. might as well, right?

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people keep diaries. nobody reads diaries; nobody gets paid for keeping one; and nobody thinks anything of it. i don't care in particular if people read this or not. i know there do exist people who read it because of the comments-machine. i like that people read it. but i don't think i'd stop if nobody did. the fact that other people actually read it isn't the point. it's just an open diary. if not a neccassarily traditionally confidential one. i like writing. i think it's good for me. and i think this is the longest i've kept up any single incarnation of a regular writing program. so fuck off, psycho - addict - babble - snide - toned - Times - writer. illusion of immortality, my ass.

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Yay for a&m making people think they take visa for tuition $$, and then not really taking visa. bastards. so i'm pretty well broke. especially if we have to fly up (for a brother-graduation and then a cousin-wedding) twice this summer. and though it would still be cheaper to drive, probably, ... let's see: 26 miles per gallon, roughly, at, let's say, a conservative estimate, .... $2.20 a gallon by high summer. So, round trip to indiana, say, 2400 miles: so, with a calculator ... that's not quite 12 miles per dollar ... a little over $200 to drive to indiana. NY, with significantly higher gas prices (maybe $2.65, in a month or so? sure.) almost $360 in gas alone to drive 3500 miles (round trip) to new york. plus food. and coffee. and time. and being a pain in the ass to drive. and putting that many more miles on the car. so maybe we'll attempt asking the parents for money.

maybe they'll go for it. 'cuz we can't afford both. without even thinking about oz's summer camp. or if ...somebody else was getting married. who else was getting married?

really it's too bad trains are so expensive. and take so long. trains might very well be fun.

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i think, when people are stark naked in dreams, aren't they usually embarrassed?

yeah, only, i'm perfectly comfortable.

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didn't listen to much of the (mmmm - can i call him the monkey in chief? ... okay then) ... ah ... address last night. i was there for the bit where he mispronounced abu ghraib three times in a row, differently each time - he was on the radio on the drive out of the vietnamese noodle house - but then i changed the station. i mean, if you're going to mispronounce it, that's an issue, sure, but mispronouncing it three different ways - if i was going to say it, yes, it would rhyme with 'and the mome raths out grabe' - which would itself likely also be wrong since i've been living in central Nowhere for three years now and it comes with a bit of a particular textured manner of expression. but i'm not the leader of the free fucking world. i have very few international responsibilities - none at all, as it happens. when i do a certain thing it has a very low probability of making it to news in far-off parts of the world (or even nearby ones) and even lower probabilities of pissing people off once it's broadcast there.

Also, i don't have a staff that one would honestly assume would at least try to keep me from fucking up.

but we had a nice discussion over dinner with the Republican Neighbors over whether hillary clinton could possibly be any worse for the country (let alone the world) than the MIC. they thought so. i thought not. they're very nice, the RN's, but ... we disagree on certain things. and we can't always avoid it.

makes for interesting dinners sometimes. stupid monkey. has to get in the way of my noodle enjoyment.

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this is so not cross-anything compatible.

…¢$,–#ó

ÑåÕàÿû

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the sky is a blue that crayola would pawn its corporate soul for, and the immmigrants across the street are playing the kind of mereingue that infects. someday i will be in morocco or venice, and a gentleman with dark skin and black eyes, predicted the day before by a wrinkled and jealous woman in glass and silk will, at first sight, set a stone of great magnitude on my finger and never think of asking anything in return. never again will i have to hear the grunts and emmissions of these countrified bastards i live with.



or. i, successful, retire early to a sailboat without garth brooks or ford or cheap standup comedy. i will eat mango and pineapple and never use dishes, washing my hands in the gulf of mexico and renowned for my sushi.



or. i will eat a baguette and cheese in my parisian studio, and drink wine. my cigarette and i will read the newspaper.



or. crowds of tourists will surround my mansion.

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it's so much better here when all the damn students are gone. graduation was this weekend and everybody went home to their parents - a bunch stick around for summer school, or to work, or because they're bastards, but enough of them leave that town population drops by a large number and there's noticeably less traffic and it's possible to go to a restaurant at a normal hour for dinner without having to wait two and a half hours to eat and you don't have to plan way, way in advance to go to the movies and don't have to wait in massive long lines at the grocery store and the bars all have better service because they're that much emptier and pizza is delivered more quickly and there's parking wherever you need it and everything is on sale all summer long.

and, ok, maybe it gets kind of warm. but it's only supposed to go up to 87 today (humidity: "feels like 92") - we might have another week or several before it gets really heinous.

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i can't remember - did i tell people i was from wisconsin? or did i say things like 'i lived in WI' or 'i moved here from WI' or ...? 'cuz i certainly would have identified as being From New York for at least until after i liked brats. but, at some point, after liking bratwurst, did i ever say i was actually From Wisconsin? not that it's a bad place to be from, but it's not NY. and if i did,

does it mean, that at at some point, since i now kinda can tolerate some of their music without pulling my hair out,

i am going to tell someone - anyone - ever - that i am from texas? or will i continue to say - as i do now - that 'i live in texas right now' - and people will continue to be confused and say things like But i thought you were from NY or When did you live in wisconsin or What is that about ohio - ? is not wanting to go deaf half the time a point on the path to Being From texas? 'cuz i've got at least two more years to go, here, and that's plenty of time for further evolution (or devolution)... and if it is a step in that direction, am i okay with this? with ... texas? with the fiance being an Aggie, and nobody really knowing what an Aggie is? ('cuz they don't have an identifying mascot, really - there's the collie dog, and the corps-guy, but no, you know, tigers or bears or chiefs - just rednecks and christians, really.)

M. doesn't get this - he works in an international lab full of people from normal places, like eastern Russia, and more non-texans than texans. they have a couple of undergraduates that wash their dishes. i work with mostly texans - mostly aggie texans - and that basic need-to-fit-in thing i've always had and can't get rid of keeps being tenacious. And pernicious. For that matter.

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i keep thinking this might come in handy someday when my Mom Finds My Blog. and then i think, Why bother? what do i need to change about this particular situation? absolutely nothing. i'm not worried. if my Mom comes Here, what will she learn? our dishwasher is temporarily broken. i get weird spam sometimes. i, ah, make fun of people. many things that are either of absolutely no import or that she could probably guess at if she felt like it.

there are things she might not want to know, with several examples conveniently listed here: all she's going to get by reading this is more things to worry about and be neurotic over. which nobody wants. i haven't told her about it for her own good. only i can't explain that to her, even though i'm sure she'd want to know about it, given a choice, because in order to explain it to her i'd have to tell her about it.

But then, i'm sneaky. Runs in the family, you know.

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Pre-Hyptnotized Peter ...
what Office Space character are you?

fuckin' A ... i knew that.

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hey, m.

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contributed to the killing of two baby birds over the past week:

there was one in the middle of the road - a pigeon, large enough to fly, still on the small side, astonishingly dumb. and it flew away when i drove up - as birds are wont to do - and i assumed it had flown away off to the right - but it hadn't. it had flown up, and then back down and landed again, or anyway was dumb enough to somehow fly under my car, after making me think it was ok, and, at least, lose all its feathers so they could whoosh up and i could see them in the rearview. and i wasn't making much of a whoosh - i was going maybe 20. probably less. residential, you know, and i'd slowed down to let this retarded sky-rat escape. usually something they're fairly good at.

the other bird was sitting on my front lawn on saturday, having fallen out of (or been shoved out of) its nest. it could stand up, and bend its knees a bit, and stretch out its wings a little, but it couldn't hop, and it quite obviously couldn't fly. the kindest thing i could possibly have done for it would have been to step on it, or call over one the dog that's always sitting on my neighbors' porch. (she's this real friendly, playful yellow Lab - would've crunched a small, stationary bird pretty fast.) there was nothing i could do about the fire-ants. or the heat. or the lack of food. (they have to basically eat nonstop, right?) or the assorted flies. or the neighborhood cats. if i touched it, or touched something that touched it, then its parents wouldn't want it any more in any case and it would not be eaten quickly by the fire ants but killed much more slowly by starvation. and i don't know what to feed a baby bird - i think i tried that when i was little a few times, and i got all attatched, and then they always died after a day or two. so again, killed slowly, by ineptitude. and i almost stepped on it. but then i didn't have the heart. so i left.

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quiz time.



speak and spell
You're a Speak & Spell!! You nerd, you. Just
because you were disguised as a toy doesn't
mean you weren't educational, you sneaky
bastard.

What childhood toy from the 80s are you?

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sneaky sneaky ...

i get this weird email, in my spam folder, in my spammy email address, obviously spam, from Ivory Culver, aka kvnjchf@263.net.cn, subject: boy 8956 brides. so i open it. and it says this:

Now and then, gonad toward a change of heart about eggplant from judge. Any diskette can derive perverse satisfaction from grizzly bear from, but it takes a real turn signal to from tabloid. For example, near bottle of beer indicates that related to tripod bestow great honor upon for tea party.

Croatia, lumbermen, anastomosis, prosthesis, weaponry.


and it sounds oddly (what are we talking about eggplants for? and why is the judge involved?) surreal for a spam but sort of sexual, which is typical, ok (grizzly bear? isn't that big macho hairy gay man? and from grizzly bear from - does that mean he's a top, then?) but then it gets this weird lectural tone - For example? how formal. but it's like if salvador dali was translating spam from chinese, and had a thing for deformity. (anastomosis: An anastomosis is a surgical connection between two structures. It most commonly refers to a connection which is created between tubular structures, such as blood vessels or loops of intestine. For example, when a segment of intestine is surgically removed, the two remaining ends are sewn or stapled together (anastomosed), and the procedure is referred to as an intestinal anastomosis. - Medline) because doesn't it sound like the instructions on chopsticks packets? especially with the awesomely poor word choice and tea party / honor mention.

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so this was really bound to happen sooner or later.

i was in wisconsin for four years and, ah, eventually, yeah, after a bit, you begin, sort of, to like the bratwurst.

i think i'm, er, um, ah, developing a very gradual, faint, ephemeral thing for delta blues.

when i was in wisconsin i didn't have to admit for a very long time that i was developing a thing for brats. but now that i have a blog, eh, why bother.

i'm not telling anyone from here. i'm still a fucking yankee, bitch!

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m rented a movie. it was very much like high school. which is to say sort of funny sometimes, and i'd probably reccomend it, on the whole, to the right sort of person, anyway, but also sort of pointless when taken with any sort of perspective, and very painfully not funny a lot of the time.

but nearly everybody has had one of those I've Grown Up So Much Since Before Dinner days. or several.

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there is nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with my pesto chicken recipie:

"so this is going to be kind of ... random. and approximate.

get some chicken. last night was - and this is i guess enough for 4 or so 'cuz there was three of us and i have some for lunch: so get two boneless/skinless chicken breasts (cuz i'm lazy). cut them into ... bite sized pieces. cook them up for a bit in olive oil. maybe add a lot of garlic (i used the diced stuff from the bottle, again, because i'm too lazy to cut cloves and cloves and cloves of garlic) - so about a good heaping tablespoon or so of garlic when the chicken is halfway done or so. when you consider the chicken to be done (cook it with a lid on a nice wide frying-type pan) take out the chicken and add (last night was just water - so water, or chicken broth, or water/white wine - generally not entirely white wine, and probably nothing too sweet) some liquid. slice some zucchinis nice and thin (you saw them) - last night was three mmmedium-smallish zucchinnis. smallish ones fit better and i think they have fewer seeds than larger ones. so add the zucchini slices. and, eh, some more garlic. we like garlic. and salt and pepper as you like. Another spoonful or two of garlic. and cook them for a bit - they're going to want to be stirred. and i put in some ...what was it ... always add a lot of basil - i used dried stuff last night but if you happen to have fresh, cut it fine, and last night i think there was also oregano and rosemary. ehhh, more or less one part each oregano and rosemary to probably two to three parts basil. marjoram works too. i typically add some store-bought pesto from a jar too just in case i'm forgetting something. i also put in some (perfectly normal cheap from the store) mushrooms. in quarters or so, but of course they're not neccessary. so cook all that until it's pretty well done or anyway the zucchinis aren't entirely crunchy. toss in a couple of cherry tomatoes if you happen to have some on hand - if you have sun-dried tomatoes and happen to like them (m doesn't) then those are good too (but you want them nice and hydrated and chopped pretty fine). and then put the chicken back in to make sure it's warm, and leave the heat on for long enough to get the chicken warm (if you're quick this is not very long - it retains heat after all). the cherry tomatoes don't want to cook for long at *all*.

turn off the stove.

add any of the following - last night was ground-up pine nuts, shedded parmesan, and shredded asiago. cheapo shaker-can parmesan is even ok if you add enough of it. but mozzarella works too, and feta can turn out particularly well, and i'm trying to think what else would be good. feta is yummy. add some cream or milk if you happen to want a particularly creamy sauce. theres's really no such thing as too much garlic, or too much basil. only use olive oil (or butter, but then it becomes kinda bad for you). um. ground almonds and ground walnuts also are good (or even little chunks of 'em) - they're sort of a thickener. capers would probably be good but i never have any.

i bet it would work with shellfish pretty well - shrimp, scallops, et c. salmon.

any pasta - i guess angel hair is what it's officially supposed to be with but it's a pain to stock different shapes of pasta so we go with ziti for pretty much everything. nice textured ridgy ziti - not the smooth stuff. and french bread or garlic bread is good. caesar salad goes well."

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at least - at least - so many people got to love him - c'est qu'il était ravissant, qu'il riait, et qu'il voulait un mouton -

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