April 13, 2005

• I’m getting drunk.  In fact hold on, I’m going for another beer.  Fucking Budweiser, that’s what it’s come to.  Some friends came by on Saturday and the guy was so antsy he went and got beer while she and I talked.  Then he went out back and played with the puppy.  That’s what I am tonight, antsy.  Everything was fine until I realized that I couldn’t go to my sister’s tomorrow night for dinner.  I had forgotten the fiction class has started back up.  About that time I remembered I was supposed to be reading this book by Faulkner.  The only thing I’ve read by him I loved but the teacher made it sound like he was difficult.  So I hop in my car thinking it was around 7:00.  I’m half-way there when I remember my car is an hour behind.  The library is closed.  Who knows where a bookstore is over here, not me.  I can’t imagine there is one.  I don’t think anyone over here reads.  I think they watch TV and drink beer.  I’m halfway there.

  
  

  At least the youngest one is here.  She walked in and saw the beer in my hand and wondered what was going on.  I had some music on and was trying to get in the mood to dance.  Some kind of physical activity is sorely needed.  I paced around my kitchen for a while, round and round the island.  I think I need to get laid.  I went out to the garage and was looking for a possible, forgotten box with hair stuff and jewelry.  I’m missing a bunch of bellydance jewelry and clips and things for long hair.  Really what I want is those rollers I used to use.  I looked pretty damn good today, if I do say so myself.  It didn’t take that long.  If I just had someplace to go every morning I could get a habit going.  Or if I had a fucking boyfriend.  Good thing I’ve given up on that.  I haven’t seen any possible candidates since I moved here.  Actually there was a black guy, looked like a Portland State professor, who was getting in his car downtown.  Nice suit, glasses, genteel, comfortable, right age.  I stared, he smiled.  I didn’t mean to stare, he just was such a surprise.  Then there was a guy at lunch with Teresa.  Except he was too old.  He had pretty cool white hair, though.  It was punked out and he was elegant.  Too much attitude, though.  God, I hate being eccentric and old.  The field narrows so.

  
  

  The rain has finally gotten to me.  You can’t live in Portland without enduring this month-long river of rain in April.  It’s harder this year with that tease-of-a-month we had in March.  I just want to be someplace else, someplace warm.  I want to be somone else, someone thin.  And today, on my way to the hospital, I actually fantasized about being published.  I’m drunk so I can put that out there.  It’s just that I read so much about intention and praying and working towards your goals and at some point you have to step up and say you want it; that you’re going to go for it.  I imagined myself being interviewed on TV.  I know this is embarrassing for you but I don’t give a shit.  It’s my blog and I can be as embarrassing as I want. 

  
  

  I wonder if the reason I’m getting drunk is because I did a stupid thing today and subconsciously I’m freaking out about it.  Remember that incident with my tribal teacher and the reviews I wrote?  And it’s funny because I was just thinking about ego last night because of something Brenda wrote on Denmark guy’s blog.  I even saved it somewhere to think about.  Anyway, just when I thought I was getting a handle on my ego I go and open my big mouth.  I just erased a bunch of ego-ridden stuff.  Suffice-it-to-say I blew my under-cover approach to the second book.  Maybe she’ll keep her mouth shut. 

  
  

  Have you noticed all the hyphenated words I seem to want to use lately?  What’s up with that.  I’m rambling.  Enough.

  
  

   

  • 12:32 am
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