south of the unknown
aethiopica the scientific name of the calla lily (full name: Zantedeschia Aethiopica) . . . . . in classical times it meant "south of the known world" . . . . . . . . . . tight ass shit: Morningstar farms veggie homestyle chili and cornbread. mmmmm.... molli's baby news
greg's site


<amysue> it's great when your boyfriend moves in. its great when you get to kiss as much as you want and wake up in the middle of the night and his warm body is there to lie against. it's also great when there's a jar of spaghetti sauce that won't open and instead of slamming it repeatedly into the countertop I can hand it to him and let him feel like a man while getting the jar opened at the same time. its also great to come home from an f'd up day and he takes the heavy backpack off my shoulders and sits me down on his lap and doesn't ask me to tell him how sucky my day is but he knows anyway.

i love that.

it's also great to remember what it's like to have my own apartment and stay on the computer all night drinking red wine and writing.
i love my boyfriend, and his vacations.
</amysue> <!--10:25 PM-->



<amysue> hhhmmm random literal musings

so I cleverly avoided the whole "war" thing by being a flake and not writing here almost at all during the "war" and well, uh. I guess that's not all that clever but, since no one reads this anyway, I figure flaking out for a while won't really matter. right? (right says the lone reader, moi). But I'm not complaining about no one reading this actually since that way I can't possibly embarass myself or get busted for writing anything stupid. Hey, I think I just had one of those "silver lining" of the cloud moments. geez that's lame. So I just missed my seeing John O'Brien play, which sucks. But, I partially missed it cause I was having a nice chat and well, partially cause I had to work until about 10:30. But the chat part was nice. I did stop by the Makeout Room on my way home just in case the band played late and I asked the guys out front if the band was still playing and they shouted back to me "Yes! park your car!" So, I thought, maybe I didn't miss the whole thing, but when I parked and got inside it was the second band that was still playing. Ohhh. I should have been more specific in my random questioning. But I did catch the end of Golden Shoulders' set and it weren't all that baad [uh...forget me trying to find that website!]. But the name? eh. not impressed. But you know what really sucks? Not having ice cubes. seriously. My freezer apparently has a "no cubes" policy and is enforcing. I put the ice cube tray in, filled with delicious water. And two or three days later I have nothing. And no, there are no leaks in the tray. Yes, I checked. Yes, I check several times. Where does the ice go? My freezer does fine with everything else: ice cream? check. nice and frozen. frozen veggie corn dogs? check. they never evaporate in the freezer. frozen spinach and peas? yes and yes. perfectly fine. every time. ice cubes? d'oh! zip. zilch. zero. what gives? and how can I possibly make drinks that "extra cold" without the requisite cubes? For instance, I keep a bottle or two of vodka in the freezer and recently bought a bottle of tonic water because I was craving a vodka tonic but there were no cubes to give the drink that extra clink in the glass. and what fun is a drink-drink if you aint' got that clink?
see what I mean about the freedom to post nonsense? of course you don't, because I am the only one reading this. But seriously folks, this ice cube thing is going to really suck in the summer when I want to make ice coffee and ice tea and, uh, just ice.
</amysue> <!--1:03 AM-->



<amysue> chris needs a cute girlfriend, anyone interested write to me
he's cute and super nice and smart and funny</amysue> <!--11:14 PM-->

<amysue> Hi Chris!!!
welcome, you are my third visitor

</amysue> <!--11:13 PM-->



<amysue> The Geneva what?

"At the Pentagon, spokeswoman Torie Clark accused Iraqis of violating the rules of war by misusing white flags of surrender and other deceptions" (source).

BUT......any U.S. behavior that might appear, well, unsavory, is accidental and cleverly removed from consumer conscience by way of smarmy wording:
"A U.S. general said on Monday an aircraft taking part in the U.S.-led war on Iraq (news - web sites) bombed a bus by accident, killing civilians, while attacking a bridge near the Syrian border" (source).
"This act represents a breach of the 1949 Geneva Convention on protecting civilians during war...therefore the Syrian Arab Republic condemns this act and reserves the right to demand compensation in line with international law," a Syrian statement said (source).

and not just that, but, um...does that seem odd to anyone other than me--the "rules of war"? How much more oxymoronic can you get?</amysue> <!--9:07 PM-->



<amysue> Imprint

I bruise so easily when I’m near you
So easily the vessels break and spill into the tissue
released like a floodgate of emotions
seeping into every available space.

I never feel the hurt of the soft purplish spots on my skin.
When I press my fingers into them, to remember how your hand felt,
I feel nothing.
The squeeze that you meant for love
pinched just a bit, a momentary sting
but the shadowy imprint of your fingers lies still on my skin
long after you have left
and I want, in a feverish way, to keep them

proof of your touch
proof that you were here.

The inside of me,
--already bleeding when you try to love me,
already protesting your grip on me--
immediately voices what my heart won’t hear.

</amysue> <!--10:15 PM-->



<amysue> What pants are YOU wearing?
So I heard this song the other day by the Marginal Prophets, not sure what the title is but the song was about "Yes Pants" and it was a total crack up. You know "Yes-pants," the pants you know will get you laid. The guys in the band admitted to having "yes-shirts" as well. And I couldn't help but wonder if my recent forays into the dating world were related to my pants. And I wondered if I have "yes-pants." I certainly have pants. And I have pants that I've even worn out to bars. And I have, well, you know, "been lucky" but was it my pants or my sparkling wit and inrresitable charm? This put a whole new spin on the dating scene for me. I had no idea that guys were noticing my pants! As I mentally pulled clothing from my closet I realized I probably have a lot of "yeaaaah,-I-don't-think-so-pants" and I even have a pair of "is-there-even-an-ass-under-there-pants" (overalls, you know). And I realized that there's probably no such thing as "yes-sweats." So, I concentrated my mental inventory on my jeans and black pants. And because the song was clearly about the pants you know will get you laid, I realized I needed not necessarily "yes-pants," but a "yes-backside." Hmmm. Is my rear a "yes-rear" I wondered? Since I was driving and couldn't see my ass in the mirror I decided I should probably toss the donut I was eating just in case. I made a mental note to pick up a bag of baby carrots, the two bags in the fridge had been there for several weeks already and weren't looking too healthy. I've certainly got trousers that I would call "pant-tastic" and they don't do me any harm....I guess those are my "yes-pants" or at least my "pretty-good-chances-pants." And I thought, "pretty-good-chances-pants" are nothing to sneeze at. Damn, wish I hadn't tossed the donut.</amysue> <!--12:18 PM-->



<amysue> valentine's day.
either you are gushingly sentimental or you are a cranky, single person. Hmmm. sounds like you can't win for trying. Although I'd never look a gift box of chocolates in the mouth--?-- I still have to say that flying solo on V-day must be somewhat like being jewish on christmas. and since I've never been jewish on christmas (or any other major holiday) I can only relate the single girl thoughts of the monumental deal so many single people make about valentine's day. Perusing the "men seeking women" ads on Craigslist (purely for research, I assure you!), there are upwards of a hundred men desparately seeking a Valentine's date, for tomorrow! Uh, does that strike anyone else as odd? I mean, isn't Valentine's day the day you express your love for those that you, well, love? People, you don't have to be in love to celebrate Valentine's day, focus instead on the people in your life you already do love, family, friends, your cat....How corny and affectacious (if that's not a word, I'm making it into one now), to meet a stranger for a date to coerce love and romance into your life, as if you can conjur it up simply because it's Valentine's day, or worse, that because it's Valentine's day and you aren't in love, you'd better quick find someone to approximate love with, dare I say, make love with. Now lest I come across as a cynical-obviously-single-bitch, which I assure you I am not (the bitch part anyway), I'm willing to consider another reading of this en masse dating frenzy: perhaps Valentine's day, with it's gooey romaticism (driven of course by a consumer market--ooh cynicism, sorry), has rekindled the ashy heart-remnants of those burned out on love and like the Grinch, embolded their sour, little hearts three sizes for today.

"True love, I knew, some thought of leavin' you.
Bad thoughts I had, when valentines were due.
Of all the many ways a man will break his heart,
Well there ain't none meaner than he pulls his own apart"

hmmm...didn't work for me.

</amysue> <!--12:01 AM-->


Powered by Blogger