This is the first time in months that I blacked out my nails. Along with the freshly shorn head, I'm sure this will enable me to squeek through the heightened airport security tomorrow morning. I have to get up at 3:30 or 4 am anyway just to make sure I make it to my 8am flight on time.
I tried to get dinner at Mirani's last night, but they were closed by 9pm for some reason. I had fish and chips with a side o' Guinness at the Celtic Knot instead. Melt in your mouth goodness, all of it.
Vikki came by WNUR last night, so I didn't do the show alone. It made the night better, for sure. I remember this little kid with green hair and ripped up mismatched plaid suit I met four and a half years ago, and she's really grown into herself, so good for her.
I feel old.
I was reading some poetry at dinner:
"Bullet the Wonder Dog Gets a Few Things Off His Chest" by Ron Koertge
I was good enough to knock down a few
desperados and bushwhackers and then keep
them occupied until Roy finished his song.
But Trigger was the marquee beast.
He was gold, El Dorado on the hoof, the blonde
bombshell. American through and through.
Man's best friend? Don't kid yourself. When
we were working, I had to eat Trigger's dust
or ride in the Jeep with dopey Pat Butrum.
And when we weren't working, I was bored.
So I sidled up to a script girl who was
learning Spanish and listened along. My plan
was this: next time a couple of banditos
confronted the impeccable Roy, I'd burst
in before the fisticuffs with Bajer esas
pistolas, y escuchen a la razon.
But the words wouldn't come out. They
were right there on the tip of my long,
red tongue. I howled in frustration and
ruined the shot.
"Somebody," the director said, "get that
mutt out of here." And somebody did, a DGA
trainee with a script in her purse and a
bad attitude.
It's times like those I thought of my mother,
how usually she lay down while my brothers
and I fought for a nipple. But occasionally
she stoodlike she was posing for a she-wolf
postcard. Instead of Romulus, I was the one
tall and strong enough to reach a teat.
"You'll go far," she said to me in Dogtalk.
"But there's also heartbreak and few, if any,
will know the real you."
desperados and bushwhackers and then keep
them occupied until Roy finished his song.
But Trigger was the marquee beast.
He was gold, El Dorado on the hoof, the blonde
bombshell. American through and through.
Man's best friend? Don't kid yourself. When
we were working, I had to eat Trigger's dust
or ride in the Jeep with dopey Pat Butrum.
And when we weren't working, I was bored.
So I sidled up to a script girl who was
learning Spanish and listened along. My plan
was this: next time a couple of banditos
confronted the impeccable Roy, I'd burst
in before the fisticuffs with Bajer esas
pistolas, y escuchen a la razon.
But the words wouldn't come out. They
were right there on the tip of my long,
red tongue. I howled in frustration and
ruined the shot.
"Somebody," the director said, "get that
mutt out of here." And somebody did, a DGA
trainee with a script in her purse and a
bad attitude.
It's times like those I thought of my mother,
how usually she lay down while my brothers
and I fought for a nipple. But occasionally
she stoodlike she was posing for a she-wolf
postcard. Instead of Romulus, I was the one
tall and strong enough to reach a teat.
"You'll go far," she said to me in Dogtalk.
"But there's also heartbreak and few, if any,
will know the real you."
Copyright violation from Free Lunch no. 35.
I find myself very easily tempted to actions I know will have negative consequences for all involved. Things I would not be proud of doing even were they consequence-free. I do not know why this is. I'm disgusted with myself even though I know I'll give in to the temptations should the opportunity arise.
I think my mailman is either lazy or an idiot. I get no mail all week, then yesterday my box is crammed full of stuff, some of it postmarked two weeks ago. *LIKE MY DENTAL LICENSE RENEWAL.* Some of it was put into other boxes as well, I think, despite my name and apartment number being on my box. Fuckin' A. No Idea says that Chicago is a black hole for packages and I can believe it.
Also, according to UPS, they never picked up my MP3 player from buy.com, and buy won't look into it until the entire expected shipping time has elapsed. Which means Tuesday morning I can get on and bitch to them about it. Fuckers. I'm never buying anything from there again.
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