#3:

No clue. We have no clue. Neither of us has a clue. Together or apart. But, does anyone really?

We breathe in. Exhale. The same Idiot Wind.

PS: Love Fiona singing that crazy awesome craziness on the Today Show with Christmas decorations….. cognitive dissonance for all!!!!  NOTE:  While most people don’t bother to watch videos that others post, I would implore you to watch this one. Fiona is beautiful and this song is my all time favorite and she says “Happy Birthday Daddy” at the end!!!  Puts a whole new spin on the song…….

I’m trying to keep this beyond the obvious. So :

2.  An appreciation for crazy people, as long as they are unarmed.

A new group of posts I’m starting tonight. My love and I have decided to co-habitate for a while until I get my financial shit together (hopefully by Spring).. at any rate, in a THC induced haze tonight I decided to start a list. I love to make lists. I am the List MASTER.

So. These are the things we (my love and I) have in common:

1. Popsicles

That’s it for tonight’s installment.

Again, another Natalie Dee drawing. I don’t know you Natalie but please let me know if I am offending or breaking the law by using your images on a blog nobody reads.

So I’m told this guy has a book and TV deal in the making based upon his Twitter.  And we are all too familiar with the other more well known insta-celebs such as: folks who procreate recklessly, that “Leave Britney Alone!”  guy a/k/a Chris Crocker, you pathetic little asswipe , the folks who caught the squirrel on camera as they posed for a picture, Levi Johnston, the dogs on puppy- cam, “New York” from Flavor of Love,  blah blah blah blah blah.  Last night on tv I saw a kid who made national news for simply singing a song about Windows 7  in his elementary school talent show (not finding a link in a cursory search and I’m too lazy to really care).

Of course, there has been much discussion of the influence of  media, including the Internet, YouTube, television,  and all that miscellany in our culture,  along with  our decreased attention spans (remember the theory that it all started with Sesame Street conditioning kids to crave learning in sound bites?), our collective thirst for escapism, our degenerating average national IQ and The End of The World. In fact, this mere act of blogging is part of the phenomenon.  Obviously, these entries are written post-haste and little time is put into the content. Either it flows well or it flows not. I am not a thoughtful writer most of the time.  As to YouTube, hell, I even posted my own stupid exploits there, but the lackluster content has yet to garner any national, regional or even neighborhood attention, unless you count the guy next door who was peering over the fence as we filmed.  But hey! I got a 3 Star rating somehow!

My few readers might suggest I write that book that is supposedly buried deep within but that takes time and talent. I want quick fame and fortune. Just a little. I don’t even care about the fame, just give me the fortune. And I’m not asking for a lot.  As a budding Socialist, I have no desire to be filthy rich – merely free of debt and able to travel the world a little, provide my kid with a decent education, maybe get a little  liposuction.

I have many ideas for insta-fame. I cannot disclose them here for obvious reasons. But I’m thinking  - fermenting scenarios in the shallow recesses of my mind.

In the meantime, sitting at the Reference Desk (an official position)  writing this post,  I noticed a patron at the circulation desk (a/k/a “not my job”to get up and help unless absolutely necessary) and, as I got up to help her, tripped on the Ref. Desk computer mouse cord which is about 10 feet too long.  I fell hard on the linoleum floor …. god, the humiliation… and now have growing pain in my neck and hands.  Holy shit!!!   Litigation? Nah, I don’t want anyone snooping about in my medical history.  Too murky.  Perhaps if it had been captured on video I could submit to America’s Funniest Librarian Pratfalls and win a cash prize.  Then there was the rest of the day and night….. more to come. Let’s just say there were no winners here.

art by Ben Heine

I look up at the sky. It’s dark and threatening. I think where else would i be if I could just point myself there? And there I am. On the side of crystal clear blue waterfall pool. I’m young. Thin. Tan. Toned.

And I could actually care less about that. I am happy. I am ready to jump into the pool. My young psyche, lovely body, and relentless energy innocently taking me over.  I jump. Elegant and frozen in time. I hit the water, plunge under into a cool, bottomless place. And then I know I am ready. I can  swim back up to the place I want to be.  I think there would be a sunstreaked sky at this point.

Seriously. Can’t go on. Must keep thoughts to myself. If I have a piece of writing I think is worth sharing, I might. Otherwise the diary is closed. “Self Masturbatory” is what someone once called the blog. It’s true. Time to stop. Unless there’s something worth saying.  We’ve all heard about the ups and downs of the day to day life of a madwoman.    Good night and good luck.

What the birds see.

What the bird said.

Really. I should be working being that I am at work. But I have a problem concentrating and staying awake.  I can make some busywork for myself but I’d rather just sit here and pontificate.   I swear this will be the last sophmoric act of blathering for at least the next few days.  I was chatting online with the ex “boyfriend” (loosely termed)  and noting how for all those years I never felt that he returned any of the love I was giving him . He simply did not. It was quite frustrating to say the least. It lead me to do many self destructive acts, and now I marvel at the power he held over me.  As in “what the fuck????”  Anyway, his response? “Sorry. We were just looking for different things. “

Yes. Yes we were. I could say I regret having wasted all that time but then if I had done things differently I might not have ended up where I am now; things work out according to their own plans.  We make choices and we have power to make choices but still there is a randomness that oversees everything we do. Which was the thought that was ringing in my head as my body melted into S. yesterday afternoon…. all of those moments before, everything before, comes crashing into this moment – it all disappears and here we are right here, right now.  Having someone return my affection is pretty amazing - the heady first glimmer of connection, intense.  Thus, I walk around in a stupor associated with the emotions, the lack of sleep, the excitement, the raw physicality of it all. Raw. Open. Juicy. Head floating off like a balloon. Everything seems so much more.

Incoming Reference desk phone call as I sit here writing:

The lady we refer to as “the reference lady” just called.  She always opens with “Reference please” and then asks the weirdest or most mundane questions (never know what she’s going to ask). She then uses the question as a jumping off point to start digging into the personal lives of the poor saps who get her calls – she calls all the branches systemwide – she is a legendary figure. The last time she called here I passed her off to our poor student assistant, David.  I couldn’t deal. He took her question which was a mundane phone number request but then she segued into asking him if he thought it was proper for family members to fart in front of each other. Her exact question to him was “Did your father pass gas in front of you when you were a child?” “Do you think that is acceptable?”  Poor kid. He tried his best to be polite but he was visibly shaken by this interaction. Fortunately, it was closing time so I told him to cut her off and tell her he had to go.  Just now she simply wanted the definition of “ora pro nobis”.  It’s Latin for “pray for us”.

Oh, and if Pablo Escobar wasn’t dead (zombie maybe???) I’d swear he just walked into the library.  Pablo wants help creating a restaurant menu – he does not know how to type or how to use a word processing program and speaks little English.  I set him up on a computer as he eyes my cleavage which is out in full force today… ughh. In the end,  I help him above and beyond what is expected of me because he seems like a nice person who needs that little bit of extra help to open his pizza restaurant and pursue the Great AMERICAN DREAM!!!   Just doin’ my part here.  Holding out my hand to the masses, offering to lift them up and into the light of “how things work”…..  These are nuggets – maddening nuggets – of work in the public library.

Haven’t seen the movie nor do I care to. I think Hollywood is really stretching for material these days. Give me a good Almodovar film any day. Even when he’s dipped his toe into Hollywood he has remained phenomenal. Not that you can compare a spare children’s book adaptation to his work (nevermind that the usually great Dave Eggars had a part in Wild Things  – WTF??) , but I’m just saying the crap H’wood spits out and the sheeple who flock to it are somewhat disheartening. But I don’t really care. Just an aside.

On the home front, I have my own wild things. A forest dwelling enigma of a man who brings a whole new concept of primal to my world.  Fundamentally flawed, the both of us. Yet alarmingly honest it seems.  I like hiding out in his cabin in the woods, ignoring the rest of  humanity to the extent that a working mother of a teenage girl can.  I find myself living in two worlds. My week of custody is the week of the girl. Staying home, making dinners, watching tv, being with her, talking about our crazy life. She has her own wildness, her own secrets that surface as she grows into a woman. My week of non-custody is the week of primal matters. Eating, sleeping, taking long hot baths, discovering the secrets in his head, the trust required to give myself over to him emotionally and physically. Still having to go to work but in a bit of a stupor from the surreal world on the other side of the job. My prior post denied love. I don’t think I need go that far. There is love. And yes, there is a “BUT” coming up here…….  I just have to keep it in perspective.  I cannot change anyone but myself, nor do I want to.  But (aha!) when the thorns start to get out of control, again-  as thorns tend to do without meaning any harm – I must step away. Disentangle. Tomorrow I will see my shrink. I predict she will counsel me to disentangle permanently but I will not. I might have to disentangle from her, actually.  If I am not working toward our agreed goal, then why waste each others’ time?  I feel I have failed her.  But I guess it’s myself I have failed at least on a few points.

At any rate, I think we all go down paths by choice. And I have chosen this path for now. If it was perfect and without some potholes, I would be suspicious.  I’ll leave it as is.  Unfolding and winding and entangling me.

My beloved is beginning to show signs of self destruction. It hasn’t taken long has it? I give my heart to someone and they start nailing in the thorns one by one. At first they’re tender thorns attached to beautiful flowers. Slowly (well – quickly in this case) the thorns begin to lose control and grow ripping and ragged as they tear at your soul even though they don’t mean to.  They are just thorns after all, they don’t know what else to do with themselves.  Nature’s way. I should know by now that love is an illusion. It’s a little carrot that the evil forces concocted to make us feel like there’s some damn point to living. Well. There’s not.  And if there is, romantic love has nothing to do with it. I love my child. I loved my dog. I don’t think I will ever love another human being again. As soon as it starts, it begins the ending. It’s a set up. You have been warned.