Thursday, April 2, 2009

Sans arms.

I am so single it is laughable.

Just in case anyone was wondering, this is a typical Thursday night spent in after an afternoon spent galavanting up and down aisles due to a happenstance intersection run in with no other than Josh Ruth. After eating apples and conversing at the speed of light in the liquor store, in the grocery store, in the drugstore. After trying on ugly shades of lipstick while he fussed over the perfect shampoo for his head of Amish hair. After parting ways and taking one very annoying bus ride downtown. After an hour at the studio working on letters to Loco, Jage and dear Liza at the light table. Just thought I would throw this up for the world to see. My life is not very exciting these days, but I am happy as a clam.

Saturday is Junior Boys for Andrew's birthday and I am going to try very hard not to fall asleep in the crowd like I did at Bonnie 'Prince' Billy. I can't even write anymore. I can't even stay awake at concerts. Liza, if I could pick anyone to transcribe the pace of my days, the pace of my brain, I would choose you. I have been tossing Liza's words around in my head like lingerie inside of a front loading washing machine for days and days now. The slow undressing of life, she is a beautiful writer. How is it possible that she is single? Jesus, I could name ten amazing women off the top of my head who are single. Where have all the good men gone to? Really? How is it that the Courtney's and the Chastidy's and the Skylar's of the tripping teen world are all attached to the hip of some spiky-haired-frosted-tipped-puka-shelled-double-collared douche and all of the strong women are left floundering in their homes on Thursday nights apologizing to no one for their strength and high standards? WHAT THE HELL?!?!! Actually, now that I think of it, majority of the women who just flashed past in thought choose to be single, myself included. With that said, pardon me.

I am going to go open a bottle of red and abuse a substance or two. Isn't the mannequin lovely? The woman who sold it to me last spring at some shitty flea market where they sell hotdogs for a dollar, tried desperately hard to include the arms (sans fingers) in the sale and was utterly perplexed when I refused her offer. "I am not in the market for a pair of random arms, thankyouverymuch". I am such a bitch sometimes. That does have a nice ring to it, on second thought.

I am not in the market for a pair of random arms.
I am not in the market for a pair of random arms.
I am not in the market for a pair of random arms.

I will know the right pair when I see them. These posts are getting ridiculous. Now if you will excuse me, I have a date with my bathtub and a pack of Balinese cigarettes.



  2. Mag of my heart--

    I will have you know that this post melted me to the floor. And then picked up up again off of it. I am laying here, alone save for Jenny Lewis' buttery goddess voice and a tattered package of B&H's that I am chain-smoking solo. Does this make me a strong woman? I hope to god so.

    I love you more and most.