Surprisingly enough, I've quiet enjoyed my vacation from LiveJournal and from most of the internet in general. It has quieted my mind more than a little. I'm looking forward to the next couple of weeks of eAbstinence. However, I stopped home on my way to the grocery store and figured I'd fire this baby up to make a few CDs for Shelly's car (mine's still busted) and upload a couple of pictures from West Virginia. West Virginia, of all places! I scrolled back some and caught a bit of what's going on with everyone. Not everything, but enough.

So: Congratulations, I'm Sorry To Hear That, How Exciting!, OMG, and Damn You Look Good. That mostly covers it. (I should probably also throw in at least one Why Are We Still LJ Friends? Not In A Mean Way, But With Honest Bewilderment.) You know, it's sad how few of you I will actually ever get to know in a personal and real and mutually enriching way. Ditto with how many of you I thought I actually did, or it looked like I was going to, and then shit petered out. Social entropy is a serious bummer.

These are the haps:

I have been drawing comics on a one-a-day basis that are terrible to look at, but fun to make. I just draw so poorly, but that keeps me laughing while I scribble through my lunch break. The series is called Mayday Heyday, because I'm doing one every day in May and, duh, heyday rhmyes. I'm using the alphabet to guide me in my subject matter, but it's very possible and even likely that I'll just start writing about whatever I want. I have Audience and Blossoms uploaded, but I don't want to share them until they're all done. If I share them at all.

Today I was hit on while driving. I called Elliott afterward and said, "Something happened to me that almost never happens to me!" He said, "You got fucked in the ass?" I laughed. "No, this happens less frequently than that. I actually get fucked in the ass sometimes, but I NEVER get hit on!" Basically, a dude rode up next to me in his truck and was looking into my car. I was wearing a cute dress, and because it was hot out, the hem was hitched a little above my knees. He smiled at me and said I looked real good. He said I had nice legs and when I thanked him, he said he wished he could see a little more of them. I mostly blushed. He rode next to me for a while, winking and shouting his surprise at my singlehood. Eventually I turned off the road and he honked and waved. When I got home, I was all giggly and wanted to fuck.

And, well, that's not everything either, but it's enough. For now.

My weekend is a big ol' FAIL, thanks to my car. Turn the damn thing on and it's all shaking and shuddering like it's working up to some big automotive orgasm. Mom came over and together we changed all the spark plugs, checked the distributor cap, and used this Duck Hunt-esque light gun to make sure the spark plug wires were working right. All that was fine. So, car's still busted and I'm waiting to hear from Dad's mechanic. There's this mystery number like in some The Price Is Right game, one called How Much Money Is This Shit Going To Cost Me, and I'm not looking forward to the big reveal.

But yeah, I had to cancel greatly anticipated plans due to lack of transportation. Fuuuuuuuck.

Also, Simba threw up all over the rug in my sitting room last night.

Also, why is it so damn hard to find one cropped, short-sleeved, off-white cardigan that covers my tattoos and isn't so poorly made that I can pretty much watch it falling apart as it sits on the hanger? And furthermore, why do spring/summer work clothes have to be so hard to match? Off-white, beige, khaki, it's like you need a different pair of shoes for every damn shade between white and brown. It's no wonder I wear so much black to work. I don't have the coinage to venture real far into the territory of other neutral colors.

So. I've stopped updating my journal from work. I'll have to go back to doing it in my "free time," which always seems less free than time spent at work, where I'm parked in front of a computer for seven and a half hours a day. Now I have to play catch up.

one: Wednesday was the longest day of the week. It was Administrative Professionals Appreciation Day, which meant a vase of really lovely flowers and a pretty decent duffel/gym bag that matches my Colonial School District camp chair from last year and the Colonial School District golf umbrella from the year before. These are the flowers...'


Tropical!

Then we had ladies' game night at our place. I had tried to remove myself from the planning and entertaining this time so it would be more of Tina's baby, but I started flipping out about half an hour before guests arrived. It just seemed like there was too much to do and not nearly enough time in which to do it. My rational mind knew everything would turn out great, but the rest of me was all riled up because things were not how I would have done them. Also, I stepped in a hole in the yard and twisted my ankle. And yet, everything DID go wonderfully.

two: I'm From Barcelona were super. They are only playing three East Coast shows. Philly was one, then a NJ show, then a bunch of West Coast festivals and back here for a NYC show. There were 15 members present (of the 29 that usually make up the band), and most of them had on weird footwear. A lot of pointy shoes. Elliott's explanation: "They're Swedish." Why do I love everything fun and sing-songy and shouty-happy? Maybe it is because I have a Very Twee Heart. The show was exuberant and celebratory, like a big ol' birthday party complete with balloons and confetti. I shot some footage of one song before my batteries crapped out, but I was too close to the speakers (tucked behind some scaffolding, actually) and got a lot of buzz. Here's a shot of the band...


Party!

three: I'm sleepy. This was supposed to say something about new dresses and car problems. I'll get to all that tomorrow.

Because I have paid for yet another sure-to-be-exciting-if-only-to-me year of journaling, I have been allowed another 7 userpics. I'd just make some more, like usual, but the editing software on this computer is sucky at best. And so I'm inviting any of y'all to make me an icon. If you choose to do so, I promise and guarantee that I'll use it, even if it's a animated GIF of a grandma feather-dusting her teapot collection. Actually, ESPECIALLY if it's that.

I will also make a post, using your thoughtfully gifted userpic, in which I boldly proclaim that [your name here] is fantastic and clever and always has good breath and is furthermore generous and most likely a good kisser.

Submissions, if I get any, may be emailed to besubversive (at) gmail (dot) com. Oh! And just one request... a 1 pixel border on the objet d'art. I like boundaries.

Did mostly nothing today, but I DID take a stroll to the grocery store to pick up some cleaning spray and I DID clean the bathroom top to bottom and I MAY still clean my room before Sunday's all over with. And I've still got to hit the gym to work out this stiff right hamstring.

Burnt the hell out of my bottom lip on a microwavable stuffed sandwich. Kiss it better?

And I have some clips from an Elvis tribute show we saw last night. Just have to upload them.

In other news, I'm feeling kinda... impatient, I guess. About love/the future. Can't wait to get this show on the road; I'm ready to be accompliced and accomplished. Cue that part in Me and You and Everyone We Know when Miranda July's character is sprawled on her bed, pleading to her cell phone, "We have a whole life to live together, but it can't start until you call." Or cue the chorus in that McCarthy Trenching song that I really liked. "I believe she was my one chance to marry young/To have some dobro daughters/And a mandolin-picking son/And finally realize my plan/To raise a real fine bluegrass band." You can substitute "rad family" or even "pretty sweet garden, for now" where it says "bluegrass band," though I sure wouldn't say no to such a thing.

I am anxious to embark, to build, to commence, to plan, to make, to do. With someone. With a specific someone, even. It's just a waiting game now. Time vs. distance. I mean, I hope that's all that's left. I've got to check in sometimes to make sure I'm not being delusional. Saying hey to the elephant in the room, the horse in the corner, the expectation that this is going somewhere bigger, whether or not we're talking about it. I'm eager to be at the beginning of the next chapter.

Here's a picture of someone in front of me nearing the finish line. You can see me to the right, with a messenger bag I forgot to leave at our team table flapping against my hip. Oops. Go forward three pictures and that's the one of just me, but I like this one better.

Don't be fooled; I never got above a swift walk for most of the thing. Tina was 447th to cross the finish line. Her mom and I were 1375th and 1379th... out of 1485.

Picture this:

At the show last night, there were about 50 people, most of them in their 20's or early 30's. Hipster-esque to varyious degrees. We were at a front table, having drinks and enjoying the show. A couple of kids were bopping around between us and the band. On the scene arrives a woman in her mid 30's and 50-or-so yr old dude. Both are dressed in business attire, drunk, and quite amorous. They bump and grind less three feet from our table, and to music that was never meant to be bumped or ground to! The woman has on this jumper-type dress and the dude starts gesturing at her chest. They step to the side a bit and she slips out of the top of her dress (she has a shirt on underneath) and rolls the thing down to her waist so it's being worn like a skirt. The lecherous guy is all handsy with her and keeps grabbing her butt and she keeps pulling the hem of her dress up her thighs and they were WAY distracting. Directly blocking our view of the band. Eventually she puts the dress back on the right way, but during the last song, probably thinking no one can see, the guy starts trying to, uh, finger her ass through her clothes. Disturbing to the max, y'all. Seriously. He did not care that he was definitely pushing fabric into her butt.

The last two shows I've been to, white collar dudes have been OUT OF CONTROL (not to mention, out of their element?) and freaking people out. What gives?

I walked to the gym, rowed for 11 minutes and ellipticized for 30, then walked back. Man, nothing could be better right now than swigging Turkey Hill iced chai straight from the jug. Which is exactly what I'm doing.

Elliott finally got my You Don't Pick Up The Phone Much, Buddy diss rhyme. Well, I left it on his voicemail, anyway. He may not hear it until later. I'm not going to post the silly thing here, but I will let slip that the subject of this post IS a line from it, immediately preceeded by, "Why would you wait, hesitate or stall?"

My dad and I are seeing Ezra Furman and the Harpoons at World Cafe tonight. YAY! I was surprised Dad agreed to go once I told him the show wouldn't start 'til 9PM. But he was totally bummed about missing The Felice Brothers, and that's what ultimately swayed him to say yes to this show. He'll be here in a little bit and we're gonna swing up and eat at some diner on Spring Garden first. Silver City? Silver something, anyway.

Tomorrow is a staff development day and that means NO KIDS, which in turn means MORE PRODUCTIVITY! And Saturday I'm walking in the Philly 5K for Clean Air with Tina and her folks. Sunday, hmm, maybe I'll see if Megon is available for dinner and a movie rental. Speaking of movies, I recently saw both Sweeney Todd and There Will Be Blood. The latter was equally as disturbing as the first, maybe moreso since SW was a little campy and TWBB was as serious as serious gets.

I'm not all that into math, but math is way into me. I can't even begin to guess how many calculations I do in my head during one workout out on a machine that counts and displays time, distance, and calories burned. If simple maths weren't such a good way to pass the time, I'd try to think about something less boring.

Ooooooh, bed.

Oh gross. My brother showed up on the "new members in your area" section when I went to OkCupid just now. EW.

I got a spam that said something like, "Supplements for pubescent boys. Get Britney to notice with a bigger Spear." So, they're marketing dick pills to teenagers now? Sort of like when cigarette companies have fun, bright packaging and advertisements to lure the young folk? What's next? Big Joe Johnson, the mascot? A handsome cartoon pecker sporting a fauxhawk and skateboarding? Throwing back energy drinks and playing Guitar Hero with the hottest girl at the house party?

I am having a hard time not buying new music. It would be nice to have a specific kind of sugar daddy, the kind that would buy me all the CDs I wanted. Pay for me to go back to school? Oh, that's okay, I'll just take 25 new albums a week. Thanks.

I went to an event called Barkitecture this weekend. No, really. It was at a country club. I mostly went for the hors d'oeuvres and the crudites. Little sandwiches of salmon and cream cheese, chicken salad, spinach and avocado, and one with some sort of savory mystery filling. Also, dill cheddar and goat cheese and stilton and gruyere from the cheese tray. And all the fresh asparagus and red pepper strips and little yellow tomatoes I could handle. Left immediately after dinner, though; didn't want to stay to watch rich folks bid on cat and dog statues painted by art students.

What was the wackiest thing you did/saw/heard over the weekend?

Oh God. The show was off the hook, chain, charts, meter, wall, and everything else. But not off the record, because I took a ton of footage. Scrappy young dudes in scruffy boots and theadbare clothes, all dirty and unshaven and crazy-eyed and I think they smelled kind of like stew, or at least the venison chili I made a while back, and they rocked the hell out of that chapel. I loved it, hot damn.



( A few more pictures and two videos. )

I showered around three and got into bed warm and naked for the most luxurious of naps. Now I don't want to get dressed. I'm supposed to be going to a reception dinner thing with Megon at 6PM, but if I weren't, I'd be extending Naked Lounge Time by at least a few hours.

I'm so terribly cranky + anxious right now. Crankxious?

So, I was talking to my dad before I left work and he suggested I ask my brother if he would want to go to the show with me. And I forgot that last time I asked him to do something similar, he totally made up some excuse not to, and so I went ahead and called him. He said he had no plans tonight, but was all, "Huh. I don't know. I'll think about it." He texted me 30 minutes later to say that he was sorry, but he was just too beat to go out. YEAH RIGHT. As if he won't be up until 3 in the morning playing video games. It was just a year or so ago that JD would be down with going anywhere I was going. And it's not as if he's busy. He does not have a steady base of good friends. It's the opposite really. Few and fair-weather. Well, it's the last time I ask. I'm tired of being blown off.

And then there were botched plans to meet my mom at the mall for a little bit. Nasty traffic was to blame; there just wasn't time.

On top of that, I'm feeling bothered that I'm missing out on the gym tonight. Again, not enough time. On account of chores. My roommate's new/old man (it's a long story) is coming to visit tonight and she has been doing hardcore cleaning around the house. When I got home yesterday, she'd put everything of mine from the first floor AGAINST the door of my room. In a neat little pile. So I KNEW she wanted me to clean. Further proof is the evidence of tiny tidyings going on at the edge of my spaces. It's very hinty. Which I don't like. I know she means well, and just feels bad for making me adhere to her to-do list, but I really would have liked if she'd said, earlier in the week, "Harrison is going to come Friday, and I was wondering if you'd neaten up your things and your spaces by Friday."

And I'm supposed to be ready for the yardsale tomorrow and I'm not and I'm gonna be home late and it starts early and I want to go to Nia first and also it's probably gonna rain and and and and and.

I haven't felt this way in a while, but my mind is skipping around all the things bugging me, just rubbing over them again and again, like worry stones. Maybe if I said each thing out loud and very clearly put each issue to bed for myself. "I'm feeling _______ about _______, but it's clear that all I can do about it is _______. That will have to suffice." And then file them away where they can't get me all frazzled. Perhaps I will do that on the way to the show. Which I am supposed to be leaving for this very moment. Oops.

It's Career Day at McCullough Middle. Our staff center is stocked with waxy fruit and sticky pastries and weak coffee in a wheezing percolator. Hooray!

Funny stuff:

- There's a local boy who has had some moderate success and fame as a boxer. He was on some show. The Contender? He's here representing professional sports. He was sitting in the receiving area with a professor of Hotel and Restaurant Management, and they started talking. Out of nowhere, I heard, "Well, if you don't know who I am, you must not read the paper. I was on a show and I won 50 fights." Whoa! Cocky!

- The mayor of Old New Castle came in and was looking over the schedule. He said, "Looks like I'm in the right room. Mr. Crock's room, huh? Politics? Crock! Hahahaha." Then he pointed to a really handsome chef and said, "And he's in the right place, too! Ms. Studd's room! Studd! Hahahahaha."

- To dismiss the kids from one session to another, I'm calling into each room via the PA system and honking a clow-type horn into the phone three times. The students are cracking up. Heehee.

Making cumin-rubbed mahi mahi for dinner with creamy pineapple cilantro sauce. Also probably quinoa with diced red and yellow peppers and maybe something tropical like... mango bits? And lime? You wish you were here!

I think I've already mentioned that my dad and stepmom are taking a month-long motorcycle trip cross-country? For that month, which is pretty much May in its entirety, I'll be living in their house. Watching Shelly's cat. Making sure the place doesn't get burgled. Bringing in the mail. Sleeping in the guest bedroom, probably, which was my brother's bedroom before now and my bedroom before that. It's underground, though. A month in a basement, even with a comfy bed and a TV and even a well-stocked bar at my disposal, is still a month in the basement.

The only real bother of the situation is best described with this inexact, relative, and very basic diagram:

(A)--------------------------------------(B)----------------(C)---------------(D)

(A) represents my dad's house
(B) represents my workplace
(C) represents my house and also the gym I usually go to (they're just a few blocks apart)
(D) represents the gym I go to for Nia classes

As you can see, when I'm at home, (C), I generally travel a little in one direction for work and a little in the other for, like, recreation. And (D) and (C) could also be said to represent where I do my grocery shopping, so pretty much everything is a couple of miles in either direction or right around my place.

Once I'm settled in at (A), I'm gonna have to do a lot more driving. A LOT more. (A) is probably 8 miles from (B). (C) is probably equidistant from (B) and (D); I'd say it's about 4 miles on either side.

Blah blah blah, GAS EATS UP A LOT OF COIN.

It hasn't been mentioned yet, but I hope I'm being paid for this housesitting gig. And not just in souvenirs.

I'll take a better picture when there's more natural light to be had, but here's a first of the paint job:



And a bonus, because some dude on OkCupid said something innapropriate about my mouth and it reminded me to share this:



Hahahahaha.