blood rivers runnin' down the legs of the city

[whorella mundane]

so here's my new dance:

with every jerk and dip and spin, it's 'fuck you' - duple meter - real
simple. you can sing 'fuck you' with three stresses if you sing 'fa
huk you' or even four 'fa huk ya ou' or one stress: fuckyou and of
course you can start elaborating: fucking fuck you; fuck you twice;
fuck you and the bus you road in on

you know what's excellent about being me?

well ... leo and his girl, jackie, are here, hanging out in the front
room. and when i'm blasting tunes, they walk by me with big smiles on
their faces like: whew ... she's okay ... she's blasting tunes.

and if i called my mom and said, "hey, i'm blasting tunes" she'd be
all like, "good for you!" and even the landlord still worries if he
doesn't hear my tunes.

see ... he can hear me suffering and this past week - no. past two
weeks have been BRUTAL. if i ever have a happy moment -

well ... i go shopping at lunch now so i've been compiling a larder.
there are certain things a proper home should have. corn starch.
baking powder. key ingrediants. flour, salt, sugar.

and a good hostess is able to offer coffee, tea, pelligrino water,
liquor, soda. and i was putting a new box of kuerig coffee pods away
and was looking at the corner cupboard. it's my first. never had one,
and it reminds me so much of my grandparent's kitchen on ward street.

and i can't help but think of how excellent she would think it all
was. and how she can't be here. and i started getting this grim
feeling that she had messed up and that was why. and then i thought
about that - it was this real scary feeling like she was in hell or
something.

and i had to pull myself back with such a yank like WHAT? SHE DESERVED
MORE THAN THIS. but again, my mind was mired in this bullshit about
how we get what we deserve. it's automatic thinking. an assumption no
one questions - well no one who's doing really well in life. and those
doing really bad generally know they are no worse then the people
doing really good.

my sister isn't here to share this new apartment that is so much nicer
than the old one, but truth be told, i think i'm moving from the loft
bedroom to the front room. the loft has an amazing view of the river
and people love it up there. but it's so unlike any room i've ever
slept in. it has a ledge. it has stairs that go only to it. it has a
huge walk in closet the size of a small room. there's no woodwork.
just bare walls.

and i thought "wow i could fill these walls with all kinds of weird,
beautiful shit"

but still ... i moved here for the river. i'd looked at amazing old
houses that i would have loved so much. but the river ... and the
river people ... it's just too amazing.

the river people all smoke and drink and play loud music ... the other
houses are worth about 40K ... the ones right by the river, like mine,
are more. but even this place is only worth 100K and it's two units.
garage. all this fancy stuff. new shell and roof etc.

back to do with deserves

so at least i caught myself when i started wigging about how my sister
isn't here to live in the excellent house. aw man ... for us to be
living right on the river is like the most excellent thing ... we
don't mind getting dirty. i'll swim in the o-hi-o - daily.

anyway ... yeah. i'm blasting tunes so that's good i guess

this was a hard week at work ... i have a project manager who wants me
to do whatever he asks even if ... it's not prudent. and i do. and
then the next day he asks me not to do what i already did 'cause he
asked me to. and the next day he asks me to do it, even though he was
adamant about the fact that the other team had to do it.

and we shouldn't even be on the path we're on ... no matter who does
what, both sides are gonna need to change their tables to make the
data match. no matter who tries to match things that don't match,
they're not going to match. but wow he's funny and has me on three of
his projects now. but he has a short fuse and told me he did, but it
doesn't bother me. i don't take it personally. these things are
frustrating. but it is hard to tell him that he's wrong ... so i
can't.

so instead we will have to waste three days to go down a dead end path
'cause i'm not supposed to question him. and i did. and i made the
discoveries - and i even found a simpler way to do what we're doing.

last night i told him that i wish i could bet him on the outcome ...
he laughed. he said, "some see the glass half full, some see it half
empty." i said, "i don't even see the glass!" and he cracked up.

he's from st. petersburg ... russia

i IMd him in a russian accent:

you're velcome

he came to meet me and everything!

see ... i think this year i want to become normal. the kind of chick
who plays a married best friend in a lifetime movie channel movie.

oh wait - i think all of my problems could be solved by a husband.
my only requirement is that he lives on a farm surrounded by hills and
lakes and forests and has a huge kitchen with red and white gingham
curtains. an iron rack full of cast iron pots and pans hanging over a
solid wood prep table. and the kitchen is huge.

fireplace. huge table - someone's always sitting at it drinking coffee
or reading mail. and something's always in the oven: that's my job.

wood-burning oven, of course. and a hearth for baking bread ... red
bricks. and in the summer ... big pots of fresh flowers in the middle
of the kitchen table and strands of garlic hanging above the door on
the herb drying rack.

a breeze carrying the scent of mown grass moves through the entire
house making stacks of paper whisper and doors slam shut. the dust
gets a little shake and the dog looks up from his nap. there's wind
chimes - hundreds of old spoons and forks hanging from wire hangers,
catching the sun and giving song to the wind.

i was doing time
in the universal mind
i was feeling fine
i was turning keys
i was setting people free
i was doing all right

then you came around with a suitcase and a song
and turned my head around

now i'm so alone
just looking for a home
in every face i see

i'm the freedom man
i'm the freedom man
that's how lucky i am

i was doing time
in the universal mind
i was feeling fine
i was turning keys
i was setting people free
i was doing all right

then you came along ...

and here we are

my writing career crashed the weekend you called me
and since you emailed me ... well.

it's sad but it's still cool ... to wonder how it ends