May 28, 2003
Turtles and Dragonflies
I've been so happy tramping over the city in this heat. I found a sidewalk by the park covered in dozens of stencils of turtles and dragonflies. In the middle of all these water dwellers someone has painted In Memory of My Love.
If the Lad died I would stencil windmills up the side of a building. But luckily he luckily doesn't die, luckily for me.
Mom, stop reading now, this will bother you. In fact, all moms should probably stop reading here.
I read half of a BDSM porn novel this weekend. (Hey, how was your Memorial Day weekend? Funny you should ask...) The book (called Carrie's Story, and it's pretty well-written, for porn) is about a woman who chooses to become a sex slave to a man. I've had it on the brain for a few days now and cannot stop thinking about it. I guess my question is, if you choose to allow someone else to control you, are you still autonomous?
And I guess my other question is, how reliable a map is this if it's fiction? Are there people who actually live this way, or just people who get off on reading about it? Girls being auctioned off? Girls who get sent to the Custom Pony farm?
Posted by didofoot at 03:55 PM | Comments (7)
May 21, 2003
Dear Maggie,
You get a birthday blog even though you don't read this ever.
In your own words, "whoever propels you towards clarity is the key." Maggie, you never have really propelled me towards clarity. But the days of sitting under one blanket and waiting for Manuel, so steady, are always just over my shoulder, and they do shed a kind of light on me.
Pedaling through spaghetti,
Kris
Posted by didofoot at 04:02 PM | Comments (0)
Run, I'm being taught communism
Flora is teaching me Russian. Today she printed out the Russian alphabet with a pronunciation guide for each letter and gave me a small lesson - I learned how to say "hedgehog" and "bug." I wish my keyboard typed in Russian. The letters are heavy and thick and beautiful.
Flora is so entertaining. When she has to walk in the sun she comes back sweaty and says "Now I am wet like a frog." I love the foreigns.
Posted by didofoot at 12:00 PM | Comments (5)
May 19, 2003
My new favorite picture
Posted by didofoot at 01:21 PM | Comments (2)
May 16, 2003
Run, we're being chased and we're communists
The Matrix II. This will have spoilers, PLEASE don't read it until you see the movie.
Ready?
Okay. The Matrix was fun. Anyone who's heard Sean's theories about the little red pill and the communist Wachowski brothers will have noticed the Oracle's little red candy with satisfaction.
I missed Tank, I missed Switch, I missed Mouse, I missed having a clear and present human villain like Cypher that I could really identify with. I missed the dark and desperate feeling of the first film. This film lacked a lot of that tension, because for most of it Keanu is basically a god who cannot be harmed and who protects everyone he's with. Even his forebodings about his eventual failure to protect someone were sort of tension-free, probably because I felt the Wachowskis were unlikely to entirely eliminate such an important character before the third film.
Basically the tension did not re-enter until the end of the film, and then, just when you're feeling really worried, surprise! He's a god again.
I give this film three stars out of five, but I will also give it another $18 so take that for what it's worth.
Posted by didofoot at 04:05 PM | Comments (6)
May 14, 2003
Run, we're being chased by communists
Until I was four, my best friend's name was Ian McDonald and he lived across the street from me. We spent most days in and out of each others' back yards, pretending to be private detectives. He was pretty much willing to believe the things that I told him were true (the playhouse is our office; your little brother's office can be the plum tree; run, we're being chased by communists) and this made him a valuable friend.
When I was almost five, I started kindergarten and discovered girls. Ian and I hung on for a few more years, but eventually our detective business was supplanted by games of Rainbow Brite and the many, many pink plastic toys which the other girls owned. The day my big sister bought me my first Barbie doll (Peaches'n'Cream Barbie) was pretty much the day Ian and I broke up for good.
Although we went to the same high school, I never saw him around and wasn't really aware of him. We were both nerds, but I was a nerd with a lot of friends, which is a different and easier level of nerdery than his own. Every year I would see him at the neighborhood Christmas Eve party and he would mention the many boys constantly coming and going from my house, and in a roundabout, friendly Ian way he would imply I was a tramp. It was always nice to talk to him. After a while he went off to Oberlin and then I went off to Santa Cruz. Periodically I would see him when we were both home for weekends, and I would imagine going over and knocking on the door and inviting him out for some coffee or for a rousing game of Kill the Communist Dogs, but I never did it.
Later, Ian graduated and moved to South America to do something humanitarian, and I dropped out and moved to Seattle to do something corporate. We saw each other less, but when we did, I would consider asking him about his travels or his humanity or if he wanted to take a walk down to the sewer creek and play Tarzan on the vines again, but I never did it.
This weekend, Ian's mom sold the house and moved away. I think there is a lesson in this, but damn if I know what.
Posted by didofoot at 09:20 AM | Comments (6)
May 09, 2003
A red bandana and a golden retriever named Honey
This is not how I imagined it, not paperwork, and not picking up soda cans at conferences, and not mustached men standing way too close to me in an elevator with only the two of us to fill it.
I'll sell my car and buy a truck and a dog, I swear to god, I'll go to Idaho, because if this is my life if this is my if this if THIS is my life then I will be someone else until it blows over.
Posted by didofoot at 04:47 PM | Comments (4)
May 07, 2003
This is a post about how much I love Jason:
A lot.
Posted by didofoot at 04:23 PM | Comments (9)
(This is not) a long, amusing story about meeting Barbara Bush
In a letter to Henry Miller, my best friend Anais Nin wrote the following:
"I have become an idiot like Gertrude Stein. That's what love does to intelligent women. They cannot write letters anymore."
Love like that makes you smoke American Spirits and shave your head, but real love comes like a witty houseguest and hangs up its towels and helps with the dishes. It is quiet after 10PM on days when it knows you have to get up early for work. It has a nice bottle of wine waiting for you at the door. Real love tells a long, amusing story about meeting Barbara Bush.
In my life now I have hair, and my dishes are done, and I can write letters.
Posted by didofoot at 03:06 PM | Comments (1)
May 02, 2003
Letter to Leto
Dear Jared:
I'm glad we got a chance to connect in Indio on Saturday. Like Hamlet says, verily, after all these years, it's nice to finally be able to put a face to the name. I thought our meeting was very productive, and I'd just like to review a few of the key bullet points we discussed, to ensure that we're both on the same page for the coming fiscal year.
The first and most important topic on the table was deciding on the angle you're going to want to take in the future. I know you felt okay with the slight angle you took while leaning against the fence, but I strongly feel that in the future you should pursue something a little more aggressive. If necessary, we could even set up some intensive yoga training for you in order to get you in the kind of shape to where you could lean back at a forty-five degree angle while you are smoking and staring soulfully into space. However, I am willing to be flexible on this, since I am asking you to be.
The second thing we worked on was your interfacing ability. I was impressed by your new model's versatility as your expression changed from "walking face" to "trying to get on-stage with the Beastie Boys face," and was still able to make the abrupt transition to "alarmed and annoyed by a stalker face" when I approached you. I have no suggestions for the essentials of your design, which I think are gorgeous. I only have a few quibbles with the cosmetic aspects: your presentation seems a little retro. I'm not sure the world is ready for a return to your long-haired eighties style - it might be better to stick with the shaggy but shorter nineties style until we can get some test marketing underway with the appropriate focus groups.
The last issue came up in our brief meeting on Sunday, where you walked by me sporting your newest attachment. She was gorgeous, but I have to question whether any attachment is appropriate for your design - won't consumers prefer your sleeker, solo model? I know I'd buy it!
Jared, once again, it was a real pleasure meeting you backstage at the Beastie Boys concert. Those few moments when you were staring at me in an attempt to use your psychic powers to send me away were, I feel, productive for both of us. Since then, I've had several meetings with my associates to discuss your professionalism and your excellent product. I predict that you will be hearing a final decision from us in the very near future.
Best regards,
Didofoot
Posted by didofoot at 11:50 AM | Comments (5)
