August 30, 2004
Butterflies in the garden
Here is some free advice: if you are going to move into an apartment where the radiant heat cannot be turned off, do not do it on the hottest weekend of the year. But last night I saw the fullish moon set over the bay and the twinkly lights of the Castro spread out underneath it and it was all worthwhile.
As we were making our first meal together, the Lad said "I can hear you thinking 'this is the first [blank] in our new apartment' every time you do something."
Thud. "This is the first time I stubbed my toe in our new apartment!" I said happily, and hopped off to find where the band-aids had gotten to.
Jack and Sean helped with all the heavy stuff, thankfully, and Christine, who will hereafter be known as "the most helpful Christine in the world," stuck with us for all eight hours of the ordeal, hauling and hiking and unpacking and everything, plus she helped me pack in the first place. Now I'm back at work and it's probably for the best, since if I were home I would just continue to sneak up on the Lad or lay in wait for him around all the weird little corners and then affectionately attack him. I am so happy and I sing a song to him about it which goes "I am so happy, so happy, so haaaappy," usually while he's trying to talk on the phone.
Pictures of the new place will hopefully be coming soon, once we're all unpacked and set up. Does anyone have a sofa bed they're trying to get rid of?
Posted by didofoot at 08:28 AM | Comments (4)
August 27, 2004
Terror of Bengali turns 25; Asia strengthens its borders in preparation for attack
When folks started calling her chicken
She was mad that the nickname was stickin
But she was in luck
Cause we named her The Duck
And now she's a chick in a clique...en.
I stole this picture from you, because it is so cute. Happy birthday, Grandma! I love you as only a pig can love a duck.
Posted by didofoot at 09:02 AM | Comments (7)
August 25, 2004
Entirely too long
Charlie Hunter plays what looks like Count Rugen's guitar and during the show his expression is an impossible combination of coolness and sincerity. This was the expression we all watched longingly from across the quad on the face of a certain boy in high school as he leaned, Jordan Catalano-like, against the wall, thinking hip thoughts. It was this expression which led some of us, not me but other people, to include versions of him in stories we wrote for college classes at Santa Cruz, stories which used dead grandmothers as metaphors and were given high marks by hyperbolic professors who used lecture time exhorting us all to spend more time dancing in the forest. All of this came back to me, watching Charlie Hunter scrunch his face up sincerely and with coolness at a drum solo and crawl his six fingered hands up and down his freakish guitar.
I've been reading David Foster Wallace's new Oblivion, and also Zembla, which is why I'm back to thinking about sincerity. Authors have to spend a lot of time now explaining how they know that the situations they're discussing are hackneyed and not really cool to discuss anymore (love, death, sex, etc.), but how they're going to talk about them regardless, even though they have nothing new to contribute, and so on. DWF is a master of this, and then after all that he includes a few paragraphs dealing with the hackneyed situation in a meaningful way which makes you wish you didn't need all the preceding post-modern nonsense because it only distracts from what's good in the story. Except you know you do need it. You need a chance to smirk at him for writing about these things and yourself for reading about them before you let yourself enjoy it.
Charlie Hunter did not smirk, but just went on scrunching his face and occasionally bursting out with an "oh yeah!" when the occasion called for it. But he was still cool. So what's his secret? Is it just talent? Would DFW still be a literary darling if he cut out all the apologies and just went right for the meat of things? Or would we all be slightly embarrassed to be caught reading his book on the subway? It's difficult to even enjoy sex in an unironic way anymore, so can we enjoy a book without watching ourselves carefully? And more importantly, why haven't I found a new job yet? Don't any of you people work at companies that need admin staff?
Posted by didofoot at 09:39 AM | Comments (14)
August 18, 2004
A list for not shopping to
It is time to start sloughing off the things which are not to come with. Me. In my move. Sometimes for talking like a translated manual.
Here is a list you of you-might-wants.
- boxy tealight holder with moon face
- assorted books including Rushdie's Fury and some Calvino and Wallace
- A large pot for cooking pasta
- a saucepan I think also
- 2 (two) different City of Lost Children posters, HUGE, on some stiff cardboard material
- original artwork by the incomparable Melissa Vaughan, signed, featuring a blue cartoonish bald character, as all her art does feature. Cardboard. I cannot bear to throw it out myself so if anyone will do it for me I would consider it a kindness.
- various sample-sized burt's bees and bath salt products
- assorted clothes, all more or less me-sized
I know these are small and mainly throw-away-able or donate-able, but I hate to throw out useful stuff or give to strangers when I have needy friends. So if you will be in the neighborhood of me over the next week and a half and any of this sounds grud, let me know and it is belong to you.
Posted by didofoot at 11:29 AM | Comments (10)
August 16, 2004
I do science on my laptop
I would think that after locking it in a drawer for six years, Gabriel Knight III would be dead from malnutrition. But when I opened the drawer yesterday it sprang out at me and devoured my weekend in a gulp, fresh as a morning daisy. Go figure.
The Gabriel Knight series was one of the last of Sierra's ill-fated attempts to make adventure games aimed at the ladies. You alternate between playing as Gabriel, the smooth-talking Southern sexpot who drives a Harley without a helmet (which makes me, newly-educated biker chick, wince every time I see it) and Grace Nakamura. Grace is smart, sassy, and soberly-clad. It's interesting to see the way designers think girls like me (i.e. girls who play computer games) want to be. Frankly, I would be happier if Grace was a busty Nordic chick who slept with all the male characters. Additional stereotype/role models are the lesbian couple, comprised of one (1) overweight hysterical artist, sort of a poor poor man's Gertrude Stein, and one (1) makeup-free Welsh woman with very practical shorts. Yes, I guess these are my three options if I'm going to be a woman. Oh, and the French slut character who pretty clearly had something to do with murdering a few people, not unlike my award-winning role in the arthouse darling Fjords! The Musical.
I guess I should just be grateful that I have more options than the standard virgin/whore in modern media. Now I can be a brainiac virgin or a murderous whore. So it's a wonder that Sierra's "kid sister" line of games never took off, isn't it? Let's just blame our failure on the lack of market and not consider that the flaw might lie in the game, shall we? And while we're at it, let's add long, tedious conversations into all our girl games, because girls like talking more than problem-solving.
I want my weekend back.
Posted by didofoot at 02:31 PM | Comments (9)
August 12, 2004
She's sharp as a tack, I don't care if I ever go back
Two job interviews yesterday. The first was with a woman who looked a lot like Molly Shannon. This made it difficult to take her seriously, so I did not utilize my mad interview skills as well as I normally do. But I was undaunted, even after flubbing three of her questions and sweating through most of my shirt, and on my way out I flung my hands in the air and announced "Superadmin!" At least I didn't make the mistake of turning a slightly funny five minute sketch into a two hour movie, eh, Molly?
The next place I interviewed at gave me spelling, grammar, typing, and pattern recognition tests before beginning the actual interview. I successfully pounded all the red circles into the blue circular holes and was allowed to progress to first grade, although gainful employment might be a tougher step. No one at this place resembled anyone from SNL, so I was able to employ my patented "ingenue who will make your office happier and more wholesome" persona to good effect. I think I'm in there, but only Monday will say for sure.
And today I have an appointment with my school advisor for the first time since ever. For is it not written, "If you do things, they get done"? Three days away from the office and I am productive like a Malaysian factory worker.
Posted by didofoot at 08:48 AM | Comments (7)
August 09, 2004
WE GOT IT!
- 16th & Castro
- Hardwood floors
- Living room, bedroom, study, big remodeled kitchen, laundry in building
- Communal garden in the backyard which is large and gorgeous
And today, for the first time in two years, I can't call the Lad at home because he is at work. So I will tell all of you instead.
My happiness is the happiness of KINGS.
Plus I have an interview with a great non-profit on Wednesday. My whole life is changing and I stand back in awe and delight to watch.
Posted by didofoot at 08:10 AM | Comments (12)
August 06, 2004
Little feet and the staple gun
Today one of my coworkers brought her toddler to work. Well, I didn't need both eardrums, right? It's 3:00 and I'm trying to figure out a nice way of saying "Go home early and take your child or my ears will fall off from listening to the tea kettle screech she emits." Possibly I will just wait until the next time the little girl starts up and then say "Hey, your kid is boiling!"
The kid is actually pretty well-behaved as kids go, but she's still a kid. This is not a space for kids. You can tell because the walls are beige and no one wears foam cartoon character outfits (except that guy on the second floor, but he's not someone you want around your kids is my theory).
But then she comes over and puts her tiny little hand in my huge man-sized hand and I feel this huge wave of happiness and I think to myself You fucking knee-jerk body, pull it together, dammit. I will NOT be a slave to your reproductive whims! And the Lad everywhere breathes a sigh of relief.
Posted by didofoot at 03:18 PM | Comments (5)
August 04, 2004
Long-haired brunette with sparkling credit report
I've started looking at apartment listings for real now that the Lad and I have only a month to find our dream home. Surfing craigslist every day with a very limiting set of parameters to work with is like commuting to work on MUNI. You recognize most of the people around you from the previous days; sure, every day there are one or two new faces and one or two people who aren't around anymore, but mainly it's the same crowd. The difference (apart from all the obvious differences) is that on MUNI, a regularly-seen face means respectability, someone who goes to a job every day and can be assumed to have a reasonable degree of cleanliness and sanity. On craigslist, a listing you've seen every day for weeks, maybe even being re-listed sometimes with a new rent amount or description, is probably neither respectable nor clean.
It gets me down, I freely admit it. I haven't had to find a place with someone else since I lived in Santa Cruz, and then we just took the only place in town that we could afford. Now there are more complex requirements on both sides and sometimes I wonder if we will ever find something we can both live with. I mean, it's been three days and still nothing. When I'm really depressed, I head over to the missed connections section. I figure it never hurts to cover all my bases; if the Lad and I can't find an apartment together then maybe I can find a new boyfriend to live with, someone who saw me reading Anais Nin on the train and will describe me as "long-haired brunette beauty with sparkling eyes." Or maybe some landlord will post for me:
Girl walking past Squat & Gobble on Tuesday night (landlord 4 w)
You: ponytail, paperback, strut. Me: hardwood floors, central Castro location, under $1700. Email me. This could be the beginning of a beautiful tenancy.
Posted by didofoot at 09:10 AM | Comments (10)
