Author Archives: didofoot
Happy birthday, Peacock.
When I met him, he had beautiful girl hair and a guitar. He still does though. He is like twelve hundred fish, but they are rainbow trout. But he smells nicer. At the end of the fall I think he will move to New York to be with Steve. I can’t for the life of … Continue reading
Happy (early) birthday to Michele!
This is getting posted today, since I know I won’t have time tomorrow what with the participating in *actual* birthday events. Oh, and sleeping until noon. So here goes. MY FRIEND MICHELE (aka Binky the Horse, LL Cool Cat (?), Brother Tupperware, Bambam, Mama Cow Man, Muppet) You have taught me so many things over … Continue reading
This day in history
A year ago today the Sicilian dumped me on my lunch hour. We went to lunch, we argued over something stupid, we went into the King Student Union building and broke up in a conference room. I sniffled my way through the rest of the day and promised myself I wouldn’t tell anyone. “I don’t … Continue reading
worth every minute
On Thursday night, pre-Allen arrival, I was sitting in the kitchen at the Lad’s, pretending to be a cockroach. I had my index fingers pressed to the sides of my forehead and I wiggled them at the Lad’s back as he did the dishes. “So are we playing Get Out tonight?” asked the Lad. “We … Continue reading
Listen to this one, it’s by the guys who sang “Lowrider.”
This morning my boss, who sits next to me, said “Okay, Ms. Larson, I want to read you this.” Then he read me the lyrics to another of his New Country songs. He reads them in a monotone, with a twangy accent which he doesn’t posess in normal speech. The interesting thing is that even … Continue reading
she’s here
in psych my professor pointed out that almost all psych studies to date have been performed on upper middle class white college sophomores and i realized my demographic is better understood than any demographic in the world and i wondered do they know enough to predict every thought i am having and i thought about … Continue reading
Peacock Stringed Instruments
I want to talk more about Allen because he cannot be overstated. When he walked in and Gene said oh it must be Aaron (knowing however perfectly well that it was NOT Aaron) I heard his voice and thought oh it’s Allen isn’t it. But did not get up from the chair. This is because … Continue reading
Rocks Trees Spike
Allen is home. He is not fat. He gave me a poncho and puppet, as if he knew the secret gift secrets of my secret heart. But Jason leaves tomorrow. Every silver lining has a big, sad, looming, awful, thunderbolt-ridden cloud.
A thistle bit Kronk
The Lad’s motorcycle has a little bathrobe which he keeps chained to a post when not in use so that it cannot run away. It fits snug over the motorbike and in its bathrobe the motorbike looks like a little cartoon viking guy. It is so endearing. This bathrobe is for keeping the wet off. … Continue reading
I am a singing telegram. (BANG!)
Sorry for the tantrum. (Or am I lying?) Upon further reflection I’ve decided it’s better not to lie about important stuff like having found the cure for cancer or Allen coming home, since it gets people’s hopes up and that’s no good. I need you people to remain hopeless, so that you can be coerced … Continue reading