bluishorange

as the rain drips out of the sky and down windows and walls for the third day in a row, snot finally drips out of my brain and down the back of my throat.  if possible, it’s even grosser than it sounds.  tony and shaun and i had a lovely time discussing mucous and its different incarnations and activities as we waded to lunch through the puddles of rain.  mostly, i feel like i’m going to puke.

last night at the harp, we sat inside because it was raining and the porch roof had, of course, caved in.  all ten of us crowded around two small tables in the dark, eating caramels and drinking beer, putting the caramel wrappers in an empty pint glass.  jonathan went around the table asking questions like “if you were a statue, what would you look like, what would someone throw at you, and what sound would you make when it hit?”  my favorite was kari’s, who said she’d be a clown that said, “woo-hoo!” when hit with a cherry snowcone.  then he asked, “if you could replace your legs with anything at all, what would it be?”  go go gadget legs (jess), gummi worms (tony), springs (rob), giant piano keys (me), the legs of a victorian table (hanh), the bottom half of a biplane (kari), and i can’t remember the others.  if you were the bottom half of a biplane, would you live in a hangar?  where would you work?  what would your computer desk look like?

yesterday, though, was the day that i realized i’m not going to be great.  what i mean is that i never knew that i’m not going to be a giant in my field, i’m not going to do something that makes a big difference in the lives of lots of strangers, and my name will not be an adjective.  until yesterday i didn’t know that, but it’s true.  i have nothing to say.  i am mediocre.  so instead i’m going to be a technical writer for a plumbing company.  okay?

you know what i want to do right now?  i want to sit on a table, cross-legged, under a pavilion in a park with a friend, watching the rain and listening to the cars swish by.

but first i’ll have to wade through all these puddles of snot.

i’ve been on the blurry edge of sickness for quite a few days now.  my skull feels tight, my stomach twisted, my head achey and stuffed with fluid.  everything is real but twice removed, as though i’m not really turning the corner onto my street or walking through the parking lot to class, i’m just watching myself pretend to think about doing those things.  i’d like to go study at artiste or notsuoh tonight, or go to the movies with ryan, but i just don’t have the energy.  this would be less depressing if i could either step back from the edge of sickness or go over the edge into convalescence.  this mild, half-assed semi-wilting i’m doing instead is lame.

i keep seeing things, too.  the deadbolt on my friend jessica’s door is stamped “FAULTLESS,” but i kept seeing it as “FRUITLESS.”  this morning, the texas eye institute on beechnut street became the texas eye balls, and an email from a professor right above a spam email in my inbox made it look as if my professor was going to tell me how to get “BETTER SEX . . . FASTER.”  just now i thought i saw a red tarantula crawling on my bathroom counter.  it’s a creepy, creepy, half-sick world i live in.

yesterday i had dinner with my parents, and afterwards my mom took me to express because she had a discount certificate.  i haven’t bought new clothes from a retail store in a very, very long time, and it showed.  my mom and i walked around and looked at clothes and jewelry and stuff, and i was really shocked at how expensive everything was compared to what i usually buy.  jeans for fifty dollars?  a shirt for thirty?  i couldn’t look at a pricetag without thinking, “thirty-nine dollars?  i could buy three pairs of pants for that.  three!”  i settled on a navy tank top that had a bra inside, figuring that twenty dollars for two clothing items in one wasn’t too bad.  afterward we went to the bath shop next door and sprayed all the various smells, one of which reminded me strongly and instantly of an ex-boyfriend.  i’ll forget how a person looked, how they moved, and how they sounded before i’ll lose track of the way they smelled.

it’s hard to think about or enjoy or look forward to much when your insides are broken.

what, are you kidding me?  of course still life with woodpecker is fiction!  i’m majoring in fiction!  what else would i recommend to you, silly?

anyway, mark is back from his marathon vacation in cyprus, with some beautiful photos and commentary.  i think that this photo is my absolute favorite.  speaking of photos, my london ones are imminent.  tomorrow, maybe?

and speaking of mark, i think a lot lately about how everyone is somewhere else.  there are so many great people out there that i would love to spend time with on a regular basis, were they not all so far away all the time.  really, am i making friends or losing them?

oh, and are you guys going to fray day 5?  i got asked to be a featured storyteller in austin, and i have no idea what i’m going to say!  it’s going to be great!  also, scary!