Gimme a "V" Gimme an "A"....

.
I love valium!!!! Finally a full night's sleep - and no grogginess. YEEEHAAA!!!
_____________________________________________________

During my fitful evenings this week, I've been thinking about the word "fuck" and how much I use it. It's actually my favorite word, but I'm conflicted about it.

Papa always told me that the use of profanity signifies an inability to properly use the language - ignorance, he suggests. I disagree. You see, sometimes the word "fuck" is the proper word for a situation. It has power, shock value, cathartic value. It communicates the importance of the point, the humor of the point, the humor of the speaker....and it feels soooo gooood to say!

I used to love the section of Reader's Digest called "Toward More Picturesque Speech" which detailed interesting linguistic flourishes and turns of phrase. It is something I think about often as I write, and speak.

I say, what's more picturesque than the word "fuck?"

I will warrant that there are appropriate times to and not to use the word - and I'll admit that it's often difficult to know, in advance, whether a particular time is, in fact, appropriate. (Every time I'm in sunday school class at church there's a running tape in my mind: "don't say fuck, don't say fuck, don't say fuck." So, I end up saying "shit" D'oh!!) In my case, too, I'll admit that I could stand a bit of the "less is more" philosphy in the application of my license to use the word - but, fuck, what's a passionate, loquacious girl supposed to do?

and anyone who disagrees can just go fuck themselves...

eyes wide open

.
i'm in serious trouble.

can't sleep, but have to be up in 3 hours to study heidegger (NOT EASY). i think that the removal of the heart meds is returning me to my full-on status as insomniac. i'm actually not sure what's worse - the heart problem or the total inability to sleep like a normal person.

i went to bed but just had to let the tv run because of the fucking interminable teasers about an anaconda loose in wapanacha wildlife refuge - where K and i love to go turtle watching. i thought it had to be a joke but i had to stay tuned. there really is an anaconda in the marsh of wapanacha - in arkansas!!!! aparently some dim-wit let one loose in there. i sure hope they find it soon, because i cannot imagine what kind of havoc in might wreak on the food chain and eco system there. STUPID IDIOTS!!!

so, i got that settled and turned off the tube, but still was wide awake (did i mention this is the second night in a row of this shit?). i decided to read for a minute - with my glasses off (tired eyes sometimes fool me into thinking i'm all the way tired). i'm reading a great book (though poorly edited) about this dude that grew up in a freaky hindu-ish commune in the eighties (i'm interested 'cause that's also my story).

still, no zzzzs.

i turned off the light and then the mental fireworks began. i started freaking out about my business - we recently doubled in size (and financial outlay), but have had several lean months. [if you're reading this and a part of my "business" please don't worry too much - it's just that it gets really stressful sometimes juggling personal financial concerns AND yours (by proxy)] and i'm freaking out about getting my student loans consolidated and K has a terrible toothache to add to his dizziness and my heart hurts and is racing at ninety to nothin (literally) and then there's the heidegger.......

AND I CAN'T FIND THE FUCKING TYLENOL PM!!!!

so, i've cruised google for heidegger commentary (like i can process that right now!) and have read every profile in myspace for people within 20 miles of memphis for just at 3 hours now.......panic is setting in.

i'm gonna go try to count sheep.....
*

the tongue's always the first to go

last night some friends invited us to a baseball game. i had to twist K's arm a bit since he's been so tired from work and the phantom illness that no one can diagnose, but he soon realized what fun it would be and, after securing a promise that he wouldn't whine about being tired all day today, we trucked on downtown.

but not before i popped a little pain pill. i'd been hurting a bit all afternoon and was worried that it might ruin the evening to be clutching my chest all night fred sanford style.

we had great seats - just past first base - and the weather was phenomenal. perfectly warm with low humidity (a gift of an evening by memphis standards).

K and friend headed off for the big beers. yuuuummmy. though i'm not too much of a beer fan these days, it was just what the doctor ordered. except...

for those pain killers.

about a quarter of the way into my beer i noticed the strange thickness of my tongue - i had forgotton about my little pink boosters and was greedily chugging the $8 cup of brew. i couldn't mention my discomfort for fear of the blank stares of K and friends - gotta guard the beverage from wary worried husband, ya know.

so i just slurred the night away.

it sucks. it's always that way with me - the tongue's the first to go - WAY before the rest of me gets there.
la-la la-la-la-la-laaaaa
*

Guess Who's Coming For Dinner

i used to be a chef. and K used to be a restaurant manager. so, we have lots of fun cooking for ourselves - and others.

problem is, one likes to cook for us. we get lots of "oh, we'd love to have y'all over for dinner, but we're too intimidated." what we end up doing is going out to restaurants with our friends, who sometimes insist on treating since they never have us over. wt's terribly, terrible uncomfortable. whey've almost always suggested a fine dining place since they assume that's all we like, so it's never cheap - which eans we can't do it very often.

i didn't tell very many people about my surgery before it happened because, well mostly because it seems stupid to call someone up and say "oh, by the way, i'm having heart surgery next week. just in case i die, i just wanted to let you know. goodbye." also, K and i are pretty autonomous - our professional lives have always been SO social that when we're not working, we just want to hang out - alone. we don't like anyone, including our families, to make a fuss. i didn't even want my mother at the hospital - what with cell phones, the need to sit in the waiting room is nullified these days. ('course, if you've read my stuff before, you know i probably didn't want my mother there for lots of other reasons.....)

boy, howdy, have i gotten in trouble for this! word got out because of the post-operative complications that made it seem even more serious than originally thought. k couldn't resist telling his buddy that just happened to call him about something else. and i had to let my gallery members know so they wouldn't think i'm just slacking off by not showing up for a week and a half.

wow. friends have crawled out of the woodwork with soup and casseroles, flowers and cards, scolding me for my over-privateness. it's been kinda cool. and finally, finally, someone brought me food!!!!!!! and i thought it was SO yummy.

maybe having friends isn't so bad after all......

get the barf bag...

oh dear god do i hate reading poetry on people's blogs and, if you share my sentiment please, i beg you, just log off now. it's late and i can't help myself..... remember, i'm on some serious post-op drugs just strong enough to make me do things i'll regret while not actually killing any pain.........

hopefully i'll never be compelled (ie forced by the wicked fates of nighttime-insomnia-post-coital-well-what-the-hell-do-i-do-with-myself-now-you-silly-snoring-red-head) to do this again, but here we go......
__________________________________________________

~~~~~~

she wanted to come early
so mother made bloody mary’s
hoping she’d wait til brunch
or at least september.
it was the last time
she was ontime.

at one i held her as she squirmed through the nights,
crying as soon as i placed the pillow between her arms,
and only dozing off as the sun pierced the slit in the curtains.

at two she polished the furniture
with squeeze parkay –
beaming with pride.
nina wouldn’t spank her –
afraid, she said, that she couldn’t quit.

at four she tried to jump off
the uss Alabama –
maybe a hundred feet in the air.
“swimming, swimming” she cried,
as she pointed toward mobile bay.

at nine she said monkeys were on her dresser.
and they carried her away to the hospital
vomiting and seizing.

at ten she grew twentyfour inches -
and breasts -
before her time.

at fourteen they put her in the scary hospital,
intervention center, they said,
made her confess
sins that she made up to please them.
she kicked them with her combat boots
and then became docile.

at twenty one she bore my baby
blue
– dead i thought –
who screamed for two years
and who said to me yesterday
“when can i come be with you?”

at twenty seven she slept in my bed
broke my dishes
drank my wine
and made me wonder
why I watch her
still
with wonder
with longing
and with the strangest twinge
of joy
mixed with sadness

______________________

yeah, yeah, yeah - at least it's better than some drivel i've come across....


*

Still Tickin'

well, after five hours of trying to get an IV started i headed to surgery yesterday to get this heart tickin' right. Surgery lasted about three hours (happily, i was OUT) and then it was done. I'll write more about it later, because there were some definitely funny parts, but right now i'm a bit tired. Just wanted to let whoever's checkin know that i'm ok and being coddled sufficiently by K (as usual).

thanks for the thoughts, prayers and voodoo dolls....

*

speak no evil

K hates it when i turn on the light in the middle of the night. i don't know why it matters that much since he sleeps with his head sandwiched between two pillows.

that (sleeping with his head covered - blocking light and me out) used to bug me so much, it actually hurt my feelings. it's funny now. so many things used to bug me about him that i now either don't care about, find endearing, or just don't remember.

but he remembers everything that i've ever said that i don't like about him.

it can be a problem.

one year, way (too far) into the winter, a cold one, i noticed that K wasn't ever wearing a coat. he's pretty hot all the time so it took me a while to pick up on it. when i finally did and asked him about it, he said that i had said that his coat was dorky (the previous winter). it broke my heart. sweet, sweet K was going around cold because he didn't want me to think he was a dork. i didn't even remember saying that to him. of course, i went and bought him a cool coat post haste - he still wears that one.

another time, we were on a road trip. this was way before we were married and during a time that neither of us were certain that we could even stand to be together. we were staying overnight at my best friend's apartment in nashville and there was another guy there, a philosopher - egads, with whom i was feeling a serious connection. K could tell and was pouting a bit. it bugged me.

he had left his toothbrush in the car and asked if he could borrow mine. i made a big deal about it, saying how gross that was to share a toothbrush (nevermind the fact that i could put his cock in my mouth). i really embarrassed him - and i really didn't care.

now we share a toothbrush all the time, but it took a long time before he would.

it still hurts my heart to think about how that must have hurt, how cold he must have been, and how sweet he is to me now. it's a prickly little reminder that i should watch what i say, because, even though he so often seems to tune me out - he really is listening.

*

feeling much better...not quite dead yet...think i'd like to go for a walk...

so, melodrama has subsided. today i just feel fried and headachey. and it hurts a bit too. i promise not to turn this into a daily report on my maladies - there's probably some grandparent that you'd rather talk about that with.

++++++++++++++++++

i got married 14 years ago today.

not to k, though, unfortunately. he wouldn't come to the wedding (though he was invited). i wish he had come and pulled a john cusack with a boom box from the balcony of holy communion. that would have been awesome and i totally would have hauled ass out the back door hoping to meet him in the parking lot.

i knew i was fucking up, but i really didn't think i could get out of it. it was a fairy tale extravaganza of a wedding - i had my dream dress with a twenty foot antique belgian lace train, beautiful flowers - gardenias and white roses, a huge cake with a fountain in it (though the cake table was placed in front of one of those HORRIBLE lattice panels with FAKE FERNS woven in - can you tell i'm still pissed about that?), and about 1,000 guests. and it was so wrong. wrong, wrong wrong. the worst thing is that i knew it.

but, all's well that ends well, right? not that the marriage ended well (i was a total bitch, calling him in nashville from memphis at 3 in the morning to tell him i wanted a divorce after having promised him that we were only temporarily separating), but it did end for the best.

but the end, end - the now - couldn't really have happend any other way. and i wouldn't trade it for anything.

so, happy anniversary J. i'm sorry i hurt you. i so hope you're happy and well. i wish we could be friends.
*

weepy day

i feel like crying. it's so stupid, but i feel weepy and sad and happy and worried and in-love and frightened and my heart is craving my lover in a way that sends electricity up and down my arms into my legs. i keep getting cold, not like a chill but more like a welling up of cold inside me - it gurgles up and heaves through me, then fades.

i'm having heart surgery on friday. and the anticipation is doing strange things to my mind and my body. i didn't sleep last night and the night before i woke up gasping for breath. as i gasped for breath K stroked my head and told me how much he loves me. all i've wanted to do for days is make love to him.

i'm going to be ok - it's actually not that big of a deal. and i haven't been afraid until the other day when i realized that i needed to do a living will. something hit me that made me know that i wanted to be alive. it's not that i haven't wanted to be alive before, but it's a different sort of longing for life that i've never experienced. and it mostly manifests itself when i think about K. i want to hold him and press my face into his chest and never go anywhere.

Three Times A Charm and Other Weekend Updates

It was a wonderful weekend. As my brother would say, the BEST WEEKEND EVER. I like to say that, even though others come to mind. Whatever - it was great.

I had promised K that we would go camping this weekend, but in light of the impromptu trip to the beach and the previous weekend in Philadelphia, I just really wanted to stay home. We busted our asses for so long getting the backyard ready for the graduation party, but we haven't really gotten to enjoy it yet - haven't even used the firepit since the patio was laid.

So, I suggested an itenerary of creative loafing instead of lugging all our gear into the wilds. We built a fire Friday night and grilled out - listening to Shawn Mullins and Norah Jones by the candlelight. It was so peaceful and romantic. We watched a bit of The Return of the Jedi (trying to get refreshed before we go see the current release) and fell asleep before we got a chance to make love - but it was a peaceful sleep.

In the morning we rectified the sleeping mistake and then fixed our ritual Saturday brunch. We realized that our baby puppy had never been swimming, so we packed up both pooches, the backgammon game and a gallon of sangria and headed out to Herb Parson's lake where there's no leash law. They swam and we played. It was so beautiful, though it did make us nostalgic for our days in the restaurant biz when we had weekdays off and would have the whole park to ourselves. I even got to do a little "hand-magic" for K - he was nervous, but I get a thrill out of exhibitionism, so he let me do the "job."

We headed home about four and K fixed a pizza for us before it was time to get to the gallery for the Drew Holcomb show. [aside: DREW HOLCOMB ROCKS!!!! he is officially my new music crush - love him, love him, love him!!!!!! http://www.drewholcomb.com] The gallery was full of young blonde girls wearing lots of eyeliner and teddies (is it 1985 again?). Most of them, I heard later, go to 2nd Pres. Interesting.

After Drew's show, we scooted over to the Buccaneer to see the Secret Service [Justice Naczycz is another music crush - so much better when you actually know the musician I find!]. It was like a reunion - K's best friend was there (being the self-centered guy that we can't decided whether to resent or not since he has a brain tumor) and his best friend's ex-girlfriend whom we all wish he had married.

An old acquaintance of K's was unabashedly flirting with him. He's hot, so I understand why she couldn't help it - it was funny when he introduced me.

Three time's a charm! I love days like these!!!! And then it was goodnight.

Sunday was beautiful again. I made french toast and we ate on the deck, as a new addition to the ritual. Adding vanilla to the eggs makes it extra delicious.

We watered flowers and played gin for a couple of hours and then drove out to Atoka for our business partner's birthday. I haven't laughed so much in ages. Our partner's brother was one-of-a-kind. He is a true redneck, telling perfect pitched stories about rolling down the hill in a tractor tire while the "sha-yed" (not a garage 'cause it ain't attached to the house) burned because of the excess glue he had used while fixin' his bike tire (something about lighting the glue helps the tire seal up, I think). He ia so, so funny!

Then back home to finish out the Jedi.

Idyllic weekend.

To Tell or Not To Tell

I had a strange experience yesterday evening. I told a friend that I like to blog and she said wow me too and asked for my blogger address. I dunno, but I sort of freaked out. I mean, what is this really? And to whom am I writing?

Is a blog a journal? It would seem that that would be private, or at least anonymous. But this really isn't either of those things. I suppose it's just a collection of thoughts, but that's what I'm worried about: the nature of my thoughts.

As I've mentioned before, I think I'm a bit schizophrenic. Not in the clinical way, just in my opinions/thoughts/feelings. I'm a walking juxtaposition. And it scares me. Does it just really mean that I'm a hypocrite or a mamby pamby or wishy washy? I don't think the latter two - but I'm actually worried about the former. It's not that I say things or do things that I don't mean or that are really true for me (ugh, I hate that phrase "true for me," maybe I mean true of me). It's that those things so often don't seem to be possible genuine simultaneous actions or feelings. I thought that as I grew older I'd become more consistent in my views, yet the opposite has happened.

So, anyhow, it kind of freaks me out to think about people I know reading my garbage, though I do know of a couple of people who occasionally check in on this highly trafficked blog (ha ha).

Oh boy am I hating this entry - but I read somewhere to just go with and let yourself be embarrassing and stupid. So here it is.

Welcome Amoreena, now you'll really know how cuckoo I am and now you can worry about trusting me with your money!

*

So Not Cool

I am so not cool.

I don't know if I ever was cool. I used to think that I was, but that was probably just an illusion of youth. I have never been very stylish (though I do have a nice hairstyle), and I never know what the hip movies, bands, or clubs are. Is cool still cool or is there something cooler than cool now that I haven't heard of? Hip, maybe? Phat? Oh please don't tell me that's it!

Funny thing is, I have several friends who declare me to be their "cool friend." This absolutely cracks me up (and I'm sure you're rolling on the floor if you know me!). Maybe it's because I don't really care about being cool - not because I'm too cool to think about it, but because I forget to think about it. Maybe it's because I don't have kids at my advanced age like so many of my friends.

I'm mostly aware of my low cool quotient when I'm at some place like the Hi Tone or the Buccaneer (great clubs, both!); or sometimes at my book club when I proffer a book that's so passe that everyone gags (and I'm not talking about the Divine Secrets, DaVinci Code or anything like that - maybe just something I heard about on NPR).

I have one friend, a guy friend, who's a couple of years older than me. He's a philosophy professor and is too cool, even for his own good. Anyhow, though, he's always got the niftiest new shirt from Banana Republic (maybe I should shop there?) and seems to know about the most obscure bands and whatnot. Even though he's 37 or 38, he still talks about canoeing with vodka soaked pineapple chunks as his lunch. He seems to work at it. Is that cool?

It's probably not cool to think about being cool or what's cool or who's cool. So, to avoid further embarrassment, I'll just chill out.
*

buzz kill

so, mark felt is deep throat. it's a bit of a buzz kill, isn't it. i was heartened by the woodstein denial yesterday morning, but it seems it's true after all. bummer.

i guess i don't like the end of the era of intrigue about the whole thing. maybe i was hoping it was diane sawyer (does she smoke though? oh yeah NEITHER DID FELT - at least not since '43). slate's chatterbox does offer some interesting questions about the "lies" woodward has told over the years to cover d.t.'s identity and his vehement declaration that it wasn't anyone from the intelligence community (although, in these days one does wonder if intelligence community is a misnomer, right?). perhaps he protesteth too much, but i'll just remain the skeptic and keep my hopes alive that d.t. was an amalgamation. i mean, that's much more fun, isn't it?