Life's Jargon
I'm biding my time,
rather than binding my time,
rather than bundling my time,
I am stretching it out....
taffy-like
pink and pliable and perfect
and mine.
Mein time!
Let's go back
and mine mein time
and titter and tattle,
prattling about
my life as it's been lately.
Yesterday I drove through a rainstorm to Rockford
to visit The Mermaid for a Hand Stitch 'n' Bitch'n.
She embroidered trim on a chiton (costume) for me,
while I badly stitched some belt loops onto a pair of pants.
I cooked a potroast and did zero dishes
while my friend chainsawed logs in the backyard.
Day before,
I got an 8am wake-up call from an out-of-town friend
"I'm in town! I'm at O-G's house!
I'm gonna bake cinnamon rolls or something.
Come hang?"
Yes.
She made spiced pumpkin cinnamon rolls, from scratch
and acted like, "So?"
as I died in pleasure
consuming a cream-cheese laden
fresh homebaked pumpkin roll
hot from the oven [heaven?].
I had to leave, and missed out on the
cranberry/orange bundt bread.
Celebrated Talk Like a Pirate Day
by mixing a 2 hour set of sea shanties
for my radio show.
All local music. All pirate.
All without having to find new music
because I am
weird.
Last Sunday morning,
I had agreed to meet my friend at a dive bar.
SUNDAY MORNING DIVE BAR hangouts.
He insinuated many strangers would be coming, too
and that watching a sportsing-event was a part of it.
I said, "Sure, I'll come"
because A: This friend has been living in LA for 5 years and I never see him
and B: This friend is a good friend I love/miss a lot
and C: Because he understands he's not giving me a very good invitation but still oddly eager for me to come
and D: Because he KNOWS I'm bad company at pep rallies, but is still oddly eager for me to come
and E: Because I know he is a non-drinker, ambiguous about sportsing, but is still oddly eager for me to come
and finally F: I have nothing better to do on a Sunday morning.
I time myself to arrive at the end of the game,
(and get proper sleeping-in performed)
and where I am awake enough to stomach the smell of
dive bar + breakfast being served in a dive bar.
My friend is there! YAY! FRIEND!
Two of his best friends are there.
YAY! Friends!
I think to myself,
"This ain't so bad.
Sportsball game is over.
No strangers, just friends.
Carafe of black coffee."
Then a Hobbit appears.
Well,... I recognize him from "Lost",
but that's not the point.
Because when he starts signing people's stuff
it's all about Lord of the Rings.
He sits with us,
because apparently
that is WHY
my Los Angeles friendly
was in a dive bar
from 7-10am on a Sunday morning.
Dominic Monaghan aka "The Talent"
wanted a Sunday morning football game and tequila in a dive bar
and my friend who is the 2nd assistant director on a film project
was just trying to make him happy
by bringing him out to a dive,
bringing out chillax friends to enjoy games with,
and be normal for a morning.
So... that happened.
By the by, "I Sell the Dead" is a favorite comedy/horror that he's in which I would recommend to anyone who is into that sort of thing.
Saturday I accidentally tricked some men in my life
into helping me, help O-G build a patio.
So... that was this week.
Last week I did more of the same.
I gardened,
and cleaned,
and bullshitted,
and watched OkGo perform Led Zeppelin's 'Black Dog'
from 10 feet away
and
NAIL IT.
Some time between last week and this week
I accidentally cut Sailor's hair too short.
In penance
(and curiosity)
I cut my own hair too short
because that is the danger of having
wine AND barbers shears
in the house.
I love it.
Sailor is endlessly sweet and loving,
perhaps to an annoying amount.
I love it.
Friends visiting from all over the country,
bringing me into contact with a celebrated hobbit-impersonator
and warm cinnamon rolls.
I love it.
rather than binding my time,
rather than bundling my time,
I am stretching it out....
taffy-like
pink and pliable and perfect
and mine.
Mein time!
Let's go back
and mine mein time
and titter and tattle,
prattling about
my life as it's been lately.
Yesterday I drove through a rainstorm to Rockford
to visit The Mermaid for a Hand Stitch 'n' Bitch'n.
She embroidered trim on a chiton (costume) for me,
while I badly stitched some belt loops onto a pair of pants.
I cooked a potroast and did zero dishes
while my friend chainsawed logs in the backyard.
Day before,
I got an 8am wake-up call from an out-of-town friend
"I'm in town! I'm at O-G's house!
I'm gonna bake cinnamon rolls or something.
Come hang?"
Yes.
She made spiced pumpkin cinnamon rolls, from scratch
and acted like, "So?"
as I died in pleasure
consuming a cream-cheese laden
fresh homebaked pumpkin roll
hot from the oven [heaven?].
I had to leave, and missed out on the
cranberry/orange bundt bread.
Celebrated Talk Like a Pirate Day
by mixing a 2 hour set of sea shanties
for my radio show.
All local music. All pirate.
All without having to find new music
because I am
weird.
Last Sunday morning,
I had agreed to meet my friend at a dive bar.
SUNDAY MORNING DIVE BAR hangouts.
He insinuated many strangers would be coming, too
and that watching a sportsing-event was a part of it.
I said, "Sure, I'll come"
because A: This friend has been living in LA for 5 years and I never see him
and B: This friend is a good friend I love/miss a lot
and C: Because he understands he's not giving me a very good invitation but still oddly eager for me to come
and D: Because he KNOWS I'm bad company at pep rallies, but is still oddly eager for me to come
and E: Because I know he is a non-drinker, ambiguous about sportsing, but is still oddly eager for me to come
and finally F: I have nothing better to do on a Sunday morning.
I time myself to arrive at the end of the game,
(and get proper sleeping-in performed)
and where I am awake enough to stomach the smell of
dive bar + breakfast being served in a dive bar.
My friend is there! YAY! FRIEND!
Two of his best friends are there.
YAY! Friends!
I think to myself,
"This ain't so bad.
Sportsball game is over.
No strangers, just friends.
Carafe of black coffee."
Then a Hobbit appears.
Well,... I recognize him from "Lost",
but that's not the point.
Because when he starts signing people's stuff
it's all about Lord of the Rings.
He sits with us,
because apparently
that is WHY
my Los Angeles friendly
was in a dive bar
from 7-10am on a Sunday morning.
Dominic Monaghan aka "The Talent"
wanted a Sunday morning football game and tequila in a dive bar
and my friend who is the 2nd assistant director on a film project
was just trying to make him happy
by bringing him out to a dive,
bringing out chillax friends to enjoy games with,
and be normal for a morning.
So... that happened.
By the by, "I Sell the Dead" is a favorite comedy/horror that he's in which I would recommend to anyone who is into that sort of thing.
Saturday I accidentally tricked some men in my life
into helping me, help O-G build a patio.
So... that was this week.
Last week I did more of the same.
I gardened,
and cleaned,
and bullshitted,
and watched OkGo perform Led Zeppelin's 'Black Dog'
from 10 feet away
and
NAIL IT.
Some time between last week and this week
I accidentally cut Sailor's hair too short.
In penance
(and curiosity)
I cut my own hair too short
because that is the danger of having
wine AND barbers shears
in the house.
I love it.
Sailor is endlessly sweet and loving,
perhaps to an annoying amount.
I love it.
Friends visiting from all over the country,
bringing me into contact with a celebrated hobbit-impersonator
and warm cinnamon rolls.
I love it.