Wednesday, February 21, 2007

The Feces Fairy?

The one I really don't get is when people are walking their dogs, go to clean up after their dogs, put the shit into a bag, tie it off, and leave the plastic bag right on the sidewalk.

What's supposed to happen next?

Thursday, February 15, 2007


Today, a bit out of nowhere, a boy I don't know terribly well told me he felt like he understood me. This probably sounds really presumptuous and obnoxious, but it wasn't, actually, at least not coming from him. Just sort of nice. May have something to do with once overhearing him say he also went through a phase of dressing like Elliott Smith in middle school.

By the way, I've been meaning to ask you if you've ever read Bernadette Mayer's "The Way to Keep Going in Antarctica." It's an awfully good poem to read and remember, to carry the words around with you in case of emergency.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

So It Goes

Lately writing here feels a bit like a crossword puzzle or a magic trick; it's something that wants to be solved. Wondering whether or not there is a graceful way of uncovering secrets, and how to tell you everything without letting my insides hang out.

This probably sounds terribly negative, but I promise I don't mean it that way at all.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Sunday, February 4, 2007

Forwards & Backwards

Can we play the 'this time last year" game?

Can I tell you how much I miss Blondie's Pizza and the haunted heater that didn't particularly work and the Saturday morning walks to the Farmer's Market on Center St. and (very briefly) living in the same city as Love At First Bite and free museums and walking around downtwon and so many bookstores (not to mention the best post card store in the whole wide world) and the architecture and the cherry blossoms and the greatest bread pudding and the fun rain and taking long walks and riding the B.A.R.T. under the water and the fact that getting out of class at 530 meant truly being done for the day (without stress hangovers that induce headaches) and renting very cool movies and a very cool video rental store and walking to such beautiful theatres and eating at so many great restaurants (not to mention the take out!) and the hockey games and actually having enough time to cook and feeling like it was entirely impossible to ever get tired of any of it.

I know what you're thinking. At first maybe it was cute and charming, but now this shtick is getting a bit old. How can you see anything ahead of you if you are constantly looking over your shoulder?

I know nostalgia can look an awful lot like melancholy, but that isn't it. There are lots of things I don't miss, and there are lots of things here that are so much better, so many things that I'd lose track trying to count them on my fingers. And this isn't about not wanting to be here or even about wanting to be there. I think, quite simply, it's just a feeling of amazement that this life is so very different from the last one.