Blips of A Few Days

My sister's husband forebade her to get a tattoo in New Orleans. She told me she wanted one on her asshole so she could show it to him at oportune times.

She wasn't drinking because they're trying for a kid. She never drank much anyway. She, sitting next to my brother, had the biggest glow on her face when I was on stage, smiling back at them as I detangled from my umbilical cord.

My brother watched a motions hearing with rapt attention, shushing me when I tried to whisper wise words of explanation to him. He made some observations that floored me and reminded me that he's not 8 anymore. He said maybe he should be an attorney. I'm hanging on that.

Molly sat on the wrap-around porch with them talking about babies and childhood until late at night. She told me how beautiful they were. Wish she'd listen better when I tell her she's beautiful and in many ways my dream come true. I know it. and that's why I have my work cut out for working on myself, I learned again this weekend.

Social Network was unremarkable. Except that it made me want to be more remarkable. Or more remarkable than this town suggests I be.

No Cosmic Lover Pre-assigned

Ariel has been having difficulties with a man she doesn't think is her "soulmate."

While sitting with her on her couch last night trying to sip rum and swaying to Hedwig, we both realized that we won't ever find our soulmates, because there are none to be found. And love ... or the definition of it we're limited to... don't mean shit.

Got that out of the way.

Now on to something that's the truth. No more wispering words of devotion of over a sangria buzz without knowing really what the hell they mean. No more waiting with saucer eyes for that cosmic pop.

What's out there, and what we can all look forward to if we open our eyes, is first becoming our own soulmates, and then possibly finding someone who is good, but definitely not "meant" for us.

And when I find that person, I'll do them the honor of not telling them I love them, because cliche is the worst offense.

Beginning to Re-See the Light

I had something when I moved to this weird bowl of swamp and circumstances. I had the important/the real things in life on a pedestal and the other shit somewhere below it looking up.

Recently found the pedestal again, now looking for stuff to put on it.

I Am My Own Badman

The day after Mardi Gras brought one significant event:

My friend Marissa posted the following on her wall:

"Versus parading and drinking Ive decided to spend a day with my dad in the yard..some may call that lame but I call it father/daughter time nothing like it."


Mardi Gras felt off again this year, albeit for different, less dramatic reasons than last. I was doing everything my friends were: drinking starting at 9 in the morning, getting into an elaborate costume with a witty slant to it, trying to make contact with every acquaintance who might be in the area, smoking pot on the sidewalk, throwing rainbow beads from the balconies of gay bars.

But when I got home I laid in my shower in confusion and relief wondering why I wasn’t smiling.

I stumbled my dazed body to my computer this morning to see what crazy things my other friends had done and saw Marissa hung out with her father.

Because she wanted to.

And there’s the key.

Doing the things you think most people do for a good time rarely leads to your own good time. The real fun lies in having the courage to do exactly what you want and not let the vapid majority diminish the value in that.

Thank you, South America

"Nobody can take away what you've danced."