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floating down the stream of consciousness 22 December, 2005

Posted by silentpyjamas in 420 posts.
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coincidence?

i looked up just now and saw a nearly perfect circle of cloud around the moon, and at the same moment annie lennox sang in my ear “now a floor of air is laid with stars of brightest gold.”  serendipitious to say the least.

once i used that word in an office in the hospital, looking at the posters on the walls and thinking of my mood.  the woman was taken aback because she said she hadn’t heard that word in some years.  o english language, whence has gone thy power?  i probably totally abused the language typing that.  don’t stone me.  i’m stoned enough, thanks.

so i’m looking through the patio doors at this giant pile of gifts under the tree and i’m feeling so guilty because here we are with like loads of presents and lots of people have nothing.  i try to be a generous person.  i’m not some kind of saint or something but i can’t stand the thought of someone suffering if i’m like, living it up.  i always say i want to get rich so i can do those things for people that the government and everyone else always claim they can’t do.  anyways that wasn’t my point.  the point is we have loads of gifts and like, i didn’t buy any of them because i’m broke and my sister got me a gift and i couldn’t afford to buy her a gift.  or gifts for our friends who are going to give us something.  or people who don’t have any gifts at all.  guilt.

but then i think, you know, my parents work very hard.  they have nice things but they aren’t materialistic.  they do things for people and so do my sister and i.  for like 3 years my parents got their groceries delivered and it was like they gave the food to everyone.  heck my sister just got a bunch of free goodies from hostess and sent 90% of them to my mom’s church.  i mean, i dunno.  and my stepdad just takes this enormous amount of glee in getting us *just* the right gifts.  he’s got his finger on the pulse,  baybee.  i mean he really delights in being a dad.  he’s got my sister and me, and of course alex, his much-beloved grandchild and a host of ancillary children and grandhildren.  and he relishes the role of protector and provider and all of that.  i mean, when my sister and i moved into our place they got us a rice cooker because we love rice and a vcr-dvd combo because while my sister is content with cable, i must also have my bad movies in hard copy.

i mean, i guess we are kind of spoiled but if you knew our dad you would probably think my stepdad is a saint.  my stepdad spent a lot of years trying to break us of this mold of feeling worthless and undeserving.  it was like forever before i believed him when he really meant it when he asked me what restaurant i wanted to go to and what i wanted to order.  i’d be all staring at the menu trying to find the cheap thing and he was like “dude i said pick anything off the menu that you want.”

anyways i probably sound retarded.  let’s talk about alex.

oh, my malinky.  that girl is the light of my life.  she’s so on target.  i had a terrible day today and she came and sat down by me this evening.  she said “coco what’s wrong?  you look sick.”  danggone astute 3-year-olds.  she’s good, though, and in more ways than just her almost frightening powers of observation.  she’s buff, for one.  like never had an ounce of baby fat on her.  also, she was never one for rehearsing.  she didn’t really learn to walk, per se.  i saw her couch-surf exactly once.  one day, at 7 months, she stood up.  about 7 days later she was walking.  period.  it may have been 4 days but i’m gonna stick to 7 because that’s the longest it could have been.

same with talking.  her first word was, much to the chagrin of my sister, “coco.”  after that she caught on to everyone.  it helped because we all have 2-syllable names: mama, coco, nana, papa, and alex.  i like to draw stick figures for her.  she loves “sticks.”  so one day i drew a whole series of sticks.  one representing each member of the family.  alex already had her own stick figure icon, so i just made the rest of us.  mine has spiky hair and glasses, my sister’s has her flip hairstyle, my mom’s has curly hair and a dress, and my stepdad has a round bald head.  she remembered them all that same day.  like, i drew them again moments later and she named each one as i drew it.  she was about 26 months then.  she’s a scary kid.

she’s obsessed with symmetry too.  when she makes like lego towers, the blocks have to be like at exact right angles from the ones above and below it.  let me tell you, she’s got those big little kid blocks and there’s not that many on a tower but she can spend grandiose amounts of time adjusting them carefully.  obsessively.  she also knows what time everything is.  little missy grabs her blanket and bear at noon because it’s time for night-night.  aka auntie coco’s 3 hours of sanity.  she’s my little monsterella.

i love to describe her eyes and i will always describe them the same way.  they’re luminous and the coloration of them makes it look like staring into the coronas of twin eclipses.  amazing.  and she’s got this amazing nose.  it’s the only one i have ever seen like it.  it’s a graceful sweep and it is nearly flush with her face at the point directly between her eyes.  it’s the most beautiful nose i have ever seen.  i started checking them out after i noticed how much i love hers.  she’s got a little painted-on mouth that is rose on her skin, which is a lighter shade of caramel than mine.  and this big bushel of coppery curls.  she is a beautiful child and i love her myriad facial expressions.  she’s always been an expressive child and she’s got a closetful of “looks.”  her favorite of late is the hooded-eyed sidelong glance, accompanied  by a ferocious pout with just a hint of an elvis snarl.  she hunches over, sitting or standing, and casts this look of disdain on all of us minions who dare displease her.  that look is usually accompanied by her slinking to her room following a return look of warning.  she needs some red overalls and a yellow and red and white striped (horizontally) t-shirt.  i always imagine her slunching away in this outfit, like some kind of storybook angry girl.

speaking of storybook girls, i’m writing a children’s book called “strangely jackson and the missing spiskits.”  it’s about strangely jackson, who is a little girl who goes on lots of adventures.  she has this commander who always thinks she is full of tales then says “strangely, i think you’re right” because eventually, she always is.  i got spiskits from when alex was littler, she’d ask for spiskits in lieu of asking for biscuits.  i forgive her, though, she couldn’t pronounce it yet.

-bringing the works back into the house-

ahh, the warm house.  ever notice how noises seem louder at night?  i just grabbed a package of ho-ho’s from the giant pile of trash food on the table and i was sure my parents would hear the crinkling in their bedroom.  at home, i turn down my music at night so i won’t bother the neighbors only to discover in the morning that when the sun is up, i can’t even hear it.  insanity.

oh, and in case you wonder why i am worried about my parents, the heating unit at my house has been churning out the cold air for like a week.  the same day that happened, one maintenance guy got fired and the other had a double bypass operation.  and now they have to order the part.  it’s fun though.  we all pile up in our parents’ bed and have lively discussions and we run around with alex.  and watch both versions of the chocolate factory 800 times.  it’s like old times i guess.  it’s pretty cool.  it would be cooler if tony were here but we’re learning to appreciate the cool that we have.

man, i was feeling like some court tv and i flick on the tv and i just knew psychic detectives was going to be on.  i was outside and i said like “i’m gonna go watch some court tv, that is unless stupid detectives is on.”  then i apologized in case i offended someone who could pick up my vibrations.  luckily only 20 more minutes of this swill until the investigators comes on.  cross-dressing serial killers with multiple personalities.  oh my, only in amur-kuhh.  man i need some milk to go with these ho-hos.  vodka?  or no?  hmm…

-cue jeopardy music-

i voted for vodka.  my ukrainian friend’s mom, this tiny little woman, drank me under the table one day at lunch.  i am not a tiny little woman.  everyone there laughed at me because i was like faking the funk.  “c’mon coco!  take another shot.  it will make you a real woman!”  now i realize peer pressure is wrong and that i shouldn’t give in to it.  but what the hell.  the only other thing i remember about that afternoon is that i would up on mom’s couch looking crazy.  oh yeah.  generally i don’t overindulge.  the only time i ever get mega-drunk is every year at mom’s next-door neighbor’s christmas party.  somehow every. single. year for the past three years i have stumbled back over here and gotten into a fight of some kind with the furnishings.  last year i woke up the next day covered in bruises, convinced my parents’ television had committed battery upon me.  i mean i clearly recall somehow ending up on the floor, face up, looking at the dark screen and muttering “i’m gonna fingerprint you ALL up tomorrow, you bastard.”  i’d have done it then if i could have stood.  let me tell you those sony tv’s have a fierce right hook.

well, it’s that special time of the night.  that’s right, the time when i eat my sister’s left over sausage and veggie mix.  like a savage i eschewed washing a regular fork (aka checking the dishwasher) and decided that since i already had the silverware drawer open, i’d just use one of my mom’s hors d’ouvre forks.  savage.  i got the one with the black and yellow handle.  the others are, of course, black with blue, green, and red tips.

there is a commercial for a porn video.  on court tv.  it’s not even cheezily related to any subject matter on the channel.  not a sexy lawyer or julie strain for a judge.  unless you count girls in star-spangled cheap polyester bikinis throwing each other around in a kiddie pool full of mud it’s not, y’know, relevant to the law.  at least the cell-phone horoscope i can pass off as margnally related to psychic detectives. 

CANCER: today you will see a  body in a dark, cold place.  near water and surrounded by trees.  and something related to the letter “m” and the number “9.”  single cancers, this is your month to shine.  cancers in relationships, you’ll encounter some turbulence but just fasten your seatbelt and ride it out.  you will receive money at a fortuitous time.  lucky numbers: 6, 19, 33, 12, 47.

i mean these guys could have at least said “this much boobie in this little fabric should be against the law!

and now, time for the investigators.  it’s been a pleasant time, we simply must do this again.

love,

-CoCo

bad dream 21 December, 2005

Posted by silentpyjamas in blather and claptrap.
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i had a dream last night that scared me until i woke up half screaming and half crying.  i’m going to try to type it up here but i fear that the only really scary thing about it was the atmosphere, as nothing overtly frightening happened.

it started out with me packing.  i was going to a football game in the uk.  of course that means soccer to us americans.  i have a friend in the uk, k.  i wanted to call k and tell him that i was coming.  i spent the majority of the dream trying to find a telephone.  i was taking my niece, alex with me.  everyone knows i am crazy about alex.  i wasn’t taking her so that she could go enjoy the game, i was taking her because i had to keep her safe.

at the airport people were being herded hither and yon.  it was frightening because there were police and soldiers everywhere, grabbing people and diverting them to here and there.  i don’t know what they were doing but i did know emphatically that i did not want myself and alex to be herded along with them.  i still couldn’t get in touch with k, and i made it to some kind of a store or something.  they told me that i had to use the phone on the fourth floor, but i couldn’t drag alex all that way with her little suitcase she was crrying, and my suitcase, and having to make it to the plane.  at this point in the dream i was frantic, not because i wasn’t going to have a place to stay or something, i knew i had a hotel room booked in the uk.  we couldn’t leave the airport.  we could not go out the doors and go home.  we were stuck, hopefully to get on our plane but i’d say there were no guarantees.  there was a lot of frantic telephone booth action and i can’t say what it was precisely, but it was frustrating and i remember having slammed the receover down and cursing in front of alex, then telling her i was sorry for doing that.

the last bit of the dream that i can remember clearly is bumping into my ex fiance david (real name emphatically not david, initials p.s.) leaning against a wall, strangely i remember him smoking a cigarette and not smoking a cigarette at the same time.

i saw him there, with his dyed-black hair (which is actually very blond and very beautiful, i have no idea why he feels the need to dye it black but he did it almost the whole time we were together) and his blue blue eyes and that creamy skin.  his face had filled out and he looked older than i remember him.  last time i saw him was 5 years ago, he was 22.

he had on a grey suit and a white shirt and i stopped in front of him.  i wasn’t especially surprised to see him there, again i don’t know why.  so there he was, looking so grown up and handsome, and i said “david is everything alright?”

this is the part where i started to wake up.

he looked at me, his eyes were so clear and i could see it on his face.  wordlessly he nodded in that way people nod when nothing is alright.  the look on his face scared me *so* badly that i started to wake up.  i started to cry because i knew nothing was alright and never would be again.  something else happened in the dream but it was a blur.  i was choking and gasping and screaming.  i woke in an absolute panic.  i got a good 7, 8 hours last night and had no rest.  i fell asleep in the middle of the day when i was supposed to be cleaning.

i wish i could say what it was that frightened me so.  as i said, it wasn’t overtly scary.  it’s like i woke up in “1984” or something.  i remember, after talking to david, i looked at alex before the scary thing happened and i said to myself “omigod she can’t be living here.  this cannot be the world she is going to live in.”  i think that’s what made me cry.  my mom says i need to try to figure out what this dream means.  to be honest, i almost don’t even want to know.  more than anything, whatever it was in that dream that made me fear for alex, was something atmospheric, like..ambient.  hm.

this is my sad post 19 December, 2005

Posted by silentpyjamas in blather and claptrap.
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ever had that feeling in your gut?  it’s like a sort of twisting feeling.  like a hand has reached into your belly and is trying its darnedest to squeeze the life from you.  i had that today.  i was on the phone with mom (that’s reverend mom) and she talked about a lady at church whose son died.  it was this woman’s first year without her son.  he was a little older than my brother.  i was really hoping mom would hold it together but instead she just said “i miss him” and started to cry.  she got off the phone in a hurry.  by “him” she means my brother.

i miss him too.  i was gonna write more but now i don’t feel like it.

hold on. lemme get some more vodka! 18 December, 2005

Posted by silentpyjamas in blather and claptrap.
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i decided i just couldn’t go to bed having only written weird stuff in here today so here i go with some normal stuff.

well, i lied.  i’m not even remotely normal so i don’t know how to write normal stuff.  but what i can think up at the moment is pretty normal for me.

i’d like to tell a story.  it’s one my mom told me as a child and i love to tell it to people.  it’s the story of the boy who unscrewed his bellybutton.

*ahem*

once upon a time there was a little boy who found himself in the bath one day examining his navel.  he had no idea what it was or what it was for.  as he poked at it, however, he got a grand idea.  he was going to unscrew it.  being a cautious boy, he decided to do the right (read: anal retentive) thing and ask his mom first. 

as his mother was tuckig him into bed that night, he looked up at her with his big, round eyes and said “mom, what would happen if i unscrewed my belly button?”

his mom brushed the hair back from his forehead and smiled, “i don’t know, honey.  you should ask the owl.”  she kissed him goodnight and left him to wonder about the mysteries of his navel.

the next day the boy went to the barn and hung about a bit looking for an owl.  when he saw one he approached it and surprisingly, instead of knocking him over and pecking his eyes out of his head the owl just peered at him impassively.

“mister owl, my mom told me to ask you.  what will happen if i unscrew my belly button?”  the owl blinked dumbly for a moment and the boy doubted it could tell him.  then it spoke.

“little boy, i do not know.  why not unscrew it tonight on the hill when the moon is full?”

the boy agreed at once.  that night he walked up the hill as the midnight hour approached.  he dropped his pants and began to unscrew his navel.

*squeeak squeeak* his bellybutton protested like a rusty bolt as he unscrewed it.  the more it came out, the more excited he got, the faster he unscrewed until finally he held it up in the moonlight and admired his bellybutton.  in his excitement he was barely aware of a strange feeling creeping up on him.  that is, until his butt fell off.

moral of the story?  i think it’s pretty self-explanatory.

-fin-

eddie chen, take 3 18 December, 2005

Posted by silentpyjamas in chronicle of the crazy, water tower.
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i sometimes think i remember getting it on with mister eddie chen.  imaginary sex with an imaginary person(!)  i edit that: remember having gotten it on.  details? no. that weird feeling you get around someone you’ve done it with? yes.

why am i even writing this? well, it’s part of the eddie chen experience. besides, eddie’s an interesting guy. when he’s not trying to get me to move into his giant building, he’s upstairs. i spend a lot of time alone at his place. i read a lot, but his reading material is not like ours. it consists of a lot of dots and is on this sort of…like accordion paper, except it’s from like, up to down instead of the folds being on the sides. about the dots, they’re in patterns. and i don’t have any trouble reading them. i remember being curled up on his bed (damn that confortable bed!) and sipping something hot and reading one of his books. circles and dots. seemingly just splattered across the page, but that’s not the case at all. they’re like those asian characters. ideograms? ideographs? picto-thingys? you know what i mean.

but uh, yeah. it occurs to me that the act of typing this proves i am completely insane. i can’t believe i am sharing this. then again, it’s not such a big deal to share it. it’s just kind of odd that i am sharing it with anyone who happens to stumble across it.

in other news, i have a terrible hangnail

riding high and falling down 17 December, 2005

Posted by silentpyjamas in blather and claptrap.
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so i’ve been working on this novel.  it’s not my life’s work, but it’s a good amount of work i have done.  i had all these awesome notes and stuff.  and all on my usb key so my writing was portable.

 

last night my pc shut down spontaneously taking my novel and notes right off my usb drivve.  about 2 months of work, and notes on about 8 stories.  gone.  just gone.  i got drunk, cried all night, and tried file recovery.  the irony, it found only 2 files and neither of them were notes for my novel.  as you can probably tell, i’m sick with it.  for seriously.

the contrast effect 17 December, 2005

Posted by silentpyjamas in blather and claptrap, inflammatory!.
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i read this article today, well, read it a while back too. this is why i don’t bother. no, for seriously.

http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1175/is_4_34/ai_76577458

mmmhmmm.

the pink place 16 December, 2005

Posted by silentpyjamas in chronicle of the crazy, pink city apartment.
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well, i wasn’t up to much so i thought i’d talk about the pink place.  it’s another one of my “other places.”

the first time i went there was last october.  2 nights before i ended up on a 9-day hospital stint.  by the time i got to the hospital i was firmly entrenched in the water tower place, but the first night, it was the pink place.

it’s a nice apartment.  it’s not huge but it’s old.  it’s got character.  hardwood floors in part of the livingroom, the front of the apartment.  the carpet where the furniture and windows are is, of course, pink.

when i’m there i have a sort of josephine baker hairdo.  short with waves.  it’s pretty cool looking.  i found myself the first time there in a pink camisole with pink tap pants.  they’re like lingerie shorts.  the tap pants had black lace at the hems, the camisole had black lace at the top of the front.  very classy.  satin, if i had to guess.  they were soft and cool and buttery on my skin.  my nails were kind of long (again, something i’d never do.  i like my nails short, i have a guitar) and done in a french manicure.  the couches were antique-y looking with dark wood legs (yech, dark wood) and details on the back.  the fabric was, well, you know.

the apartment has tall windows facing other buildings in the city.  usually it’s night there.  sometimes it’s raining.  i always feel so lonely there.  i can remember having had guests over, but i can’t think of who they are.  when they were last over.  on a small writing desk against one of the giant windowpanes sits a pink antique-style typewriter.  as much as it pains me to say it, i think i had that typewriter painted pink.  the keys are the round metal kind on the long stalks.  pink enamel with white letters.  oh the tragedy.

i write there too.  sometimes i spend long hours looking out into the night at my desk, parked in front of the typewriter.  i love the sound it makes, much better than a computer when i am on a roll and i can hear the clacking of the mechanisms inside the machine.  letters appearing on the paper.  the “r” key is a little crooked.  for some reason i don’t care much.  it adds character, i think.

this place is really sort of new and i don’t know much about it yet.  i suppose i’ll find out more on one of my crazy trips.

the fear 16 December, 2005

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today my 3-year old niece Alex put the fear in me.  *the fear*

what’s the fear?  i’m gonna tell you. 

this morning i awoke to her small self climbing into bed with me.  after a while i noticed that instead of burning up i was slightly chilly.  this is kind of a big deal because alex’s metabolism kicks into high gear when she’s sleeping.  she’s the hottest kid in town.  sleep next to her (or simply have her sleeping next to you) and you’re gonna have a grip of btu’s aimed mercilessly at you until you either pass out from the heat or have to get away from her.  so, i woke up and it was cold.

checked the heat, thermostat’s on 80, temperature is less than 70 (fahrenheit, darlings).  the heater was blowing out cold air.  i told my stepdad and he left work to come get us.  i didn’t ask him to, but he didn’t want his child and grandchild freezing in what he calls our “tundra.”  while we waited for him to come from work, alex and i walked to the mailbox, then to the little pond in front of our apartment complex (man-made pond of course) and she threw in pennies and made wishes.  finally we went to the front gates and waited outside for her Papa.  the truck rolled up a short time later and all hell broke loose.  my stepdad was across the street, about to turn into the entrance to our complex.  alex is a fast runner.

oh god she’s such a beautiful girl and she’s so smart and strong and for crying out loud, really, really fast.  i couldn’t even believe she was running for the truck.  i took off after her, hoping that a) no cars came from the left, b) no cars came from the exit of our complex, and c) my stepdad could see her before he turned into our complex.  i caught her, in her new satin coat, by grabbing her hood.  she stopped short and ended up on her butt *almost* on Bermuda Rd.  which has become a busy street of late.

the fear.  i never felt it so acutely.  well, a few months ago when she drank half a bottle of cough syrup.  that one caught me by surprise, i hadn’t even OPENED it yet.  how she defeated the child safety cap i will never know.

kids are amazing, but they can put fear into you the likes of which you have never felt.  there is nothing, nothing like being afraid that you have failed to protect your little one.  i didn’t want my stepdad to see me cry so i didn’t cry in the truck, but i feel like crying now.  the scary part is you don’t even have to be irresponsible.  the truth is that you cannot truly protect anyone from everything.  but ya can damn sure try.

whatever happened to daily blogging? 16 December, 2005

Posted by silentpyjamas in blather and claptrap.
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that was my intent.  instead it’s sort of like…every-couple-days-ly.  i’ll live.  i’ll write more later.  at the mo, it’s 3:18am here and i’m tired and my tummy hurts.  time to go fishin’ and catch me some zeez.