July 26, 2012

Shi Shi Ho!

I'm off to the magical lands of Shi Shi Beach tomorrow. For those of you who need a little magic in your life, I recommend this article about the fantastic reemergence of Dryococelus australis on Ball's Pyramid.

From NPR

July 25, 2012

Attack of the Flies

Okay, so I'm not really even sure how to explain this or if the magnitude of the situation is going to come across. Sometimes with things like this, it's hard to tell.

Yesterday I came home after accordion and made a salad and read my book and then a friend came over and we sat on the couch talking as the room slowly went dark with evening. To clarify, there was never a time when I was just sitting around with all the doors open. The doors were shut. Our windows have screens. I didn't notice any flies.

But then we left the house for half an hour and when I came home there were a couple of flies buzzing lazily around the kitchen like they had been there forever. You know how flies are. They drone around. You can't ignore them. They seem obsessed with being wherever you are, the dogs of the insect world, and then they are wily, acrobatic, and unwilling to be caught (or rather, squished).

I noticed those two in the kitchen with some despair, looping in the circles near the ceiling like they would be there forever, and then one came to rest on the cupboard. Right in front of me. I went for it. I smashed it with a sponge. And to my surprise it worked. You know how it usually is. You swipe through the air with your weapon and they just keep going, somehow avoiding you by millimeters. Whatever was going on with these flies was different. They may have been drunk. Or weak. Or unaware they were dealing with someone so ruthless. I killed that one with the sponge. Then I killed one in the bathroom with a French Vogue (Last year's September issue when Carine Roitfield was still there and obviously massive). I killed another one in my room by swiping it out of the air with a clog. I mean, this is not typical right? First try fly killings? Finally, right before I went to bed, I found another buzzing near the window which I swatted with my hardback Faulkner novel (I'm deep in a southern gothic binge right now), again totally killing it. That's four flies. In the course of about twenty minutes.

I would like to note that I picked up all of these fly corpses with a small piece of tissue and disposed of them properly. I said sorry to the first one. After a while it just got mechanical.

In the morning, I was telling Sam about it and I noticed one on the floor near the bed. A carcass. Cause of death unknown. This was strange enough with all the recent fly attacks, but then I went to put shoes on. Dead fly in my shoe! Neatly placed in the heel of the left shoe. I thought Sam was messing with me but he wasn't. He promised he wasn't. It was just there.

I've thought about it quite a bit and my conclusion is that our apartment may be haunted.

July 24, 2012


Kyle Arthur just brought this to my attention: http://cat.rachelwrong.blogspot.com.meowbify.com/

My life is forever changed.

July 20, 2012

It's Coming

 August 11, 2012. Be prepared.  

July 19, 2012

A little something to brighten your day

You know, sometimes you look through old folders and you find cool things. Like this:

Brooding stare from behind the guitar? Check.

Pinky ring? Check.

Awkward mystical title? Check.

Day brightened? Check.

July 18, 2012

Open Sesame

About once a week Sam makes me breakfast. It's a real treat. Today I requested steel-cut oatmeal. He looked around and ran in and out of the bedroom with various bags of assorted grains, none of which were steel-oatmeal. Finally he comes in with the right bag, at least, it appeared to be the right bag and I approved. I came into the kitchen about five minutes later to see the oatmeal merrily boiling on the stove top. After showering I came out of the bathroom to find him tasting the oatmeal. He grimaced and told me it wasn't ready. I took the spoon and stirred, only to realize that it wasn't steel-cut oatmeal at all, but sesame seeds. In case you're wondering, we didn't eat them.

July 12, 2012

Self Portrait of the Writer as a . . .

Total weirdo.

So, awhile back Gabe posted about the upcoming weirdness/amazing noir/modern dance/(with Kylie Minogue?) film Holy Motors, which I have to say, I'm really excited to see.

In this post he happened to reference Aaron Neville which took me back to the days of yore when I was a weird, somewhat solitary kid who was completely ignorant of pop culture and listened to whatever her parents happened to be listening to at the time. At this time in my life I remember a lot of Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Nottingham Hillbillies, and most importantly, the Neville Brothers. 

In the year 1990 the Neville Brothers came out with an album called Brother Blood. It featured predominantly in our car trips, dinner parties, and day-to-day lives. I was totally obsessed with this album. My obsession centered on a song called Fearless that featured the angelic voice of Aaron Neville (here). It's so inspirational! And romantic! And weird that I loved this song at nine years old!

I have a very clear memory of lying on the floor on my stomach next to our entertainment center (which featured frosted glass which would later be broken), listening to this song on repeat through my dad's huge puffy headphones, and writing down the lyrics in my tiny spiral white cat notebook so that I could, I don't know, walk around singing that song whenever I wanted.

Which was all the time.

July 10, 2012

People I Saw . . . Near Zupans

There have been few times in my life that I have thought I wanted children. One of them was this time. Back when I worked on 30th and Belmont, I took a lunch break and walked to Zupans. It was a gray day and I was probably feeling a little morose. But I passed this family. A mother and her two sons. Really typical in that neighborhood. But the older kid was like, "C'mon! What are you doing?" and was standing there staring incredulously at his younger brother. The younger kid was just kind of softly singing to himself and clinging to this tree trunk. But as I got closer I realized that he also had this massive green marker beard and mustache. All over his face. I made eye contact with the mother and we both just kind of cracked up. And I thought, I want that kid.