January 29th, 2004

bath room nitwit

Daddy loves his work

"Defendant Toilet Brain Music is either a foreign entity or an alter ego of defendant Steve Perry." Brown v. Mojo Records, 2000 WL 33223398, at *1 (D. Or. Apr. 6, 2000).
  • Current Mood
    amused amused
save the trees

a few times a week i wonder this

just like turkeys tilt their beaks up and drown in a rainstorm, i wonder if it's possible for me to tilt my nose up and drown in the shower? though recently I read that the turkey thang was an urban legend and now i'm really farking confused.

no melodrama

said it before, but let's say it again, shall we?

If you're the type of person who's going to get weirded out because 100 people you don't know at all looked at your LiveJournal, you don't belong on the web.

If you're the type of person who's going to get weirded out because one person who you do or don't know looked at your LiveJournal 100 times, you don't belong on the web.

Thanks, please drive through.
Pingouin a Paris

masterpiece theatre

I'm beginning to think it would be fun to live with lyeta. I'm picturing us all wandering around some Charles Rennie Mackintosh art nouveau flat, with long hair and glasses, half dressed in long flowy outfits, forever setting down half read Great Books and half drunk china cups of tea and reclining upon half divans while letting half finished sentences trail off. minniethemoocha could drop by sometimes. She'd fit.

close 2 u

that playground is still there, madison and hilliard at the end of carabel. i remember going there with my mom some sunny afternoon. we went on the swings. by that i mean she sat on the swing and put me on her lap facing the other way, facing her and the car dealership window across the street, and she pushed. how old was I? five? six? must have been six because mom had brought the radio to the park and set it on the ground by the swings, and it was playing "Close to You" by the Carpenters, which went to number one that summer. Karen Carpenter's voice soaring thrillingly out of that cheap little speaker. songs *had* to be well produced then because speakers were so crumby. i liked that song...

i remember pointing out that mom had a few gray hairs scattered through her reddish black auburn. she was sensitive about them. she liked her natural hair color, liked telling how her mother-in-law thought she dyed it when it was really all her own beauty. liked telling me my hair would get as dark as hers one day. (still likes telling me although it is obvious to me and everyone else that i inherited dad's medium red-auburn hair and it's not going to get any darker though mom is still swearing it will, given time. uh, it's already had four decades but, whatever :) mom sang a verse of some old song, the falling leaves/ drift past my window/ the falling leaves/ of red and gold...i don't remember the rest except it ended "you're growing old!" i sang along with vigorous comic emphasis on that last line. but after two repeats mom didn't want to hear it anymore and said she felt too tired to keep pushing the swing and i was getting too heavy on her lap. so we gathered up her purse and the radio and walked back home. i couldn't understand what the big deal was about having a little gray hair or growing old. grownups got awful funny about that stuff sometimes. anyway, (i thought,) she WAS old (like, 44!), way WAY older than I was then.

i remember sitting on that swing with her every time i pass that park. or when i hear the carpenters' "close to you". or when i see wavy blackish-red hair shot with a little gray. my mom doesn't have that color hair anymore - we all end up dyeing eventually - but one of my friends has it and it's comforting to look at.
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    nostalgic nostalgic