born into this mess
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
into the great wide open
So I got myself a new job yesterday. I've been cleaning houses for about a year and a half, but before that I worked in kitchen most of my way through college. I made up my mind to go to culinary school about 5 times and then decided against it. I think mostly this was sqeamishness about cooking meat.
Then about three months ago I started eating fish again, and I'm completely obsessed with it. I seriously lie awake at night thinking about if a pomegranate and rosemary glaze would go well on tuna.
The couple whose house I've cleaned every Tuesday for a year and a half are opening an ultraposh (ultraposh for MEMPHIS, that is) resaturant downtown next month, you know, very tall food with obscure names like "green tomato napoleons" and a long wine list.
Last week I worked up the nerve to ask Johnny, the chef, to give me a job. Thinking at best he'd let me work a few lunches, maybe pay me $10 an hour.
Oh no.
No, I am going to be working dinners, making insanely pretty apps, salads, and desserts. On salary. Which means that I will be making more than I have ever made, but working six days a week. Getting off work at 10 or 11.
All last night at the Agianst Me!/Lucero show I was running around like a demented bumblebee, telling everyone I knew that I had finally gotten a Real Job. It's this amazing feeling, like taking off from a runway. A soaring in my stomach.
As if this might be It. The feeling of it all Happening, the rest of my life.
If I can manage to stick it out and not fuck it up, that is.
Oh, and halfway through the last band, I looked across the stage and saw my new boss standing over to the side, waving his beer in the air, a thirtysomething good ol boy amazingly out of place amid the black-hoodied all-star'd punknroll teenagers and all us jaded hipsters with our carefully tangled hair and meaningful tattoos. He saluted me with his can and then squeezed around the corner of the stage to hand me one for myself.
Hilarious. I realized that he thinks I'm cool. That grown-ups think I'm cool.
Me, I'm just kind of a dorky girl, black hair, big tattoos, and an 'I fucked Paris Hilton' t-shirt.
I want to marry this Harlan T Bobo cd, by the way.
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So I got myself a new job yesterday. I've been cleaning houses for about a year and a half, but before that I worked in kitchen most of my way through college. I made up my mind to go to culinary school about 5 times and then decided against it. I think mostly this was sqeamishness about cooking meat.
Then about three months ago I started eating fish again, and I'm completely obsessed with it. I seriously lie awake at night thinking about if a pomegranate and rosemary glaze would go well on tuna.
The couple whose house I've cleaned every Tuesday for a year and a half are opening an ultraposh (ultraposh for MEMPHIS, that is) resaturant downtown next month, you know, very tall food with obscure names like "green tomato napoleons" and a long wine list.
Last week I worked up the nerve to ask Johnny, the chef, to give me a job. Thinking at best he'd let me work a few lunches, maybe pay me $10 an hour.
Oh no.
No, I am going to be working dinners, making insanely pretty apps, salads, and desserts. On salary. Which means that I will be making more than I have ever made, but working six days a week. Getting off work at 10 or 11.
All last night at the Agianst Me!/Lucero show I was running around like a demented bumblebee, telling everyone I knew that I had finally gotten a Real Job. It's this amazing feeling, like taking off from a runway. A soaring in my stomach.
As if this might be It. The feeling of it all Happening, the rest of my life.
If I can manage to stick it out and not fuck it up, that is.
Oh, and halfway through the last band, I looked across the stage and saw my new boss standing over to the side, waving his beer in the air, a thirtysomething good ol boy amazingly out of place amid the black-hoodied all-star'd punknroll teenagers and all us jaded hipsters with our carefully tangled hair and meaningful tattoos. He saluted me with his can and then squeezed around the corner of the stage to hand me one for myself.
Hilarious. I realized that he thinks I'm cool. That grown-ups think I'm cool.
Me, I'm just kind of a dorky girl, black hair, big tattoos, and an 'I fucked Paris Hilton' t-shirt.
I want to marry this Harlan T Bobo cd, by the way.
Sunday, February 22, 2004
will you miss me when I burn?
I was driving, since I was Designated. We picked some kid up who needed a ride and I drove through the dark and the hills into this strange desolated industrial section of Asheville looking for the Animal Burlesque Formal.
First thing I saw was the flames, leaping up out of metal barrels, shooting sparks up to the top of the roof. At first we thought no one had dressed up, but then in the the dark figures crowded around the fires we started picking out horns and oversized ears, silk and feathers.
It was immensely cold, and there were three kegs and a huge box of sake with a tap.
The building was open, high ceilings with the paint torn off in shreds, bare cement floors. Strange kabbalistic nude drawing punctuated the walls and in the centre of the floor by the stairs up to the Dark was a strange machine, half chainsaw, half riding lawnmover, and maybe a bit of motorcycle. Later my Boyfriend for the night explained to me that it was a rubber chicken throwing device.
The first band played softly their accordian, cello, guitar and drums. We huddled together, swaying and shivering.
After the burlesque show the honkytonk started and I shed my coat and hopskipdanced with one finger in the air in my pink slip and pig mask.
It was the loveliest party I have ever attended. Surreal dancers in coconut monkey masks and fullskirted prom dresses, smoke in all directions, beautiful hippies and a black-eye-linered and red-velvet-jacketed boy who leaned me into a dark corner on the stairs and held his face out for a kiss.
It's disorienting here in Asheville, 450 miles from home, surrounded by oh so friendly strangers. If I were to fall, it would be a long long way down.
When I leave tomorrow, back to the lonesome further west, I will be comforted by the esiness of last night, a night in which in which I was nobody, a girl in a pink slip dancing like she had someone to forget about.
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I was driving, since I was Designated. We picked some kid up who needed a ride and I drove through the dark and the hills into this strange desolated industrial section of Asheville looking for the Animal Burlesque Formal.
First thing I saw was the flames, leaping up out of metal barrels, shooting sparks up to the top of the roof. At first we thought no one had dressed up, but then in the the dark figures crowded around the fires we started picking out horns and oversized ears, silk and feathers.
It was immensely cold, and there were three kegs and a huge box of sake with a tap.
The building was open, high ceilings with the paint torn off in shreds, bare cement floors. Strange kabbalistic nude drawing punctuated the walls and in the centre of the floor by the stairs up to the Dark was a strange machine, half chainsaw, half riding lawnmover, and maybe a bit of motorcycle. Later my Boyfriend for the night explained to me that it was a rubber chicken throwing device.
The first band played softly their accordian, cello, guitar and drums. We huddled together, swaying and shivering.
After the burlesque show the honkytonk started and I shed my coat and hopskipdanced with one finger in the air in my pink slip and pig mask.
It was the loveliest party I have ever attended. Surreal dancers in coconut monkey masks and fullskirted prom dresses, smoke in all directions, beautiful hippies and a black-eye-linered and red-velvet-jacketed boy who leaned me into a dark corner on the stairs and held his face out for a kiss.
It's disorienting here in Asheville, 450 miles from home, surrounded by oh so friendly strangers. If I were to fall, it would be a long long way down.
When I leave tomorrow, back to the lonesome further west, I will be comforted by the esiness of last night, a night in which in which I was nobody, a girl in a pink slip dancing like she had someone to forget about.
Monday, February 16, 2004
on empty houses, closet doors, and moving away
Everytime I moved when I was a kid, I used to always leave my mark somewhere. In a closet, or behind a door, or the underside of a shelf. Somewhere so one would ever find it.
I lived here. Sue's house forever.
Then, whenever we moved into the new place, I'd find something some other kid wrote.
Before Denny left our old house this morning, he spray-painted his name up on the side of a kitchen cabinet.
Denny's house.
Man, I loved and hated living at the co-op. When I lived there, it was cold, and damp and dirty, and covered in cat pee, and everybody seemed to be cranky all the time. Now they've done some really great work and I think it may well stay together even after the departure of the lone (dammit i burned my rice what was i talkiing about) founding member.
I'm sure gonna miss him, though.
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Everytime I moved when I was a kid, I used to always leave my mark somewhere. In a closet, or behind a door, or the underside of a shelf. Somewhere so one would ever find it.
I lived here. Sue's house forever.
Then, whenever we moved into the new place, I'd find something some other kid wrote.
Before Denny left our old house this morning, he spray-painted his name up on the side of a kitchen cabinet.
Denny's house.
Man, I loved and hated living at the co-op. When I lived there, it was cold, and damp and dirty, and covered in cat pee, and everybody seemed to be cranky all the time. Now they've done some really great work and I think it may well stay together even after the departure of the lone (dammit i burned my rice what was i talkiing about) founding member.
I'm sure gonna miss him, though.
mix cd for training the new chick
nothing came out- moldy peaches
i send my love to you- palace brothers
your night to shine- clem snide
ventura- lucinda williams
fade into you- mazzy star
when you sleep- my bloody valentine
under pressure- queen w/ bowie
dancing in the dark- the boss
talking shit about a pretty sunset- modest mouse
heroes- bowie
hey ya!- outkast
today- smashing pumpkins
turn it up (loud)- oneida
kiss off- violent femmes
i'm set free- velvet underground
adriann- brad postlethwaite
matinee- damien jurado
maps- yeah yeah yeahs
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nothing came out- moldy peaches
i send my love to you- palace brothers
your night to shine- clem snide
ventura- lucinda williams
fade into you- mazzy star
when you sleep- my bloody valentine
under pressure- queen w/ bowie
dancing in the dark- the boss
talking shit about a pretty sunset- modest mouse
heroes- bowie
hey ya!- outkast
today- smashing pumpkins
turn it up (loud)- oneida
kiss off- violent femmes
i'm set free- velvet underground
adriann- brad postlethwaite
matinee- damien jurado
maps- yeah yeah yeahs
Sunday, February 15, 2004
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i hope that some one gets my
Elen says that what this blogging thing makes her think of, like, picture in her head, is a bunch of really lonely people, each stranded on their own tiny island, but all in the same archipelago. Most of them anyway. And by figuring out the ocean currents and what not, they've managed to work out some communication system of smoke signals and messages in bottles. And instead of building boats, they spend all day feverishly scribbling and making fires, throwing their hearts out into the water, wondering who's gonna read it, and who's gonna write back.
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Elen says that what this blogging thing makes her think of, like, picture in her head, is a bunch of really lonely people, each stranded on their own tiny island, but all in the same archipelago. Most of them anyway. And by figuring out the ocean currents and what not, they've managed to work out some communication system of smoke signals and messages in bottles. And instead of building boats, they spend all day feverishly scribbling and making fires, throwing their hearts out into the water, wondering who's gonna read it, and who's gonna write back.
Saturday, February 14, 2004
it is for me the eventual truth
feeling emo. I asked out the wrong boy for V-day and realized it after 3 minutes of hanging out with the right one.
then felt relieved when I got stood up by the same boy 2 years in a row.
as far as the right one, I kissed him on the cheek, made him a valentine, and you know, I still think he has no clue.
but shit, ten months of the same crush and it gets a little, I dunno, fruitless? old? I think at this point it seems wise to give up.
GIVE UP.
I want my heart to break, if it must break, in your jaws...
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feeling emo. I asked out the wrong boy for V-day and realized it after 3 minutes of hanging out with the right one.
then felt relieved when I got stood up by the same boy 2 years in a row.
as far as the right one, I kissed him on the cheek, made him a valentine, and you know, I still think he has no clue.
but shit, ten months of the same crush and it gets a little, I dunno, fruitless? old? I think at this point it seems wise to give up.
GIVE UP.
I want my heart to break, if it must break, in your jaws...
Friday, February 13, 2004
all I wanna do is ride bikes with you...
I have a hangover, & a split open knuckle from slamming my thumb in the Corvette's door, and the roommates are doing pilates in the living room, so I get in the shower for the second time today and curl up fetustyle in the tub and think.
The hot water on my back makes me think about how warm I get when you put your arm around me, and how all I really want is to sit on the couch and watch TV movies with you. And hold your hand.
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I have a hangover, & a split open knuckle from slamming my thumb in the Corvette's door, and the roommates are doing pilates in the living room, so I get in the shower for the second time today and curl up fetustyle in the tub and think.
The hot water on my back makes me think about how warm I get when you put your arm around me, and how all I really want is to sit on the couch and watch TV movies with you. And hold your hand.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
i'd teach you, but i'd hafta charge
happy fathafuckin birfday
baby roommate!!!
oooh we gone party tonight...
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happy fathafuckin birfday
baby roommate!!!
oooh we gone party tonight...
Monday, February 09, 2004
André 3000, I wanna be your bitch
I park behind my apartment, in the gravel lot. The stepping stones are too close together and I have to take annoyingly small steps.
I made wheat gluten pot pies, and tomorrow I will make fake meatballs and spaghetti. And neither of my roommate will take a bite. And i won't care at all.
I'd kill for some chicago stlye pizza right now.
And a date for valentine's day.
And a kiss.
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I park behind my apartment, in the gravel lot. The stepping stones are too close together and I have to take annoyingly small steps.
I made wheat gluten pot pies, and tomorrow I will make fake meatballs and spaghetti. And neither of my roommate will take a bite. And i won't care at all.
I'd kill for some chicago stlye pizza right now.
And a date for valentine's day.
And a kiss.
Sunday, February 08, 2004
oooh, shiny!
MORE COOL SHIT I FOUND WHILE SURFING THE INTERWEB AT HIGH SPEEDS.
oooh damn you caps lock.
50 word fiction!
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MORE COOL SHIT I FOUND WHILE SURFING THE INTERWEB AT HIGH SPEEDS.
oooh damn you caps lock.
50 word fiction!
Saturday, February 07, 2004
dear blogger,
you make me crazy.
I swear to Dog I haven't dicked with my template at all, and yet you keep skewing my font sizes and ignoring my line break tags.
what is it with you, anyway?
you suck.
love,
Sue Beth
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you make me crazy.
I swear to Dog I haven't dicked with my template at all, and yet you keep skewing my font sizes and ignoring my line break tags.
what is it with you, anyway?
you suck.
love,
Sue Beth
Friday, February 06, 2004
strange dreams last night
this is the dream I had, after I woke up to pee, when Tachi came and purred on my pillow.
Our world has a basement. Some stairwells go deeper for certain people, and the ones who can get to the bottoms can sometimes open the door. Through the door is a world that looks like ours, but somehow brighter and with less depth. A house above is a shack below.
Depending on one's abilities, one can perform a certain amount of magic. When you've reached your 'par,' it's back up to the real world you go.
There are people who save their magic up and never have to leave.
I'd never been until Tachi ran away and was photographed Below.
Someone bad is looking for him too, and so I have to fight a man and tie him with his headphones cord. My guide is this world is a hairstylist with Pointy Shoes, above.
I found Tachi and was trying to find a cord to tie to his collar. I misliked the woman who had him in her dwelling. She had stairs that led Deeper Below.
Then I woke up.
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this is the dream I had, after I woke up to pee, when Tachi came and purred on my pillow.
Our world has a basement. Some stairwells go deeper for certain people, and the ones who can get to the bottoms can sometimes open the door. Through the door is a world that looks like ours, but somehow brighter and with less depth. A house above is a shack below.
Depending on one's abilities, one can perform a certain amount of magic. When you've reached your 'par,' it's back up to the real world you go.
There are people who save their magic up and never have to leave.
I'd never been until Tachi ran away and was photographed Below.
Someone bad is looking for him too, and so I have to fight a man and tie him with his headphones cord. My guide is this world is a hairstylist with Pointy Shoes, above.
I found Tachi and was trying to find a cord to tie to his collar. I misliked the woman who had him in her dwelling. She had stairs that led Deeper Below.
Then I woke up.
Thursday, February 05, 2004
cos life down here just moves so slow it seems
i'm obsessed with the idea of Brooklyn.
one day. one day.
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i'm obsessed with the idea of Brooklyn.
one day. one day.
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
fake turkey and bacon sandwiches make my heart beat faster
I cut my finger cleaning and couldn't find any bandaids and now my finger is wrapped in electrical tape. The guy whose house I just cleaned told me I looked sexy with my hair black and my leather jacket and short skirt.
So then tip me already, buddy.
There is a noise outside my window, just audible over the cars that stop and start at the fourway stop, that sounds likes whales calling to each other deep down in the February ocean.
I miss you, Sarah.
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I cut my finger cleaning and couldn't find any bandaids and now my finger is wrapped in electrical tape. The guy whose house I just cleaned told me I looked sexy with my hair black and my leather jacket and short skirt.
So then tip me already, buddy.
There is a noise outside my window, just audible over the cars that stop and start at the fourway stop, that sounds likes whales calling to each other deep down in the February ocean.
I miss you, Sarah.
for you memphis readers
You are cordially invited to attend:
The Fogelman Executive Conference Center Presents an Opening Reception of
Paintings by Jeniffer Church & Photography by Eric R. Hinson
Friday, February 6 , 6 - 8 pm
Music by University of Memphis graduate student, Javier Padial
Fogelman Executive Conference Center Galleries, University of Memphis
330 Innovation Dr. (off Central Avenue across from the new Wilson Holiday Inn), Memphis TN 38152
For directions: http://www.mapquest.com/maps/map.adp?email=1&mapdat
Phone: 901.678.5410
Exhibit runs until May 22, 2004
You can view more work by the artists at:
www.jenchurch.com and www.ericrhinson.com
See you there!
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You are cordially invited to attend:
The Fogelman Executive Conference Center Presents an Opening Reception of
Paintings by Jeniffer Church & Photography by Eric R. Hinson
Friday, February 6 , 6 - 8 pm
Music by University of Memphis graduate student, Javier Padial
Fogelman Executive Conference Center Galleries, University of Memphis
330 Innovation Dr. (off Central Avenue across from the new Wilson Holiday Inn), Memphis TN 38152
For directions: http://www.mapquest.com/maps/map.adp?email=1&mapdat
Phone: 901.678.5410
Exhibit runs until May 22, 2004
You can view more work by the artists at:
www.jenchurch.com and www.ericrhinson.com
See you there!
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
sue and the terrible horrible no good very bad day
0710 hrs: Tachi wakes me up making painful and sharp biscuits on my arms and face, demanding to be petted. get up to pee and fall back asleep to panicked dreams of cleaning labyrinthine house for no money.
0800: Wake up for real. Am so nauseated that I only eat a salad instead of my normal early morning 1000 calories.
0830: write down address of first housekeeping assignment. neglect to look closely at street name.
0845: drive up and down lombardy cursing myself for leaving cell phone at home.
0900: call Boss from payphone. no answer. swear loudly.
0905: return home, check email, discover I have written down the wrong street name. swear very loud, get back into car and drive 55 mph down walnut grove to real street.
0935: arrive at the house on NORMANDY and unload cleaning supplies and vacuum, mumuring reassuring words to very mean looking three legged dog who batters himself against the fence barking at me. retrieve key from under mat.
0940: open door. drop key on floor and clap hands to ears in panic as Very Fucking Loud Alarm goes off. lock myself out of house.
0942: sit down on cold cement porch and sob.
0945: call Boss for 8th time in 30 minutes and hold phone up to siren instead of leaving voicemail.
0947: call Boss's assistant who calls house's owner for alarm code. still locked out.
0950: neighbor across the street gives me her spare key, the police arrive and camp out for an hour, Boss's assistant calls back with alarm code.
0958: re-enter house, disarm alarm. begin to walk around the house, which is filthy.
0959: cry some more.
1002: begin camping out in master bathroom shower with toothbrush and borax. scrub green mossy shit out of grout. curse residents of the house.
1015: Boss finally calls back. beg for mercy and tell her there is no way I will get done in 4 hours.
1030: miraculously, Boss arrive to help clean.
1045: emerge from disgusting shower, which is only halfassed clean.
1100: declare bathroom fucking good enough and approach teenage boy's bathroom.
1101: gag while simultaneously shrieking, fucking son of a bitch i fucking hate you.
1105: borrow spoon from bathroom to scrape soap scum out of tub.
1108: retch while removing bloody scummy dental floss wads from their slimy corner in the shower.
1125: begin to scrub approximately 10 years of cooking grease offf stove with toothbrush and Citra-solv. cry, retch, and curse my mother for having me.
etc etc until
1218: exit vile cursed house, which is nowhere near clean. tell Boss I would rather be sodomized by a bull elephant on viagra than ever come back.
good times.
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0710 hrs: Tachi wakes me up making painful and sharp biscuits on my arms and face, demanding to be petted. get up to pee and fall back asleep to panicked dreams of cleaning labyrinthine house for no money.
0800: Wake up for real. Am so nauseated that I only eat a salad instead of my normal early morning 1000 calories.
0830: write down address of first housekeeping assignment. neglect to look closely at street name.
0845: drive up and down lombardy cursing myself for leaving cell phone at home.
0900: call Boss from payphone. no answer. swear loudly.
0905: return home, check email, discover I have written down the wrong street name. swear very loud, get back into car and drive 55 mph down walnut grove to real street.
0935: arrive at the house on NORMANDY and unload cleaning supplies and vacuum, mumuring reassuring words to very mean looking three legged dog who batters himself against the fence barking at me. retrieve key from under mat.
0940: open door. drop key on floor and clap hands to ears in panic as Very Fucking Loud Alarm goes off. lock myself out of house.
0942: sit down on cold cement porch and sob.
0945: call Boss for 8th time in 30 minutes and hold phone up to siren instead of leaving voicemail.
0947: call Boss's assistant who calls house's owner for alarm code. still locked out.
0950: neighbor across the street gives me her spare key, the police arrive and camp out for an hour, Boss's assistant calls back with alarm code.
0958: re-enter house, disarm alarm. begin to walk around the house, which is filthy.
0959: cry some more.
1002: begin camping out in master bathroom shower with toothbrush and borax. scrub green mossy shit out of grout. curse residents of the house.
1015: Boss finally calls back. beg for mercy and tell her there is no way I will get done in 4 hours.
1030: miraculously, Boss arrive to help clean.
1045: emerge from disgusting shower, which is only halfassed clean.
1100: declare bathroom fucking good enough and approach teenage boy's bathroom.
1101: gag while simultaneously shrieking, fucking son of a bitch i fucking hate you.
1105: borrow spoon from bathroom to scrape soap scum out of tub.
1108: retch while removing bloody scummy dental floss wads from their slimy corner in the shower.
1125: begin to scrub approximately 10 years of cooking grease offf stove with toothbrush and Citra-solv. cry, retch, and curse my mother for having me.
etc etc until
1218: exit vile cursed house, which is nowhere near clean. tell Boss I would rather be sodomized by a bull elephant on viagra than ever come back.
good times.
book worms in my head
I've been reading like mad since I paid my liberry fines. Since Friday:
the fortress of solitude jonathan lethem
war of the flowers tad williams
the hottest state ethan hawke
diary chuck palahnuik
rape: a love story joyce carol oates
all of them were excellent except the palahnuik, who needs to find a new way to write or stop writing fight club over and over.
off to clean for the rich today.
holla.
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I've been reading like mad since I paid my liberry fines. Since Friday:
the fortress of solitude jonathan lethem
war of the flowers tad williams
the hottest state ethan hawke
diary chuck palahnuik
rape: a love story joyce carol oates
all of them were excellent except the palahnuik, who needs to find a new way to write or stop writing fight club over and over.
off to clean for the rich today.
holla.
Sunday, February 01, 2004
crippling insomnia
she's got it bad. starting to lose feeling in her hands and sometimes can't remember where she is or was.
makes me sleepy just thinking about it.
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she's got it bad. starting to lose feeling in her hands and sometimes can't remember where she is or was.
makes me sleepy just thinking about it.
