Where I been?

Ah, boys and girls. I have a tale to tell.

Jury duty.

Two glorious days spent at the Superior court of Seattle. Waiting to be rejected. Hoping for said rejection. Because I didn't want to be on the sexual predator case for 4 weeks. And then I didn't want to be on the bookshop shoplifter case for a week. And then I just wanted to go home. And work...because it was all still there in the background.

I buried myself in books. Because I just didn't have the energy to do my usual pan and scan of the crowd. Too many of them. Good cross section, though. Wing dingers mixed in with solid professional types.

Still. I would come home and work for several hours. And it has kind of sapped me. That's all really.

So it's also Halloween. And I have given up, officially. Just can't muster the energy to care. We bought candy. What more do you want? I'll do my best not to invoke the dead at midnight, and call it good if they don't answer in the morning. We'll let them rest. Love them, leave them alone. At least for tonight.

Work is full of Halloween goodness- one of the co-workers is heartily obsessed. Good for her, I say. I was supposed to help, but was unavoidably detained by the state of Washington. The bastards. I had better things to do. Like hang cobwebs. Should've put that on my affidavit. If I tried really hard, I could've been a convincing wing nut. There was one memorable one who either was stupendously brilliant, or really, really crazy. And I loved him for it. Made for some entertaining moments. I'll explain more later- too busy complaining right now. Gotta go to work. And enjoy Halloween by osmosis.

And outside right now- fog. How fitting. And how unusual.

Frantic activity has finally halted.

We had tickets to MUM last night. So went to the concert, which didn't end until close to 2:00. All I can say about the timing, is that when the doors open at 8:00, it's kind of bullshit to wait until 12:00 to start playing. That's all about that.

The music? Well, when I finally stopped being pissy about standing around for 4 hours, it was fun. Silly Icelandic kids! They made me happy.

And now I rest. Because tomorrow I have jury duty. I have to convince them that I'm just too batshit/disgruntled/unhappy about the whole thing to be chosen.

Theme this week- Authors.

Last night it was David Sedaris. And he was lovely. Very different from the earlier reading- more of a raconteur. More of a personality at play. More about him than about much else. But still, lovely.

Larger venue, too- not a basement at a bookstore. No smell of damp. No really crazy people asking questions. They were no doubt in attendance, but they kept their traps shut.

Then the $7 glass of wine gave me a headache. And I went to bed.

Been playing this non-stop

Driving my kitties crazy. They keep looking for the source of the noises.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z3U0udLH974

Nothing quite like watching a bank of fog rolling into my neighborhood. It's like living inside a pearl. Muted and unearthly. Something I loved as a child- it happened so infrequently, I can remember each incident clearly.

When the Finns gush with happiness, you know that all is right in the world.

When the Saints go marching in, something is up.

When the cats are in the cradle and there's a silver spoon around, the song is going to depress you.

If wishes were, indeed, horses then little girls everywhere would have ponies in the common areas of the condos.

If fools were to rush in, at this moment, it probably wouldn't make a damned bit of difference.

And if Johnny can't read, at least he can probably recite song lyrics in a Homeric fashion.

Once again, I can only say that I am in awe of people who pull off the parent act. We had toddlers in the house this weekend. Two of them. Love them. They are noisy. Love them. They are busy. Love them. Glad they went home.

Last night went to a reading by Ursula LeGuin. With friends. It was good. But the chair made my back hurt and I didn't feel like waiting in line for a signed copy of the book so I took off.

And had a magnificent drive home. No traffic. The push of the accelerator under my foot. The lights of the city at night. The buildings towering over the Interstate. The lake with all of the expensive houses on the shoreline. REM singing about ending the world, and being just fine. If you ever doubt, by the way, that they are one of the best bands ever, listen to the drum line of Finest Worksong. And then we'll talk. Or the bass beat to basically any of their songs.

Got home, went to bed. Now it's time to face music again. And so it goes.

Yesterday was a clusterfuck.

That's the only way to describe the numerous trainwrecks that kept happening. And luckily, I kept on top of them, and was only slightly behind. Slightly. And that didn't matter, because the powers that be were feeling lenient. And understanding. Which matters, and I am somewhat grateful. Only somewhat.

But overall, I am establishing a reputation for competence. Which is shocking in a way, if you saw me at my finest. But it is more work than smoke and mirrors, even though they are certainly involved.

Best thing witnessed- the woman at the Kinko's where I got copies made- stapling my presentations....glacially....slowly....staple.....stack....grasp new packet....slowly line up...staple...stack...
It was all I had in me not to vault the counter and take the stapler away and take over. But I called the Boy and whined a bit. So it was all better. And I only felt marginally put-upon for a while.

But seriously- who takes 15 minutes to staple 50 copies? Seriously! I still had to rip them all apart and re-do a couple of pages, but still.

And now, the wind blows, we have children visiting the house, the cats are scared and intrigued all at once, and there is organic milk in my refrigerator.

The hardest thing to stomach is having to ask. Never been good at going hat in hand to anyone.

Been turned down too often before. Makes for bitterness. And the remembered rejection. Especially when the request was not only reasonable, but just.

Then the learning is that justice really plays no part in the world at large. Only certain rooms. With certain people. Otherwise it's a free-for-all.

And narcissism trumps justice every time.

From all angles.

And then there's the follow-through. Gotta complain for a moment about that. The yes answer with the tepid follow-through. Not good for anyone's game. Gotta commit. Gotta enact. Gotta basically act. Or it's the same as saying no.

And now I am tired of contemplating and speaking in riddles. Basically, if you haven't figured it out yet, I am just tired period. A tired period.

Today it ends. A big thing and a small one.

They are starting demolition (and perhaps finishing- don't know how long it will take) on the house that my Grandparents owned. Where I had many of the happiest time growing up. Today. I'm not sure how to take it. I have been in a state of sadness about the whole thing for a very long time. But now, not so much. I know from experience and from talking to my Dad that it's in very bad shape. Knew that. But that doesn't really change things internally.

I sure as hell don't know what it will be like to drive by that corner and not see the place. It's on one of the busiest corners in the home town (very valuable and up till today wasted real estate), and they are doing some very creative and positive changes. But it will be different. And different isn't always easy.

When I was about 8 or 9 they tore down the Motel that the Grandparents ran. That was extremely hard at the time. I still reel away from how it felt, and really don't want to dive too deeply into that place today. (I do still have to go to work). It is all such a morass. Losing them wrapped up in losing the place wrapped up in loss of many other things that occurred during that time period. All deeply felt, and all regrettable. And none of it under my control at the time- which adds to the whole thing- nothing worse than the frustration and helplessness of being a child. And watching things you care about disintegrate without any power to help/change/alter the situation.

And there you have it. Nothing creative. No fun with words. Just perplexing ambiguity, and an overall sense of crankiness. Bet you are all glad that you aren't The Boy. (who today we shall dub, The Poor Boy - I crack myself up...)I wish I could call in, go back to bed and just ignore life for the day. But that's just not gonna happen. And sooner or later I will stop feeling sorry for myself. I promise. Because it is one of those things I really do hate.

I am trying to read the writing on my bones. There are words etched there. They change over time. I get glimpses.

Sideways and through the fog.

Some days the words are the key to happiness. Some days not.

Yesterday they led me astray. And into temptation. But then some of the most hidden ones emerged and brought me home again safe.

Did I say that it was a very foggy day? And a very sideways one at that.

Some days the words ache and cause disillusionment to creep in. Some days not.

And through it all I am under the constant and compelling illusion that I control the words. When in reality the bones control me. As does the blood. But that is a tale for another day. Because what is written in the blood is more than words and less than soul.

Just remember, don't look directly at it- always sideways. Always sideways. And hope for the sanctity of fog.

Fox stands behind my right ear. He smells bad. Combination of rotted meat, dirty fur, and strangely enough dried, crumbled dead leaves. (on the dirty ground)

He nudges me with his wet nose from time to time when he wants me to pay particular attention to something. It's kind of annoying, really.

He whispers to me about things. Never very good advice- more visceral than that. More like the devil on one shoulder. Without the benefit of an angel on the other.

Fox has an empty stare and biting teeth.

Fox is not my friend.

Fox is not my enemy.

Fox just is.

Never could resist putting my fingers in the flame. All the warnings in the world didn't stop me. Never.

When I was 3 I touched the hot element in the oven. It was orange. It was pretty. I remember. Didn't stop me.

When I was older I ran into lit cigarettes with some frequency- it didn't help that I was always moving, and most of the adults in my life smoked. I remember. It didn't stop me.

When I was older still, I stared into kilns as they blew gas flame into the night. Glowing and full of destructive and constructive power. I listened to them roar. They radiated heat in the desert air. I remember. It didn't stop me.

And then there is the metaphorical fires. Many, many of them. Still with them. Still in me. Just keep looking at those flames, and wondering if this time I will get burned. Or if this time I will get away with it, unscathed, and with a belly full of adrenaline. I remember. It hasn't stopped me.

Between the devil and the deep blue sea

And remember, I don't swim for shit.

So. The devil it is.

Because the Leviathan lives in all that water, and there is some truly scary hoodoo, that one.

Some call it the Krakken. (which spellcheck wants to turn into 'overtaken' - you figure that one out).

And others just use these things to scare the crap out of children at night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite. Other things that are scary. Bugs. at night. in bed. biting.

(did you hear that there are bedbugs in hotels now? Viva the loss of DDT!)

And then there is the devil. All devilish and such. I think that my cat channels the devil. But that's a story for another day. Because it isn't really scary. Silly, yes. Scary, no.

Unless you are afraid of cats.

But the choices faced are equally difficult and equally perilous. Like the quests of yore, chronicled by Mallory, et. al. Only no Lancelot O' Pasta. (name of restaurant at the Excalibur casino in Vegas) And no lady lurking in lakes throwing weapons. (some damp tart...)

Devils and deep blue seas...

Exorcisms and submersibles.

Been distracted

Lots of bright shiny things in my path- making me stop and look.

Not that it really matters, but the attention span of my cat. For those in the know, Buddy the cat. Which means something significant.

The office move is settling down. And that is a welcome relief. It was scary, hectic, ugly and stressful. But we have a kick-ass view now, and I am no longer in a dank inner corridor. I don't have an office anymore, but can live with that in exchange with light.

The work out schedule is increased. And that's probably part of the distraction theme of my life right now. Makes me jittery. All of this energy. Popping around under my skin, without the proper focus. I'm working on that.

Other stuff intervening, just can't discuss fully now- just suffice it to say, lots happening in my head. Not anything important, just lots happening in my head.

Bought the Boy an X box yesterday. Either daft, or really nice of me. I suspect, however, that he is in love. Will get the parts that he needs to take it online today, as that was the whole point of this exercise. Online gaming. What will they think of next? Metric allen wrenches? Oh. They have those.

Oh....shiny....gotta go....

We're dropping like flies around here. Not many of my old blog friends around and working it with any frequency.

And I see this internally, too. Just not much to say. Other things taking me away from my need to ramble on...gotta live the life, no? But that said, also lots on the work front to do, and a finite stash of energy.

Then there's the diminishing ability to sit still long enough to think about things to write. Just too damned much energy. And that is probably a good thing. But it is also kind of scary. I can't sit through a movie any more. Just need to keep moving. Need to do stuff. Need of all things, to go to the gym. And that is a very different reality.

Discussion with the trainer the other night focused on a big reality check. That the whole fitness thing needs to continue. Not just past where I lose the weight (and yes, it's still happening), but beyond. Forever. And that is sobering. I don't like to feel locked into something. But don't see this as full of choices. Not anymore.

Then there was the sobering reality of the dentist. Seems that my newly found fondness for sugary coffee (developed since working at the Empire) has caused me to get the first small cavities since high school. Fuckety fuck fuck. So unsweetened milky coffee for me from now on. And less joy in the world.

At least there is the drink. Until someone decides that it is killing me in some way, or I get trotted off to treatment. Either way, I can have a little joy. And a little solace. And a little peace. And a short break from all of this blasted activity.

Now for the gym...

Is it me, or does Courtney Love look like a big bobble-head doll? Too much emaciation.

Things I have seen recently:

At the post office, in line for a long time, because some tool has basically taken up occupancy at the self-serve kiosk, the man in front of me has the darkest skin I've ever seen close up. The pores are so small that the back of his neck has the texture of muslin. It was really lovely. I wanted to touch. But I didn't- because then I would be a crazy lady.

In Fremont, while trying to skirt an enormous crowd during the Red Bull Soapbox Derby, we happened upon a series of hidden stairways through the trees. They were mossy, old, and appeared surprisingly remote. The tree cover was thicker and filtered out the rain. Only letting in a mist. I wished at the time that we weren't in a hurry. I wanted to stop for a while.

At the supermarket, walking through the parking lot towards the door, with filtered sun, there was suddenly a blast of light through the clouds, and the flowers were illuminated in their buckets. The reds positively glowed with an unearthly intensity. There is no way to bring that home.

That's all I want to deal with for now. Because keeping me in a chair lately has been difficult. Spilling over with energy for some reason. Keeps me from sleeping well. Keeps me from sitting in front of the tv (probably a good thing), and keeps me from spending long hours online.