e.’s blog

What, to you, is the first sign of spring? Have you seen it yet?
Submitted by Spy.

I lose my shit.
It's true.
I do very strange things in the spring. I get restless. I make life-altering decisions without thinking twice. I run headlong into chaos while a muffled little voice inside screams, "Halt!"
All the little neural connections that seem to fire just fine most of the rest of the year start going haywire, and I spend a couple of months feeling all buzzy and wired.
I hate it, and I love it. And every year, it's an unpleasant surprise to find I am here, yet again.
And, yes, I am here.

What's one of your favorite quotes? 
Submitted by Georgie-boy. 

"Rule No. 372: Never recommend books to morticians."
Sister Katie, January 2007

I believe she'd suggested this gem to our small-town undertaker:

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

Mary Roach

What's your musical horoscope?  (Put your player on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs that come up.)
Inspired by Stephanie.  

OK. So I'm just going to start doing this every day. I won't post it, of course, but ... This is good. I like this.
This morning:

Tides of the Moon, Mercury Rev
The Shape I'm In, The Band
Delta Sun Bottleneck Stomp, Mercury Rev
Sad Professor, R.E.M.
Out of Egypt, Into The Great Laugh Of Mankind, And I Shake The Dirt From My Sandals As I Run, Sufjan Stevens
Perfect Disguise, Modest Mouse
Allegro From Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, Bach (From one of Henry's records)
The Wind, Cat Stevens
The Orchids, Califone
Edit, Regina Spektor
Sing Me Spanish Techno, The New Pornographers (Yeah, that's 11. But I like.)

What's your musical horoscope?  (Put your player on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs that come up.)
Inspired by Stephanie.  

What are five books that changed your life? 
Inspired by Ms. Genevieve.

So this is pretty random ... They all change my life. Every book I read is my life, for those few moments or hours I spend reading it.

But here goes ..

Where the Red Fern Grows

My parents had just divorced, and I was one sad little girl. I finished the book, curled up in my Dad's big old chair, and sobbed, for everything.
Dad was so worried when he saw me there.
And, between hiccups, I managed to get it out that the dog had died. That it was just a book, and the dog had died.
Somehow, we both ended up laughing.
And that's one of the many reasons my Dad is the best.

Cemetery Nights

If she'd known some of what is in this book, Maman never would have given it to me. 
A decade and a half later, I still get chills reading these poems.

The Catcher in the Rye

I wore out my first copy of The Catcher in the Rye, a Christmas gift from Aunt Sue in 1987 or 1988. I'm on No. 3. I read it every year, and once in a while I dig out the little stack of tapes Sister Katie made for me when she was about 13 and read the whole thing aloud, just for me.
I grew up with Holden Caulfield, and my feelings for him have changed from awestruck little girl in love with an older boy to sympathetic co-conspirator to concerned big sister to random older woman down the street who'd love to give this poor boy a hug and a cup of cocoa.
I can't wait to teach it someday.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values

I include this one because I hate it.
Actually, that's not entirely true. I've read and enjoyed the first 100 pages or so at least a dozen times. And I never got any further. And I finally gave up. For the first time in my life, I concluded that it was OK not to finish a book. ... An important realization, and a good lesson to apply to other areas of my life. Sometimes, you just gotta give it up.
 

Charlie Parker Played Be Bop (Orchard Paperbacks)

red

There are few benefits to having a lame-ass liver.
But when you have a lame-ass liver, you by necessity become a teetotaler, and teetotaling works for me. Always has.
When I can't drink to excess, I can't -- for example -- crawl into the lap of a certain young Republican operative, throw my arms around his neck and demand, "So! Did you get laid yet?" And I can't -- for example -- get the far-more-information-than-I-really-wanted response, "No, but ..."
I also can't -- for example -- get sloppy drunk and start hollering at people in pidgin Italian.
And I can't -- for example -- lose things in a ridiculous stupor. Like -- for example -- there are maybe three people who know what happened to a certain article of red clothing I once owned, and I'm not one of them.
It is good to have these can'ts.
And then there are the cans.
I can say no to drunken parties by simply claiming an inability to participate. And I really hate drunken parties.
I can be rendered unfit well before I hit any legal definition of incapacitation. And sometimes this fact can be pretty damned amusing.
I can get a nice little buzz on and never have to worry about a hangover. And, after I've amused myself for an evening, it's awfully nice to know I will wake up the next morning feeling fully human.
And I figure, since I don't drink much, I can -- must, in fact -- make it count and drink well. Like this little French number I discovered tonight. Heavy, warm and just a little bit dirty. One glass, sipped slow. With dark chocolate and a hot bath, just the way I like it.
So. A toast.
To my lame-ass liver.

Audio: What song do you listen to when you are sad?
Submitted by Nat.

Dark Center Of The Universe

If you were told you could relive a moment in your life, which would you choose?
Submitted by Slight Diffusion.

If I could do a single thing over and over and over and over ... I would give birth to H. every day.
And if I could do one thing differently? I could describe in detail how I would change that one tiny moment, with its one monumental error, but I won't. Because without it, there would be no giving birth to H.

H-man

I have fallen in love again.
This time, with a peanut butter cookie. (You're shocked, aren't you? ... No, you're not.) These cookies are big and greasy and dense, slightly crunchy around the edges, and slightly squishy in the middle. They sell them at the market on campus (where I also order a short triple americano with lots of room, because coffee without lipids is just bitter black water, and lipids without strong coffee is just lipids without strong coffee).
And I no longer require regular meals or sex.