BLOG/REBLOG

we said it once and we're saying it again.

Where the fuck is my reward?

Thursday, September 23, 2004

And while most of the time, I like Rob Brezsny’s work, I take issue with my horoscope for the week:

“I am one of those who never knows the direction of my journey until I have almost arrived,” wrote author Anna Louise Strong. Right about now, Virgo, you could probably speak those same words with sincerity. For months you’ve felt as if an invisible force were shepherding you towards an unseen goal. You’ve trusted the process because it resonated with a gut feeling that kept telling you “YES!” And now, finally, you’re about to come to the end of the quest and collect your reward. Keep in mind, though, that even after you have it, you may not fully understand it for months.

All I can say to that is: take a look at this blog, man. When, in all of those months, have I felt a force? When have I trusted any process, or ever shouted “YES!” and where the fuck is my reward? Is this one of those trick things? Like, when you say I may not fully understand it for months, does that also mean I won’t know how to even recognize it? Like one of those things I will have in my possession for months before I even know it’s there? Because let me tell you, Rob. I am not a patient girl. I don’t have time for that shit. I want instant gratification because I’ve got enough in my life that’s about delay.

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The Widow’s Son Takes the Red Line

Thursday, May 27, 2004

Eyewitnessed my first evidence of the Masonic conspiracy this morning. Waiting in line to get my T token, the guy in front of me greeted the collector with “Two please, Brother Hiram.” I noticed that the T collector was wearing a Masonic symbol around his neck. I couldn’t hear what the reply was except for the part where “Brother Hiram” told the guy (who he might have addressed as “Buzz” though that seems a distinctly unMasonic name) to go through the special turnstile.

Neither of them fit my mental image of a Mason. “Buzz” was wearing a big Celtics shirt and looked like a construction worker, while the T worker was wearing a T uniform (except of course for the symbol).

[latin for “things change”]

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

But I won’t miss the prices. And I really won’t miss the way every square inch of this place is packed with memories of people, times, problems, etc. Some of the memories are good – most of them, really – but I’m tired of walking past a particular restaurant and remembering that I didn’t go in for a year because I wanted to be able to say to so-and-so “I’ve never been in here before” when she came to visit me. This is a memory of an obsession, and it’s tired now.

And I’m looking forward to going somewhere cleaner, quieter, cheaper, friendlier. Looking forward to meeting new people and getting on with my life. It took me a long time to realize that the things I’ve done in the last year – poems I’ve written, CARVE, connections and friendships I’ve made – are not a function of the city but rather of me. Having realized this I’m looking forward to seeing what I can do in someplace new. Was it Aaron Cometbus who said “there’s no point in going somewhere if you know what you’re going to find when you get there?” Or was it me, years ago, under Cometbus’ influence? Either way, this is a time that’s getting less terrifying and more exciting the closer it gets.

Some degree of ass, I’m sure

Tuesday, November 25, 2003

From an email from my boss:

“The other incident that happened last week was a complaint from a student who was certain that others were having sex (too loudly) in one of our joint study rooms. When we went up to check it out, it was quiet but whoever was inside wouldn’t answer the door.”

More ass! More ass!

Monday, February 14, 2005

The party for Frieda is at a restaurant and inside, we find Grandmother who looks five years younger than she did at Grandfather’s funeral in August.  She’s not so gaunt, she looks happy and healthy.  She is with the Birthday Girl — Frieda is 100…Everyone cheers.  We have lunch, a champagne toast where everyone shouts “L’chaim” and I feel like I’m in Fiddler on the Roof and The Sopranos all at once.  We have birthday cake.  We take lots of pictures.  Mother goes to say good bye, bending over to talk to Frieda in her wheel chair. Grandmother leans over and hisses to Father, “Take a picture of her ass.”

The Impact Zone (Ray Maloney)

Thursday, July 10, 2003

“I had my board with me but there wasn’t much surf, so I sat by them [mom and stepfather] on my towel and looked at all the girls in their bikinis and thought about how I was going to have to screw a girl pretty soon.”

Reservation Poems

Monday, August 25, 2003

Here’s CoCo, my brother John’s dog
She got crippled and had to
be shot.
She was cute
(by Paul Voorhees)

This was my cat, He was about 2 months old.
Right after this picture was taken,
my dad accidently ran over him

This is our T.V.
We used to get only one channel
Now, we get three
(both poems by Brian Jund)

(Poems from Twamobe Bonee-Na, a book of poems and photographs by the fifth grade class at Schurz Elementary School)