I’m only writing this because I think I have to, not because I want to. I mean, I want to stop seeing the last post at the top of this blog, but I don’t want to write. I don’t want to do much of anything. Everything- and I do mean everything- is kind of boring, sort of frustrating, and insanely tedious… Maybe I’ll just hibernate all winter, hiding from the swine flu and the holiday spirit and all the irritating fucking things I have to do that I really rather not.

The other day Jason and I were hanging out in the living room, playing on our different laptops. Absently, he picked up the silly putty I always keep on my coffee table and constructed a small phallus. Not to be outdone in turning childrens’ playthings into sculptures of genitals, I squashed the putty penis and constructed (an uncannily accurate) vagina. I narrated while I worked in my best Bob Ross accent about the ‘happy little clitoral hoods’ and ‘peacefully lapping labias’. Jason asked me if I needed him to Google a picture for me to work from.

I told him no, my mirror was working fine.

Then I watched him struggle not to look up from his screen.

I wasn’t, actually working from a mirror. I just want to go on record now, lest you confuse my inappropriate sense of humor for my inappropriate behavior. Still, my little silly putty vagina was, as I said, remarkably accurate and life-like, even if was attached to the coffee table. I wish you could have seen it. Alas, taking pictures (let alone posting them) would surely have committed some kind of felony.

In any case, I threw a surprise party for Meghan this weekend. I invited aunt carol and kids, who spent a large portion of the evening playing with silly putty, making fake noses and masks… yep. They had the silly putty all over their faces.

And that, my friends, is a whole new level of messed up.

Eli commented, with some amusement, how often I insist on doing things the hard way… he’s probably right. But it’s as much humility as it is vanity, I swear: yes, I want to be fucking fantastic and not because I’ve mastered the small things but because I attempted the large, but knowing that, I still want to strive for the simple (even if I usually end up somewhere near a circus tent).

(aren’t they adorable? I love the giggle at the end of the scene, so feminine. The one kinda reminds me of Soko…)

There’s a weird wind in the weather today turning everything solid to spun sugar and shit. It’s a little too salty, a little too loud, a little too suggestive… But it’s the perfect amount of sinister. Because Sinister, my friends, always arrives with a smile and leaves with a pocket full of coin and you feeling used but not too sorry.

I’ve seen this episode before, but I’m tired and my eyes hurt and if I write one more sentence I later delete it just might kill me. It’s almost better that I know all the words and the next scene and the next time the laugh track would have played if these shows had been filmed a decade earlier, it’s easier to pretend I enjoy this recycled crap if I don’t have to concentrate.
the “F” key flew off the keyboard yesterday. I thought I could deal with it, but it’s driving me fucking crazy- it makes cursing so much more difficult than it needs to be.  If the dirt on the key pads is any indication, my index fingers normally rest on the j and f… nut now my left index finger pad fiddles with a weird little plastic nipple, depressing it when there is no need to and failing to fully depress it when a rapid-fire thought streaks across my mind and demands its brief time on the screen- it’s like a chipping a tooth.
I’m headed out-of-town this weekend to attend a wedding. It’s supposed to be rainy and cool and the drive is boring as shit, but I’m looking forward to landscapes made of more than words, to watching them blur into one another, field to field, mile by mile, mcdonalds by mcdonalds.