i went outside for half an hour
review: 2/5 how do people do this or like it!! so gross
It was my birthday and early in the morning, sometime when I was out or sleeping I guess because I didn’t pick up the phone or notice it ringing, my pal J. and her kid called and sang happy birthday to my phone machine with nice harmonizing. Then a little later in the morning, at a time when I was near the phone and picked it up, my pal B. called (J. calls me all the time but B. does rarely so I was surprised) and when I picked up he said nothing by way of greeting but just went right in and sang me happy birthday. He is a longtime singer and a ham, it was very enjoyable. When he was done I said oh that was so nice, I wish I hadn’t picked up the phone because then I’d have that recorded. And he said well, next year don’t pick up!
Next year don’t pick up. A sense of time. A future. Also that night, W. and K. called me from sunny faraway and sang me happy birthday, and that was right nice too.
In the U.S., where ninety-six percent of the reported perpetrators of rape are white, eighty percent of the men in prison for rape are black.
So if we’re queer, are we expected to change our pics too? Let our faces be erased by some bullshit HRC equality image? People are changing their photos to this and that and I am thinking, isn’t my face, my breathing, my existence, a stand against the HRC and marriage and assimilation and homonormativity?
I am babysitting and I am drinking the parents’ leftover coffee from this morning, which is great — I was too cheap to go out and buy cream so I made no coffee of my own this morning — but also my womb aches, which is gross. I mean it’s a few clicks short of truly aching, more like it’s got its blinkers on and it would like me to know that it could roll over into actual pain whenever it feels like it, but so far it’s making its presence known with that almost-pain so I can feel exactly where and how large it is inside my body, and for some reason I find this deeply gross. Sisters of the moon, etc. — I am pretty bad at getting woo over this thing where my body tears down the wallpaper and puts up new wallpaper from time to time. It creeps me out.
This coffee is good, though; I’ll take that. This kid I am hanging out with is pretty cool; she is quietly typing out class notes behind me and I am at the dining room table, trying to read this Lem book and not getting very far. I went to an early meeting this morning and then came back to the apartment and watched United States of Tara for a while and then I took a long-ass bath. All of which sounds good, except I was also restless and hungry but sluggish and unwilling to go down the block and spend money on groceries, so it felt avoidant and cop-outty and as always I told myself I should be doing more with my day. I am realizing lately that I often feel ashamed of my inactivity, and that self-shaming is both unfun and boring. Go do some action, or shut up and accept that I don’t feel like doing anything.
The child is done with homeworks. Ye gods what funs await us?
The other night I was looking up all kindsa shite about people I know and might know and keep hearing about. I have mostly lost interest by now, but here, posterity, here ya go.
- David Bowie in Brecht’s “Baal,” part 2/3
- How to make your own ringtones for an iPhone [unrelated, failed venture]
What is is called when you are kind of stalkery but not in an insidious way and it’s probably bad to use that word because stalking is an actual harmful thing that is not the same as me googling people I know and reading about them in order to better color in my picture of their lives. What is that thing, that is what this is. It is kinda weird.