It’s Still Too Soon To Tell This Story
Driving home tonight, I thought about Mardi Gras in Austin, and how it’s been a while since I’ve celebrated Fat Tuesday. In the South, there are days leading up to it with anticipation — the food, the beads, the planned parties. There was a time when New Orleans made it illegal to go topless (is that still the case?). But Austin, in its wonderful weirdness, legally allows people to roam shirtless.
So.
Mardi Gras, 2000, was a particularly difficult month for me. I wrote very little about the bad things that were happening, but basically I went to Aspen, got back and my world, as I knew it, changed. It caused me to do things I wouldn’t normally do, like impulsively buy concert tickets for a show on the other side of the country, decide it was time to move to Los Angeles, or get drunk at Mardi Gras and party on a roof.
rufus–CHUCK.
This morning, in the shower, where I get a lot of important thinking done, I thought to myself: “Well, if James the cop knows Chuck and Rufus, I’m surprised he didn’t say anything to Gwendolyn when they were in the back of Parjay’s together, and spotted Sylvester enter with Cathy. Unless her crusty Mary wig is really that good and he didn’t recognize her, or if, in fact, he only knows Chuck and Rufus as a couple, and didn’t know that Rufus was married.”
And then I immediately checked myself into a psych ward, which is where I live now.
updating without a story, just facts
This is an entry purely because you have been emailing frequently (and wonderfully, thank you) to inquire about Taylor and other things that have been going on.
Taylor is sacked out next to me looking quite happy. We won’t test him again for another month — the vet wants to see if the DM special diet fixes him, which apparently can reverse the effects of diabetes and make him completely better. All the cats like to eat the DM, so we give the other two tiny bits. Never before has it been so clear that Taylor is the alpha cat than watching the way the other two cats let Taylor browse each bowl, eating whatever his little heart wants.
Caitlin Cary and Thad Cockrell: Begonias
Song: “Please Break My Heart“
So AB put some alt country on my iPod, and I didn’t hate it.
I Guess That’s How The Kids Are Talking These Days.
“The first rule is, you can’t cut a single word,” Heilbron says of the 42-minute sordid suite, which he decided to stage after receiving a DVD copy last Christmas. “I knew I had to learn it, I knew I had to make it better,” he says with that particularly modern mix of sarcasm and sincerity.
A little Brently, pimping the show, up in here.
regulating
I don’t think I can accurately describe how much cat puke I just picked up.
It’s one in the morning. I’m currently staring at Taylor, watching him drink water, waiting to make sure he’s not about to go into some kind of seizure.
At my last job there were many new parents, the kind who often spent from three in the morning until six in the morning awake with their babies. There was absolutely no sympathy for a girl like me — the one who didn’t get home until midnight because she was rehearsing a comedy show, woke up because of cats puking at five and then wrote a few pages of her novel before we had to be on the set. My life is nothing but easy living, as far as they were concerned.
I’m thinking of those guys tonight because I’m bone tired, but I’m afraid if I fall asleep my cat will die and it will be all my fault because I knew he wasn’t feeling well.
We can’t seem to get his glucose regulated, to the point where the vet is currently “doing some research” to figure out what to do to keep us from having to give Taylor insulin three times a day. I’m not sure how the hell we’d be able to administer insulin shots three times a day unless I am somehow able to convince my animal-adverse co-worker into having an office cat.
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
I had my first cup of coffee since January 7th today. Soon I’m going to be shooting cups of it between my toes. Because I’m not sure you’ve read this in the trades, but caffeine is addictive!
Oh, how I missed it. I didn’t even think I did, because after a few headache-y days (more likely brought on by the fact that I was eating, at the time — wait, what’s that one food? Oh yeah — NOTHING) when I stopped drinking it, my energy level returned to normal and I didn’t feel like I was going to kill anybody more than the usual people I always want to kill. But as I sloooooooowly reassimilate myself to the world of the eating, I have to test the waters and find out if there’s one trigger specifically designed by god to send me screaming to the hospital. So, this week is coffee. Next week, something else. In several months, maybe Cheerios. You wouldn’t expect a sugar-free cereal to be so late on the list, but, alas, the delicious manna that formed all three of my square meals for the first eighteen years of my life must wait for me just a while longer.
The Darkness: Permission to Land
Song: “I Believe in a Thing Called Love“
Maybe this week I’ll have a “Songs I Used To Hate, But Now I Love” theme.
The Ditty Bops: The Ditty Bops
Song: “There’s a Girl“
There’s no faster way to get me to resist trying something than to tell me how much I’m going to love it.
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