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2002-06-01 || 7:33 p.m. || i am talking about my sister a lot lately and she better sign my guestbook at least, she better. || this saturday has turned into milling through the old science books in the hutch for pictures of paramecia and amoeba for a crafty project for my sister. not finding anything satisfactory so continuing the search online. deciding to start a new life of exposing the glamour and unabashed beauty that is science. oh paramecium, with your fake eyelashes and glitter. oh amoeba, you shape-shifting contortionist devil. so lovely. i talked to my sissy today, who is much better. who was excited with the prospect of the sip n dip saloon and bar down the way with a mechanical bull. who found a soda fountain. who might go bowling tonight, alone. i would like very much to sprout pigeonwings and direct myself montana-ward, to eat cheesecake for dinner and listen to lionel richie. to play gin rummy (although that one is a stickler for the rules and gets a bit pissy (you do.) when one strays from the rummy path. she doesn't know if she'll live here after montana. i have been asked to move my heavy heart off that possibility. she might take a job in the mohave desert to research desert tortoises. my sister does this. my sister sleeps in sleeping bags. my sister finds marmots in the middle of nowhere. decaying ones. and digs graves to give them proper burials, complete with headstone and parting words. she takes trips to costa rica to run in the jungle at night, peeing her pants over the scent of jaguar. she bowls alone and cuts her hair with the wee scissor on her swiss army knife. she does this. i embroider. i go to bars to get tipsy from one drink. i wear uniforms and catalogue things I Have Never Done and build homages to dead cats. i eat the same thing for dinner four nights at a time and lament the painting over of the seven-up sign down the street. i do this. but we end up with different versions of the same haircut. we steal each other's shirts and try each other's sassy hair products. we recount childhood stories to anyone that will listen, anyone that will go out to lunch with us and stand for the hand sisters talk about when they used to play hide and go seek in the shower (it was a very large shower.). we love our daddums. we had the chicken pox at the very same time, twice, and have identical scars to prove it. oh i love my kelly. it makes me cry like a lonely old lady. she's getting the tabs for roberta flack songs. when i see her she's going to play guitar and i am going to sing and we will slay those songs like decaying glassy-eyed marmots and it will be wonderful. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |