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2005-10-11 || 10:51 p.m. || tonight i bought a phone, took it out of its box, started to read the instructional booklet, and a gigantic centipede walked across my floor (where gigantic = 2 inches). i decided i don't like gigantic centipedes. when i tried to photodocument it lying beside a stray canadian loony (to send off to my scientist father) it reared its hind legs. such unfriendly behavior warranted my enticing it to perch on an envelope and throwing it outside in the bushes, and after the deed was done i thought: what if this was a species native to some far away country? what if this ferocious species eats all the native insects in my frontyard and goes on to singlehandedly deplete portland's delicate ecology? michael is gone for the week on "business" and i am hopelessly alone. last night i slept without fellow man or cat (like i told owen, and no offense to man, i prefer cat hands down) for the first time in five years. it was lousy. i shed several tears on my huge pillow and thought of her very intently in the event she appear to me in spectral form, like chris smith assured me she would. i realized i have limited psychic abilities compared to c.s. and his ilk. i have also been ruined by stephen king's pet sematary and would mostly likely not have reacted in a grateful way. on my balcony to the left is the lit window of an apartment in the building next to mine. after much spying i have found the tenant is a bearded dude who likes bob dylan. the window leads to either his kitchen or his workspace. my workspace is also next to a window, and you can certainly see me through it seeing as i broke the mini blinds in a fit of symmetry (they just wouldn't get even and i kept pulling until the whole thing crashed down). although it would be the nicest set-up to have my workspace window facing his, so that we could send flashlight messages or rig some kind of letter pulley system, i was wondering if i'm my elusive bearded dude for somebody else. i'm the besweatered girl seated at a desk holding my head in my hands a lot. i get caught wrapped in an afghan pretending to write when really i'm playing online boggle. i sing along to waylon jennings in a soulful manner ( i would like to perfect "i recall a gypsy woman" for any unforeseen karaoke opportunity). i stare out at the vast expanse of dark each night (but really i'm staring down my reflection that is all four-eyed and creepy thanks to the out-of-sych double-paned glass of the window). do you see me? you should wave. i have perfected the art of chocolate chip cookies but have no one to lavish it on. i will gladly lower some to you by elaborate cookie pulley system. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |