What Sucks About Love

Okay, so I wrote that post last week about Joni Mitchell and not knowing what you've got till it's gone, right? But, here's the thing I just found out: It's even worse to know you've got it, THEN NOT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT, and watch it go. A poem which isn't quite salve for the broken heart, but it's akin to a wetwipe, and that's all I've got right now:

Love, love, love
Sweet moruning dove,
Hearts and rainbows above
Fairies and cupids made who knows what of
You fucking suck

The end.

Marketing

New job, here I come.

Oh, Berf, Ugh, Yuck

That sign? Should have a cat on it. Here's the grossest thing that's happened to me since I threw up on the M2 bus. I came home from work, opened the front door, to the two faces that await my arrival ... or at least the treats I bring. I came in, distributed treats and thought to myself, "Ugh, who farted?" It's usually Lou, and he's so good that if you look at him like, "Eww", he'll look back like, "Sorry". So, I did and he did. We went for a walk, came back and it STILL SMELLED LIKE A HUGE FART in my living room.

"Ho hum", says me. "We all have gas from time to time, and there was surely no Bean-No in the dog food bowl, so fart on, Lou." He sez: "That wasn't me." And, I'm like, "Oh, yeah it was, reach your nose around and smell that butt, baby."

But, IT WASN'T LOU!

That's him saying, "Yeah, you owe me an apology, biotch."

And, Lou was right! After the walk, I sat on the futon I like to call a couch, and started knitting more squares for the Aimee's the Bomb blanket I'm making for my sister. It's all pink and cream and yummy. Then, I got confirmation that my church-going, belief in the Lord was right on, because, something told me (I think it was the Lord, and I'm not kidding) to go see where Izzy was.

She was on my bed, sleeping ... with a big poop smear marking her arrival on the bed, and subsequent catting around (not in the sexual way) until she found the spot she wanted to lay her head. I spent THREE HOURS last night cleaning my bedroom and organizing the winter clothes, putting the winter comforter on the bed, etc. AND THERE WAS POO! ON MY CLEAN COMFORTER!

So, first I flip out and tell myself I'm way too delicate to clean poo off the ass of a cat. But then, I'm like, "Hold up, bitches. That was a clean, clean comforter that I took off early from work to launder. This must stop. I'm not a neat freak, but even I know this is wrong."

So, I decide the best thing to do is, of course, to bathe Izzy. Now, bathing a cat? It ranks right behind eating a bowl of glass on my list of things to do. But, it had to be done. It was a whore's bath, not a real bath, to be sure, but it was horrendous. There was a clump of poo on her butt that was the size of my head ... okay, no, the size of a Blistex, but it was still horrific, smellly, and potentially smeary. But, Izzy was so good. She was fighting me at first, but then I realized that the water in the tub was too hot, and that it probably made more sense to soak the poo off than to try and yank it off. (The head is always better than the gut in these things).

The day is over officially for me, and I have a half-bathed cat (because I wasn't about to try to put that angry puss's head in the water), a wrongly-accused pup, and me, all on the bed together, relatively clean and smelling kind of good. Yeesh.

Poetry Monday

I don't do Self-Portrait Tuesday (SPT), because it's too hard to secret away the office digital camera, and we all know I'm broke, so I ain't got my own camera. In lieu of SPT, then, here' s a poem for Poetry Monday (PM). It's one of my all-time favorites, and the only one I know by heart ... or the only one that's not really a dirty limerick that I know by heart:

Illumination, by R.T. Smith (1999)

As if some monk bored
in the cold scriptorium
had let his quill

wander from the morning
Gospel, two tendrils
of wisteria

have scrolled
their green fervour
into the weave of a wicker

deck chair to whisper
with each spiral,
every sweet leaf

and dew sparkle,
Brother, come
with us, come home.

There is no escape from nature. We may forget it, we may usurp it, we may depelete it, but it remembers us, just the same. That's kind of nice.

Hopeful Halloween

Blech on you Eastern Standard Time. It's dark at 5:00pm now. So, now I work from can't see to can't see (as in, Can't See in the Morning, Can't See at Night). Blech. Today marks the end of my birthday month. No more slacking. Time for a change. I don't know why it's important for there to be a specific date on which one makes a change, but that's the way it is, so starting tomorrow, I'm all brand new.

1. New attitude:
Jen = #1 ... or, #3, since Lou and Izzy usually come first. No, wait, make that #6, since there's also Mary, Larry, and Aimee. Wait, this isn't working at all. Let's go back. Jen = #1. There.

2. New habits:
I will do my laundry every week. No more waiting until there's only the bad underwear.
I will vary my wardrobe from week to week (see above)
I will NOT race home to watch reruns of CSI. There's a whole wide world out there.
I will do one interesting thing a day - walk in the park, a lunchtime jaunt around Midtown, something.
I will NOT use the cash station like my own personal money tree. Rigor is the word of the day.
I will spend at least 2 hours a day on myself - hair, nails, meditation, or craft. No more working from home all night. Loser.
I will work on my career as much as I work at my job.
I will get organized, one day at a time, working from room to room. No more clutter/dust catchers.


3. New body:
I will use Hemalaya Behl's Yoga DVD once a day, either morning (unlikely) or night (hard, but I'll do it)
I will NOT order from BBQ's of Harlem, Hunan Balcony or Slice of Harlem unless it's Saturday. (And then, only once per day.)
I will get back on the FreshDirect bandwagon. Saves money, too! Clever!
I will find a way to get regular, out of home exercise for at least 1/2 hour a day (Not including the yoga DVD). Ambitious!

4. New life:
I will learn to be comfortable telling a truth that may hurt someone's feelings.
I will not be afraid of "getting in trouble" all the time. I'm grown. Jeesh.
I will speak up instead of replaying what I could have said over and over in my mind. (I'll be too busy doing yoga, anyhow.)
I will start going places by myself again
I will say no when I don't want to: (a) see that movie; (b) go to that museum; or (c) watch your kids.
But, if I do want to go, I'll do it happily and without thinking about what I SHOULD be doing instead.
I will ask someone out ... on a date
To the extent that it is in my control, I will choose to be content, not resigned, but content

The End. Wait till you see the new me. The anticipation is killing me already.