Music tonight: Soundtrack to the movie 8 Mile
Monday, Oct. 13, 2003 - 11:37 p.m.
Cost of the War in Iraq
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
Hookah Smoke and Pickled Herring
Hookah Smoke Hookah Smoke. Pickled Herring and Hookah Smoke. Last night after getting offline (hah! this a.m. at 5:30), I treated myself to a strawberry hookah in bed. Such a treat. Take in a deep breath of smoke and let it out slowly, playing with the outtake of air so that the smoke rolls lazily off my tongue. Snaking tendrils and then roiling clouds. It was like watching the cumulonimbus's forming just before a huge storm. The smoke in sheets and waves rolling around each other in fascinating patterns, defining the air movements which are usually totally invisible. Studying them like finding animals out of cloud formations, shifting like spirits of old.
I attempted to take photos with my macro lense (the smoke ends up being within two feet of my head before it diffuses in the air) but the depth of field was too small, as well as the width. By the time I focussed, the shapes had disappeared to become the general invisible room. Attempted to blow smoke WHILE looking through the lense, but the presence of the camera changed the shape of my mouth, and the airflow patterns, so no-go. I did get a couple shots, but am not optimistic that they will in any way capture what I saw.
Incredible remedy for malaise. Blowing smoke rings and dragons, angel hair and spiderwebs, concentrating on everchanging willowthewisps vanishing into thin air. Beautiful.
And yes, pickled herring. A love it or hate it food item. I love it. My father bought a huge Costco jar from the Western Hinterlands, but unfortunately he puts it on salads in lieu of salad dressing, eats it straight out of the jar etc etc so there is only a smidgen left. I put a tiny square with some pickled onions into my mouth and the sweet acid taste makes my tastebuds squeek between my tongue and my jaw muscles. Tastes like home. Tastes like the sea. Tastes like love and comfort.
They dont necessarily go together. But hookah smoke and pickled herring are good good things.
Being "mommy" at the park sometimes pays off. People leave their lunch garbage all over and I rant in my head or out loud "do they think their mommy will come along in the park and pick up after them?!!!". And then, being the conscientious citizen I am (as well as concerned doggymommy) I pick up the big Mac wrappings, the Black Cat Lucky 7 package, the empty plastic bag, before they can blow across the lawn in the wind. And jackpot!! A nice zippo lighter sitting on top of the McDonald's bag! So there you have it. Payoff.
Now I shall attempt to work. I was reading Sleepyzoe's diary. The poor woman is living a parallel to my relationship mess... I hope she gets out of it. If only there was some way this all could be easier. I am not sure how. That people were monogamous in the way of some geese... ie once paired for life we were actually incapable of looking elsewhere. Or that everyone had unlimited time and ressources, or perhaps parallel realities, so that we could all be there as much as we wanted and needed for every one that we love without there being conflict and someone getting hurt and dumped, taken for granted or jerked around. Hah. At least honesty and personal integrity would be a start. Things would be painful but at least we would know where we stand.
Off my soapbox.
Quote of the Day:
"Pretend to be reasonable until all the nervous people aren't looking."
Yes, the nervous people can't deal with much. You tell them about the fuckup mess of your life, and it is so stressful for them to hear, you'd think they were living it instead of you. Do not tell the truth to the nervous people, and especially do not have emotions concerning the truth. They will call it "DRAMA" and run for the hills. Not surprisingly these people are usually not social workers.
Now, I feel quite vindicated, since my personality is such that I dont worry so much about the big things but quite alot about the little things. Which we all know is NOT OK, and there is even a series of books about this. But apparently it is true. Relationships die because of little things. Soldiers die more often of the results of unwashed socks, or minor errors due to lack of sleep. People in the jungle die more often of fly bites, small parasites, microscopic bugs than they do of tigers and pythons. Sweat the small stuff, and the large stuff will just happen of its own accord.
Astrology.com Leo, Oct 1, 2003.
Here is my horoscope for Monday, October 13:
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Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
*inspired by Chaosdaily