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Enero 17, 2008
on a less upsetting note
pretty much another PSA, for your own protection.
i thought i should tell you that i am running into a lot of people named Abigail.
you should tell you: they are all very good people. we are a group to be reckoned with.
just be careful not to confuse one for the other, that will probably piss each one off. And be sure to ask whether you will be allowed to call us Abi, Abbey, or Abby.
some of us hate it, no matter how you spell it.
Thank you.
Posted by crymytinyflood at 02:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
you know who you are
recently a friend in a powerful position screwed up and then apologized to a large group of people.
he said that there was one section of people who were more gracious than the rest with his apology: the women.
why do you think that is?, i asked.
power, he answered.
i was nodding frantically.
looks like you agree, he said.
yup, was my super fem reply.
but now that i am thinking i wish i had told him:
well, they probably have bigger fish to fry than yours.
perhaps we are no more gracious, just choosing our battles.
and what you mistook for grace, was in fact, a little more like a nice way to say: i can't be bothered with your failure; i predicted it and it is fun to be right but please just, well, nail it to the cross.
the moral of the story:
unless you're going to apologize for years of victimization and an uncompromising global power structure, don't bother.
a couple days ago one of my girlfriends with super boobs and perfect hair ( she is amazing despite these assets) wore a tight yellow tee shirt made by her coworkers to commemorate their surviving another New Student Orientation. written in tiny letters on the back was the bumpersticker advice, edited, of course, to be worn by employees of the methodist school she works for:
Jesus loves you, but i want to slap your face.
one thing i am learning in seminary is that a good, old fashioned bitch slapping session may be just as helpful to us as it is to pimps, mothers of teenagers, you know: people who deal with bitches who need to be slapped. What i mean is i suddenly know how nice it would feel to haul off and spank the five o'clock shadow off some of those clergy bastardbitches. can we make it part of the liturgy again? wasn't it part of confirmation before? somebody look that up, willya?
i think of Britany's poor dad. He called in Dr. Phil to visit Brit in the hospital and i honestly wondered how badly the giant, don't mess with texas, Dr. Phil wanted to slap that girl silly. I'll bet the one thing stopping him was the fact that there is, in fact, a muppet made in his image and muppets generally leave the slapping up to miss piggy.
Posted by crymytinyflood at 02:13 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Enero 14, 2008
apollo, geez.
like some mythic creature, angry, disheartened and volatile
like a stirred pot that bubbles, boils, toils-
trouble
that is how i am these days.
conversation on race and i speak about my hard won white skin, hardened, burning itching, aching, tingling like a sun burn, all the time.
skin is meant to protect us but it is so fragile, even the dull knives are dangerous (even if it is overcast you still get burned). i've hated my skin just like you have hated yours, but let's not compare heartache for once. damnit.
skin can't really protect us. nothing can.
i can't possibly take care of you, why would you think anyone can take care of anyone? are you that hopeful still? why don't you just be hopeful and i'll be, well, not as hopeful as you and that will just have to do for now.
usually honesty is a really lonely, dark place.
and though you come to me afterward and let me hug you and you thank me for being inarticulate with you
i just don't know what to do next.
all the things i thought would kill me are not killing me. the disagreements and yelling matches and embarrassing thoughts and holes in the floor that i thought i'd fall through, that i feared you would look through, are just sort of happening and i can't stop them and i'm still here.
the self i have is a brightly colored self with a large dangerous beak for cracking tough nuts and
it is rapidly wildly going up in flames. which is not bad but quite a spectacle in my humble opinion.
and the wings we always wanted, what of those? well, ouch.
somewhere there is a god who sees all this happening and laughs gently, i have just enough faith to believe: God laughs.
perhaps God is loyal, i don't know.
but lets not kid ourselves, i've become pretty damn ballsy lately and if i can make it through another turn of the planet, that will be good.
i always thought superman was kind of stupid, i mean just going out in the sun, is that all it takes? just go out in the light and everything will be fine? seems like its too easy and yet it wasn't always easy enough. that is stupid.
it isn't easy. it is never easy. you know what happens to people who go too close to the sun.
what a bitch.
seminary can be a real bitch some, er, most of the time.
Posted by crymytinyflood at 11:25 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Enero 11, 2008
transition transmission
new trimester
new year, even.
so here is what i need:
cat
house
hot drink
someone to whom i can say, "will you just look at that cat what the hell is she doing?!"
thank you God in all your infinite effing wisdom for providing s*%$ like people, places, hot.
i hate change. i don't think i would even change my clothes if i didn't think it makes it easier for my friends to be around me when i try to smell my best.
and today someone told me that hair is relational. which is so true, especially when you share a bed and sometimes a pillow with another person.
and
i also saw a sign that said
I'm here just knock.
i really like that kind of sign: so concise and inviting and yet, there is no obligation or anything.
really low maintenance.
sometimes i think we need more communication for things like that. like tshirts and tattoos that really say the simple stuff like:
I'm not feeling really great right now, you can hug me if you want but I might not hug back.
Today is my birthday.
Can you get me some hot chocolate... and fast?
I missed the bus.
My stomach hurts.
I don't think I can have sex with you tonight, so let's just not.
I don't want to talk today.
I'm trying to quit swearing--afuckingain.
This is a really busy week for me.
Sorry I missed your call, I flushed my cell phone down the toilet.
I didn't clean my house before you arrived, and I'm all right with that.
I don't like black olives.
I like school.
I like church.
I like my job.
I'm in transition, give me a break.
you know, things like that.
i had a button once that said thank you for not picking your nose. but i can't wear it anymore because i kind of like picking my nose now, it can be really satisfying when you get a nice big booger out and you can breath again for once damnit.
i also used to have pin that said write hard, die free. which is really good but i lost it, it fell off. and anyway i have it memorized so that is OK and wouldn't it be such a cool thing to find on the street for some lucky person?
yeah.
Posted by crymytinyflood at 12:12 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack