Friday, May 25, 2007

Today is Friday- Hue beers at lunch

I sent my team home at noon today. I didn't realize it was memorial day weekend until I got to work and noticed that the office was pretty empty. I emailed my team, early and told them to take off at noon, and thanks for their hard work this year. I cleared my calendar and I decided to work on mid-year reviews and answer emails- 438 unread emails in two days. I answered around 75 emails last night before bed. By noon, I only had 272 emails left to read and Michael from OTC stopped in. He asked if I wanted to join a small group of people going for Vietnamese food. I stared at him for a good minute before I got up from my desk and walked out of my office. The guy from the baby shower was there, Richard, and some other guy, Francois? from operations. We met another group of people from an ad agency there, including Richard's very pregnant wife. She seemed to be uncomfortable. Strikingly beautiful, though. She had such beautiful lines to her face. Sharp, elongated nose. Skinny cheekbones, smooth chin and dimples. Chestnut hair and brown eyes. Funny how are culture is obsessed with the blond and blue; brown and brown is just so rich and inviting. Sophia also showed up. I guess I invited her, but I can't remember; or does she know these people too. She might know them given she is a photographer.
I am a vegetarian, so I just ordered for myself. Spring rolls and lemongrass tofu and black rice. Reminds me of the NYC and that little cart that sold food in Fall and Winter and Icees in Spring and Summer. They had the best vegetarian 'meatballs'.
There was an awkward silence at the table, so I ordered myself two Hue beers. Relief set in. I guess title in the company means something outside the company as well. Very odd to me. I drank the first one down in one hand lift and stated, 'I am not working right now, so I don't want to hear about work.' I then told some story about seeing the Richter show and how blown away I was by the painting of Maria Callas. A true masterpiece. The tension ceased a bit, and beer began to flow. The pregnant lady was very quiet. I could see that she would be mis-read as being angry, or asocial or bitchy. I think she is shy.
I went out for a smoke with Sophia at some point. She seemed very happy to see me. I asked her what she was doing for the weekend, and she seemed a bit reluctant to answer. 'One hit' bud again. She led me back inside the restaurant and over to the bathrooms. We started kissing. I was so focused on her that I didn't remember going into the bathroom with her.
She smoked.
I jolted with a sudden sense of joy.
When we returned to the table the others appeared to be annoyed, but were still having fun. I paid for them. I think they thanked me.
When I finally made it home an hour ago, I couldn't remember what had happened to Sophia. I don't know if she is coming over, or if I will see her this weekend. I don't feel like calling her to find out. I think I need a weekend alone. I think I will ride all weekend. Get on the road and think about what I am doing or accurately, not doing.
Tonight, even with the moonlit, cloud cover, I am bringing out the Dob. There is something about trying to find something through the clouds. It is the impossibility of success that turns me on. I will smoke another j and sit out on the veranda and hunt the sky for light. I didn't think of 'yellow panties' today until right now.
Seemed like a pretty good day.
Xioba

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Today is Thursday- white spiders on windshields

I just got home from work, and paused for a moment in my driveway. Modern English was on the radio, and I paused to listen to my youth. The predictability of the song reminded me of the predictability of high school. Graduation and the prom are the final handshakes into adulthood; or more fittingly, out of adolescence.
My original date, Michelle Greenberg, dumped me the day of the prom. I had already rented the turquoise cummerbund (such a strange word) and bow tie. I was a bit relieved that she dumped me. The first time we fucked, she was disappointed by my lack of chest muscles. I think she actually said, 'oh, is that all?' I was not sure what she was expecting from a 6'4", 170 lb geek.
When I ate her out she acted like she was miserable, but would grab onto my head and force me deeper into her. So suffocating. My only escape was to make her orgasm. In the end, my lower teeth cut into the bottom of my tongue and my jaw ached, but I could breathe. I think I have TMJ.
She had long, black hairs growing out of her areolae. I tried to nibble them off, but it kinda made me sick. She dumped me for her ex-boyfriend. He played baseball with my brother. I think he hated my brother, so he was probably getting back at him by humiliating me. I actually think that he did me a favor. Too many ingested long, black hairs made me immune to rejection.
I was set up with a friend at the last minute. We went to the dance. She ended up screwing Brian Aubouf. Fitting. When we were sophomores, during a raucous round of dog pile, I accidentally kneed him in his left cheek. An inch or so below his eye a bloodied fissure appeared. Several weeks later, when the scar appeared after the bandages were removed, all you could see was the jagged line that my knee created. It was in such a strange and unattractive location. Just right there in the middle of his face. Depending on how you looked at it. True north his eye, true west his nose, true east his ear, and true south his dewlap, and right there in the middle, like a little compass arrow, my scar. I call it my scar since my knee created it for him. Kinda like calling your kids your kids; unless, of course they are another person's biological kids and you are parenting them. Not sure what you call them then. I would think that Lili is a daughter to her father, while she is my kid. or child.
Anyway, Brian was vain. Really, really vain; so he was very, very distraught.
He probably still hates me today. But, I figure he waited for the right moment to get revenge. He nailed that nasty, little over-weight girl that I drove to and from the prom. I figure we are all square even though I would not have slept with the porcine prom date. Well, maybe I would have, but that was a long time ago and I need to feel good about myself today.

In the car while 'I melt with you' played, I stared at several (three or four) small, white spiders that were trying to walk across my windshield. They had long, angular legs and small bodies. It appeared that they had rather large mandibles. And they were very white, almost to the point of being translucent. They looked like they were trying to climb to the top of the windshield. Their legs were pounding, pounding, pounding on the glass but they could not make any ground upward. They sort of just stayed in place. Occasionally, one of them would crawl a little bit. But, then a slight breeze would come by and knock them over and down. It looked like they would defensively curl into a ball when the breeze struck them.
Up again they would go.
I wanted to turn on my windshield wipers. I wanted to kill them with that blue liquid that the guy from the oil changing place keeps putting back into my car. I wanted to get out of the car and squish them with my Treo. I wanted to gnash them between my molars. They reminded me of Michelle and her long, black areola hair.
She lactated these little, white spiders out. Squirting them into the air, and sent them to me with the message: 'oh, is that all?'
Xioba

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Yesterday was Tuesday- Wilco

I just got the new Wilco album- 'Sky blue sky'.
Manuel Presti on the cover.
I switched the jacket so that the peregrine is on the front.
Manuel Presti is exceptional. His photos are as edible as a 'cookie monster' cake.
'Either way' (first song) gave me goose skin. There is something so perfect about Wilco when they get it right. Talk about edible work.
I hunger for Wilco, Amset, Stereolab, Galaxie 500, Joanna Newsom, Mum, Sigur Ros.

'Either way' makes me think of 'Yellow panties'. The guitar and simple beats make me imagine a softly sunny December day. Brunch with 'Yellow panties' somewhere in New York. Wine.
A nice, long walk afterward. The mosaic of shadow and cold light draws us together and makes us pause for warmth. Talk about edible light. Up to the park. Noses, sniffling and wet from the cold. Her cheeks, red and cold. Her lips, dry and cracked. We are wearing caps, scarves and light jackets. No gloves. I kiss her hands which warms my stomach. She looks at me. I think I see doubt in her eyes which makes me hunger for her lips. Her ears are distorted from the pressure of her cap while her hair is peaking out from underneath it. Brown eyes. She is wearing corduroys and black shoes. I am too embarrassed to peer below the belt, and dare not look at her chest. The wind is gusting down the avenue. I want to tell her, 'you are the wind of Primavera that is blowing through my veins. I can taste you as your delicate, perfumed touch caresses my skin and organs. Your slight whisper hints at the beautiful futures to come.' Instead, I reach for her and kiss her lips. They are warm but lack moisture. We breathe into each other and it smells of sweat and wool. I think that she is pulling away from me. I realize that my hands are around her waist. I loosen my grip, but she does not retreat. I reach up and grab the back of her head and neck, just below her ears. Her cap falls to the sidewalk; her hair whips my face, stirred by the stiff December wind, and my zealous attempts to capture the wind. When we stop. I see hesitation in her eyes. She is biting her lip like she wants to say something, but is unable or unwilling to find the words.
We continue our walk to the park. Carts of roasted chestnuts line the avenue, but I still smell her. I want to put this wind in a jar, and keep it on a shelf.
Open it up sometime in the future.
I am sure the footbinder has a jar somewhere in that palace of junk. She cracks it open on some special day. Unearthing old memories of love, unrealized.
That jar will sit there, on my shelf in my library, reminding me of how foolish I was to think that I could encapsulate her love. She does not love me and never has. My veins will course with the tumult, torrent, tempest of imagined love. And, my only relief will come by releasing the wind in my veins. I will have no strength or agility in my hands, and the glass will be too slippery to grip. I will throw the jar at the expanding pool of blood on the floor, but, in a final mocking moment, the jar will carom onto the couch. The curtains will dance and sway in the pulsing air.

I saw Saturn tonight. Bright and beautiful. Tucked back in the darkness. It looked a bit like an egg, nestled in a nest. The rings were delicate and intense and made me very happy. I was shaking the whole time. I felt a bit dirty; like sneaking a glance at 'yellow panties' crotched jeans.

I need to see 'yellow panties' tomorrow. I have been avoiding her, but I need to see her. I need to talk to her directly. Look at her eyes to see if I have any chance. It is so easy to be sneaky. Stalk her, but I am not sure that that is the best way. I need to be direct with her. Ask her out for coffee or tea. I wish I had a pair of her panties with me. I could hold them until my hands become clammy. I could feel them snagging on the stubble of my face as I rub them to release their scent. I would hold them between my chin and chest, like vick's vapor rub, and let them soothe me into a restful slumber; and I would eat them in the morning.

Xioba