A Short Story
In other news this weekend, I've also been struggling to get a bridesmaid dress for this wedding I'm in next July. It's funny because my friend, Joy, had to check to make sure I didn't chop all my hair off and dye it green or get any visible tattoos. She's so scared I'm going to do or say something crazy at her wedding.
I assured her that I'm completely normal. Hair is growing out. Only inked on the back (there's another one on the way!).
She's very very straightlaced. She's getting married to the guy she met her freshman year of college. She went right into grad school the fall after getting her bachelors. She's finished one year of law school and getting married and she's two years younger than I am.
I sort of don't understand how some people never have to wonder if what they want is the right thing for them or not, because they never have to struggle to get it. I have to bust my ass. Drag myself by my fingernails. Stand out in the rain. Beat my chest.
When I ask for directions all I ever hear is, "you can't get there from here."
My darling Joy has had one by one all her dreams deposited on her pillow while she sleeps, and they don't vanish when she wakes up.
I just don't understand!
But I'm not complaining, either. My life fascinates me. I fascinate me. Do you guys have any real idea what good company I am?
Yesterday my entertainment value was short-lived however on account of $12 providing me with bottomless mimosas. I drank for a few hours and was worthless for the rest of the day.
Jordan called to see if it was okay if we didn't hang out, and I wish I could remember what the hell I said to him. I think I might have refered to Vince Vaughan and Luke Wilson as my "baby's daddy's" or something horrible like that.
Thai food for dinner.
SNL.
I'm such a wuss. I can't just go and go and go. I'm frail, you know. Weak. Tiny. Skinny. Get me drunk and all I want is to curl up. Like a cat. Like a drunk cat.
In addition, I would like to say that the strength with which I love Modest Mouse grows exponentially every time I listen to their music. Since awarding my cd collection with a second selection from the Mouse's catalogue, I have been implacable in my desire to hear more and more and more. Thanks to Matthew for also mentioning Ugly Cassanova. Don't think I haven't gone there, too. How could anyone not fall on their face in abject humility after hearing an album begin with:
"Everything that keeps me together is falling apart. I've got this thing that I consider my only art of fucking people over."
The first time I heard the no. 5 track, Tiny Cities Made of Ashes (Scan knows) I realized that every compilation I make from now until the day I die will have that song on it. For some reason I have always earned the job of making the party-dance-mix... Like Patio, my bar, commissioned me to make one which I gave to them on Friday... and this Modest Mouse song will always be on such compilations. I'll dance to it at my wedding. It'll become my trademark. Watchout: I'm arived to the band-wagon.
