There's a Line I Can't Find...

The atmosphere looks like steel today.

A good morning to wake up listening to The Gloria Record.

I tried to call my mom last night, but she only talked to me for about four minutes because it was lightening-ing back home.

I hope she's not hurt by the email I sent to her telling her to listen to me more. Ugh. Why are we both women? It's so hard to deal with women.

She's going to love her Mother's Day gift, though. She'll secretly love it. She'll say something flip about it when she opens it, but then she'll brag about it to her friends.

I bought her a teapot designed after the Guggenheim museum. It's perfect, really, because she collects tea-pots, she introduced me to Frank Lloyd Wright, and this is my year of New York and the Guggenheim is my favorite museum.

Anyway, I got the title for my car in the mail last week, and I have to send it to my mother so she can sell my car. I have a serious problem with post-partum depression, and the surrendering of anything to which I claim sole possession, so it's a sore subject, this selling the car.

Hopefully she'll call me today and we can discuss the business.

You know, my cell phone is an Atlanta LOCAL number and there is no good reason why my sister and mother shouldn't call me more often. I think ten days is too long. Both of them are housewives with no other job. Why don't they have time to call me? It's not even long distance.

I'm tired of bugging them about it, and I'm tired of being passive-agressive and seeing how long they can go without talking to me.

I've spent too many lonely nights training myself not to care

They were so upset when I left home, but I guess they got used to it.

My little brother called me yesterday, John-Michael; for two minutes. He had a gig and needed his keyboard. I love that there are still some things my brothers need my help for. Like I used to date the guy who borrowed J's keyboard and never returned it.

But he's a dude, and when I ask him how he's doing he just tells me about his music and shows. Not about his girlfriend, or our family.

On the other hand I've got scads of friends who need me to keep up with them. People I haven't seen in years. Old roommates telling me about their babies and inviting me out to Ohio.

I get narrow with my site and it seems like all there is is NY and diaryland.

Wait, I said "need me to keep up with them" and that's probably not entirely true. It's strange because I seek ways to stay in touch with people. I bought a fucking digital camera so I could put pictures up for all my distanced friends to experience some of the sights in my life. I send random postcards all the time. Honestly, I'm at the postoffice once a week. I'll read a book, and then send it to whoever it reminded me of.

I love giving things to people.

How could I demand something not inherent in another person's nature? If I stopped then I could pull some trick of seeing how long they'd let me go without hearing from them.

Maggie would call in a week.

If I dissappeared from the internet a few of you would call, I know.

Alright, I'm not going on with this. I'll think about it today and try to figure out what's really wrong.

No feeling sorry for myself.

None.

Stop it!

Someone keeps reading my journal after searching "if you walk away I'll walk away" on Google. That's a good song. Great song. Whoever you are, silly person, I'm sorry you don't find more than this page when you search.

The title of the song is "One Foot In Front of the Other" and right now my favorite line is:

"A good woman will pick you apart, a box full of suggestions for a possible heart, and you may be offended and you may be afraid, but don't walk away, don't walk away."

So I went to HMV yesterday, looking for Nick Drake, and one of the salesmen walks up with the three cd's I ordered a week ago. Apparently I get my ordered cd's more quickly because they do something different (I don't know what) for me. Discounts, rush delivery, and one cute guy...

I walked up to the counter to pay and the kid standing there - who's not my pet - gets the attention of tall, dark, and hansome, and tells him to check me out.

I bet he called dibs on me.

He asked me about some concerts, and Field Day, again. He already has his ticket. So I told him point blank that my biggest concern is transportation.

Give man problem: man finds solution. Yes?

Oh, and his name is Mark.

That's a new name for me, but still in keeping with all the apostolic fellows I like to flirt with.

Seriously, in the last year I've had a John, no Luke, a Simon Peter for crying out loud, a Nathaniel, Matthew, Mark, no Paul...

... and a Joshua... which is basically "Jesus"... right?

Okay, I've been trying to write this for an hour now, and I've now got plenty to think about all day, so I'll go.