Tuesday, June 10, 2003

There’s so much whirling through my brain, I don’t know where to start.  Like: 1.     Why is it that I am such a fucking nuisance?  It’s like wherever I go, this magnetic field of cosmic inconvenience follows me, infecting anyone I come near.  Today, for instance, I FINALLY arrange with Beth to drop off the tape she lent me of the last episode of Buffy.  Now, this is a woman I have only met once in my life, who out of the kindness of her heart offered me this most precious of AV experiences.  Who brought the tape DOWN TO ME in the dull wilds of lower Manhattan.  And I’ve cancelled the return a number of times.  Waaah – I’m sick.  Waaaah – I’ve got someplace else to be.  Bitch Bitch Bitch.  Now at last I am going to bring the tape to her.  All she asks is that I get it to her by 6:15 so that she can accomplish something with her life.  Well, you know what happens then.  That’s right.  I’m on The Train That Would Not Go.  It’s not like there is some catastrophic error.  It’s just that this train.  Does.  Not.  Want.  To.  Move.  Holyfuckingshit.  The conductor talks like he has cotton in his mouth.  There is ALWAYS some fucking train in front of ours.  Every time we stop, we sit for about TEN FUCKING YEARS.  Holy shit.  I could have jogged faster.  I swear to fucking god, somewhere on the MTA organizational chart there is a position, “Chief Retardation Officer,” the sole purpose of which is to fuck my shit.  But, thank god, Beth is a dear sweet soul, as all graduates of Colorado College with really groovy earrings are, and agreed not to kill me. 2.        I would never have begun this project if I had been single.  The prospect of making Cotes de Porc Sauce Nenette (Pork Chops with Mustard, Cream, and Tomato Sauce) to eat all by myself on an only slightly soiled, sad if stylish TV table while watching reruns of first season Buffy, makes me so sad.  And even sadder when the pork chops, browned in (mmmmm) lard and then baked for fifteen minutes, were WAY overdone – though the cream and mustard and tomato sauce helped, as did the sauteed Italian eggplant which tastes like salt and brown and which I therefore adore.  And sadder still that I had to eat it while gripping an ice cube after grabbing the handle of a pan that had been in the oven for fifteen minutes.  There is just something so appealing about a pan handle, I guess, I cannot resist grabbing them.  Much ice and cold water has resulted in the blistering of the inside of only one of three burned fingers.  Blisters on the palm side of my finger, that won’t be a pain in the ass at all.  There’s just no reason to do this kind of thing by yourself.  Trust me – I just did it. 3.        Maybe, okay, I can see cookng yourself a nice pork chop, as a treat.  You know what I really can’t see?  A souffle.  Who would cook an almond souffle, for themselves?  A lonely, lonely person, that’s who.  Not me, mate. 4.        Mostly what I’m thinking now is that I should be working on my work I’m supposed to be doing for work.  Can you imagine?  At this late date I’ve become the kind of person who sends work home.  Luckily, with the help of more than a couple of vodka tonics, I’ve dissuaded myself from actually doing it.  Thank God for small miracles. 5.   Okay, guys.  I’m spilling the beans here, and skinning the cat.  I hate to do it, I hate to risk a jinx.  But the word is that sometime in the next couple of days there will be a segment on the Project on the CBS evening news.  The word is Wednesday BUT I must qualify that I have no final word on this.  I would not have mentioned it so early, but my aunt, in Lampasas, TX, heard Dan Rather talking about it, and so I’m primed.  I would not like to be accused of keeping you all in the dark. 7:36:49 AM    comment []