Guess where I am all up at?
I'm in a BREWERY! It's where you can eat the hell out of some fried fish since you're about to start your period, drink beer (more than 3.2% beer!) AND use the Internet AT THE SAME TIME. Not only that, but it's really fresh, local fish (not-in-the-least-bit-rubbery Monterey Squid), from the nearby OCEAN, which I was just looking at five minutes ago. When I came out of my acupuncture session I felt I needed a dose of watery goodness so I drove to the shore, where I spent a few lovely minutes enjoying the kind of plump, slow waves and that thing of the almost-full moon making a long, shimmery pattern on the water, but mostly it made me really have to pee, reminding me of another thing that makes you pee and that thing is beer! So I came here. Oh my God this is good calamari.
Did you read the post Heather wrote about the sweet Salt Lake City grid system and how easy it is to get everywhere? Well it made me want to tell you about here, and how much less easy they made it around here. There are things about getting around that are not hard, like if you know the major streets than you know that pretty much everything is located on one of those, so if you can find a major street then you're all set. Unless you need a way to get from one major street to another, in which case you're fukt. Salt Lake is laid out in something like a square, where the square is based on its center, not its perimeter. Directions are easy to remember, the mountains are east, and the lake is west, and you can see the mountains from anyplace in the city, so it's not like you can get turned around. Here the town is shaped like a crescent moon, and the ocean selected an alternative to its traditional location WEST of the continental landmass and went ahead and opted to hang out to the SOUTH. Notice how no streets run parallel to one another, how several vital ones share the same name (just replacing "Avenue" with "Drive"), some start out as one street and then split into two, and add in the fact that a couple of them have the names of major nearby suburbs and well, you're LOST. I keep a map in the car and use it only all the time. It winds up that without it it may not be that hard necessarily to get to a place, but then getting from that place to another is a major challenge. For the first time in my life I actually appreciate the freeway, as it seems to remain somewhat consistent and from time to time features SIGNS assisting one in determining wut's about to happun.
Whups. This have not been a Utah beer. These are California bieren, with percents of four and more!
I would just like to say that me and Eazy think that the execution of Tookie Williams is a WHOLE bunch of bullshiznit. I would not, however, like to say we think he's innocent, because we/I probably don't. But being for the first time a little near to it, because if you can believe this fucking joke ARNOLD IS MY GOVERNOR NOW, I decided I am adamantly anti-capital punishment, which I guess I was before, too, but never really felt up to taking a major stand on til now. I'm against it! There you go.
I got a haircut, which is not the best haircut, but I like the color of it, so I took Antes y Despues pikshers which I will reveal to you anuther taym, but for which, while I was at it, I tried the method of using the flash in the bathroom mirror but covering up the flash with your finger so it doesn't bling, er, BLIND you in the photos and I came up with an array of these Rather Arty (I think) pics. I ended up taking pitcures of msyelf for a long time, long enough that I began wondering, "am I VAIN? Cause this makes me question whether or not I am VAIN, when I take all these pictures of myself and I want to keep taking them." But maybe it is not vanity, maybe it is a matter of trying to get the right picture, because none has revealed the true subtlety of your color job yet, and because it is hard taking pictures of yourself in the mirrow and because hey! I dont hate the way I look in thesefor once! Let's take a million of them! Do you know wut I mean? Is it vain or is it no? Is it drunken? You be the judge; for your viewing plezher, here are the arty ones (of course I assume that viewing them will be a pleasure because I SAID I'm VAIN. Didn't you hear me?):
Did you check out the one I took UPSIDE DOWN to get the flash away from my face? The tiny distant first one is my fav'rit, second is the one where I'm squinching my eye. Look at my illuminated E.T. finger over the flashbulb- it looks molten, I love it.
Beers the 3.2 they arunt!
I decided to use the other arty one for my new MySpace profile. I am to my embarrassment officially joining MySpace so I can look at the friends-only sections for friends of mine who I miss and, secretly, so I can look for new friends in California because I am LONELY. I miss girls. In particular I miss three very certain girls who happen to share this birthmark:
Can you see it? It is our Gang Symbol. see how there are four arms but only three birthmarks? That is a mistake in photography, for really there are four of us, and we are attached by many squid-like arms to a network of other amazing women who love us, and who we love so dearly. I have this urge to list them all by name, right here, but I am tipsish so please don't listen to me. Thank you. We had to get Nina a little drunk to convince her to relent to that tattoo, remember? That wuz when we were having breakfast with our mimosas every weekend, before we suddenly got all grown-up and busy. I miss you. I can't wait to see you this weekend, for breakfast, like in the olden days.
Did you grow up saying that? The "Olden Days?" Why did we say it that way? What is the"en" for? Wut were we talking about? It's like, "I beggeth you." Like when I was a kid and I would pretend to be Princess Leia; I'd tie myself to the big brown vinyl La-Z-Boy and it was Jabba the Hut, then I'd try to be sexy and thrash around with my pretend leather bikini and pretend long Carrie Fisher braid (a blue polyester skirt) sprouting from the top of my head and plead, "JABBA, NO! I BEGGETH YOU!" really earnest and sexy and terrified, and then the La-Z-Boy would reach out it's stubby arm to a nearby fishbowl and slurp up a snack of some kind of enormous squeaking alien tadpole.
I have my dates all set up for my visit home this weekend; an appointment with our family eye doctor, then drinks or lunch or something with Chuck (oh yeah, and Heather, Jon and Leta), then Eazy and I want to hear Erin Haley sing somewhere along the Gallery Stroll, we'll probably hit the "Gentleman's Party" (fake moustaches, anyone?), Saturday morning breffus with the gals and the holiday party that is our whole point of going home in the first place. I have no idea what I'm going to wear. I'm also going to visit the Ticket Store, where I hear they've finally replaced me, and we'll squeeze in a whole lot of coffee from Salt Lake institution The Coffee Garden, which we miss with all our hearts. I'm looking forward to home, but not to it's horrible winter inversion pollution which, according to Garling, looks like this:
Last spring it lukt like this:
Have a beer, everybody! Three-to-the-minus-point-two! Do all the math and you get 5.6!
Here is the letter Seth wrote me, printed on ticket stock from the work-hole like I ax'd for:
i'm not a bad guy
i just forgive myself
very easily. okay i am.,
i break my girl friends
heatr or heart and
possibly her heater or heatr
every time i drink.,
mariah carey is still alive
yeah that's dumb to say
would you believe that there
are people out there who hate
me? I'm serious, I am like
so intense. They can't stand me.,
Isn't it a pretty poem? To the wetted eye it is. Goodnight.