The Usual

I woke up early this morning and took the dog to the park. On the way back to the house I stopped at my favorite coffee place and got a soy latte with a shot of peppermint. Before I could have my first sip, the dog knocked it out of my hands and onto the ground. I didn't get upset, you see, because God was with me. He told me that when I got home I could guilt-trip my boyfriend into going and getting me another one. I love God sometimes.

I also love my boyfriend and here's why:

1. I was taking a cat nap yesterday when he came home from work, crawled into bed with me and told me that he knew what he was going to get me for my birthday but it would have to be several months late. When I asked what it was, he said that he wanted to send me to a writer's conference this fall in Big Sur. I told him that he was being ridiculous because it costs $600 to attend this conference. He was serious about trying to make it happen but I told him there was no way. Secretly I am stunned and near tears to think that he believes in me enough to even consider this.

2. For some unknown reason he has washed the dishes every day this week. I'm a little suspicious, but I'm sure I'll get over it as soon as I hire a private detective to find out just what in the Sam hell is going on here! [I don't know what "Sam hell" is but my mother used to refer to it frequently when I was growing up.]

3. When he wakes up in the morning the first words out of his mouth are never, "Go fix me a chicken pot-pie, bitch!" or "My son-of-a-bitch asshole boss can fuck off today!" but rather, "How are you feeling, baby?" I don't know why he asks this but I like it.

4. A few days ago I asked him if I was a domineering bitch. He cowered in a corner and said, "No, mommy, no!"

Okay, enough of that.

I saw LCD Sound System on Letterman and realized that I too, would like to play the cow bell. During a commercial break, God revealed to me that cats are his way of saying, "I love you" and "Fuck off" at the same time.

Indiana, Again (Part I of an on-going travel story)

I was in a band once when I still lived in Indiana. We called ourselves "Egg Bag" and I played the drums. We were together for two days when our singer found Jesus and quit the band. Later he realized it wasn't Jesus, but an allergic reaction to nutmeg. But it was too late. I had already fled the Midwest before Jesus could find me too.

If my life were a movie, the soundtrack for my childhood would include a montage of Harry Chapin songs, songs from the album Free to Be You and Me and Queen’s “Don’t Try Suicide” all of which would be played while a ten year-old version of me stared uneasily at a framed print of Pavel Tchelitchew’s Hide-and-Seek which still hangs in my parent's house today.

The song that bests suits the period in my life in which I fled the midwest would be P.J. Harvey’s “To Bring You My Love” which I played louder than my crappy speakers could handle as I drove through the hilly Missouri countryside, simultaneously cursing God and finding a strange comfort in the wavy, tar-filled lines in the highway.

She made her mind up and up and up---
     sideways,
          all ways,
              70 West
billboard whispers, I am the Way,
I am the Truth,
I am the Life
Yes I am pushing
forward into thick Missouri fog
having only faith the road continues
merging drawn up into moonlight

      I'd go like this for you.

REALITY IS A LIE!
Her life spilling
into ghost towns
rock shops
truck stops
appliances on the lawn
Indiana to Texarkana

      I'd go like this for you

Road Kill, Road Kill,
icky, sticky Road Kill.

I thought Houston might be my final destination, but I was wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things in those days, including my brother-in-law Bill, who turned out to be a good husband to my sister.

But Texas wasn’t for me, so I kept on going. It took the better part of two days to get out of that state. When I got to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico I couldn’t decide if I wanted the Truth or the Consequences, so I kept driving until I got to Albuquerque.