Evil Cat of Hell

white tulle

music: Sunday is for Romance  (to listen go to the archives section on their home page and type in Sunday, Nov 12 at 10 am)
To my left through the dark forest of all black clothing hanging in my closet,  I can see a dripping window emblazoned with a seahawks sticker. How very Seattle. I still haven't gone running because I'm a slacker and its cold outside. Even sitting here in my office my nose is cold and my toes are cold. Hmm...I'm cold and broke and its grey outside. Sounds like a typical winter in this particular life.
Last night Poverty and I went over to the anatomist and he who shall not be numbered's house. I was worrying about money the whole ride over (sample thought: how are two people going to live on 80 dollars for two weeks?) but then I realized that I was on my way to eat a king crab dinner. So yeah, poor me....My life is sooo fucking hard.
Seriously.
The dinner was lovely. Its fun to have a boyfriend who gets along with the anatomist's boyfriend. In all these years and various boyfriends, I don't think we've ever dated two people who bonded enough that we could sneak off and do girly stuff together. Last night Poverty and HWSNBN watched football while the anatomist and I looked at.....WEDDING MAGAZINES.
Okay, before you think we are complete lameasses please remember that we are actually dangerous renegades with very nefarious pasts and we are still under surveillance (shh...the Chilean government) so that might just be a code word for something very degenerate, like a briefcase full of cocaine, or perhaps a motorcycle porn.
Whatever it was that we were looking at, it was definitely not good for us. Afterwards our brains seemed turned to white fluff and we were incapable of intelligent conversation. And you KNOW how intelligent we normally are when we hang out, with or without briefcases full of cocaine.
I'm not sure why we both get a kick out of being stereotypical. Maybe its because we both come from cracked out families, and the idea of the boys watching football and the girls planning a wedding fulfills some sort of craving that was never fulfilled in our childhoods.
At least not in mine. You know what with the witchcraft and peyote and what not....
Anyway, the evening was very cozy and pleasant, though next time I don't think I will attempt to look at an entire wedding magazine. Maybe just a half dose....
After the football was over we drove home and, after gossiping with Cornelius for awhile, (Thirsty won 3rd place in the Shorty's pinball tournament! Snowball plans to move to California and still has a staff infection from drunkenly falling in that fire this summer!) I curled up under my pirate quilt with Poverty and drank some codeine cough syrup and he read to me about gulags. It was very sweet.
Hey typepad has spell check! I never noticed that before....Lingerie here I come!

it's been awhile

music: um..some indy coffee house crap. Apparently baristas in Minneapolis have the same horrible taste as the ones in Seattle.

Drunk Dial of Previous Evenening: No need to drunk dial for fucking once!

Outfit now: That dark blue t-shirt Elise gave me when we were freshman at evergreen, some blue tennis shoes Cedarling gave me, and a blue and white skirt Cedarling gave me.

Beverage: Iced Americano. Black.

Agenda for day: Drink some more coffee, finish this stupid ass work, have dinner with Poverty, lie around...I'm fucking happy!

What I drank last Night: 2 'leines', which stands for leinencoogle or something equally rediculous. A type of crappy beer, FYI. 1 'old style' (another type of crappy beer they seem to drink around here), and 2 glasses of gin and juice.

Reason for drinking: Sampling crappy regional beer is an intelectual exercise. One must commune with the midwest on a liquid plane.

pet 'peeve':  this stupid cough.

enemy: THe Chilean governemnt, duh.

if i could be doing anything right now:  fastforward about 3 hours.

most impressive thing I've done lately: softball survivor

greatest regret: Dave Way comes to mind.

most recent compliment I have recieved:  I'll spare you...

Goal: continue to have as good a time as I've had so far

Best thing I've seen today: Poverty sleeping.

Recently Read Books: Duel (about the Hamilton/Burr duel, of course). I'm also reading this immensly trashy book called 'The Blood Countess' that I found by the side of the road. Its about Elizabeth of Bathory and is full of trashy sex scenes that make me kind of embarassed to read it on the bus.

Recent Themes: the founding fathers, wheelchairs, shopping carts

People I've talked to today, and about what: Poverty (said goodbye as he went to work). online: Arugula about our plan to go to the state fair this weekend and eat fried food on sticks, the anatomist about her broken foot and heaven as a basement in the midwest, and Poverty about various crafty plans

It's morning at the anatomist's house and I'm not feeling particularly eloquent, but I want to get back into the habit of writing on this thing more often. Last night the anatomist and I sat around and split a six pack of bohemia with lime in celebration of our co-opted 'Mexican' holiday, looked at pictures of Spaz's family on flicker, and talked about this and that. The anatomist read me the epic she is writing for her English class, which was fucking awesome. Pestito (my eight year old student) and I came up with the plot line as part of a class exercise, but the Anatomist has really run away with it. She says it is so easy to write from a predetermined plot and we are contemplating having a sweat shop full of genius children to think up ideas for us to execute. The story features a magic cow, a floating skull, and a mead house. But I don't want to give away any more details. She also read me an article she wrote for class on consciousness, which made my own writing sound about as subtle and intellectual as Dave Barry on crack. I guess I can think of worse things, (I like Dave Barry) but what I'm trying to say is that the article was actually quite beautifully written and philosophical.
Anyway, I couldn't think of a better way to spend my friday night. Now I am drinking coffee and contemplating going downtown to meet up with the kids and take them to see some IMAX presentation on underwater life. Sometimes it scares me how two of the closest people to me are an eight year old and a ten year old. I'm afraid I'm not a very good influence. The other day Frassy posted something on our class blog wherein she stated that the people that come up with Washington's standardized test questions were 'retarded bitches'.

evilcatofhell vascilates between comedy and melodrama (as usual, the anatomist thinks)

Lately I have nothing to say, which, of course, is something to say in and of itself. I'm scared as all hell and my mind is so consumed with everything form the basest survival schemes to the most outlandish daydreams of being able to afford butter and shampoo that I should know better than to even begin. What is there to say about my life? I'm scared, I'm fucked, I'm depressed, I'm hopeful. Maybe I'm a whiny bitch, maybe not. Part of me believes that something better is on the way and plans accordingly, and part of me imagines myself toothless and stumbling. Last night I drank tea, ate lentils and read about the voyage of the Endurance, as led by Shackleton. Its good to read about people starving on the arctic tundra when you are broke and homeless in a warm house. I spend hours each day on line, applying for jobs that sound strange enough to be plausibly something I would end up doing. Like playing paper dolls I imagine myself dressed as a magazine editor, a children's soccer coach, a fact checker, a waitress, an employee of the downtown dog loungue. ("I love dogs", I'd lie through my teeth). Truth be told I have been spoiled by current job as a teacher. I was reminded that beyond the grueling drudgery of the deli and deja vu there were places where I meant something, where my brain meant something, where I might make some sort of positive impact. Some might argue that teaching young children to worship Rasputin and crave dark minions is not a positive impact, but that's their problem.

Anyway, I ramble. I'll find something or die trying.

broken door

music: something tasteful and vaguely depressing and largely inaudible. Coffee shop music.

Drunk Dial of Previous Evenening: NA

Name of Freighter Most Recently Spotted in Bay: NA

Outfit now: olive drab turtleneck sweater, polka dotted skirt, platforms, smart jacket. You'd never know who I really am or that my life is hanging by a thread.

Beverage: luke warm cup of coffee that I've been nursing for the last hour and 44 minutes.

Agenda for day: find a job, pack boxes full of heavy russian history books and dirty socks, avoid crackhead roommate, go to work at other job, avoid suicidal thoughts.

What I drank last Night: 2 pbrs

Reason for drinking: avoiding the feeling I get when I don't drink 2 pbrs.

pet 'peeve':  crystal meth

enemy: Dirtrock

if i could be doing anything right now:  yelling at my minion to bring me coffee from the comfortable sanctuary of my enourmous oaken desk and my new high powered job.

most impressive thing I've done lately: not fallen into deep depression, continued to actually try.

greatest regret: living in the 21st C.

most recent compliment I have recieved: my  friends actually seem to have faith that I will rise again.

Goal: find job and place to live with a porch and a yard and no crackheads within earshot.

Best thing I've seen today: e-mails from anatomist, jimmy hangover and syliva  in my inbox. ps. everyone should start writing to me again.

Recently Read Books: Some book about Rasputin that was pretty good, Confessions of a Medical examiner (interesting), adventure novel written in the fifties and set in ancient japan ( I forget what the book is called, but the protagonist is named Dirk), Tarot: The Journey of the Hero, America (daily show), Stiff,(recommended), I tried to read Everything is Illuminated, but it annoyed me.

Recent Themes: umm...lucklessness?

People I've talked to today, and about what: Nick. Sometime like him saying 'have fun sleeping' and me claiming that I was actually going to get up soon. Which was true. relatively.

broken door

music: something tasteful and vaguely depressing and largely inaudible. Coffee shop music.

Drunk Dial of Previous Evenening: NA

Name of Freighter Most Recently Spotted in Bay: NA

Outfit now: olive drab turtleneck sweater, polka dotted skirt, platforms, smart jacket. You'd never know who I really am or that my life is hanging by a thread.

Beverage: luke warm cup of coffee that I've been nursing for the last hour and 44 minutes.

Agenda for day: find a job, pack boxes full of heavy russian history books and dirty socks, avoid crackhead roommate, go to work at other job, avoid suicidal thoughts.

What I drank last Night: 2 pbrs

Reason for drinking: avoiding the feeling I get when I don't drink 2 pbrs.

pet 'peeve':  crystal meth

enemy: Dirtrock

if i could be doing anything right now:  yelling at my minion to bring me coffee from the comfortable sanctuary of my enourmous oaken desk and my new high powered job.

most impressive thing I've done lately: not fallen into deep depression, continued to actually try.

greatest regret: living in the 21st C.

most recent compliment I have recieved: my  friends actually seem to have faith that I will rise again.

Goal: find job and place to live with a porch and a yard and no crackheads within earshot.

Best thing I've seen today: e-mails from anatomist, jimmy hangover and syliva  in my inbox. ps. everyone should start writing to me again.

Recently Read Books: Some book about Rasputin that was pretty good, Confessions of a Medical examiner (interesting), adventure novel written in the fifties and set in ancient japan ( I forget what the book is called, but the protagonist is named Dirk), Tarot: The Journey of the Hero, America (daily show), Stiff,(recommended), I tried to read Everything is Illuminated, but it annoyed me.

Recent Themes: umm...lucklessness?

People I've talked to today, and about what: Nick. Sometime like him saying 'have fun sleeping' and me claiming that I was actually going to get up soon. Which was true. relatively.

somebody save me before I revert to my ten year old self. Mary????

Okay I am getting far too wholesome here. This is rediculous. I've even been enjoying hanging out with My MOTHER. Witness the following journal entry:

Feb 14th, 2005..
The late afternoon light gives the rancho a sort of guilded grace and the air is that rare perfect temperature, without the faintest hint of heat or cold. There is somthing old world about the scene; the light makes the vine covered brush look almost like golden stacks of hay in some mideaval field, and the casit itself is at its most roman villaesque.

Today I drank coffee out in the ruins of Rosalillas old house, and then cleared some brush, breaking down mesquite for firewood, began work on some ikons *my mother sells ikons*, drank a beer and sang john prine songs while I cooked la cena *pasta a la carbonera* did some more work on the ikons *including one called the many faces of Eve, done in a virgin/whore motif* and then returned to the ruins with a pillow to lie on the warm cement and read my dorothy sayers mystery and perhaps dust my sad white flesh with at leas some semblance of tan.

end of journal entry.

disturbing isn't it? It sounds like I'm actually enjoying living in a chapel in the countryside with my mother. Well I'm back in town again, but last night I went to see a terrance mccnally play and was too tired to go out afterwards, so the wholesomeness kick has continued. My goal for the day is to get drunk and find someone to talk to under the age of 40. not necessarily in that order.

By the way, I just finished reading 'The Bottany of Desire' by Michael Pollan and its fucking brilliant. I also recommend Gaudy Night, by Dorothy Sayers (thirties era detective stuff)...Naturally I've been on a Graham Green kick as well. ITs always appropriate to read Graham Green when one is sipping Americanos in foreign cafes. When one isn't reading hemmingway, of course.

evilcatofhell gets all french on you

I got a rather alarmed e-mail from my friend JC *whose resemblence to the JC of bracelet fame is perfunctory at best* who seemed to think my post about the validity of falling for people was somehow me admitting to being still hung up on Josh. I guess Josh just seemed like the eloquent example to justify my argument in favor of continuing to run headlong into brick walls when one should long ago have learned ones lesson. I really am not sure about my argument in general. I mean more often than not one hits the wall and falls back in a daze with little damage done, * the damage becomes more fleeting as years go on* but if one is 'lucky' one managed to actually lodge one's head in the wall for a few years, whereupon one's vision is obscured by bricks and other assorted stifling rubble, and one is liable to be blinded to the possibilities that exist beyond choking on brick dust. I'll probably go back and forth on this forever. The best bit of course is when one gets bored with hanging out in the room and goes around looking for old holes in the wall to hide ones head in.

But enough of that....I have a pleasantly hemmingwayesque day planned for myself, which involves allot of lurking around in cafes and on park benches looking pretentious with my sketch pads and books. I think I'll drink some fresh squeezed orange juice beneath the colonades and then go down to the french park. I know the name implies a surpluss of waif like models with tasteful smatterings of freckles and perhaps some mimes hitting each other with baguettes, but I assure you that I have seen none, and the park is much more lovely than its name implies. Later |I think I will go sit on the terrace of Mama Mias and visit my new friend the hot argentinean waiter.

Now anyone who follows my rants closely knows that I love Argenineans almost as much as I love the french, but (aside from the unfortunate habit of wearing a black turtleneck and mentioning Nietzche) this one is being given carte blanche for being the only interesting person I have so far met in San Miguel. BEsides he writes comic books and is hot.

My mother has left me to my own devices for a few days in town, and it is a fucking lovely thing. Also her richer-than-us friend gave me a respectable ammount of pocket money. All of the money is in pesos, so I have no compunction to save it, and plan on squandering it on cappuccinos and panama hats like a good expatriate. I suppose I should feel like an ass getting 'pocket money' at my age, but I'm sorry, I don't. I just feel lucky and happy to be able to revel in some paltry luxuries after a long twist of scrounging.

Needless to say, I wish you all (you know who you are) were here. Then perhaps I wouldn't be reduced to beign pleasant to ARgentineans.

the obi-wan strikes again.

music: Slayer, I Dig Rock n' Roll Music, The Fall
Hey kids....welcome to bi-polar blog! Yeah, life seems pretty fuckin' good at the moment, probably because I just downed a large vat of extremely tasty coffee and read through everyones blogs and was happy that I have so awesome friends. Yes, I am sucking up to you. Flattery will get you everywhere my friends...That and large bouqets of expensive flowers.
Man, this music is pretty awesome too....Yes, I am in a rare mood, kind of like that mood I got in when I was out in deadwood jumping on things in my 'Obi-Wan' bathrobe and grinning maniacly and muttering 'I see plastic animals and I'm dying but its fun...'. Only less drug induced and so far I haven't actually jumped on anything. In fact, I haven't gotten farther than my stove. So in essence, I have only moved a very dignified twenty paces this morning, with some back and forth to the percolator. I think this kick-ass bouncy fall song is giving me the illusion of some sort of manic pogoing.
Another concievable explanation for my manic/maniacal mood may be that
a) I got a royalty check coming to me that will just cover the rent
b) I have decided not to party at all this week. This my friends is day three, which may explain my excess of nervous energy....
c) The only time I have left the house in the last two days was to go to the video store. In a fit of virtousness I decided to RUN to the video store. Picture me in a panda hoodie and warm up pants and earmuffs clutching late movies and running through the rain startling home bums, and  hocking loogies stirred up by sudden and unexpected movement....I was trying to do that discreet move of not exactly hocking loogies AT yuppies, but just sort of near them in a slightly menacing fashion. I perfected it in high school, and it felt good to get back to my roots. Though I don't think I ever ran anywhwere in high school.
Anyway, I just had to post something dorky and hyperactive lest you read yesterdays post and thought I had slumped into some hopeless faux literary depression.

what's the point of being cool if you can't wear a sombrero?

The phone rang  at 7:30 this morning, but I didn't pick it up because I figured whoever it was was either high on coke or the bearer of very bad news or both. I woke up at 11 to find Dirtrock reading the New York Times in a kitchen that smelled like bagels and coffee. The phone call turned out to have been from Snowball. Exact transcript:
Snowball: Hey GUYS! ITs Snowing!!!! (sound of maniacal laughter).
I immediately chastised Dirtrock for not informing me of the snow straight off, or perhaps for not pounding on the door of my room as soon as he made the discovery, but he informed me in jaded cityrat tones that the snow was already 'gross slush' anyway. Further investigation proved this to be true, ruining all my Calvin and Hobbsian fantasies of building a snow tunnel to Shorty's.
Somehow even though its just muddy slush, I still have a more cozy wintery feeling than I've had all year. I wish Christmas would have felt more like this. I am sitting around drinking impossibly black coffee listening to Louis Armstrong and Earl Hines records. Dirtrock went to buy a map of the world. Not drinking for two days has strange effects on my friends. He promises to return for our movie marathon. Thirsty is coming over with Pirates of the Caribbean and a fine bottle of scotch, 'the Glenrothes', and Snowball is coming over with a salad and supposedly the highly saught after 'Troy'. (?????) We have bacon, eggs, butter, bagels and coffee. I've been working on my comic and lecturing Dirtrock on the fall of the Roman empire. He's been retaliating by reading hilarious Donald Rumsfeld quotes from the paper.
Life seems allright.