We arrived in Colorado Springs yesterday, and Jon and Caitlin took me to a bar where I had chicken and waffles for the first time in my entire life. Have you had chicken and waffles at precisely the right time in your life? I hope so, because the snow-capped mountains hunched over town, the dry mountain air, and the sky with just a few scrapes of cloud were the ley lines that transported chicken and waffles across the void and into my life at a moment of good fortune so pure and true I almost didn’t finish my beer. We are creatures of great disorder and strange ailments, but chicken and waffles is a food we can eat. I didn’t bring my laptop on this trip, so I’m hurriedly tapping this out on my phone before packing yet more wine glasses into yet another box marked “fragile,” all the while savoring the memory of chicken and waffles.
I’m in Colorado to help my friend Caitlin move her husband back to Minnesota over the next three days. This afternoon we had a layover in Phoenix, the airport cradled in a valley baking the rusty hills to some intolerable temperature. It was snowing in Minneapolis when I left, climbing to 90—I think—in Phoenix, and now it’s all mountain evening air as we coast down the highway to Colorado Springs and Jon’s partially disassembled apartment, the last bit remaining for us to pack while we all whine about feeling tired and crushed up. But Jon lost his job because an investment firm calculated the numbers in a new way and found the most disposable cost was his department (i.e. humans who design things). As someone who teaches an online science fiction class at a large public university in the Midwest, I should probably refrain from existential bitching. Our flight was early, so I had just enough sleep not to feel tired, but not so much that I’m able to imagine anything other than a beer and a pillow.
I like being out of Minneapolis for a second. I’ve been feeling a little dead recently. Keeping mostly to myself, I feel a little like I’m waiting to want to be happy again. A recent trip to New York left me a bit ruined-feeling, and coming home to an unfinished dissertation chapter and a completely uncertain unemployment situation in the very near future wasn’t the right solution. Gonna try to find more time to be the aware and caring person I want to be, without sacrificing my own needs/interests or whatever. The thing I keep thinking about now is whether I should get some wisdom teeth pulled before I lose my insurance.
A woman on the plane had a perfect nose, and I took two selfies in the cramped bathroom and immediately deleted them. Which I think is part of some sacrificial logic where I delete the the selfie in order to feel less narcissistic. Then again, here I am writing about it. The man and his son in my seating row were dressed in the shiny, almost burnished-looking slacks and bright shirts you see on professional golfers, and before he started checking Twitter (just after landing), the son was playing a small, confusing-looking putting game on his phone. Prior to that he did math homework, and I read a science fiction novel from the eighties about post-nuclear California. It was all in keeping with a plan that eludes my understanding. Good talk.
This aired on ABC.
Special Agent Dale Cooper is the optimist’s version of Detective Rust Cohle.
Time is a flat circle, obvs.
What really bothers me about Twin Peaks is absolutely fucking nothing. It will never bother me at all. I’m not drunk, you’re drunk
I loved going to Minneapolis this past weekend, even though I was sick the whole time. Here are some things that I saw. I also got to meet my long-time Tumblr friend, Annotations!
Even though I gave the editors a really glum selfie for my writer picture, you can read this story of mine called "Red Dish" about fishing with grenades and severe burns and how to keep shadows alive. It’s at Juked, which I should have said before because they’re cool and you should read other stuff they’ve published. Right now, I am going to get in touch with the void of non-thinking by running around the park.
I didn’t intend this, but I’m also going to be thinking about the phrase “glum selfie” now.
A Little Lost - Arthur Russell
Also, in what brutal dystopian future are we living when the visual icon representing human food is a goddam hot dog and why am I so angry.
tonight a friend and I went for dinner and margaritas and then we came home and I interviewed her for Pretend You’re Famous! I think it will be a...
- A Tired Rant About "Female" Writers
I have seen this list of 21 women authors you “should be reading,” passed around. I have thoughts about the...