jungle water

calm down
your cupid’s bow lips
your shoulders are
moving, tiger-striped
you’ll find yourself another
slip into dark jungle water
you’re bobbing your head

small news ( circus? radiology? massachusetts? dance studio? bakery? )

firstly, it shoudl be noted that one of my favorite awful movies of all time was on today. mannequin, circa 1987. no idea what i’m talking about? just mosey on over to youtube and watch the trailer. i recorded it, for the purpose of viewing whenever i please.  what’s wrong with me? i don’t know.

secondly, on the job front, there are many opportunities to speak of, but few seem to be moving past just that. there’s the 8 month stint with the circus for $225 a week, baristering at coffee crema in the haywood mall, radiology assistance at greenville memorial, working the sales counter as strossner’s for their sexist overlord ( but oh, does it smell good there ), being trained by fred astaire dance studio people to be an instructor ( sounds tempting, but i’m afraid i’d start and find they were wasting their time actually trying to teach me a skill … then i’d feel bad ) or moving somewhere that has yet to be determined with my father and striking up a new life there. so long as they’ve got a fairly large public transit system wherever that is, i’m game.

once i’ve saved up a substantial amount of money, i’m hoping to pack myself and my cat pu and move myself up to newton, massachusetts. it’s nice there. look it up, why don’t you.

also, happy valentine’s day. i love eating those little chalky hearts and ignoring the fact that i have not had anything even remotely close to a boyfriend ( i wish i liked that term as much as i adore “lady friend” ) in four years. fuck it though. it’ll happen when it’s meant to happen. until then, i’m just going to lust after conan o’brien and a male version of kim deal that probably doesn’t exist and keep putting myself out there, time after time, no matter the results, until something really wonderful happens.

right now, i may or may not be rather keen on a certain tumbleweed, even though the circumstances point to no.

but in the infamous and shrill words of paul sedaris, “fuck it. that shit don’t mean fuck to me.”

i .. love this video.

especially, the black guy and his laugh
that british guy
and that woman’s spaceship/dress.