Day 9 -- IN

Had such an incredible day.

Todd's uncle, Mike, showed us around Parke County, IN, and we saw the last 150 years first hand.

There was the gristmill that was hand-hewn out of sandstone by Sugar Creek (the Lusk Mill -- it's on Wikipedia). Here's me and Uncle Mike sitting by the mill, talking about how having kids seems like the most frightening thing in the world.

We decided that fear beats desire, and to feel lucky that we even have a choice in the matter.

There was the Staley cabin, a log cabin from 1847 that Uncle Mike (UM) owned at one point.

Here's UM and Todd. This is the usual scene when these two get together.


There was the old Staley tractors from the 1800 on the property, and the trailer from the 1940s. We tried to take some pics like the old pioneers -- all serious and life is hell and whatnot.



There was an ancient Amish barn. Here's me and UM by the entrance to the barn.

I climbed up this ladder -- there was a buzzard up there that didn't take kindly to me.

You can't tell that it's Amish by just looking at it, but boy, when you do look at it, you see perfect craftmanship. PERFECT. These people know how make things.

There were covered bridges. There was an old building that we need to buy and restore.

There was the lonely small graveyard with stones dating back to 1858.


There was Todd's mom's hometown, Marshall.

I'm overwhelmed with today.

Creatures seen:

Fireflies
Toads
Fish
Black Snake
Mouse
Chicken
Hummingbird
Buzzard
Fox(!)
Goat
Cows
Deer (Fawn and Buck)
Horses
MYSTERY CREATURE!!!

Todd and I were driving down the road, and Todd miraculously spotted a Buck lying down in a soybean field. We had just had a discussion with UM about Bucks, about how they pretty much stay out of clearings, and stick to the woods. Todd spots this Buck lying down and we are elated! A Buck! There he goes, he gets up, saunters off to the Fawn munching nearby. Now, the Buck hadn't been eating, just sitting on the edge of the field, quite near the road, originally. We were so excited! So by the time we get the camera and we get the car turned so that the lights are facing the field, the Buck is about 250 ft away, and we are looking at him take his leave. UM rolls down the window in the backseat, to smoke. I see something moving in to the right, in the field -- I instantly think of a skunk, or a fox. But this is big. This is black, with some gery and brown mixed in. This is furry. This is BIG. This, this, THING, moves in front of our car, in the headlights, across the field, about 70ft away from us. I ask, what is THAT. We watch, amazed, as it lopes by. It looked like a bear, no a dog, no a wolf, no an anteater, no a wolf...and so on for half an hour. We turned it into any and everything. It was a chupacabra. It was a werewolf. It was a gorilla. I never did see a face on it. It was a ULO, Unidentified Loping Object. I swear, I get it about the country at night. Creepy, crawley, dangerous, having an agenda. The wild. I actually got sick to my stomach after seeing this thing. I know! Wimp! You don't want me on your team, your team for photographing and tracking this beast. It made me ill.

Todd and UM laughing at me freaking out. Notice how UM is nonchalantly OUTSIDE THE CAR!


We're off to Newark tomorrow. I'm going to see my baby nephew for the first time! Hooray!

Day 8 -- IN

So we're in Rockville, IN, and today it is raining, but not thundering nor lightning. I'm waiting for Todd to pick me up from the hotel, as I had a nasty headache this morning. No, silly, not hungover. I think that I clench my teeth for hours at night, and then when I wake up, my head between my eyes and my ears pounds. My eyes are also really puffy in the morning, but I don't know what that is about. I suppose I should drink more water.

Today we are going to motor around town, saving Indianapolis for tomorrow.

I'll upload the new pictures tonight.

(By the way, I had a dream in which I was with my parents at Fashion Island in Newport Beach, and I was confused, so I told them, "I don't know how I could possibly be here, becuase I'm in Indianna. This must me a dream." And my mom was like, "Oh, okay. Well, it's nice to see you." Lucid dreaming without waking up is intense -- it's so fascinating, because if I could be so wholly in another place in my mind, what makes me think that waking life is more real? This line of thought is alarming.)

We traveled over to Uncle Park and Aunt Triva's. Their old barn is incredible.
They have a farm house and barns about 3mi outside of downtown Rockville.

Uncle Park is a total character. He asks Todd, about our Range Rover -- that isn't one of them slant-eyed cars, is it?
Todd loves a porch swing.
From their house we went over to Uncle Bob's and Aunt Jerry's house -- they just built a new house and have done more to their house in six months then we ever have to any house our whole marriage.
Here's Uncle Park giving Uncle Bob a hard time about the size of his gravel drive way. Bob's telling Park, "Naw, it's better a lit'le bigger, it's got some lihme init -- makes it stick!"

These hardworkin' midwesterners make us look like Java the Hut, just lounging around while everthing orbits us. Aunt Jerry has three hummingbird feeders on her 40ft porch, so we stood around while upwards of 20 hummingbirds buzzed around us. Todd got the National Geographic pic award for this one:


Tomorrow we may go to Indy, and see some sights.

Day 6 & 7 -- OK to MO to IL to IN

6/26/07

We drove through Missouri today. I was asleep for the better part of the morning, thank you Tylenol PM and Central time. But now I’m awake! I awoke in the city of Lebanon, and we had a small adventure. At first, when you’re right off of the road, it looks like every other roadside town we’ve seen so far, but upon further exploration, it’s a pretty decent little town.

We found out at the Captain D’s that there was a Starbucks down the road at the local Pricecutters, a grocery store. So we drove south for about a mile, past the Wendy’s, Taco Bell, McDonald’s, Sonic, and DQ. We cut through the old town, on Commercial Road, where, apparently, the town commerce had originated. There were really no interesting stores, but the old brick buildings are so awesome. I am a huge sucker for an old town. I love to know when and why it was built, who founded it, and so on. We didn’t have much time, so we found the Pricecutters, and saw that the Starbucks was “coming soon.” I swung the car around, and Todd just happens to catch that the Starbucks opened on the 25th. Great! So I park, and we go in. The young lady and two middle-aged women at the counter seem very friendly, and a little nervous. We are very friendly and happy to be getting coffee, which puts the blond girl with the freckles and pretty blue eyes and I even think she has a ribbon in her hair at ease. I order a drink with a ridiculously long title – a triple iced Americano with sugar-free vanilla and room for cream, and then start laughing because I’m embarrassed that I’m ordering this in the new Starbucks in Lebanon, Missouri, and the cute young girl, absolutely the captain of the cheerleading squad, looks at me kind of bitchy-like, but I know she’s just scared that she’s going to get it wrong, being the second day of business and all. She looks at me unblinkingly, intense at getting the order right, and sets to work. Me and Todd poke around the little stand, waiting for our coffee, and I make a joke in a drawl, about that gal darn $5 coffee, and I heard it were overrated anyhow, and Todd’s totally like, you better shut up, you’re making us look un-American, you’re going to get us shot, and all that, but I just laugh. They make us the drinks, and when the woman who looks like my mom’s age puts the whipped cream on Todd’s mocha, she gets a little giddy and says, “Oh, this is so fun!” I laugh and say it sure looks like it. I get my drink, and I look around for half and half, and they are filling them behind the espresso makers, and I ask for it, and they give it to me, and I take my first drink, and I’m in coffee heaven, and I say, “It’s really good! It’s perfect!” And the cheerleader looks so relieved. As we’re walking away the manager, so typical, late 30s, big belly, stupid haircut, furrowed brow, cheap but oversized watch, starts talking to the woman employees, so serious, like management of a Starbucks booth in a grocery store in Missouri is so empowering. And maybe it is.

So we then adjourned to a little hamburger stand at my behest, a place out of the 50s called Swiss Miss Hamburgers and Ice Cream, complete with a sharply peaked roof – and Todd is annoyed because I don’t usually like places like this, but it’s too classic to pass up. We get out and snap a pic, and go in. Inside, there is a counter and a man with grey hair, and I tell Todd, see, I knew it would be a family place. Except. Except. As we make our order, the man with grey hair seems exceptionally tired. His family, working behind him, doesn’t make any audible noise when they talk to each other. I look to the left and there are three white boys with caps and high-waisted Wrangler jeans on. There is just a normal Midwestern woman and man to the right. I hear the boys saying something like, “…and I told him he was one dead motherf****er…” and he didn’t sound comic. He sounded serious. And me and Todd have no where to go, to stand, and we don’t really want to sit, and we start feeling like this is some episode of the Twilight Zone where a couple, a nice but clueless couple, touring the United States, decides to stop at an old time burger joint in the middle of nowhere, only to find that they have stepped into, the Twilight Zone. Then one of the boys gets up to get his order, and he has scratches all on the side of his face (and that’s when I saw the Wrangler jeans, the cap, the boots), and I’m like, no, those are from a briar bush he was taking off the property, not from someone he was attacking…and suddenly behind us there is a loud knock on the glass door, and I jump out of my skin and it’s just this little lady outside, trying to come in, but we’re blocking the entrance, so, after the loud knock, she comes in and says so sweetly, “Well ah didn’t wahnt to hitcha…” and she giggles. Finally the son, the young, fifteenish looking son, calls our number and we pay, and I’m looking at him, and he doesn’t say anything but the total, and he says it so softly, and his mouth is hanging open a bit, revealing a row of crooked bottom teeth, and his eyes are really close together and he doesn’t really look at me so much as look through me, and I notice he has all these cuts on his left arm, and my heart sinks.

We get the heck out of there. The burger is pretty good. We do not enter the fourth dimension.

We get back on the road and make it to the Mermac Caves. Jesse James’ hideout!


We pull off the road and have to wait for the Longest Train Ever to pass. We drive out to the cave site, and I drive too fast, and Todd says, geez babe, it’s not Hollywood. I go, oh my, god, where are we, in the most sarcastic voice ever, because driving ability is a sore subject in our marriage, and Todd sighs.

The Mermac caves are unbelievable. Todd is a little bit scared, because he doesn’t like to think about being trapped, but I love it. Our tour guide through the caves was dreadful; she kept making awful jokes and was trying to be tough but was just a dumb girl. But I loved the caves. I love the look of rock melting.

It takes millions of years. It’s crazy.

Then Todd drove us into St. Louis. We first went to Blueberry Hill to taste some world famous root beer, at Fitz’s.

It was pretty good (I liked my Stella better). We walked around Delmar and went to a cute bookstore and saw a neat old theater that was playing decent movies.

Next we were off to Cunetto’s, the home of the first toasted ravioli. It was really good, and we had calamari and beers and watched the baseball game on TV.

Cardinals won! Yahoo!

We went to the hotel downtown and called it a night.

6/27/07

We woke up late, and missed the complimentary breakfast, which is always a bummer. They only had a room with two double beds, and toilet made this awful sound every two hours, but the hotel was packed and we were getting a AAA rate, so we just dealt with it. I started out in one of the double beds, but couldn’t sleep, and crawled in with Todd at around 3AM. I know; I’m a wuss.

We took off for the Arch!

We walked around the old town riverfront for a few minutes.

It’s basically all bars and nightclubs, and I hadn’t even had lunch yet, so I wasn’t in the mood for just beer, so we took off, heading for Todd’s hometown of Indianapolis, by way of Illinois.

We pulled into Rockville, Indianna, around 8pm, and we drove straight to Todd's uncle's house, to surprise him. He was totally delighted to see us and then later, after we checked in at the Billy Creek Village Inn, we met him at Pizza Hut for dinner. I haven't dined in at a Pizza Hut in ages. We saw fireflies (me for the first time, ever), and there's been lightning storms. We are going to kick it here for a couple of days. Todd may mow on a big mower -- I may go on a hike. It's the midwest. We're taking it easy.

Day 5 -- TX to OK

We drove out of Texas this morning. I had an AWFUL dream this morning; thanks King Cobra. It's finally fading, but it had something to do with vampires and me slicing my left wrist, but no blood would come out. I think I was sleeping on my arm wrong. Then Todd was like, get up! Let's go! And was like, I hate you. He's not really a morning person, but to me he is. I'm like, the worst version of myself possible when I wake up and it's before 10am. (Except in class, as Brandon can attest. I'm still awful and eager and chatty -- cause it's CLASS! Let's COMMUNICATE! I know. Shoot me.) I'm short and I'm bleary eyed, and I'm not happy to see anyone or anything. And malt liqour, which I hadn't had in like, YEARS, seriously, since I was prob 16, makes me, apparently, sweater tongued and bloated. Bad dreams are even worse. In this kind of morning situation, I even may start staring off into nothing and talking to myself. Aw, you think I'm kidding.

We drove to Oklahoma City and went to the national memorial there, where the federal building once sat.

That was very interesting and emotional. Sometimes when I'm in situations where I as a normal American would think it's going to be emotional, am not emotional. I didn't know what to expect at the memorial, because I was fifteen when the bombing occured, and was sort of detached from it. I was at an age where I was 99.99% self absorbed and had drama everyhwere in my life, and I was like Oklahomawho...but since 9/11 happened, and the war, violence seems much more personal to me.

When you go to the memorial, and see the monument to the vicitms and you see the baby monuments...it was hard. When you walk through the memorial exhibit, you hear a tape of a hearing that was going on in a building next door, and you hear the explosion, and I got so scared during it, because you know it is coming, and there's nothing you can do about it. You can't help but get choked up.

We went on to Tulsa. Tulsa! TULSA! Tulsa? Yes. Tulsa. It is really cool here. We got in, we checked out this neighborhood, Brookside, and it is great. Beautiful homes, all kinds of indepedent merchants, a Wild Oats, a chuch called Brooke South Church, and we ate at a good Irish Pub and Todd got to have Irish Car Bombs, and it was a good time.

Plus, I got the most Bitchen cowboy shirt ever.

Tomorrow -- St. Louis! Todd wants me to go on something called an inclinator that travels the arch. Yipes.

*Book Notes*
I haven't been reading, but I've been listening to lots of Howard Stern. It's funny. But I'll get serious soon. Because this is serwious!

Day 4 -- NM to TX

Hey -- remember the Pee Wee in the biker bar thing? I'm in Texas! I've never been in Texas before. There is this thing though, that's making me angry. Photobucket is not avalible, so I can't post pictures and this makes me irritated.

Today we drove to Amarillo, and I thought it would be cool and old here, but it's quite boring and awful. Maybe it's so awful because it's Sunday, but NOTHING was open. The only thrill I got was from the renovated Paramount theater downtown. The sign is great.

There are these horses all over town, these fiberglass horses that are decorated all differently. I'm just imagining everyone was a church today, because there was no one around. The biker bar was packed, but we didn't have the balls to go hang. We ended up eating at On the Border, which pissed me off, because they have these restaraunts in CA and so what the hell. So I ordered a premium margarita and then went to the local gas station to get a 40 of King Cobra. I have fabulous pictures for all of these non adventures, but the bloody site won't work.

My favorite things in the city were the old theater and the giant cowboy statue.

Here's the theater. It opened in 1932, but closed in the 1970s. It's not really a theater anymore, but they restored the sign.


Here's the cowboy! He wants you to eat steak!


Yes. The sentiment does smack of Texas stereotypes.


See Ya'll.

Day 3 -- AZ to NM

We made it through the desert to the Rio Grande. Albuquerque has given my morale a boost with it's cool downtown vibe. Today I saw a really cool train station -- there were some abandoned packing stations that looked incredible and there were some old traincars lingering about.

We left Scottsdale at about 8am and made a stop at the Meteor Crater, in, I think, Crater City. The crater was amazing. 50,000 years old! Oy!



Does this Crater make my butt look big?


"Babe. Babe! The sign -- you're trying to tell me you didn't see this sign. Right here."


On the road we passed all these crazy dinosaurs. This one was expecially vicious -- the genital-eating Crotchagonasaurous.


So, we got to Albuquerque, and we crossed the river and Todd goes, hmmm, the Rio Grande, like making fun, and it really was the Rio Grande. Nice.

We ate at this place Todd's brother rocommended, and I thought it was going to be authentic(ish) and cool, and it was in an old restored water and power building, but it was commercialish and the food was just okay, and I didn't even want to eat desert there, because I didn't want to stay in there.

But there's always room for pecan pie! Is there anything more sickeningly sweet than pecan pie?


We drove around for a bit, looking at old architecture and checking things out. That's when I saw the train station and some cool stuff. Todd got a shot of some shoes on wires, as he plans to make a book someday about shoes on wires.


I'm going to take some shots early tomorrow morning of the buildings that I liked, and the River. We stop in Amarillo tomorrow, and plan to have more time for the city than we did for Albuquerque. I love to thrift store shop. You never know when you are going to find the Mr. T vinyl wallet of your dreams.

6/25 -- Here are the pics I wanted to post.

This is a boarded up freight house in Albuquerque that looked really cool.


This was another of what was really this whole massive train yard that had these huge storehouses that appeared to be empty/abandoned.


Here I am at this organic/whole foods/hotspot cafe in a trendy part of town. That cupcakes, and Todd and I consider ourselves to be cupcake experts, so we tried six kinds. You know what? They were not that good. The chocolate one was okay. But that's it just okay. The best cupcakes ever continue to be found at Frosted in Long Beach.


*Book Notes*

Started The Curious Incident... today. I really like it. I think it is really adept at putting thoughts into paragraphs. It's such a great book at putting into words how "normal" society mucks everything up. If we were just truthful, life would be less complucated -- but there might be more serial killers. I'll prob finish the book tomorrow. Haven't picked MD back up yet. Maybe when it gets less hot and deserty. The heat and the sun is kind of maddening.

Day 2 -- AZ

We have spent the day in Scottsdale, because we had to get a new radiator, and the dealership here was the only one in a 350 mile radius able to do the job in one day. So we went to the movies here and saw Knocked Up -- way less funny than the 40 Year Old Virgin -- Waayyy. Some parts were really funny, but mostly gag funny. 40YOV still makes me laugh out loud, and I've seen it at least five times.

We saw it at what the town calls the new Cine Capri -- that might be some good movie Americana lore that interests Joe. It was the 50s theater here, and it was the biggest screen in AZ for some time. The OG one is still there, but it's been remodeled and junk. The new one is in this shopping center.

I am currently disheartened by the fact that everywhere it's the same old thing. Same stores, same architecture, same everything. Just desert-y, and hotter than Anna Nicole's boob sweat circa 2000. I'm sick of mini empires. Bah!

Day 1 of the Great American Tour

Okay, we haven't left yet.

But chronicling this vacation is going to be fun, gentlemen (I'm sure any gir-woman who reads this blog at my behest would never, ever, mind being called gentlemen), and we are going to freak out bananas before we even get out of the county.

We have to:

Pack
Get stuff done
Pack

I thought the perfect way to prepare for the trip would be to sit and write a blog about it. Ha.

It's going to be an adventure, folks, and you are going to read all about it. So far, I have a headache, and feel lost! Brilliant!

*UPDATE*

Well, I know it's actually day 2 already, but we are just settling in for the night, in Scottsdale. I drove the last two hours; the last 30 mins I had to jam my fist into my sciatic nerve so I wouldn't have to pull over and hop around! I'm too young for this crap. But we're in our Spring Suite, and I put the soft sheets on the bed (I can't stand crunchy nasties) and now we're ready to get cozy.

And while I'm glad there is a new theater close by, playing new movies in fabulous uber super sound, I'm so sick of the same old super strip mall shopping center everywhere we go. Wells was wrong. Big brother is a shopping mall. (Or maybe that is what the book was about -- I don't know. I only read A Brave New World.) It all the same, and while I don't mind feeling secure that I can get my perscriptions at any Target nationwide (I actually don't currently have any, but they at least have my info) I really don't need the constant reminder that everyone in America is giving thier money to the same two people, who just keep getting richer and richer and richer and richer while we get more in debt. It's so disheartening. But have heart! or take heart! Or man up! Or get me a beer!

Stitches, Staples, and the Feminine Mystique. Oh My.

I thought I would burst through the door today, after having played nurse to my mom for almost a week, and have tons to unload. I came home. I got a beer. I feel empty.

We (Todd and I) are leaving on our cross country road trip tomorrow. It the vacation we've been trying to take for a month, but what with death in the family and work, it just hasn't worked out. So now it's sort of working out. We have to drive to Scottdsdale, AZ, to get a new radiator on our car, then we can drive easy. I'm not sure if we are going to make it to Louissianna, which was going to be one of the highlights of my trip.

I'm exhausted. Taking care of my mom was not laborious, but there was not much sleep happening in the too-short twin bed I slept on , and when I bunked with my mom and double pull out, my pillow would get lost under the couch and I would wake up with a paralyzed neck. I put neosporin on her incisions, made sure she took her Vicodin on time, and didn't steal any Vicodin. Okay, maybe one. I got her stuff, I watched movies, I played cribbage, and she is a mean, nasty cribbage player. My grandma kept saying, oh you're such a good girl, which contributed greatly to my twelve year old self image. My grandma also kept acting shocked and surprised that I am capable of taking care of someone and even of saying interesting things. She must have very small expectations concerning me. She goes on and on about my cousins, with whom she is obsessed. I know it's not their fault, and I don't hold it aginst them, but I wish my grandma knew how tiring it was. She is not easily confronted however, becuase she doesn't get over things, and it's better just to let her be. I'm sure that is how everything really is, when it comes to love.

I learned some new things about my Grandpa while I was there. He was on a destroyer in the South Pacific, and he was in five battles. He was invovled in fishing those 40 some marines out of the water when they had been dead for some time, he saw some action. That makes me understand him a little better. Most of my family two generations back were drinkers, smokers, gamblers, and fighters. This makes me feel better about myself.

But you don't want to hear about all this boring stuff.

Moby-Dick is getting slow. I'm to the Cetology chapter and it's getting a little harder to digest. But I really like it. I got my own copy of Absalom, so I can finally tie up the loose ends of that reading. I also bought The Curious Incident Of the Dog in the NIght time for the road. ANd I will work on some projects of the crochet variety while passing through the Smokies. But mostly, I need a nap. I'm no fun anymore. I need to recharge.

Moby-Dick

So hilarious. I feel like I know this type of thinking. It's fabulous. I have been laughing out loud. I'm so loving reading it. It's actually going by fast. It reminds me of Dostoyevsky immensely, but far more graspable and feelable. Now, talking about it in class will be a different story. I'm enjoying it, but I'll have to use my noodle to come up with any kind of discussion. There is a very strange wording going on, very sexual. Just some innuendo that seems too obvious to ignore. But I'm totally enjoying this as my summer reading.

All right -- off to pick mom up at the medical center.

Alright already.

I know. A lot of posts in one day. Well, I just considered the next five or six days of my life, and I probably won't be near any wifi, so I'll just leave you for a feww days with some thoughts.

Rejection will always hurt to me. I'm getting better at handling this hurt -- but it tends to make me want to go into a shell.

I hardly ever learn.

I think I will always feel like I'm twelve years old.

The next few days I'll be at my Grandma's house. I will bring my books and my guitar and my sheet music. I hope it will be okay. I will bring tequila and beer. I will walk to sushi and the nursery where I will buy a pot so that I can try to steal some of the violets in my grandma's yard. They smell so sweet, and I can never find them anywhere else. I will read Moby Dick. I will help my mom go to the bathroom, and check her drainage tubes constantly for infection. I will field phone calls and rent DVDs -- maybe the first and second season of the Office, and some of the movies in the books that Joe gave me. Maybe I will write. I know when I see my mom all mummified, I will feel strangely numb, then later I will want to cry and feel so afraid.

So until I'm back. I'll try to have some great stuff on Moby Dick for when I return to the web.

Ta.

I have to share; just call me Cosby

My mom is getting some elective surgery this Thursday, and I'm slated to take care of her at my Grandma's "little house"; what we call the add-on apartment attached to her garage. My husband was babysitting my neices up in Whittier today, being used by my mom while he was around. He reported that my three year-old neice was yammering away about any and everything, and she mentioned that her and my mom had driven past a minature golf course, and she offered up this gem:

"Yah, umm...ummm Gramma said that we could go to...go to...go to...play golf....after she gets her old neck cut off."

Kids. Pffffbt.

Finished Sound

Why do I feel like I just dunked my head into a pool of pitch black water and tried to see a silly little circus act? What is with this book?

So, I'm sort of aware that I think that this family was pretty well off, then the civil war, than maybe the first world war, then their daughter was a slut, then her brother got very upset about it, then she was going to get married to a person that could redeem them financially and maybe in the town, then she gets pregnant and her husband turns her out, then the father drinks himself to death, they won't take the daughter back, the brother goes off to Harvard on land money, kills himself, and the eldest tries to maintain sanity by being pissed at everyone and making money, the "servants" on the place are torn, feeling part of the family, but hating the family nonetheless, the bastard grandaughter can't stand anyone, and runs off with a musician, and all the while, the mentally challenged son is "bellering."

But that is not really the story, is it? There's some ambiguity: Did Quentin Sr. impregnate his own sister? Did he think he did? DId Jason acutally kill Quentin Jr.? Who is Damuddy? I'm so lost.

What is the original tragedy that makes the family at such a loss? Is it the Uncle? Did he swindle them? I know I have to, but I don't want to read it again. This book mocks its readers. I mean, seriously, I feel like I am being mocked by Faulkner in his grave and he is laughing, laughing, laughing.

The pool beckons...

Are you enjoying these first few warmy days? I like to see clear skies at 8am. It just me happy. The sea sparkles, Catalina lounges, and the Port of Los Angeles could even be mistaken for a chocolate factory. My cats are like flowers, they lean into the sun, and recharge their cat batteries, squinting. Do you think I could take beer down the pool? Or should I just plastic cup my margarita, which has ice in it...the plastic cup is a better idea, because warm beer is better taken in a dusty pub with shots of whiskey and Bailey's dropped in. The bottom of an Irish car bomb takes a little like heaven. Even Todd can't resist doing an immediate second ICB.

Went up to the Z Gallerie furniture outlet that is right by my house; it's a boutique on the bottom floor and an outlet upstairs. The building is an old Masonic Temple ad the upstairs is fabulous. There was another fabulous Temple up the way on Locust, and it was turned into lofts. Me and Todd toured them when they were building, but as is the case with most Masonic Temples, it was dark and dingy. I like to tour holes, but I don't want to live in one. The foyer was beautiful, though. The Temple where Z Gallerie is is better, and mayn't have always been a Temple, because there are lots of windows, and it's an old building. The outlet upstairs has been going on ever since I can remember...and now they are moving the outlet to a warehosue in Gardena. So no more bicycle rides up Pine on Tuesday and Friday afternoons. There's a Crown Books store next to Z, and I went in to get a used copy of Moby Dick, and also got American Pastoral, which was on someone's list (Brandon's?), and a Tyndale Bible. I love Tyndale's Job. It's the best -- Satan to God, regarding the goodness of Job, who will have "nothing to do with evil" -- "Why shouldn't he, when you pay him so well?"

Sat at Starbucks and read about twenty pages of Sound. I'm absolutely sick of Jason's chapter. I'm trying to get through it, painfully. I want to finish this book today.

Then, children, we will start Moby Dick.

I am torn. Shall I major in English Education, with Literature Emphasis, or just go ahead and major in Litertaure? I want to teach. But I can teach with either degree. Fiddlesticks.

Off to the pool, and by the way, I got a foam surfboard, and as soon as a I get a rack, am off to the sea. I hope I don't get typhus, or the E Bola, or some other nasty nasty. I will wear earplugs in the ocean, and attempt to keep my head above water. Even just paddling will be a good work out.

Off to read and languish. Jealous?

Quickie

So I went to Morrissey last night at the Bowl -- FANTASTIC! BRAVO! INCREDIBLE! The Queen is Dead, Hairdresser on Fire, National Front Disco, Disappointed, GIRLFRIEND IN A COMA, Everyday is Like Sunday, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE LET ME GET WHAT I WANT, I've Changed my Plea to Guilty, THE BOY WITH THE THORN IN HIS SIDE...I mean I was in heaven. I was jumping up and down. The Moz was fabulous. He was sexy, incredible, funny, perfect. It was a dream come true, and I got to see it with my est friend, with whom I memorized Smith's songs whilst we were high school freshmen.

YAY!

The Sound and the Fury

Read about 50 pages last night. Got through Quentin's chapter. I'm mostly horribly confused. Did he have sex with his sister? Did they just talk about other people having sex? Is Caddy dead? Is she sending Quentin Jr. money? Why is Jason Jr. so angry? Is he the "Fury"? And always the threat of Jackson. Why did the father drink himself into the ground? He was alive when Quentin met the people of Absalom. And what's Anse doing working for the Sherrif? I'm' into the chapter written from Jason Jr.'s perspective, and his rage just stresses me out. I think after I went to bed I ground my teeth all night long.

I have a feeling like I've been talking in my sleep all night. It makes me tired. I can't wait to talk about it with y'all when I'm done. Maybe we could have a book club-ish meeting at my house this summer. I think Joe should come, too, because if I'm not mistaken, I think he has a picture of Faulkner in his office, and that must mean that he likes him. We'll roast a chicken.

I have to make sense of this book. I have come to some kind of conclusion. I'm halfway through and it's like I'm ready for it to start already.

So, after Sound, I may switch authors. I may switch to MOBY DICK. Yes, folks, I'm going to read about the whale and the man and the harpooning.

I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?

Because I've been slacking off on my reading, and summer writing can also be nonchalant.

Did I ever tell you I love Jeopardy!? I love it. I love to pretend that I'm on the show, buzzer in hand. I may attempt to go on the show someday. Of course that will be the day that the Civil War is championed and many questions are concerned with world captials, or some such schnap. Lately there was a contestant that was so reminiscient of Spicoli it was laugh out loudable.

Did you catch the Mtv movie awards? I thought Sara Silverman could have been much funnier, and I thought everyone seemed weird. Is it really happening? Am I really getting old? Of course, I liked the Amy Winehouse performance, although she seems like she might not be nice. I respect her (and want to stroke her grey tattoos), but I think I'll keep a respectable distance. She reminds of PJ Harvey and R&B and ... prison. Isn't it strange that with the advent of internet publishing there is hardly any time between a debut and wild success? I don't know if I like it or not. I don't like to feel left behind.

I can't wait to get more into Sound. I'm almost afriad of it. Quentin is just so lost and hurt, he's irresistable.