Chat Noir

I was reading thru some old posts like any self absorbed psuedo writer would do, and I thought to myself..."Self--you've never written about the love of your life...Frank the cat." So, then I was guilt stricken like a Jew the day before Yom Kippur. Frank is pretty bad ass. You know in my living room I have those big windows that look out on the Tavern. Well, Frank the fantastical feline was sitting on the window sill like any good house kitten. Then he thought it would be fun to jump up and with his two front paws grab onto the ledge where you would unlock the window and hang there flailing around. I suppose a truly good mother would have gotten off the couch & rescued her poor kitten, but I just laughed hysterially & let him figure it out. I was so hoping some drunk mofo watching the Astro's game at the Tavern would look up & see Frank the fantastical feline dangling two stories above ground. He's such a great cat.

"The Deomocratic Party is Altruistic"

God love Howard Dean, bc I don't know how it's humanly possible to align oneself with such an arrogant, pompous wind bag. He said that on This Week with the Snuffaloupogus guy. I would be ok with it if he said he thought the party was altruistic or if his belief is that the party was more altruistic than the repubs, but no. Pretty much he's saying he, Bill Clinton, and all the other donkies are on the same level as Mother Teresa (an Albanian of note). What a tard muffin. This is why I remain a-political. There are way to many imbisiles on every side of politics. So, why not vote for Kinky for governor?

On a happier note. I met Jamie Cullum this weekend on CBS News Sunday Morning. I love that show. If you're into nuevo-jazz you'll love him. I love him. www.jamiecullum.com

Later peeps.

Holding My Crucifix High

XLVII
HEART, we will forget him!
You and I, to-night!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you’re lagging,
I may remember him!

I'm done with Vampire Vic. Anywho, I've heard the guys of literary persuasion love Emily Dickinson. She was brilliant yet nonthreathening. I had an English professor in college tell everyone in the class that he was afraid of me. I was totally startled by this. So, naturally, I asked why. He said, I was always thinking...always analyzing every word everyone spoke...and that was frightening. Then he told the class to beware of me. They looked confused. He went on the give me an A++ on the in class essay I wrote about Catcher in the Rye. That's beside the point. So, I guess that explains things in life...

Condoms, a Cosmo & Chrisianity?

So, ok...right when you're about to loose all faith in mankind, right when you're sitting at your desk welling with tears bc of a stupid Coldplay song, right when you think no one really loves you (except your parents) some lady at work comes up to you...knowing you're beyond broke...and gives you $0.55 to get a candybar out of the machine in the dirty old breakroom. It's totally moments even as little as these that allow you the glimpse of God embodied in people.

I know I've been having all these revelation recently...probably most people have already thought these simple thoughts, but they were new & precious to me. I rememeber in high school our pastors would have these Sundays when you're supposed to bring a friend to church with you. I never did it, bc I hated church. No unchurched person would want to be there if someone who actually believe what was coming out of the pastors mouth didn't want to be there. Honestly, I don't disagree with this method, but it wasn't fitting for me. I just think that when you really love your church, love going, love the people, you want others to come with you. And this is the most amazing feeling to me. I want to share the 'experience' with people. Furthermore, I want to share it with people that don't go to church...simply bc it's cool. Whether or not that's right or wrong of me to think that way, I'll actually invite people to come with...instead of being 'forced' to by some heirarchy. And even if you don't believe what Chris says from the makeshift stage, you'll probably love it...simply bc you can't deny the visceral yet ethereal power or realism you feel there.

Tears stream down your face
When you loose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I...

Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I....

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.

-Coldplay "Fix You"

Nihilo

Who said I don't remember anything from high school Latin?

So, this one time I was talking on my cell phone during work to J. My hair was actually down that day, and I had my elbow resting on the desk holding my phone to my ear with my head down as to avoid persecution for being on the cell phone on the clock. I was wearing my contacts that day...so my eyes were irritated and red. Enter Hottie Boss Man. "Hey, Cornholio...Oh my god...are you crying?!?!" Avoiding the question and covering my phone more with my hair...I just look up at him and utter, "I'll be alright...don't worry about me...it's ok...really." I lower my head. HBM says, "Ok...S...Let me know if I can do anything." HBM exits to a meeting behind closed doors and I laugh hysterically at my successful charade! I'm bad people.

The moral of this story is...whenever a man thinks you are or have been crying...PLAY IT UP!

Do you ever...

meet someone...like them after a while...and decide to make a list of all the things you don't like about them as a preemptive stike against heart break? I do. Seeing as how I feel I have about a 1 in 3 billion chance of happiness with any guy I date. I wouldn't buy that lotto ticket. Well, maybe it would be more like 1 in 500,000,000 after you factor out the gays, marrieds & underageds. I remember when the world was a big blue ball of bliss...hope was not something people got from Paxil...love was something I was sure to have one day. I should turn off this Coldplay cd. Lonely.......................................................................................

All the World is a Stage

Thank GOD all the men & women are NOT modern actors. I'm standing in this small theater...or should I say teatro, my jaw to the floor & my eyes two full moons smashed into my skull. [Enter Vampire Vic] "Maybe you could pretend like you know what's going on...I'm going to hear about this later." In that 'I'm about drive back to Houston this very instant' voice, I respond, "Don't tell ME how to act!" I can't help it that actors are freaks, and I was forced to watch them 'warm up' for their show by clodding around the stage one time acting like chimpanzes one time acting like unicorns. Then the stretching. "Why do they have to stretch?" I innocently inquire. All I received for about 10 seconds was this 'don't question the artists' look. Then I was told of the ways of theater...how one must be completely attuned to ones body while on stage. "Oh" I respond in typical 'I'm NOT impressed' Susan style. I was kind of pissed for being told how to act...but that's because it's that time...so I got over it. The play was really good. Vampire Vic didn't write this one, but a friend of his did. He helped with a few scenes. I was impressed.

The rest of the weekend was fabulous. We met a couple of his friends at the Angry Dog in Deep Ellum...where I got my tattoo...for lunch Saturday. They were all very artistic types...asking me if I was into film as well. I say straight up no. V.V. quickly announces that I write...in fact I just started really writing and I want to write novels. I suppose to prove to them that I in fact am artsy enough to hang. I didn't mind...anyone that wants to introduce me to their friends as a writer...I am MORE than happy with. V.V. is telling be all about his life...how he went to Booker T. for high school. That's the HSPVA of Dallas. How he's been to Spain by himself for a visit. The different plays he's written. Life at SMU. Telling the stories of the art on his walls. Mimes on a roof top. Mexican pyramids. I was in heaven. Watched the news on tv...that's it. Sat on the couch. Drank a bottle of Shiraz. And went to bed. He's always writing in his head...but he'll say whatever it is that's going on up there. I love it. I'm acutally not the freaky one. Back to bed. We're laying there and I'm running my fingers along his britsly chest. Quietly, he whispers, "You know, if some other girl was doing that exact same thing...it wouldn't feel nearly as good." Like butter on a hot stove top I melted into that sentence. Usually I try to guard myself against cheap talk, but it was just delivered so well my Venusian roots grabbed hold of my legs and wouldn't let me move. I hope there's a next time...