I brought you to the river to watch the fish swim by
and lay around that grassy bank and breathe in that blue sky
I brought you to these waters to see what you could see
the difference in the two worlds can’t help but frighten me…

- The Avett Brothers

Autumn has arrived… at least at my parents’ house, where trees started shedding their leaves and seed pods simply for Hazel’s amusement and collection, it seems. Time to listen to cool-weather music, button up, cut off all of my hemp bracelets until time to make more next summer.

I quit my job today. I offered a two weeks notice but he said “you can just go now, I don’t care… we’re cool”. He’s nervous that I’m going to tell his wife about all the dirty secrets he’s been making me keep. I know it. He wants me gone as much as I don’t want to be there.

No more crying every day, no more getting sick all the time because I’m so stressed that my immune system is shot, no more being forced lie to his wife & kids.

But now what?

When I left work – for the last time – the first randomly selected song on my ipod was a Modest Mouse song.

it all will fall
fall right into place

I don’t now if I’ve ever gotten so many heartfelt congratulations. This move was probably second to GETTING MARRIED in the “congratulations” book.

Today it:
1.) was the ugly-not-refreshing kind of rainy, dark at 4:30 p.m.
and I:
2.) had the day off so I
3.) made some necklaces while I listened to Nick Drake
which is:
4.) the best / worst music for this kind of day.

Ace is mine. The rest are for sale on Etsy, even though they are still less than smooth-edged.

On Sunday my dad bought an old rifle – “you know, the cowboy kind” – and later at home sat in his rocking chair and loaded three shells into it while my mom talked on the phone. When she passed the phone off to him, she started examining the gun – not checking the action and unaware of what he’d been doing – aimed at the ceiling, and fired a round through the roof. My dad retells the story last night on the phone, gasping for air, laughing hysterically, as if delightfully unaware of his own mortality.

Arms are for hugging, kids.

and all the friends that you once knew are left behind
they kept you safe and so secure
amongst the books and
all the records of your lifetime
what will happen in the morning
when the world it gets so crowded that you can’t
look out the window in the morning?

Oh also, last night I had a dream that I ran into Ian Keplinger in a barn at a fair and one of his arms had been medically or otherwise amputated. I had to stop for a moment and think, “did he have this arm the last time I saw him? Would I look stupid if I asked what happened because I should know because he’s been this way for awhile and I’ve just forgotten?”…… I hate feeling stupid in dreams. Especially over something so obvious as Ian having his left arm or not having his left arm the last time I saw him. So in the dream I started thinking about the real-life last time I hung out with him, and I remembered that it was the night that Doug, Chad, and Ian found a bunch of half-inch wooden dowel rods in Mikey’s room as we moved him out, and then spent a good half an hour beating each other with them in the kitchen. I was finally forced to take them away (in real life) when Chad and Doug backed Ian into a corner and he was begging for mercy. I decided, in the dream, that Ian could not have dowel-rod-sword-fought two other grown men with only one arm, so he must have had both, and so I should ask him what happened. But then I woke up. When I woke up I thought about the dream and remembered my first memory of Ian (and Stefan)… they were in a barn stall at the fair, chillin’ with one of their grandpa’s hogs.

How’d a memory from 20 years ago and a memory from two years ago fuse themselves with the weird book I’m reading (involving teleportation and not making it back home with all of your molecules intact and thus having a weird deformity or missing limb) and make it into last night’s dream? I want to be a neurologist.

I ran some errands for awhile this afternoon and discovered a good fabric store in the underground about four minutes from my work. Woo! I bought a few things to make earrings and put them together when I got home & uploaded them to Etsy.

Penguins, as well as sailboats and some bluegray shell earrings.

I also spied these backpacks in a luggage store window while I was down there, and of course I want the little one:

I’ve never listened to this Snow Patrol band, but I downloaded this song because Rufus Wainwright’s sister sings on it. At least I think it’s his sister, but maybe I’m making that up. It’s so pretty. Now I want the rest of the album.

I find the map and draw a straight line
over rivers, farms, and state lines
the distance from A to where you’d B
it’s only finger-lengths that I see
I touch the place where I’d find your face
my fingers in creases of distant dark places
I hang my coat up in the first bar
there is no peace that I’ve felt so far…

listening: Snow Patrol – Set the Fire to the Third Bar

I’m never gonna know you now
but I’m gonna love you anyhow

I had another murder dream last night – second or third this year. I was standing in (not my) yard, and some really really young kid pulled up in a vintage mustang convertible and asked if I wanted a ride.

“Where to?”
“Anywhere.”

And I pulled out a gun and emptied the whole clip into his chest.

WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH ME??

I keep telling myself that yesterday Mikey, John and I discussed guns, and this is why I had this dream. And plus I sell collectible cars at my job.

That reminds me: sometime last week a mid-thirties looking guy came in and wanted to look at a bunch of different cars – average $50 - that are kept in floor to ceiling glass display cases. We looked at a couple of Bentleys, a Porsche, a BMW… at some point I asked if he was the collector or if he was looking for a car for someone else. He just stared at me for a moment and then said “well…. I collect the real thing. These are just for my little son.”

Oh. Cool. I collect… a Honda.

Child Mikey. Same apparel & hobbies, just a bit taller. God, this makes me want babies.

Long cats, chillin’ during some LOST. I don’t know if Dietrich’s tail will ever have the puffiness factor that it possessed before the Allergic Reaction Ass-Balding Episode.

I need something from you people. The handful that I know read this, and the lurkers who never comment (Lauren is now out of the closet – who are the rest of you?). I know you exist. When I started linking photos to my flickr page, views there tripled.

Make up a name to comment, I don’t care, but I need the following things: good sounding song lines or poem lines (one or two, maybe three lines would do); appealing words (for example, I like how “Zimbabwe” looks); figures of speech (you know, right as rain, fit as a fiddle); back-to-backs… like the jeopardy category (ozone layer cake, etc.). Stuff like that. Things that would make good text. Lots of it. As many as you can think of.

In the past three days, I have knitted through three discs of season two. That’s twelve episodes, forty-five minutes each. I never want to stop either of those things.

Today I wandered around for awhile looking for retail / coffee shop jobs. I slowly began to realize that none of these places hand out applications. Even at the Second Cup – which is a huge coffee shop chain – they just ask for a resume. I eventually came home because I had none with me, since I was expecting to just pick up two million annoying applications that would take me four hours to fill out the exact same way, over and over. Tomorrow I will go back out armed with a folder of resumes. God knows I can make coffee. My new, separate job goal is to find a job that’s tolerable and well paying enough to be worthwhile, but not so amazing that when they say “no you can’t have that weekend off” – referring to either of the two wedding weekends coming up – I can just quit and I won’t care. The second cup in the downstairs of my building is sort of hiring – they’re doing renovations right now so they said it might be a month or so at another store and then back there. It would be sweet to work downstairs and never have to go into the snow if I don’t want to.

Last night I spent over an hour on craftster reading a thirty-something page thread of people whose hearts have been broken at Christmastime because people didn’t care about their handmade gifts. It made me want to scrap every Christmas present idea I have… until I remembered that my friends and family are not consumer-freaks who can’t appreciate a good pair of knitted socks. Kidding, kidding. No one is getting socks. I will need all of them here in Siberia.

This is a good album.

Don’t let your soul get lonely child
It’s only time, it will go by

Listening: Ray Lamontagne : Till the Sun Turns Black
Reading: The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

Saw Billy Bragg tonight. He’s an enigma… a genius musician who is NOT a good guitar player. His stage banter is excessive and comic gold. The altered lyrics about Bush being gone soon are just what this sad little american needs to hear.

On the way to the show we walked by this spectacle that I have passed at least ten times since it was arranged a couple of weeks ago and never really paid attention to. There are always people crowded around taking photos, and I still did not feel the need to observe more closely. Today, for some reason, I looked harder, and then had to take a photo for myself. It’s a huge granite table on the sidewalk, set for twelve or so people with china and silverware and champagne flutes. In the middle is a lime green Lamborghini. There’s always a security guard with a clipboard standing inside the red rope enclosure. I just thought it was some strange Wedgewood china vs. fancy car sales scheme, and it sort of is.

It’s being held up by four teacups. One under each tire. I suppose that’s not as impressive as the cohesive/adhesive abilites of water molecules and the way THAT can hold up a car, but it was at least photo worthy.

Maybe I will find a job this week. Kathy’s theory is that she’s not going to find a job until she wins a game. If this is true, I should definitely find a job this week because Mikey and I kick ASS at games. And we won last night. Again. I haven’t won anything by myself, but we are in the lead as a pair. Does this mean I’m inferior as an individual?

I saw two shooting stars last night
I wished on them
but they were only satellites
is it wrong to wish on space hardware?
I wish, I wish, I wish you’d care…

Today Michael John and I went to the Vegetarian Food Fair, successfully navigating both the subway & streetcar systems to get there (technically they are the same system, but it was still scary). It was way bigger than we’d expected and we hung around for a few hours trying to absorb everything. I bought a tiny little hydroponic sprouting contraption to grow bean sprouts (or whatever – eventually start some vegetables for the balcony-farm) in our kitchen. Apparently bean sprouts contain all known vitamins, minerals, enzymes, and proteins. A couple handfuls a day is all it takes, and they are very yummy. Maybe it will cleanse my body of all the coke and candy that I put into it. I bought two bags of mung beans from the hairy chested old man who was demonstrating and passing out spoonfuls to eat, but lentils and garbanzo beans are also good candidates. You can literally grow anything in it, but for now it’ll just be bean sprouts for eatin’. I already started a crop. It took three minutes and they’ll be ready to eat in two days…. or five days if we want taller, leafier sprouts.

Downside: the way the dome fits onto the base reminds me of the large sized panera catering bowls for salads. I will never be able to escape this when I’m working with it. It’ll always be a panera salad bowl.

I also talked to some people from Annex Cat Rescue about fostering. My only concern is that Dorothy can be a raging psychopath and I don’t want her traumatizing whatever other creatures we might want to welcome into our home. I think that if we started with some middle aged or older cat who doesn’t take shit from young kids we might be okay. She might be a terror with kittens, and besides, would I ever be able to actually give up a kitten that I loved and nurtured? Not likely. On another cat note: Dorothy is constantly begging for people food and today I found out something that she loves and that makes her go vocally nuts. Until today, that list only consisted of cheese, but now we can add tapioca pudding to the list.

On the way home we stopped on Queen Street, which is the place that we will be spending all of our money until we leave this city. Every book and music store that we could hope for, in addition to two or three city blocks with bead and fabric stores lining both sides of the street. I wrote down a few books to add to my Amazon wishlist because I will NEVER buy a new book in this country. They are so expensive. And alcohol is so expensive. Alcohol prices are all government regulated, so there’s no cheap place to buy beer. Today we were laughing at some sleek, rich suit buying a sixpack of bud. It figures that I moved here with someone who only spends his money on three things, two of which are books and beer.

We bought the new Magnolia Electric Co. album and it’s AWESOME. More like Songs:ohia than the older Magnolia stuff, which is good for me. I prefer his slower, more depressing stuff. We’re going to see them play on Tuesday night and now I’m even more excited for the show. Jason Molina writes the most beautiful/depressing lyrics and I’ve never seen him smile and he’s probably the saddest person ever, and I will never be able to utter a single word to him even though Mikey knows the bass player and will likely talk to them at the show. I will stare at the tops of my feet. I am so intimidated by musicians.

turn your lamp down low my love, goodbye
I hear the whistle singing now to the lonesome pine
I know that we faded out
but oh, did’t we shine
didn’t we shine

Listening: Magnolia Electric Co. : Fading Trails and M Iafrate, live from the couch
Reading: Dominion by Matthew Scully

Hardest weekend ever is over. I did nothing but say goodbye to people and cry. My three year old cousin wrapping her skinny arms around my neck, saying “don’t move” over and over about did me in. I’m sure most of my heart is still broken into one million pieces all over my Grandparents’ driveway.

At least I can stop panicking about it now that it’s done, I guess.

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