Dear Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences:

Crash was a hamfisted, trite work of poocraftery.

I suppose that’s why you like it so much.

Mystery Photo

 

 

 

Skin, 4 days post-tattooing.

Things you don’t want to hear from your dentist:

“Well, you’ve got some really interesting stuff going on in there.”

(Before you shrink away, thinking I’m Miss Tooth Decay 2006: the teeth you can see are ok. They just have friends, the permanent teeth who were supposed to replace them 12 years ago, waiting in the wings to make their debut. Ok, more like SITTING UP IN MY CHEEKS NOT MAKING A MOVE, the fuckers.)

Oh, and this. Google “retained deciduous teeth.” I don’t fit the genetic criteria for the average subject.

“Perspective”

” They passed like strangers,
without a word or gesture,
her off to the store,
him heading for the car.

Perhaps startled
or distracted,
or forgetting
that for a short while
they’d been in love forever.

Still, there’s no guarantee
that it was them.
Maybe yes from a distance,
but not close up.

I watched them from the window,
and those who observe from above
are often mistaken.

She vanished beyond the glass door.
He got in behind the wheel
and took off.
As if nothing had happened,
if it had.

And I, sure for just a moment
that I’d seen it,
strive to convince you, O Readers,
with this accidental little poem
that it was sad.”

-Wislawa Szymborska

Desmodontidae

Vlad sauntered out of the bedroom displaying what appeared to be monstrous fangs. Upon further examination, they turned out to be the ends of a long tuft of Takeshi’s belly hair.

Love, Heather

My seven-year-old cousin sent an adorable thank-you note plastered with some of the Hello Kitty stickers I included in her gift. At that age, I would have hoarded them all until the adhesive started to fail.

Match Point

The audience reacted with what I hope was nervous, disbelieving laughter, and not the other sort, to the last fourth of this film.  I’m still a little shaken.

Temporal weirdness continues.

Last night, while boxing up the holidays, I pictured our fake tree missing needles, the box yellow and scarred by stripe upon stripe of masking tape. In my mind this decay happens only to objects from the seventies and before. This can’t apply to my things, or to me.  I will never again complain that time, even worktime, is passing too slowly.

“Ta-Freaking-Daa, Bitchessss”

I love the media’s use of the word unveil, as if Bill Gates were swiping aside a flounce of purple gossamer to show the world Windows Vista.

Party Monster

I tend to make birthday resolutions instead of New Year’s resolutions, because the dates are so close that the year doesn’t seem to have flipped until my age has. (Since I was born in very early 1980, the last digit of the new year matches the last digit of my age. I’ve always loved this. Easy to please.) This year, the list is pretty quotidian: drop some weight, think more on the career/education problem, find a way to volunteer. Yawny, hm?

Today, PreBirthday Lunch at work, since I’m taking tomorrow off. My friends decorated the tables with photographs of kittens and plastic replicas of animal scat. (“Which poop do you have? This must be bear, look at the size.”) They know me well. Peter decided a couple of years ago that the period between Christmas and 1/5 is Jennukah, and now everyone uses the term. EVERYONE IN THE WULD! I had the pre-birthday effervescent veinzooms all day. Pretty giddy.

This afternoon, Melissa and I walked out of a building just in time to see a murder…
of crows spreading overhead and flocking to trees. They were beautiful and ominous, and I remembered that inky, true black is fairly uncommon in nature.