candids, and the blog of fire

Nice, huh? I think so. Stupid stuff from the dump-truck-and-police-force-brigade- parade here in Bloomington. Rumor has it Linton's was better--I mean, at least they had a band play. Sheesh. I wanted to take Lilly to see how she would respond.
My favorite comment came from a man in one of the colour photos. At one point (there were several) in the parade, people would emerge from their police cars, wagons, trucks, etc. and pass out hard candy to the crowd. The Republicans came through and this guy said to his grandkids, "Don't accept candy from Republicans--you don't know where it's been."
Classic.

This was my first holiday in the states since my daughter's birth. Usually I am out of country. Last summer Japan, two years ago it was the U.K., Prior to that, Germany and central Europe.

Lilly and I were home before 8p.m. after the Contra gathering and the best organically grown food in Bloomington, I closed the windows and doors so tightly that not even a firecracker could break the sound barrier. It was just another quiet night for us.

So if you ask me what I did for 4th of July? I'll say, " Was it the 4th? I must have missed it again." Or, "Sorry I am not practicing holidays of any kind this year. Too emotional." That usually shuts people up good and quick. Stupid thoughtless mid-western fuckers.

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It always feels good to clean house on occasion. I did so tonight with my contact list. I like purging. It feels a lot like what I assume salvation must be. Joy and pain.

Someone put out their cigarette butt in my door knocker the other night. I am not sure what to think about that, but every morning I check the car for fresh key marks. I wonder how you can become someone's enemy without ever knowing them. Must be how the Iraq's feel about us...whose to say?

Going to bed uneasy. Tomorrow I find a new coffee shop to hang out....I can't deal with 22 yr old drama queens any more.
Funny what a young girl in a tightly fitted dress and her long brown tresses up in a messy bun can do to a man. (And this is the part where you remind me that all men are the same, but if I had on a tight dress 'he' would respond exactly the same way...well, perhaps if I were ten years younger and wearing a long, brunette wig...)

granola and soy milk: a list of misc.

The perfect combination, although a little on the sweet side.

I have been wrestling with what it means to be a friend and how a friend treats someone. I am sad that I cannot seem to find, keep or be a friend to anyone.

I saw Malcolm Daglish perform Friday night at Third Street. The smell of bug repellent was everywhere.

When passing a group of Kid city campers, I marvelled at the penertating odor of sunscreen and unwashed hair. You can smell it for miles. I smile everytime I pass them.

Finally got to see Fearless Freaks: The Flaming Lips last night. Brought back memories. I was impressed by the honesty that went into the documentary--especially with Steven's drug addiction. Wow.

I had my second radio show last Wednesday. I was ok. My music was good--but I sounded hollow. Next one is July 13.

I am bored with my music and am waiting for STARS: set yourself on fire and also Daniel Lanois Belladonna to arrive.

After watching our third movie in a row on my laptop, I turned to my friend Charles and said, "You know, you are the first person that has actually hung out with me in this apartment. Thanks."
He was sitting on my daughter's Little Tykes plastic chair. I was on her mini Elmo couch. It doesn't get any better than that.

Had eggs and toast with Crazy Jim Sunday. His conversation is like trying to figure out a riddle--this one was about Sandra Day O'Connor, the banking system, Thomas Jefferson vs. Hamilton and Burr, family and church-going, and a murderer who posed as a boy scout leader, dog catcher, criminal justice major and Christian. He was a Pisces. Somehow all of these things were related or connected in some way.

Motorcycle Steve was sharpening knives outside of Soma the other day. I found the activity strange but he seemed to be enjoying it. At one point he asked me to watch his stuff so he could put his clothes in the dryer. I sat, holding the bread knife in my hand while people walked by. I am sure it was a sight to behold.


I am skipping out on the traditional holiday picnic at the Springer's this year. It's the only time I get to eat mom's potato salad and play cards with the family.
Both sisters and their husbands will be there. When I declined mom's offer, she said," Well, we'll see you sometime." Sure thing.


Happy Birthday America.