costumes

As the fake blood is trickling down my neck I’m eagerly waiting for my friends to show up.  I look pretty damn scary and am quite proud of myself for pulling together a costume at the last minute.  God bless the stapler!   Halloween is a funny time in Brattleboro.  People normally dress pretty crazy and I found myself perplexed this afternoon.  I almost commented on what I thought were great costumes but, bit my tongue because at the last minute I realized that they might not be costumes.  Did my friend mean his suit?  I’m not sure, it could have gone either way.  I saw Charlie Chaplin in the grocery store, but I think I’ve seen this guy around dressed like this before.  

Well, I’m reved up and about to go kick some zombie ass…

zombie

I went into Walgreens today to buy soap and ended up leaving with Zombie make-up! Liquid latex and fake blood were on super sale so I had to stock up.  Last night my neighbors Halloween decorations malfunctioned because of the rain and I lied in bed from midnight until 2:00 a.m. listening to a blood-curdling scream of a mechanical female being hacked to death.  It was incredibly eerie and so disturbing because it sounded very real.  If I wasn’t so cozy in my bed I would have gotten dressed and bashed the toy in with a hammer to make it stop.

toast you iron!

I love everything right now! And I know, I know, it’s annoying to read about what a good mood somebody else is in, so I’ll end with describing my chaotic morning.  But I just saw the cutest French movie, bought Richard Thompson tickets for a show at the Latchis on Sunday and got a hot date for the weekend!  Plus, I had a delicious cup of coffee earlier and I’m wired now at 9:30pm which means I’ll be up doing random fun things all night!  Some of my friends that are into astrology said that the Mercury was doing something bad these last few weeks and I think that spell is over now. Thank god!

My alarm went off at 5:30 this morning.  I never sleep well the night before a clinical day, I get so nervous and have nightmares about killing people.  I hit snooze until 6:00, and would have it longer but my new alarm apparently just shuts off after a half an hour.  bugger… I jumped in the shower then decided that I didn’t have time to wash or even wet my hair and jumped right out.  I ran around my cold ass apartment looking for something ‘business casual’ to wear.  The khaki pants I got a while ago suddenly make ass look way too bootylicious for a day at the Brattleboro Retreat (either they shrunk or my ass got big), the zipper on my cords busted, finally I found a pair of black pants I got at a thrift store, but for some reason the pockets were sewn shut (?!).  The pants were too long and I sure as hell wasn’t about to hem them at 6:15am so I stapled them with my stapler!  I needed pockets so I threw on a corduroy blazer and ended up looking like a patient myself. Whatever. The clock is ticking and I’m yelling at myself for not finding an outfit the night before.  My french press is still broken! I tried making a piece of toast ten times. I kept plugging the iron in instead of the toaster (the iron is currently living on my kitchen table). I was furiously pushing the ‘toast’ button down and it wouldn’t toast!  Even though I’m totally running late at this point I still think I can stop and get a cup of coffee and have a leisurely walk uptown. After getting my shitty cup of coffee at Brueggers I panic when I realize it’s quarter till 7 and that’s when I’m supposed to meet my very strict instructor for keys to the detox unit. I ran to my car and drove like a bat out of hell making to clinical just in time.

night table

Brilliant fall day yesterday.  After the sweat dried that I worked up from hiking, I became quite chilled.  With bread baking and a pot of beans on the stove I climbed into the steamy bathtub.  While re-warming my bones I flipped through a trashy girly magazine.  The last page was posed the question  ”What is on your night table?”  Celebrities answered this question with replies that sounded more like what they wanted to be on their night table rather than what was really on it.  Nameless books and name-brand mineral water were the common answers.  After my soak I went to my night table and complied this list:

lamp, clock, a cigar box full of condoms, seashell, My Secret History by Paul Theroux, Pecked to Death by Ducks by Tim Cahill (borrowed from a friend almost a year ago), American Journal of Nursing magazines, mugs that were once full of milk, an empty cookie bag, capgun, DVD’s: The Big Sleep w/ Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, Pale Rider w/ Clint Eastwood, a spoon, beer bottle, earrings, empty San Pelligrino and dust.

What’s on your night table?

leaves

Sometimes it just takes a certain song playing on the radio at the exact moment for me to feel okay.  I got some good windshield time in this week; driving from the blazing orange trees of southern VT up to the more sudued colors of the north.  I enjoyed the change of scenery and people in the city that I used to live in and no longer belong to.  It was more than refreshing to spend four days there and not get drunk once.  My body is still sore from sweating and stretching in a Bikram Yoga class.

“I used to be disgusted, not I try and be amused”

Upon entering my apartment this afternoon, I heaved my backpack on the floor and flicked on the radio.  Good old Elvis Costello’s lyrics took on a new meaning while I danced around my apartment.  Something in the air feels good.  My professor told me I was one of the brighter students in class, I think I rocked my microbiology test and I finally settled on a topic for my research paper.  

Even though I’ll miss the way his scruffy face rubs my inner thighs and the way he whispers “sweetheart” (all deep and throaty from smoking too many cigarettes), I threw his toothbrush in the trash with a satisfying thud.

The sun and falling leaves are calling me outside.  I think I’ll go buy a 12-pack of cheap beer and trek out into the woods with my good friend before he leaves Vermont again.

microbiology

Today has been a day full of studying for a microbiology exam that I have tomorrow.  Intermixed throughout my last day of cramming have been breaks of coffee, great conversation with some favorite people; through the woods along the river and in the florescent library, breaks of stolen ice cream and tea.  It’s only 8:40 and I’m spent.  I can’t bear to glance inside of that textbook again.  Maybe I’ll go to sleep and get up early….

every day

I’m going to make a real effort to write something here everyday… 

It’s closing in on 11:00pm and I just finished eating dinner.  I went to an introductory Transcendental Meditation lecture tonight and left feeling disgusted.  I was all geared up to start doing something good for my mind, to find a way to clear my buzzing head.  After watching a creepy video, thank you very much, I asked how much classes cost and the woman said that since I was a student I would get a discounted rate.  Guess how much the ‘discounted’ rate was? $1,000! One thousand fucking dollars, I almost laughed in her face.

cleaning

I’m in the midst of cleaning my dirty fucking apartment… As if sweeping the cheap floors, throwing away numerous coffee cups, condom wrappers, beer cans and cartons of Indian food take out, organizing my textbooks and projects, as if bleaching the bathroom would clear my head.  It hasn’t yet, maybe after I tackle the dust covered dirty dishes I will feel enlightened…

I hate this apartment right now and it’s not because it’s dirty.  It’s because I’ve lived here a full year.  I have not yet in my adult life lived anywhere for longer than one year.  I need to move.  Not just out of this slumhole, but out of this town.  This tiny tiny town.  I want to be anonymous again, a stranger in the street.  I’m sick of this confining small town, the limitations, knowing everyone’s business and trying to hide my own.  A therapist once told me that I used “geographical therapy” and she made it sound like a bad thing.  It is who I am.  I need new streets to explore.  I am antsy beyond belief right now.  I’m searching for flights to Ghana for winter break, applying for jobs once I finish school.  

Yesterday a group of us were talking about the economy and I said that I may just be a renter for life.  One of my friends said that she thinks that is realistic and economical.  It’s semi-delusional to purchase an expensive house thinking that you actually might pay it off.  With taxes, and interest, and repairs why bother I’m wondering right now.  Another friend said that she hates the idea of renting because she feels that your in the hands of your landlord.  That they can kick you out whenever.  She wants a house that is hers, that she owns and controls.  But! I wanted to scream.  There are no guarantees.  Your house could be destroyed by a fire, you could loose your job and the bank will take it away, there are so many ways to loose it.  You can’t count on anything, the world is in a constant state of flux.  I’m comforted by the fact that I don’t need that ’security’.  I’m happy moving about and not clinging to anything.  A false sense of security is one of the most paralyzing things there are.

I’m scanning the room for things I’ll throw or give away when I move again.

things I miss

In no particular order:

The sound of an acoustic guitar in a messy apartment

Coffee brought to me in bed

Campfires

Living next to the ocean 

Sleeping through the night

Trust