Spidercamp

it feels good to destroy something in front of a live audience

I've been ripping up a lot of paper. Done for too long the process makes me feel queasily embarassed, but it does start out wonderfully - I stand over the trash can shredding like crazy, pieces going everywhere, savage satisfaction of "no more THIS goddamn ex-boyfriend letter haunting me" etc. And the practical freedom of knowing I've now got one letter less of stuff to cart around my whole freaking life, one stack less, one giant box less. The trouble comes when I start reading, which obviously has to be done, because I don't want to throw away gems. I always almost think the gems are not worth scanning for, and then I find a scrap of paper attesting to the forgotten fact that I once met a man named Gang Wang. So I have to read.

My two primary discoveries about my life of the past sevenish years: I was so sad, and James was such a fucking tool. The one only had anything to do with the other for a period of about four months, i.e. the entire time we were dating, and HEY THANKS DUDE. His condescending psychotic letters, I read. My pages and pages of frustrated miserable scrawls, I read. And then I shred them into very tiny little pieces and put something disgusting on top and cart the bags out for the rats. It's a vengeance and a triumph because nothing's going to be like that ever again, I know it purely.

want a love song to a piano?

me too

a bunch of stuff that never got finished or posted. the website was down for a bit. at least that�s my excuse.

the website might plotz again next week. when we move. it'll come back.

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in fact i do believe that boop blip is the new strum strum. in that spirit i was wowed by sufjan stevens' delicately glitchy All Delighted People, which I originally thought was a remix done by someone else, but no it appears to be a straight-up b-side, i.e. he wanted the boop blip there on purpose. I think it is lovely. I know everybody and they momma loves mr stevens. dont care. i'm not a stone people. wait! no, it's wood that im not made out of.

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I must be looking more fresh and nubile yet wise beyond my years today because I was propositioned by two older men before noon. Ok, one of them wanted me to "work for him" (uh. yeah. I don't know if what he had in mind was a drug errand or a more... personal service, but dude sure did pull his Explorer up next to me in the parking lot of the BANK and leaned over the cracked-out toothless ho in the pasenger seat to chat me up through the window. He was fat and jolly. I learned something today: pimps go to the bank!). The other guy, he just wanted to bone me. Refreshing!

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My little brother is 26 years and two days uh like a week old, and because I am slow and bad, I did not say this on time, but I wanted to say: Dude. Here's to big dogs and tiny cats who think they're big dogs. Here's to being the only two people in the world who understand what it was like. Here's to throwing paper airplanes out the upstairs window of Boorman House and praying for them to clear the yard and go sailing all the way across the street. Here's to my twelve-year-old self, looking at you and your skinny rat tail (you heard me) and thinking all of a sudden, I bet some day we're going to really like each other. Here's to being right.

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Have I ever been more tired than this? Probably. But not today.

What the Kids Have to Say About Viet Nam: Part I (Sometime the man get shoot)

After Christmas I lugged home a bunch of boxes that had been in storage at my parents' house. Boxes full of old letters and papers that I didn't have the time or energy to deal with the last time I moved. I brought them back to Atlanta just in time to move again, ha ha! So I am sorting like crazy.

I�m an obsessive keeper, because cool things are cool. But, rule: if the process of deciding whether to keep a thing and where to store it exhausts me, that thing probably ought to go in the trash. So I am making a lot of happy garbage out of ex-boyfriends.

I found a bunch of stuff my parents gave me years ago. Ancient teacher-detritus from a classroom, mostly paper scraps and collage bits. As I'm finally too old and tired to keep EVERY cool thing, most of it got thrown away. Then in the bottom of the box I found a heap of brown school papers. They were written on Feb. 27, 1970.

I hope you can overlook the relentless repetition (you'll see) - because these are priceless.

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Unsigned 1

Veit Nam is a place were all army men go to When there is a war, the men will go to there fort and the [general|genarl] has to tell the men to shoot when ever a jet [bomber|bomder] comes. Veit Nam is in asia there is North V.N and south V.N. Viet Nam has 30,000 men. If the men in V.N won the war, the navy lost. When a man gets shot and the red cross helicopter didn�t come and the died for about 2 or 6 hours the enemys is always [attacking|ataking] the army

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Ralph

In Viet Nam there are man there. Sometimes they die there to. The man work hard in Viet Nam. They have more than 20,000 man there. They can also shoot with guns. My father was in Viet Nam before. My father told me about him in Viet Nam. I know about Viet Nam to. Sometime the man git shoot in Viet Nam. There are a lot of thing to do in Viet Nan. There are a lot of men shoot in the wors. I know there are truck in Viet Nam. There are a lot of things to drive in Viet Nam. Sometimes the man get shoot in the leg or the arm.

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Randy

My father is in Viet Nam. He has guns. My father is a [captain?|caten] in Viet Nam. Some time I [write|wirth] letter too. they have [tanks?|tasts] and truck and airplanes too. they [no idea|teats] and helicoper an I see Viet Nam on TV

Some time it get so cold and some time it get so hot in Viet Nam in the night it get so cold. In the day time it get so hot in Viet Nam. Viet Nam is in the west from

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Brent

in Viet nan they are a lot of [dead|dided] men overy there and a lot of tankes overy. and my Father has ben ther and he said they do not. a lot of men in his [company?|komne] was [shot|sote] down and they had a lot of traps and foxesholes and if you fell in one you [would|wook] [never|navr] come bak up. and my Father said a men in his [company?|kotne] [sold|solod] his [false teeth|fallstefe]. and one night he and a nother men was in it to and my dad said are all right

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Bry

It is very close to the [equator|equatar]. It's hot even when its Christmas. We are having a war there. ([Korea|Carea] is a place like it.) In Viet Nam there are many salamanders. My father has been there, and has made friends in Viet Nam. In Viet Nam most of them live in tents. All kinds of men go there. Right now we are fighting the Viet Namese. My father might go again. They have to eat sea [rations|rashions]. I do not like sea rashions. Viet Nam is not a nice place. The men want to build on it, I think. The grass is yellow and not good. We are not fighting all the time.

When it rains the men go and take showers. It does not rain very much in Viet Nam. There are horny toads just as there are salamanders and lizards.

We do not know how long the war will go on. We hope it ends soon. The men must be ready at all times, that is why have guards.

The children in Viet Nam are very poor. Some have no clothing or food.

We children are lucky to have these things some things we have, those children have never seen. At Christmas some children don't get toys.

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Bobby

My father ben in Viet Nam. And my father had a gun. And a man like Viet Nam. A man likes my father in Viet Nam.

My father do not like it in Viet Nam but he got Viet Nam money.

And he had a good gun.

And he had good men.

My father do not like bad men, And my father said he saw a bad man in Viet Nam. I said I wish I had to go to Viet Nam. And he said you [would|war] not like it in Viet Nam but I have a gun. And I and I war have fun.

20 leslies agree

Logan and I have grown boring to the point that we fantasize about decorating bathrooms (that one’s just me), putting coats in closets, and deciding where the spice rack will go. We are so retarded over this that once in a while one of us will just say the word HOUSE and everybody smiles, because we are about to close on the best house ever. Or the best house so far. Or the best house so far, for us, at this point. Anyway it is a house which makes us very happy and it is in awesome in all ways including, holy crap multiple bathrooms, holy crap porch swing!!

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I feel like a tool every time I advertise myself. Because, ego monster, and it’s boring, but here we go anyway: if you need (“need”) very stupid bunnies, hats, or other things that come from my hands, let now be your golden moment! Because we are moving at the end of January and then everything’s going to be lost for weeks.

Store link at top right points to my Etsy store now. It’s mostly rabbits but there's also a scarf and some robots and a valentine hat and a sketch of a half-naked dude. Totally necessary for your life??! Feel free to email as well - I have a lot of stuff that isn’t up on etsy yet, and I am enthusiastic about getting things out of the house before having to pack and move them.

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Also, a funny thing: ever since Wiki seized on my Terry Gross bio, that’s where a lot of my linked traffic is coming from. The funny thing is that now I’m getting her junk mail - not spam, I mean actual, physical junk mail sent to my p.o. box, addressed to Terry Gross. Dumb old internet seems to think Terry Gross needs her gutters cleaned. WINK

"space unicorns" is redundant

I'm convinced the doctor is a good doctor, though I've never seen him in action and never sat on his table. Talk to someone long enough, even only on the stupid computers, and you can tell whether a person is kind and patient. Add honesty and I can't imagine feeling uneasy in his care. I have the feeling that dr. doyle would not pull the harsh omniscient bullshit but would instead remain aware that the body he inspects and repairs is not his own, that it requires respect and a gentle manner. I have no proof of this but I believe that it is true.

Today, another milestone towards the doctor becoming a mister, at least to a roomful of high schoolers. He knows the secret of doing well with kids, which is only not being an asshole. The kind of teacher I would have killed for, he is everybody's homedawg.

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dear doctor: did you hear the NPR story about Howard Dully's lobotomy? It was all the internet rage a while back, for good reasons. I cried like a fool in the car, I couldn't help it. I was on my way to the post office. How many times have I gone in there with red eyes, and is that why Keith is such a gentleman with me? I don't think so, but I wonder what he thinks.

Anyway. I look up people because I want to know what else I can know about them. I looked up Howard and have never found anyone so quickly. Three seconds, maybe four, I discovered his blog and was able to email him, a stranger from the radio, to thank him for the story and for the hope.

NPR has more than their customary story blurb here, as well as a link to the mp3. It's very much worth it.