tuckova

a good look

I rode a horse through the candy store, and someone told me that I should ride Napoleon's horse as it would be closer to the ground, and thus allow easier access to the candy. I woke up feeling guilty which means I drank too much; I'd frankly rather have the headache. While being curious over a shoulder I asked a woman what the google doodle was and she said "it's google" and didn't even realize that it was different, or know what a google doodle was. It was the first day of spring, which was true this year and for which I am grateful. I wonder what it is like to not be curious. My cat also wonders, although her curiosity mainly concerns how to get back up into the window she somehow fell out of. Poor furry ball of toothless stupidity. Lost a card from the deck and now can't remember if I've already asked you if you found it; did you? Sometimes I hate humanity so much there are no words and other times I want nothing more than for someone to pour themselves into me, every story a drop of wonder. I wish I could remember more people without mourning them. I got a haircut last week and then dyed it dark red; when I wear lipstick I look like sex and death, so you don't know if you want to kiss me or stay far away. What I told you was true at the moment but not true forever, just like this sentence. 

chance, time, night, round, try

Walking home and I wanted one more because it was early yet and also because I am greedy and I always want one more, if we're being honest. And so treated myself to what I wanted, because we cannot be puritans all the time or we'd have nothing to write about. Sitting and feeling the wine roll on my tongue, the words rolling off, smooth talker and my face already sore from laughing. And we went to the bathroom and styled your hair because it was that kind of night. I got kicked out of a Denny's once for doing that but we're grown-ups now and also this is Europe and perhaps a little water splashed in the bathroom at the end of the night is no big deal. One more one more and I caught myself in the middle of a story that had no end and so time to go. Then walking home something small and cold flew into my mouth and I almost spit it out before I realized it was snow, because evenings end but winter is apparently forever.

totally unrelated, but numbered for your pleasure

I.

I nearly got scammed the other day on the phone. ME. I used to be so smart. I can only assume that some portion of "coughing my brains out" is to be taken literally. Yes! I'm still sick; two weeks and I can't stop this coffin. In a way it is a guilty sweetness to know that now I am keeping the neighbors awake with all my racket. But I would rather be well and listening to them than feeling like this, if we're being honest.

II

I got a nice letter from a man I've been editing for for two years now, who likes how "rigorous" I am, and mentions how odd it is that we haven't met. I do generally like the anonymity of my job, the fact that people don't know where I live or how old I am and some don't know I'm female. Like, hey, what a treat to be evaluated on the basis of really truly MY WORK. And with the exception of things like biographies, CVs, etc., to only be able to know the people I work for on the basis of THEIR WORK. I also got a couple e-mails on work I did earlier in the month to the effect that going over what I had done made them understand how to be better writers overall. I get this comment every year or so but it never fails to boost me for months at a time.

III

Third place at quiz night on Thursday, which was a little sad because we had disagreed about some answers and in a couple cases the wrong answer had prevailed. That's always frustrating. This was somewhat alleviated by learning that in fact I had gotten one answer (marked wrong) actually right, and while that half point totally didn't make a difference in the placing, it still felt pretty good.

IV

I'm at the point in the Pulitzer readings where pretty much all that's left is straight white men doing stories about straight white men. I am so ridiculously tired of Oh My Sad Impotence or Oh It Is Hard To Be a Drunk and a Sad Sack but Siiiiiiiigh Here I Am. And the next three in the list are Updike, Cheever, and Mailer. Oh dear heavens, that doesn't bode well. I may skip ahead to something more appetizing. It's my game, so I can make up the rules.

V

This advertisement for the Guardian is pretty much what I hate about where journalism is going. 

Here, let me take the nasty taste out of your mouth with some Christopher Walken telling the same story.