Posted at 12:31 AM by Laura W. Petix.

Wednesday, September 26, 2001

I wonder what I should do with my leftover dress fabric? I doubt I have enough for a blouse... I guess I could make a tank top, though. It's so pretty, it would be a shame not to use it for something. I even love the back of the fabric. I want to make a shirt with a floppy collar (which I have no idea how to do), but I can't do that with this fabric, obviously. If only I could get a little more, but I don't believe there's any more to be had--not in the mauvey-violet colour, at least. I bought the last of the bolt, and there weren't any others.

Posted at 9:47 PM by Laura W. Petix.

Genuine Basement Tapes today--volume two. The GBTs are such perfect kitchen-cleaning music. Volumes one and two are, at least; I haven't tried out the others for that purpose. I'm not going to watch Enterprise tonight, actually. It will have to wait until tomorrow.

I was thinking, if I even halfway like the series, I shouldn't read any online comments/discussions about episodes. That would be hard to do, but it would be worth it. I have a theory that reading online comments kills my enjoyment of shows.

Posted at 8:00 PM by Laura W. Petix.

Ha! I won an ornament auction. I haven't bid in any auctions for ages... since June 2000, in fact. I can't talk about the details here, though, because it's a secret. :-)

The new Star Trek series premieres tonight. I don't think I'll like it, but I'll watch anyway.

Posted at 7:10 PM by Laura W. Petix.

Well, a sad letter from my friend was not in my mailbox. But this leaf was. I went to Glastonbury to look at ornaments, but I still can't bring myself to buy any. I want to be very, very careful in my selections. So all I did was look, and buy a tall irish cream dry cappuccino from the Glastonbury Starbucks. Other than the wonderful mauve velvet chairs and cozy atmosphere and warm sun shining through the window, that Starbucks isn't too great. It's a pity. But they just don't make very good cappuccinos. The foam wasn't Starbucks-like at all... it was more like a so-so one from Borders. I'm glad I can count on the Starbucks near Oats. I'd never tried irish cream syrup in my cappuccino before, so that was an experiment. It was all right--not as good as vanilla or caramel, though. As I waited forever for the barista to make my drink (there was a guy in front of me in line who ordered a thousand venti something-or-others, and then the barista messed up my order and left out the syrup, so she made it over again), I sat in a mauve chair and soaked up the sun while stroking the radiantly warm velvet of one of the arms. A guy was sitting at one of the little round tables reading, with a huge stack of books in front of him, and he commented to me that it was slow, but this Starbucks was a nice place. I told him yes, it was nice because of the chairs. I'm always fascinated when I see people at cafes who sit at the tables forever and read (or write!), all set up, absorbed... it seems like such a ideal, but I can't imagine doing it. I think I'd feel strange, as if I should leave and not take up space for so long. And I'd feel watched. I'd feel very self-aware. I'd never be able to concentrate.

Posted at 4:38 PM by Laura W. Petix.

I really should quit PSML, since I never read any of the posts anymore. Still, I can't quite take that step... what if something interesting happened and I didn't know about it? The likelihood of that is extremely small, but...

Posted at 2:51 PM by Laura W. Petix.

It's chilly afternoons like this one when it's almost impossible to drag myself out of my warm bed.

I just noticed that I had over 800 unanswered pieces of e-mail in my "New Mail" folder. Ak! (Well, maybe a couple of them were answered.) No wonder Pegasus Mail has been getting hung up lately. Right before I woke up, I had a nightmare about getting a letter (snail mail) from a friend of mine who I haven't heard from since January. She's disappeared for long periods of time before, too, because she's had all sorts of tragic things going on in her life (both of her parents dying, for one thing). But I am completely in the dark about what's become of her now. She could be dead for all I know. (Well, my letters to her haven't been returned "No Such Person", at least.) Anyway, in my nightmare, I finally got a letter from her, and it was so disturbing... she'd gotten married to her fiance out of a feeling of obligation and pressure, even though she hadn't wanted to anymore, and she was completely miserable... on top of that, she'd just had a baby (the way she conveyed the disconnection she felt toward the baby was heartbreaking). She wasn't able to paint at all anymore, and was completely depressed, numb, just barely functioning. Good god! The letter was written in a really shaky scrawly handwriting (her normal handwriting is beautiful) and signed "Mrs. Brown" (I think... I can't completely remember the last name, but it was Mrs. Something). Ahhh! The dream was so detailed... I think I actually read every word of the entire several-page long letter.

Posted at 1:12 PM by Laura W. Petix.

Tuesday, September 25, 2001

Oh yeah--I ate a weird fruit today, but I can't remember what it's called. The clerk at the grocery store said it looked like a Rubik's cube. Wait, I'll check the exotic fruit site. Ah, it was a cherimoya. It wasn't that exciting tasting, but the seeds were pretty neat, and it sure looked cool. Oh wow, doesn't that "monstera deliciosa" look wild?? I want to try one of those. Lizard-like! My favourite exotic fruit is carambola. They are wonderful, especially salted.

Posted at 9:40 PM by Laura W. Petix.

I tried to get a cappuccino at Borders, but their espresso machine was broken. It was probably a good thing, anyway--I loathe that curly-haired barista guy. (I don't think I should call Borders cafe--aka "Cafe Expresso"... or is it "Cafe Espresso"?--employees "baristas," but I can't think of what else to call them.) Anyway, I went to the Nordstrom cafe instead... I'd driven all the way there, and the only other possibilities were Barnes & Noble, which I despise, and Gloria Jean, which is too expensive, too sweet, too hot, and too foam-less. The Nordstrom cappuccinos aren't that good either, but at least they are cheaper than most and have a lot of different syrup choices. The foam (even though I asked for lots) was almost non-existent, and the cappuccino was so burning hot that I had to add milk just to be able to drink it. I'd never consider wrecking a real cappuccino by pouring in milk, but it was hardly a real cappuccino to begin with, so I went ahead and did it.

In any case, it was good that I went there, because the non-barista barista at Nordstrom actually knew how much their sinkmes are supposed to cost. I've noticed before that they have a whole bunch of really nice shiny silver sinkmes on display, in shapes that I don't have, but they are unlabelled, and every time I've tried to ask someone how much they are, they either have no idea or come up with a completely ridiculous price like $8.50 (for a sinkme??). This fellow told me that the price was $2.95, so I went back over to pick a couple out. One is basically just square, and I like it a lot because it looks very geometric... I think it's supposed to be a little package (it looks like there's a small bow or something on it... which will be very appropriate for its intended use as a Christmas tree ornament). The way it opens and closes is also quite neat. The other one is shaped like a shell, which seemed fitting, since I'm so fond of the ocean. The n.b.b. guy then proceeded to only charge me $1.95 instead of $2.95, for some reason (he said it was because they didn't have any boxes, but I don't see why a boxless sinkme should cost a dollar less.) They also had some nice teapot-shaped ones, but I wasn't sure if they were the same as the teapot one(s?) I already have, so I didn't buy any. What I really want is the "Billabong Teapot" sinkme that they have at Tiny Teapot Co... I wonder if I will ever in fact order it? This is such a boring entry. I'm proud. I feel like Chris Townsend.

I'm in a very uncommunicative mood today.

Posted at 9:07 PM by Laura W. Petix.

I'm so worn out tonight. Maybe I'll actually be able to go to bed early finally. All I want is to get away from my computer. I'm going to read, or perhaps watch I Am A Camera. Based, of course, on The Berlin Stores. (I really ought to re-read it, now that I live here...) I wonder if I'll remember/recognize anything from the book? Last night I scribbled down some stuff about memory when I should have been sleeping, but I don't know if I'll type it in. My memory is very, very, very bad. I can't remember whether it's always been this bad, but I think so. My brain certainly lost its ability for linear thought after high school, but I'm pretty certain that memory was never Ahh I can't even concentrate... Forget it. I got I Am A Camera from the library because Laurence Harvey plays the Christopher Isherwood character in it.

Posted at 1:57 AM by Laura W. Petix.

Monday, September 24, 2001

I've got to listen to "I'm Not There (1956)." I've got to start going to bed earlier, immediately. Early. By three, or at least four. I keep seeing that photo from Saturday below and noticing the colours in the sky--the real sky, and the sky reflected on the windshield. And the silver. "I'm Not There," "I'm Not There," it's going to addict me again; I'm listening right now; I'm stuck. Too amazing for words; the words aren't even there; the words are nothing. Memory is something beyond my grasp. It's a memory song, I think--it works the way memory does; you can just sort of feel it but not quite grasp it; you can hear the words and you but you can't discern them; they're not important anyway because underneath you know what it means.

"All right all right and then she holds her tight in my neighborhood
She cried both day and night--I know it because it was there
It's a milestone, but she's down on her luck
And she daren't a salonin but tomazing hard to buck, I been

I believe where she stopping, where she once down to care
I believe that she look upon the side in to care
And I go by the lord in ways she's on my way
But I don't allow I'm there

No, I don't belong to her, I don't belong to ev'ry prize
She's my prize-forsaken angel but she don't give me cry
She's a long-hearted mistress and she daren't carry on
When I'm there she's all right, but when she's not when I'm gone

Heaven knows that the answer she's don't calling no one
She's the way, the sailing beauty, for she's mine for the one
And I loss her hebutation by temptation as it runs
But she don't holler me, but I'm not there, I'm gone

Now I've cried tonight like I cried the night before
And I'm neice on the high street but I dream about the door
She's along, she's asaken by fate with to tell
It don't hapontination, she's maow faretheewell

Now, when I treesalaywe I was born to love her
But she knows that the kingdom weighs so high above her
And I run but I raise but it's not too fast to slim
But I daren't perceive her, I'm not there, I'm gone

Well, it's all about tapetion that I cry for her pell
I don't need anybody now beside me to tell
And it's all heffermation I recede but it's not
She's a lone-harnen beauty but she don't block she spot
And she won't

Yes, she's gone like the reindeer, oh the shining yesterday
But now she's home beside me and I'd like to here to stay
She's a born-forsaken beauty and it's don't trust anyone
Now I wish I was beside her, but I'm not there, I'm gone

Well, it's a too hard to saken and I don't far believe
It's all badg forcinmusing bin she's a hard, too hard to deed
It's a lone, it's a crime the way she bownts me around
But she told for to hate me but there's a long-forsaken clown

Yes, I believe that it's rightful, oh I believe it in my mind
I bertold like I said when I before carry on the cryin'
And she sawd bethbertol her like I said carry on
I wish I was there to help her, but I'm not there, I'm gone."

That's how I hear it--tonight, at least. Brilliant. So Brilliant. Shining and magnificent.

Posted at 3:56 AM by Laura W. Petix.

Sunday, September 23, 2001

On the way to the wedding, rather sleepy at 11:30 Saturday morning. There's also a larger view in front of my Beagle, and a weirdly-lit one from the tea room, both of which show the whole dress. You can't see me very well in the tea room one, but it's a pretty good illustration of the dress. I look very 1920's with the Beagle--kind of goofy, and typical Laura.

Posted at 6:43 PM by Laura W. Petix.