after the funeral, we stuck around a couple of days because we had to pay the crematory, receive 'the remains', and make sure everyone had been hugged before taking to the highway. we drove north, as joe expressed a particular distaste for the South, and found ourselves in traffic on the Staten Island Expressway en route to his sister's house outside of Centerreach, Long Island. From there we took day trips to Manhattan, the Hamptons, and scenic Port Jefferson (which claims the most foul clam house in all the Northeast).
Hotels are generally creepy, I've concluded. Be they bed-n-breakfast or national chain, the coffee generally blows and the showers are never comforting, luxurious as they may appear. Also, the Northeast Corridor can best be generalized as a series of decrepit strip malls scattered among tracts of abandoned or crumbling subdivisions. We went from suburban DC to suburban Long Island (quelle culture shock),to feeling guilty about wearing long faces among the springing moneyed set in Southampton, then took a ferry to Connecticut, avoided arrest in Newport, drove like hell to avoid another second in Connecticut, tried to avail ourselves of the reputably quaint scenery along the lower Hudson River Valley, spent an exhausted night in White Plains, took a long walk and drank a whole lot of beer in Philadelphia, and finally came back to our wretched, funereal apartment this afternoon.
Take this run-on sentence.
Take my crippled syntax.
Take my aloquality.
It's a word, I swear it is.
Grief is sooooooo lame. It's got no street cred. It's auslander, gauche, entirely the wrong shoes for the season. It's Randy Newman at a frat party.
I am wandering the wilderness. I struggle to believe in anything at all.
[ posted by katie at 05/10/2008 10:55:01 PM ] [ link ] [ 4 responses ]
1
Time flies
I can't believe my son is a year old. I keep sitting here thinking of what to write, how to tell you all what I've been doing for the last year, and I just can't believe he's been here a whole year. He started walking around Memorial Day, when he was just a little more than 9 months old, and it took us by surprise, you know? I thought he was going to be a baby for a little while longer than that. We see these babies, much younger than Lucas, when we go out to the park or to Starbucks or whatever, and they're these huge, disproportionate creatures with ridiculous heads that lay in their car seat bucket things and don't move - they have like ten pounds and five inches on my guy, but their heads are so big they can't even sit up, really. Everyone's astounded that he can walk so well, so early. It's funny, as soon as they can move independently, they move AWAY from you. To play Mr. Potato Head.
I went back to school. That's pretty weird. I mean, it's all pretty weird; this totally isn't what I envisioned when I thought about what I'd be doing at 29. Then again, I wasn't too sure if I'd even exist at 29 when I was, say, 23. So, after the baby came, I left the kitchen. Maybe not forever, but the hours and the pay are not conducive to being the mother of a small child, so I went back to school to get certified as a teacher. They treat teachers pretty well around here in Fairfax County, and it's a job that travels, so it works out pretty well. I'll be job-ready in 18 months. Sounds like some kind of infomercial. I don't know, I guess teaching will be cool, but you know, kids these days. They're such snot-nosed little pricks, and they don't give a shit about anything. It's bound to wear you down. I guess everything does, though.
We don't want to stay here in suburban Virginia forever - there are a lot of things about it that we find simply untenable in terms of raising a kid. The question is, though, where do we go from here? Sometimes we talk about the country, like out in the mountains in western VA or MD; sometimes we talk about Tennessee, or North Carolina ... we don't talk about BRLA. It's just not something either one of us could do. We visit my parents down there, and I don't call anyone, and we don't really go out ... I feel like that part of my life is so very distant now. What would I do? Leave my son with my mother while my husband and I go out on Chimes Street? There's nowhere to go there now anyway. Last time we were down we did go to the new Chelsea's to see Johnny V, George Porter, and Mike Dillon, and it was a fucking amazing show, but of course I ran into all kinds of people that I didn't really want to see. That's the catch, you know? I miss the music. I miss the food. I miss the ... well, dare I call it culture? The attitude, I guess. But I don't miss a lot of other things - the heat, the white people, the weird segregation, the Church of Wal-Mart, all that stuff. The OTHER part of the culture.
That being said, if the right offer was made, we'd pretty much go anywhere.
Anyway, here's us, at Luke's first birthday party. It got crashed by Lithuanian Baptists. Did you know that existed? I sure didn't. They sang "Lord I Lift Your Name on High" in Russian. Also an extremely old lady came up to Lucas and made some kind of gesture and coughed something in Russian, then told me he was blessed by the Lord. It was kind of incredible.
[ posted by katie at 08/25/2007 01:24:36 PM ] [ link ] [ 7 responses ]
2
private or members only entry
1
dreams are weird and stupid and they scare me
Rose Walker said that, at the end of The Doll's House. I usually disagree. Lately, though, the dreams I've been having are almost too intense to bear. A few nights ago I had a dream that a posse of children came to the front door of my old house bearing shotguns, and when my mother answered the door, they shot her in the face. A long war ensued, but the only weapon I had was an ancient pump-action .22 rifle, and the bullets kept bouncing off of everyone I tried to shoot. I've also been revisited by a long-standing recurring dream, in which I get a letter in the mail that I somehow didn't do everything I was supposed to do, and I have to go back to Episcopal High for a semester. I hate that fucking dream.
The one I just had takes the cake, though. There was a garage sale at the New Music Building at LSU, and each room had a different theme. One was filled with animals, one with old records and tapes, one with clothing, and so on. There was a beautiful turquoise Telecaster Thinline for $25, and I wanted to buy it, but the garage sale didn't take debit cards. Then I ran into my dad, and we couldn't find our way out of the building. We were lost in a sort of maze in this building. Everyone we met along the way was someone I used to know back in Baton Rouge, and they all had different advice about how to get out of the building. We finally found an exit, into a parking garage where all these exotic cars were on sale for under a hundred dollars, so my dad bought a silver Ferrari, handed me the keys, and disappeared. I drove around town for hours, but I didn't recognize anything and got lost. Then I had to go to the bathroom. I finally found a place I recognized - my friend Erica's apartment in Prairieville - and I knocked on the door, but the only people home were her two little boys. I asked them if I could use their bathroom. They told me no, but I went in anyway.
And then I had a huge, bloody miscarriage all over their bathroom. This part was extremely vivid and scary and seemed to last for hours. When it was over, I went back to my house, to find my parents negotiating with Army contractors about building barracks for soldiers in our backyard. I told my mom I had to talk to her, but she kept telling me she didn't have time. I went inside and called my doctor. The doctor told me to meet her at a restaurant where she was having lunch, so I met her there, and she took one look at me and told me I'd had a miscarriage and that I should go back to work.
Then I woke up.
Dreams are weird and stupid and they scare me.
[ posted by katie at 03/17/2006 12:38:05 PM ] [ link ] [ 0 responses ]
1
sunday morning coming down
Yesterday we got an RCA cable that connects the iPod to the stereo. We got it home and hooked it up about 8:30 last night, and it worked just fine. We had it at a pretty reasonable volume (level 7 of a possible 40), and like I said it was 8:30 in the evening on a Saturday. After about five minutes, we started hearing noises coming from the apartment above us, as though the people upstairs were pounding on their floor with a stick, or stomping, or something. We turned the music down to investigate, and the pounding stopped. We turned the stereo back up, and the pounding commenced anew. Apparently our neighbors are fine with us watching TV really loud, but when it comes to music, they're big old sticks in the mud. These are the same people that called the police on us one night around 10pm when we were cooking dinner and listening to music. Also, these are the same people who like to vacuum at 3 in the morning. I hate apartments.
We slept late. When I woke up, all I could think about was going to the Chimes. I intensely craved some Chimes red beans and rice. And the smell, and the atmosphere. There's nothing around here that even comes close. I'm thinking there's probably nowhere in the world quite like the Chimes on a Sunday afternoon.
So we're going to go to the grocery store instead.
I'm thinking when we get back from the store I'm going to find the Suicidal Tendencies section of the iPod library and see how loud the stereo actually gets. Fuckin' people.
[ posted by katie at 03/05/2006 01:54:30 PM ] [ link ] [ 4 responses ]
1
Dear Senator Landrieu
Dear Senator Landrieu,
I feel honored to have voted for you twice, and am proud to call you my Senator. Your work to keep Katrina recovery at the forefront of the national dialogue is inspiring to me, and I feel it's important that the federal government play a leading role in the recovery effort in New Orleans. No other entity has the capital to get the job done, and it's imperative that the issue not get lost in the shuffle of daily political debate.
That being said, I write today to take issue with your choice to oppose Senator Kerry's proposed filibuster of Supreme Court nominee Samuel Alito. I agree that the Senate's time in the coming session should be focused on a number of issues, not the least of which being Katrina recovery, but I feel very strongly that Judge Alito is unfit to serve our nation as an arbiter of constitutional issues. It is likely that any action taken by the Senate Democrats to block a floor vote on Alito's nomination will quickly be quashed by the majority, and for that reason I urge you to support Senator Kerry's efforts, and go on the record as MY representative, taking a stand against Judge Alito's nomination. Stand against the power machine that seeks to supplant rational discourse with far-right ideology. Not only will time not be wasted, you will go on the record as one who is not afraid to take a stand, no matter how risky that stand may seem in the short-term. As your constituent, I urge you to represent me in the most literal way in the coming days, and do everything in your power to tell the Republican majority that many Americans have a problem with Judge Alito's nomination.
I urge you to take a stand, and go on the record as being against the confirmation of Samuel Alito as a Justice of the Supreme Court.
Sincerely,
Katie ________
[ posted by katie at 01/26/2006 08:43:48 PM ] [ link ] [ 1 responses ]
1
jumping the gun
i woke up this morning and it was cold, finally. that smell was in the air, when everything gets crisp and there's the slightest hint of a fire burning somewhere. at the 18th and constitution stoplight on the way to work today, a gust of wind blew several thousand dead leaves of various colors across my path, and my primal brain went, "fall".
this time last year i was living the basement of a frat house. my shower wasn't in the heated part of the house and my toilet was in a closet which was sponge-painted a remarkably killoggsy blue. the rent was $700 and i was probably at my lowest. but there was always weed. i would wake up in the morning and go through all the ashtrays, collecting all the blunt roaches. things are better now.
i left the job that had come to define me since my move to washington. i lived and breathed that job. it was time for a change, i saw an opportunity, and i took it. and i regret it. i know i couldn't stay in the rut i was in, and for anything to change i would have to leave. so i left. i spent the better part of two years bleeding for this job, trying to make myself acceptable to their standards, trying to absorb their knowlege and prove that i was worthy of promotion, worthy of recognition. i never felt that worth until the last day i worked there. the boss whom i thought held me in the same regard as an illegal dishwasher treated my boyfriend and i to a very expensive dinner at his very expensive restaurant, presented me with giftwrapped cookbooks, and told me that he was proud of me and that i would always have a place in his organization. i waited two years to hear that. all i had to do to get the recognition i wanted was to quit.
so now i'm at this new job, and their standards are not what i'm used to. i became accustomed to a certain intensity and structure that this place does not subscribe to. i took the position because, besides the need to move on, they offered me a salary and benefit package that was very attractive to me. the package is effective after a one-month trial period, during which i am a regular hourly employee (albeit at a higher rate than my old job). i'm unhappy after two weeks, and i have a feeling that when the month rolls around, i'm going to have to go to them and request an evaluation, rather than them recognizing that the time has passed and i've fulfilled the requirements. if they don't make good on the offer i received upon being hired, i can't stay there. i don't like it enough to do it for an hourly rate and no benefits.
so the very day that i left my old job, their chef (who i hate and didn't want to work with anymore, the driving force in my decision to seek other employment) got himself in all kinds of legal trouble and got fired as a result. and now they're in a huge staffing pickle, and the promotion i was waiting for is actually now available. i totally jumped the gun.
so now i wait and see, and ponder the nature of patience.
[ posted by katie at 11/11/2005 12:23:39 AM ] [ link ] [ 1 responses ]
1
Declarative sentences arranged in a list
1. The Bacon of the Month Club is the most wonderful club ever.
2. On Wednesday, I lost my ID for the third time this year.
3. It's time for a new sack of dope.
4. You can leave vehicles at Metro parking lots for as long as you want.
5. The hotel we're staying at in New Orleans will put a goldfish in your room, for free.
6. I think it's in a bowl, but I can't be sure.
7. 55-year-olds do Ecstasy, too.
8. Mesh caps are SO out.
9. The "hair of the dog" trick doesn't really work, but it makes you forget.
10. While sleeping, I cut my foot with my toenail.
11. SpongeBob SquarePants isn't that funny.
12. My parents are homeless.
13. Adult kickball is a good way to network with other cretins.
14. It's harder to do the dishes if you let them sit overnight.
15. There's nothing wrong with watching porn at breakfast.
16. These lists are completely stupid.
17. It's demoralizing to be broke three days after payday.
18. If you need to call your boss a cheap pile of bastard dogshit, it's best to do it in writing.
19. Aioli and mayonnaise are not the same thing.
20. There is no truth, only subjective consciousness.
21. Going back to bed is the best idea yet.
22. Other people get rich off of your labor.
23. Toenail polish should be removed after a week.
24. I'd rather have mice than roaches, too.
25. The best place to score smack is outside the methadone clinic.
26. My credit report contains no information.
27. It ends here.
[ posted by katie at 08/11/2005 09:12:35 AM ] [ link ] [ 0 responses ]
1
You won't fucking beat me, fucko.
You may have hurt me now, but you will not win. I will
have the best of you before it's all over. You think
you can trample me like so much dirt, you think I will
lie there silent and submissive, but the next fucking
foot you bring down on my head will unleash a torrent
of venegeance the likes of which your kind cannot
endure. The kindergarten babies hiding their head in
expensive demiglace gravy will have their judgement
day, and I will be there, dipping my french bread in
the fondue of their ruins. You won't fucking beat me,
fucko, and here's why: I am stronger than you. I am
harder than you. I have seen things that you will
never be able to see. I have walked roads that are not
on your map. Smirk. Whisper. Think you have won,
because that's where I want you, because that's how you'll fall the hardest.
You won't fucking beat me, fucko.
[ posted by katie at 06/09/2005 05:24:37 PM ] [ link ] [ 1 responses ]
