in, out.

group text messages? am i seriously supposed to spend my dignity points punching the 7 over and over again to respond to something about as heartfelt and sincere as a goldfish? oh what, since were being sarcastic anyway, and then im going to go even a skim little mile out of my way to see you, precious precious child with a deficient (but precious!) little thumb? put a "j," and a comma, at the beginning of the message and ill be forever convinced that youre a rapunzel whose hair is worth climbing. see? see how i easy i am to assuage? i am flexible! versatile! low-maintenance (ok, well.)!

i have no idea if my standards somewhere along the line changed radically without my knowing, or if it became really ok to be blase about things you actually do genuinely want to do, or if people decided that it was worth going out of their way to perform these perfunctory actions of passive aggression (god i need to get off this theme) that wouldve been better left undone (eg, id rather be ignored than get a group text, much like a group email [dont do it! dont! why! you just come off as too big for your own damn popularity britches!], unless it contains serious, far-reaching and therefore catholic revelations about your existence, or strict functionality). i am wicked frustrated with people - otherwise diligent, attentive, charismatic, generous people - who are just dropping the personal-touch ball all over the place. pickup.thedamn.phone.


also: considering the necessary lie. oh, no, not with other people - that necessity is i think pretty obvious, and if not obvious then so damn convenient dont lets even pretend its debatable - and not really lying to yourself, either, but the idea that sometime we must fantasize - we must think things that are, fundamentally/logically/realistically, just plain untrue, we must fabricate! it is our essence! - that to understand you must imagine, you must apply a real-world tenet to a hypothetical, and in some ways must live it, say it, let the idea bubble out of your mouth and, purple and swollen, drift around for as long as it cares to, -- that in some circumstances the only way to understand what were experiencing is to let the lies slip, let those little essences of what we wish were true unfold (akin, i think, to disbelief). you have to be able to wish, long, miss, lust, hesitate, relive, what isnt there; and what do you fall asleep to? neverending waking nightmares of all the stupid things youve done this week, or the color red? or maybe your lies, because thats my favorite. i love the lies. wed be so impure without them - no idealism, no craving.

parenthetically, k, im really wicked sorry i couldnt help you move sunday. ill help paint! really! i promise! and then well go out and buy paintball guns so we can shoot at all the baby carriages from your window (and maybe a stray shot or two going toward a dog, but thats an accident, really).

settling in in a way only real routine (courtesy the having-a-job bit - a block from the stock exchange, incidentally, and i love that i can wear pumps without being One Of Those Brooklyn Girls there) can bring - i had a scrubbing fit last night and bleached the fuck out of everything, and the War Against Uninvited Inhabitants (both plant and animal) has totally begun. watchout, mildew.

other things to do. have mother send songlist. theres this song called 'heartbeat' that hl & k have, but its a different cover than the one i know (and love), but i dont know what band it is, and there are a million that do - of course - a song called 'heartbeat', and my pos computer wont play the damn cd the songs on, and im never going to find the right one, ever, unless i magically remember where i put that damn list (though yeah i can probably rule out ice t). in the atlas, at New Hampshire or at least New England Region, is my guess, actually, but somehow i dont feel like explaining that.

my peripheral vision is going insane with the bugs. soda cant bubble without me whipping my head around and starting to whack at it. moving currents of air make me want to cry, fluttering, twittering. flashing lights are out of the question.

drinks, dinner tomorrow, movie-in-the-park thursday, chance to see some more PoCo kids on friday, and im assuming a serious crash this weekend - sleep, my demanding mistress, my lover, i am so sorry for the way ive been treating you - but i think everyone can agree that a beer and tapes 'n tapes and glorious, glorious a/c will do for now.