Another Year in the Body

Well, I popped on Blogger last Thursday, in a brief attempt to jot down words to immortalize the passing of yet another year. However, my birthday makes me annually cranky AND the massive company holiday party (of which I was in charge) was last Thursday night, so instead of fluid writing, I had halting moments of verbal constipation, interrupted by "urgent" requests from co-workers.

However, I awoke Friday morning with the Muse sitting on my bed. It's been a while since I arose with a poem building itself in my head, so I rushed for paper and a pen to scratch down the morning's first utterances.

What came out was unlike any of my previous poetry. Usually, I am a fan of free verse, unrhyming and arrhythmic. This piece stirs the memory of beat poetry, more appropriate to a poetry slam than an online reading. Its style is clearly inspired by some of the Sage Francis works that I have been listening to lately.

No matter how odd the phrasing may be for me, the feeling behind it is clearly one inspired by birthday blues. It gives voice to the fury of futile attempts to defy aging and keep up American society's flawed definition of beauty. Directionless rage, turned within, damaging body and soul.

Me Carve Pretty Someday

gotta pain buzzin’ underneath my skin
rage & slice, drag it out from within
Put it on show
Let everyone know
Fat ugly insides, jiggling round there

Television, magazine
Teaching me to purge
Fighting to be clean
Get it out, set it free
Stab into the real me
Flay & peel
Defy what’s real
Till I’m standing there
in nothing
but my BONES


then wrap my bones in skin
hold me up
call me thin
RAGE
at time, age and gods’ design
cut, pull, tuck & suck
tiny girls are good to fuck
spray adhesive just to hold it all in place
no lines allowed on my titties or my face
draggin’, pullin’, cutting, fightin’
still losing time’s cruel race
I’m so dry and tight
I’m wearing BEEF JERKY

looking in the mirror
still hating what I see
paintbrush and exact-o knife
create ‘the perfect me’
blood red, my color
bringin’ out my eyes
small cuts, band-aid hidden
distract me from my thighs

Screaming to the godless sky
Make me pretty or make me die

Screaming to the godless sky
Make me pretty or let me try

Screaming to the godless sky
Make me Pretty
Make me Pretty
Pretty
PRETTY
Please

Grab the frilly edge scissors and a dying hope
Like a 3rd graders’ snowflake
Gonna carve myself pretty

**DISCLAIMER: No folks, I'm not suicidal. I'm not even angry today... just OVER IT, ya know? Worry not, I'll be fine.

Pissy from the Heat

Dearest Department of Water & Power,

I understand that I live in LA, a town fraught with self-indulgent people who do not listen to suggestions like "turn your AC up to 78 when you aren't at home" or "turn off lights you aren't using". So when our power shut down at 6pm on Friday, on the hottest weekend of the year, I tried to be understanding. We opened our windows (nearly useless without fans in them) and hoped for an errant breeze. We found our flashlights and sat in the darkened courtyard of our apartment building, sipping water and trying to think cool thoughts. It was challenging, but doable. Two hours later, when the power returned, we were most appreciative.

The fact this all repeated on Saturday was a little more annoying. Rumors of a blown transformer were whispered down the block, from one grassy courtyard to another. Still, two hours later in the steamy September evening, power returned, and fans could be restarted. Ice could be made in the freezer again. I longed to believe that you folks had some inkling of what you were doing, and I hoped that you, concerned about the overheated citizens of Los Feliz, were working towards preventing a repeat performance.

However, when we returned to our house on SUNDAY evening, to find the neighborhood once again dark and muggy, my patience began to wear thin. Even though the sun was gone, the temperature in the area was in the high 90s, with uncharacteristic humidity making it even more unbearable. I likely would have rained curses on your heads if my kind neighbor had not distracted me by pulling her laptop into the courtyard, and sharing downloaded episodes of "Californication" while we all drank luke-warm beer. My fury subsided as I watched David Duchovney do a lot of naughty things to half-dressed women.

At least it HAD, until I returned home last night (after teaching 2 hours of dance class) to a totally black and silent Los Feliz. Once again, some brilliant yahoo somewhere had blown something or improperly repaired a do-hickey. Theories ran wild amongst the overly-hot Angelenos as to the cause of the repeated outages, but the point for guessing why was passed for me. I just wanted it to end. Is that too much to ask, LA DWP?? That on the hottest weekend of the year, I have at least ONE day out of four during which I do not have to run a bath of cool water in which to sit!??

To add insult to injury, this last outage lasted from 8:30 last night until 7:30THIS MORNING!! We slept naked on sheet in the middle of the living room with the front door standing open, as it was the only way not to wake in our own personal puddles. The cats had bearly the energy to walk from one spot on the floor to another, before they collapsed in a furry heap. The ice bottle we put in the bunny's cage to help him regulate his temperature melted, and there's not more ice to replace it. And I won't even discuss the inside of my freezer, now a large lemony lake that used to be 4 "real juice" bars, because my blood pressure continues to rise each time I think about the massive cleaning/purging that now needs to be done in the refrigerator.

IN short, I really want to send you the thanks you deserve, because without your incompetence, I would never have been able to spend my Labor Day holiday IN HELL.

Many are the ways in which you suck!

With much loathing,
YummyT

Vanishing "ly"

As I was driving to work this morning, I was subjected to a moment that is(unfortunately) growing more frequent in number. A moment, an occurrence, a... thing that gnaws on my consciousness, works my last nerve and downright irritates me.

It was a missing "ly".

Two DJ's were having a conversation with someone (sorry, I can't remember who), during which that person commented, "I do that bad."

"LY!" I piped up. "You do that BADLY."

Poor Tag is subjected to my grammar corrections on a regular basis. However, unless I'm asked to proof-read a document or listen to a public speaker practice, I try not to burst out like a schoolmarm for the general populace. (To my defence, I come by it naturally. My mother was a grammar/literature teacher for the first 30+ years of my life, and I was drilled on the ability to articulate both clearly and properly.)

I willingly admit that my sentence structure is not always the best, and my spelling can be downright deplorable. Add to that the fact that I'm slightly dyslexic, and type too quickly for my own good... and I'm sure that you can find more than a handful of errors in the archives of this blog.

However comma I still retain the ability to tell an adjective from an adverb.

For example: the tea can be bad (ill-flavored); the dog can be bad (poorly behaved); the paper can be bad (not enjoyable for reading), but that's probably because it was written (<-VERB) badly.


*sigh* Sorry to rant so, but it hurts my head when I hear it spoken incorrectly.


Helpful links:

Adverbs: definition, adverbs in history and other useful links (including a quiz)


the brilliant lyrics to Tom Lehere's "L-Y"


or best yet, sing along with Lolly, Lolly, Lolly

If it's an adverb we have it at Lolly's!

Bring along your old adjectives too, like slow, soft and sure.

We'll fit them out with our "l-y" attachment

And make perfectly good adverbs out of them!

Small Work Rant

Look, I am not a tiny or fragile girl. I have upper body strength, more than most women in my office (thank you pole climbing). However, there are those sturdier and more equipped than I. There are also MEN on this floor. In fact the lordgodking quarterback, Mr. Fitness (aka my boss) is prone to show off his "guns" or tell us what he can bench or lift.

So why is it that 4 out of every 5 days .... I am the ONLY ONE replacing the 5-gallon jug on the water cooler!?!?!

I see people take their cups up to the spout, and when nothing comes out, they look up, see the empty jug and walk away. These same people later come running like a cat who hears the can opener, when I make that recognizable glug-glug-glug of a new jug pouring into the resevoir.

Seriously people... it's not that hard.

No, NO, NO!

For the love of all that is holy people.... are you really going to make me put it in writing?

NO.
CELL PHONES.
IN.
THE.
BATHROOM.

I walk in, to the public restroom at my office, and there's a woman in there, just chattering on. Giving driver's license and social security number over the phone. (not smart, you don't know who I am and whether or not I'm writing this down)

What's more, I find myself trying to pee more quietly so that the person she's on the line with won't be disturbed.

At first, I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps someone calling her had unfortunate timing, and she felt she had to answer. BUT NO..... when she finished with that call, she started dialing the next.

NO... RUDE... Don't do it!

When we send you in there to 'handle business', please handle your own buisness ONLY... no one else's. Ew!