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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Call Me Anytime!
Call Me So I made a few calls today: The sole woman who responded to my "I'm looking for new friends" email and a man, both from match.com.
I got the woman on the first try and we joked a bit about the sad state of dating and the disastrous state of dating online. She said, in a weary, cynical voice, "It's dating." We are to meet for coffee on Tuesday night. I called the man, the sole man for whom I've put myself out there. His name is Matthew (not too much luck on that one, sadly) and he's a transplant from Oklahoma. He and I are to meet for coffee tomorrow. I also, in a calling frenzy, left messages for x, Sophistica, Mayflower, The Demon Who Always Does The Right Thing. Only Mayflower and x returned my calls, and I only spoke to Mayflower, as I was in the tub when x called back. He was on his way to vote and said, "So I'm sure I'll have to stand in a long line and you should call so that I can have someone to talk to while I do." Only if you're voting for Kerry, I thought as I listened to his message. I answered when May called. I asked her about her having put in her two weeks notice on that job that she hates and we chatted about that experience, which went as well as those things ever do. Then I told her about the online dating thing. She said, in response to my natural cynicism, "It could go well." And me? Well, I recognize a mantra when I hear it, so I adopted May's "It could go well" as my online dating mantra. Call me (call me), call me for your lover's lover's alibi I stopped by the bookstore with Max this morning and picked up a book about mermaids which has these incredible photos and quotes. It's basically a coffee table book that I would never have bought were it not for the fact that it was on the sale table ($6.98) and I love mermaids. I also bought a copy of a children's book that's illustrated by Michael Sowa, one of my favorite artists. The text of the book (which is called Little King December) was written by Axel Hacke, translated from German, is hilarious. I love love love it. I want everyone I know to have a copy, I love it that much. I also picked up--finally!--a copy of Pursig's Zen & The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance, which is a strange story that I'm enjoying very much but which is creeping me out more than a little bit. Anyway, it's something I should have read a long time ago and which describes the feeling of riding quite accurately. And A List? I so haven't done a list in a while. I wonder why. I am grateful. I am grateful for Patrick. I am grateful for Frida. I am grateful for friendship and for walnuts and for Arkansas black apples. I am grateful for cigarettes, for online dating, for the gym, for cookies. I am grateful. I am grateful for this day, for my Levi jeans, for my mother, for Rutgirl. I am grateful. I am grateful for birds and balloons and for the dream of mermaids, a dream perpetuated by men and women of so many varied cultures for centuries. I am grateful to wonder why.
More lies:
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