It Would Be Normal
For Some People It Would Be Normal
What I'm going back to. I, however, resist. Today may be preface: The computer balks at saving my list. I walk down Broadway & run into A. (A. with the mustache & pancake hat & such a negativity that I always feel like Doris Day). Her sister died. Well, it's one damn thing after another. Now the furnace doesn't work. I get away & run smack into J. I. whom I like because she's as fat as my Grandma was (the fat one). Then I do some copying & run into oh I can't remember his name. The Deli Boy from QFC who had the hip replacement. He tells me Bryan is going to end up homeless—again. I’m surprised to find he isn't homeless already.
And tomorrow I go back to work. I'm lazy & don't go down to Olive Way Starbucks (BM) (oh, doesn’t that sound bad). Up here, I see JLS, who so annoyed me with his nodgey fuzziness (a cold fuzziness) last time I saw him that I ignore him. Then the guy who sits down between me & the unloved JLS gets up to leave & tells me he knows me from the Allegro. I don't recognize him...well, maybe. One of the several uninteresting men.
Now they are playing Chopin waltzes and I want to get up in my floppy gauze skirts & dance. Like Isadora or maybe Looïe.
15th Starbucks 2/5/01
The Opposite of Stolid
Stolid which seems to combine solid & stupid, strikes me as a typical Scandinavian word, like husky or snug. It means to stand still & endure. I am of my mother's mother's race, just the opposite of stolid: we run hither & yon yelping in pain or letting out little elfin cries of glee. (Glee must be Norsk too.)
Winding, in my mindship, up those fjords with the crags & mysterious mists & brooding hues--just like here. Only older. Landscape gets old by having people look at it. Which is why Africa is the oldest place of all. Or maybe not. Maybe it's how many eyes look for how long (i.e. numbers times duration). Which would make, what the Middle East the oldest or parts of China? We still don't know.
People have always gotten around.
I start thinking that I "know" the Scandinavian language by osmosis, simply because it is English read/heard through a pane of old glass. (Or wrapped up in lefsa). Reading it gives me the impression that it's always starting to come into focus but never quite does. Like that Icelandic.
There's a guy (20ish) with turquoise hair doing something advanced with a laptop. I stare, but I'm too nearsighted & it's too techno-complex. He's got a gizmo with a red light that he taps on the tabletop. He had something that looked like a camera, (oops) pointed at me.
No mail. No tax return. I have $12 plus the five under the chest. Dang. No pay till 2/23. Dang.
BM Starbucks 2/10/01
Says it's Latin. Huh.
From stolidus or some such. Well, if you're going to believe what the dictionary says...and anyway it said it was related to OHG. I'm sure the insensible, the unexcitable were the same back when everybody spoke Proto-IndoAryan.
Way back.
Say you have a world & eyes to look at it...the gift. Sun out today. V. nice. Warmed my living room. Brightened my hair. I wrote & read & sort of wished I had some friends. Sundays are like that. I avoided thinking about the fact that I have something like $12 & won't have more until I get more. And nothing definite until Feb. 23 when I get paid. Of course, I have lots of hopes--anything could happen--but nothing ever does actually happen & hope just picks me up to fling me down again.
Luckily, I didn't need to buy anything today so all I spent was $3 on cake & coffee. Tomorrow is another day. (To be disappointed.) But I have dinner for 2 nights & breakfast for 3 or 4.
No job tomorrow, which is good/bad. I'm back to polishing--1967 again. Trying to deepen that experience. And sending out more work, and even applying for a job.
Could I take a real job? My shoulder is not getting better. And now I find out shoulder problems like this can be caused by apical lung tumors. Oh, ducky.
Not to worry, I've still got that bag of charcoal, and Jeffrey T. has left his hibachi out under his porch.
15th Starbucks 2/11/01
What I'm going back to. I, however, resist. Today may be preface: The computer balks at saving my list. I walk down Broadway & run into A. (A. with the mustache & pancake hat & such a negativity that I always feel like Doris Day). Her sister died. Well, it's one damn thing after another. Now the furnace doesn't work. I get away & run smack into J. I. whom I like because she's as fat as my Grandma was (the fat one). Then I do some copying & run into oh I can't remember his name. The Deli Boy from QFC who had the hip replacement. He tells me Bryan is going to end up homeless—again. I’m surprised to find he isn't homeless already.
And tomorrow I go back to work. I'm lazy & don't go down to Olive Way Starbucks (BM) (oh, doesn’t that sound bad). Up here, I see JLS, who so annoyed me with his nodgey fuzziness (a cold fuzziness) last time I saw him that I ignore him. Then the guy who sits down between me & the unloved JLS gets up to leave & tells me he knows me from the Allegro. I don't recognize him...well, maybe. One of the several uninteresting men.
Now they are playing Chopin waltzes and I want to get up in my floppy gauze skirts & dance. Like Isadora or maybe Looïe.
15th Starbucks 2/5/01
The Opposite of Stolid
Stolid which seems to combine solid & stupid, strikes me as a typical Scandinavian word, like husky or snug. It means to stand still & endure. I am of my mother's mother's race, just the opposite of stolid: we run hither & yon yelping in pain or letting out little elfin cries of glee. (Glee must be Norsk too.)
Winding, in my mindship, up those fjords with the crags & mysterious mists & brooding hues--just like here. Only older. Landscape gets old by having people look at it. Which is why Africa is the oldest place of all. Or maybe not. Maybe it's how many eyes look for how long (i.e. numbers times duration). Which would make, what the Middle East the oldest or parts of China? We still don't know.
People have always gotten around.
I start thinking that I "know" the Scandinavian language by osmosis, simply because it is English read/heard through a pane of old glass. (Or wrapped up in lefsa). Reading it gives me the impression that it's always starting to come into focus but never quite does. Like that Icelandic.
There's a guy (20ish) with turquoise hair doing something advanced with a laptop. I stare, but I'm too nearsighted & it's too techno-complex. He's got a gizmo with a red light that he taps on the tabletop. He had something that looked like a camera, (oops) pointed at me.
No mail. No tax return. I have $12 plus the five under the chest. Dang. No pay till 2/23. Dang.
BM Starbucks 2/10/01
Says it's Latin. Huh.
From stolidus or some such. Well, if you're going to believe what the dictionary says...and anyway it said it was related to OHG. I'm sure the insensible, the unexcitable were the same back when everybody spoke Proto-IndoAryan.
Way back.
Say you have a world & eyes to look at it...the gift. Sun out today. V. nice. Warmed my living room. Brightened my hair. I wrote & read & sort of wished I had some friends. Sundays are like that. I avoided thinking about the fact that I have something like $12 & won't have more until I get more. And nothing definite until Feb. 23 when I get paid. Of course, I have lots of hopes--anything could happen--but nothing ever does actually happen & hope just picks me up to fling me down again.
Luckily, I didn't need to buy anything today so all I spent was $3 on cake & coffee. Tomorrow is another day. (To be disappointed.) But I have dinner for 2 nights & breakfast for 3 or 4.
No job tomorrow, which is good/bad. I'm back to polishing--1967 again. Trying to deepen that experience. And sending out more work, and even applying for a job.
Could I take a real job? My shoulder is not getting better. And now I find out shoulder problems like this can be caused by apical lung tumors. Oh, ducky.
Not to worry, I've still got that bag of charcoal, and Jeffrey T. has left his hibachi out under his porch.
15th Starbucks 2/11/01
posted by K. E. Ellingson at 4:04 PM
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