Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Everyone had rotting carpet and a door to pay for.

A few nights ago I had the happiest dream. In the dream I befriended a garden gnome and his fawn friend. We always communicated non-verbally. Last night I was cleaning up my desk and came across this photo of the gnome and fawn from my dream:


I had printed it off the computer in 2008, tucked it into an album and forgotten about it. Now it's framed and every time I see it I can't help but smile.

Yesterday morning I woke up and decided to drive one hundred miles in a blizzard. I don't think I'll be doing that again any time soon.


And this morning I woke up with a song in my head that just won't go away. I'm not complaining; it's a good song.



I've been reading Miranda July's No one belongs here more than you. Loving it so much. Very hard to ration. I could stay up all night quoting my favorite parts, but I'll just leave you with this one:

...Theresa was sitting on the floor next to a chair. This is always a bad sign. It's a slippery slope, and it's best to just sit in chairs, to eat when hungry, to sleep and rise and work. But we have all been there. Chairs are for people, and you're not sure if you are one...

I've had the biggest non-sexual crush on Ms. July since I was eighteen and stumbled upon Learning to Love You More. Best diy collaboration ever. Then it was Me and You and Everyone We Know, with my favorite intro of all time.



And then I discovered the website for her book, which (even if you have no appreciation for artsy fartsy performances and are not mesmerized by the magic of ordinary life) you might think is pretty neat. I do. Obviously.

If I ever get around to hosting a celebrity dinner party the following people will certainly get invitations: Jorge Garcia & Sidekick 22, Miranda July, all the members of Le Tigre (don't remind me that they are no longer a band), Devendra Banhart, Beth Ditto, Aaron Weiss, and Natasha Khan. Lovely weird lovelies.

Enough rambling about famous people that I admire.
Do you know what I miss?
MySpace.
MySpace in the days when you were only allowed eight photos and one profile song.
Now a confession:
I created a MySpace account in hopes of getting Marvin to fall in love with me. We hadn't exchanged phone numbers after our first encounter because he was in the process of getting out of a crappy relationship and I was in a perpetual state of trying to convince myself that I hated men. The MySpace account was Rachel's brilliant idea. Possibly her only brilliant idea of the past decade! (AHAHAHA. Juuuust kidding Rachel. I know you're reading this and both grumbling and laughing about it and you should know that a) I love you and b) right now I'm glad that you're in Egypt and unable to punch me in the boob. I know you wish you could.)
But yeah. Primitive MySpace days...you ruled.

I think I've over-blogged.

Crap.

4 comments:

Tara Yost said...

I didn't know you and Marv cultivated some of your forever love online!

I remember when Bryan was only a digital blip, I would get giddy whenever he left a comment on my Xanga. Ah, social networking and journaling sites of the early 2000s.

And I have a boob puncher friend as well! What does this all mean, Sarah?!?

Derek Henderson said...

Love this post.
Glad you and Marvin have each other; you guys are the coolest couple; and you need to come visit.

Can I come to that dinner party?

Rachel said...

well unfortunately, i'm back in the state...and yes, completely laughed and grumbled. you know me so well! though i am more ready to punch marvin, than you at the moment.

oh, myspace days were indeed glorious.

Rachel said...

right now i'm in little rock staying with amanda...