Saturday, October 27, 2007

I'm expecting a call from 1983.

A few more items:
-I've listed a buncha new stuff on etsy. I know etsy's primarily for handmade stuff and that's why I joined up, but the vast majority of my sales have been vintage gear. I'm probably going to quit listing stuff on ebay except for certain items that always make money: Danskos, Norwegian sweaters, Gunne Sax dresses, and some other stuff I find on a regular basis. I've been getting gouged on ebay and paypal fees for the crapshoot items such as vintage dresses that I think are crazy and amazing (craymazing?), so those are going to live on etsy, where they seem to be much appreciated.
-I saw my ass twin on the way to work yesterday. It was a little alarming and it meant that I couldn't stop looking at this chick's bum.
-On the way home from work yesterday, I saw a sketchy black 80s car whipping screaming donuts on the elementary-school playground lot. It was like being on a movie set: it was 6 pm and the sun was about to set; the sky was streaky pink and gray and the light was gold and the trees were flaming; the streets were desolate; the playground all cracked asphalt and burgeoning weeds and rusty chain-link; and on the school grounds this car was just going batshit crazy, screeching and burning rubber and wreathed in smoke. This went on for a minute and then they drove off, leaving smoke and silence in their wake. I'm telling you, the shit I see around here always looks portentous. It's bizarre.
-The other day a guy I know decided to buy his wife some voice lessons for her birthday and handed me a nice check for them. Unexpected money is my favorite kind of money, y'all.

9 comments:

  1. haha, ass twin!! that just fucks with my mindgrapes (my favorite 30 rock word)

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  2. Yaaay for unexpected money! It is the best kind for sure.

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  3. Kickpleat, I haven't been able to stop saying "mindgrapes" for weeks.

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  4. Yes, asstwin.

    If you find black danksos in the 40/41 range, give me a holla and I'll pay you the cash.

    xoxoxo

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  5. my husband might have a pair that size that are barely worn but he decided he doesn't really like them so much. they're brown oilskin or whatever that is. i'll check if you're interested.

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  6. DAMN, that is a great concept, the Ass Twin. I'm going out to look for mine. Then, I'm going to high-five and maybe hip-check her. Jesus, I hope it's a her.

    Anyway, I am still really coveting them swanky platinum leather t-straps. This is all your fault, and I thank you for it.

    XOXO
    Violet

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  7. the danskos are crazy bigger than 40/41. european sizing confuses me when it's not my size.

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  8. This donuts-in-the-parking-lot imagery reminds me of a rather dorky, warm-up sonnet I wrote last year. So now that the crowd has cleared, I am placing a sonnet in your inbox. I hope the line breaks are detectable.

    Amy Rose Sonnet

    Amy Rose, my brother’s age, stuck out her blue-jeaned hips
    and, tossing back a foot of hair, she taught me a new word.
    A gray blob clogged the fountain drain. She jutted out her lips
    before announcing, nostrils flared, “It looks just like a turd.”

    She was thirteen. I was eight but I was good at spelling.
    So, turd—is that with “e” or “i”? I knew it wasn’t cool
    to ask if it was “u” like “curd” and Amy wasn’t telling.
    She’d chased a brown Impala to the lot behind the school.

    Buzzard’s arm hung from the window. Amy swished her hair,
    bent closer for a puff, while “Kiss You All Over”
    bounced off the pavement in the blackbird-heavy air
    That I didn’t know was the heartbreak of October.

    Alone, I practiced spelling words but couldn’t concentrate.
    At four o’clock, my mother picked me up, an hour late.

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  9. You own this comment box, M.

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