concretekiss: (Default)
son, age 12.9: for birthday wants One Year Immunity to Groundation
daughter, age 10: (in the shower) Jelly Bean is not my lovah...she's just a girl who says that I am the one!"

boy - you should try out for American Idol, mama.
girl - she's too old, but America's Next Top Model is letting short girls try out!
concretekiss: (Default)
son: How was yr movie last night? I kept hearing you say 'oh shit! oh shit!' from yr bedroom.

The main characters were getting into alot of trouble. You just looove to find a way to cuss in front of me, don't you?

daughter: Did Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid get shot?

Yep. Took the entire Bolivian police force. They went down in a Blaze of Glory.

daughter: Awww, that's too bad.

Well they were robbing banks and trains and shooting people. It was bound to happen.

daughter: But that was their hobby!

Daughter, that hobby is illegal. You can't just get away with doing something illegal by saying it's a hobby.

daughter: Oh.
concretekiss: (i am sorrow)
Over the weekend I threw nail polish, pizza, beer, PJ Harvey songs & potstickers into the gaping abysmal void that is my soul like so many weenies down a hallway.

My daughter is coming into this blissful age where she seems to admire me surprisingly & immensely. I know in a few years that won't be the case & am ready, I guess. But in this fleeting phase she spontaneously says things like “Mama, all the boys like you because yr so hot,” as we trot across the parking lot & I laugh & toss my hair & say “Oh stop it,” in that “Please continue” way.
Truly, everyone should have a little 7yo chick sidekick for when yr feelin’ like ass. For when you wonder if you were born to walk away & watch others do the same. For when you are tired & hoping no one notices your Hideous Eye Twitch. These past few months I have soaked up the lovin.

Rachel, I found some face wash for wrinkles & blemishes!
What? That’s ridiculous, you don’t have wrinkles & rarely do you have pimples.
Rachel, recognize. My wrinkles have pimples & my pimples have wrinkles.
Stacie, you were reading Cosmo when you were 8. You’ve been bitching about yr crow’s feet since you were 10.
Rachel, recognize the fact that you can’t HANDLE my wrinkles!

Imagine us all in nursing homes. Our tattoos distorted. Youthlorn words & symbols eroded. We will search for once wild windows in the soft pleats of our faces, our grins drawing back lose drapes of skin. We will tag one another’s bedpans, white dreadlocks, gray mohawks, race our walkers down the hall, pimp my wheelchair.

Oh & if you've recently wondered what happened to Sunny Day Real Estate (yes try not to pee yrself in anticipation) you can exhale now. It's old news but new to me that Jeremy Enigk, lead vox with the passionate, raspy cry gave himself up to hardcore Christianity & broke up the band. Real good ChristJesus. If you aren't too busy I have some requests.

son of mine

Oct. 4th, 2006 07:17 pm
concretekiss: (i am sorrow)
Today I was reading Time Magazine for kids & it was the world's oldest man's birthday! He's 113!
Woooow. What did he look like?
Well. He had a ton of wrinkles, & his eyes were looking in two different directions & he was drooling pretty bad.
& he had a 89 year old girlfriend.
Well he's just robbing the cradle isn't he?!
Oh nothing. Gosh, 113 years old! He's beyond senior citizen by now. He should get everything for free.
They should call him Mega Ultra Citizen.
concretekiss: (Default)
me - Elise! We are all sharing that sauce, are you double dipping?!
daughter - No! Gosh! I'm.....ten-dipping.
concretekiss: (Default)
Drunkenly made the resolution to never go to Wal-Mart or Mcdonald's again, seein' as pinot noir makes me think I have superhuman powers.
Most of the weekend was with little sis, a more cautious, modest, tree-hugging version of me. She gave me a pair of soft flip-flops that feel like walking on hamburgers & we went to the craft store where I just about jizzed on myself over paint-brushes. I sculpted a plesiosaur last night. It is a girl.

I think I want her eyes closed & long blue eyelashes & speckles on her back.
Much this weekend I have been waiting for something to dry or trying to hurry
before something dries.

Over Sunday breakfast;
You have to get along with eachother. I love you both a really big lot & you need to show that love to eachother. We are all we have. We have to stick up for eachother. I would be lost without you. You would be lost without your sister.
You would be richer without us & your house would be cleaner.
That's crazy! I would be lonely & I would wish someone needed me. & I would be cold without hugs, hugless.
You would not have anyone to rub your back whose hands are soft as mine.
This is very true. Soooo, I guess I'll keep you.

In the last month I've been courteously informed by three different people that they pray for me, an fyi, much like here, you dropped your wallet or hey your lights are still on. And I feel obliged to thank them for my good fortune, thus giving some sort of demi-god status, or bad because I haven't really been praying for them & therefore should offer to pray them back later, or slightly insulted because somehow I look like I could use a few prayers.

This song hurts a little, but needfully & you know me I just keep on. It is so and-with-a-kiss-I-die.
concretekiss: (Default)
oy vey, I wish I could do this Monday over. I work with two amazing, intellectually sexy women in a male dominant field. We have meetings with engineering teams to negotiate the build of their inventions, in fancy board rooms encased in glass, overlooking the greenbelt. We rock a mean transaction & what's funny is we are all the same size. There is a bubbly country blonde, a stoic willowy brunette, & me, the fidgety dishwater brownnnnnwhatever. Add the secret ingredient...chemical X. They are arguing alot at the moment & I feel like a child of divorce, as if I should fake love letters or arrange some parent trap to reunite them before the engineers smell dissension in the ranks.

I wanted to thank those of you who wished my little one well. She turned 7 last week in a fevered haze, but still, she is so lovely. (She had a dream last night of her new loose tooth, except it was "looong & blowing in the wind!")

Man, I wish my grandfather would stop sending me sparkly Jesus chainmail. That reminds me, he told me a joke last weekend when I went to visit; A man walked into a doctor's office & the frontdesk receptionist asked "Can I help you sir?" to which the man replied "There's something wrong with my pecker." (yes, pecker, my grandfather said pecker to me) The receptionist was appalled, and told the man to leave at once & come back when he could communicate his ailment a civilized manner. The man returned 15 minutes later & told the receptionist, "There's something wrong with my ear." The receptionist then asked what the problem was, to which the man replied "I can't piss out of it." It's funnier when my grandfather tells it.

Speaking of pee in the ear, Devendra Banhart sucks truly & vigorously.

There are too many of the ladies in my life having to deal with weak, childish men at the moment & though it may narrow the playing field considerably, I wish them lovers as strong, self-sufficient, honest & upstanding as they are. I want them to make that promise to themselves but ah, the greatest war is between the head & heart.

Back to work on part 3 of my triptych, a landscape of rooftops. I've never tried shadow on geometric shapes though it's nice to finally get into the zone, to forget what time or wherefore until my back aches from hovering painstakingly over the patient. I recommend it.
concretekiss: (Default)
Early yesterday morning as we waited half awake for our table at Magnolia, Elise lay her head in my lap as she'll occasionally do in a room full of people. But her shoulders trembled & I saw she was crying. She wilted over my arm, as I asked her what it was. "I want to be a mermaid!" OH, & I wanted her to, & almost burst into tears myself. What kind of wack-job world is this?
The next 20 minutes were spent @ 8 in 84, the morning after I'd had the Greatest Dream where Kirk Cameron took me to a very important dance & kissed me in front of the prisses who'd hissed at me on the playground. How at my mother's question of why I was crying into my cheerios I howled, "I'm uglyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."
You know if I think about it hard enough it really fuckin' sucks that I'm not a mermaid, either.

Finally rained here a little, & it's warm enough to drive around with the windows down in it. We had to tiptoe around but we found a Snail Saga.

See these two snails are married & cheating with eachother on the sly
or it is a duel to the death.

Read more... )

I think those three days on the beach desensitized me to dirt. I wasn't too concerned with keeping the earth off this weekend. I like to think that when I wear a wife beater, then somewhere in the world a wife is spared a beating though, that doesn't really stop him from beating her while wearing saaaay ok ok ok ok to bed with me.
concretekiss: (Default)
of scooped-out grins, eyes
twitching & miceful i left
jack-o-lantern town

If a small girl comes to you, eyes ablaze. If she comes grubby hands full of driveway gravel & I brought you some diamonds she says, you better heave her into the sky, flaunt her to the stars & kiss her hard, like you don't know the difference.

If there were a switch located within that once pulled, would irreversibly free you from any desire for physical affection, would you pull it?
concretekiss: (Default)
When Jaromil uttered his first word, and that word was "mama" she was deliriously happy. She told herself that her son's mind now still consisting of only a single concept - was completely filled by her, & that even later on when his mind would begin to grow, branch out, & flower, she would continue to remain its root. Pleasantly stimulated, she carefully followed her son's future attempts at words, & because she sensed that life is long & memory short, she brought a notebook bound in dark red & proceeded to write down everything that issued from her son's mouth.
If we were to consult Maman's notebook we would see that after "mama" there soon followed a number of words... & after those simple expressions we find the first attempts at sentences.
- Milan Kundera from Life is Elsewhere

Son~ How was your day at work?
It was busy &...challenging.
Son~ Is your boss still rude to you?
Well. I don't think he'll ever really like me much.
Son~ Why don't you tell him off?
Because it wouldn't be a good idea. I could lose my job & get into all sorts of trouble.
Daughter~ Maybe you could just nicely tell him; Manager, when you are rude to me it hurts my feelings. It breaks my heart into a million pieces with fire all around.
*Supressed laughter* I don't know if he would go for that.
Daughter~ Mama why don't you have a husband?
What? Uh...Maybe I'm not the marrying kind.
Daughter~ Oh I know! I can find you a husband!
That's ok Elise. I'll be fine.
Daughter~ There is a cute man that helps our PE teacher on Tuesdays!
No no, don't worry about it, babe.
Daugher~ It's ok! I will just say Can I have your phone number to give to my mother? She doesn't have a husband.
Don't you DARE!
Daughter~ But he's cuuuute.
I said no, now promise me!

Mini Me

Apr. 8th, 2006 01:15 pm
concretekiss: (Default)

At the Thrift Store

Son; Mama, that little kid just showed me the bad finger.
Well don't look at him. He pushed me in the hip earlier, & he's throwing things so, just steer clear of him.
(One woman deliberately rams her cart into another woman's)
It's getting wild in here.
Son; Mama, he did it again!
(Child begins crying in the back. Two mothers yell. People begin gnashing carts. Daughter is pinned between three girls who won't move, & is calling out to me. Clamor rises.)
*plucking up Daughter* Let's get out of here. come on.
(Outside thrift store.)
That was crazy!
Son; Yeah! And all the mothers were ugly too. They had yellow & brown teeth & with one big giant one sticking out.
*laughing* I didn't see that.
(Car full of idiots honking. Whistling in the parking lot.)
That's so rude.
Daughter; That's not rude. I know what that means! It means a woman is pretty.
Son; But Mama is a Lady.
That's right, baby.
Daughter; Hey when I close my eyes & press my thumbs into them I can see cool art.


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August 2010



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