This is one of those occasional posts I start with absolutely no intended content or idea. I just haven’t posted in a long time, and I’m starting to feel cranky about it. So prepare for a lot of nothing:
It’s getting hot in Denver. I bought a $12 box fan for my window and it was one of the better investments I’ve made.
Chloe, Charissa’s cat who was unhappy living with her hyperactive dogs, is now my foster cat. She and Knives still get into a lot of scraps, but she’s really coming around and becoming much sweeter and less skittish. I’ve decided I want to start thinking of them as my Angelina babies. Troubled babies taken from tough environments, because I have so much love and wealth to give. So I’m going to start calling Knives “Shiloh” because she’s my real baby, and I’ll start calling Chloe “Zahara.”
Speaking of, I was in 7-11 the other day buying Tums and Canada Dry, and I noticed that Angelina is on the cover of seven magazines right now. I, and America, are totally fine with that.
I’m still fairly homesick for Oregon, and while the summer has been beautiful with some great evening thunderheads, the weather here is so goddamn oppressive. The sun is like 20 feet away, as if it’s perched over you, shoving you on the shoulder saying, “Hey, hey, hey.” There is so little moisture, or oxygen in Denver that every morning I wake up with locked up sinuses and find myself flicking water at my clothes to get the static electricity out. And there’s nowhere to run to, no waterfalls or pools or swimming holes. Just mountains, everywhere giant mountains swarming with chiseled extras from Nike commercials who love, LOVE to goddamn run and bike and do anything that will take them away from a second of inactivity or calm.
You are not Los Angeles. Take off those ridiculous sunglasses.
Me and Jamie went to see David Sedaris read from his new book at Tattered Cover. He was predictably funny, and if you’ve ever been to any of his readings, the best parts are his unpublished little passages from his diary. I can’t remember any and don’t feel like taking the time to mull it over, so too bad for you. Jamie’s been reading the book for the last week or so and keeps uncontrollably laughing out loud. I look up at her from my book or computer and she usually says something like, “It’s funny.”
At Jason and Jamie’s house, they have huge back and front yards and overwork/lack of maintenance has turned it into a wavy sea of knee-high weeds. They got a huge green sticker on their front door and a ticket for “unsightly weeds.” Jason had to have someone come and cut them, which broke his heart because he wanted them to grow even higher so they would get “Eyesore of the Week,” a feature in the community rag reserved for those in Denver who are standing in the way of the juggernaut of gentrification carving through old neighborhoods. I pictured him going out in the afternoon, beer in one hand, hose in the other, spraying down the yard until it turned into a Savannah of razor-sharp green reeds.
They also have a horseshoe pit, which I never take part in but often find myself watching while drinking beer on weekend afternoons. Until one day I walked up to the pit and picked up a shoe. “How do you play this stupid game?” And I chucked one overhand, baseball-style across the yard. And it was a perfect ringer. And with that I retired my game, perfect.
Just now, I was struggling for content and I asked Jamie, “What’s something interesting that happened to me in the last week or two?”
“Ummmmm.” she said. A few seconds passed and she started laughing hysterically. I thought she had a really good one in mind.
“What is it? What?” I asked.
“I can’t think of anything!”
“Oh, well that’s great,” I said.
“You made a lot of funny jokes.”
“Can you remember any of them?” I asked.
More uncontrollable laughter followed by shaking of her head.
“It’s a lot of pressure!”