September 23rd, 2001


this is my favorite

The hair in your mouth tickles the divine underbelly of my pulsating hypothalmus, flooding my terrestrial erector set with expressive washes of saponifying liquors.

(no subject)

My father has been yelling at the tv for about half an hour.
He's watching racing.
He never watched racing until my sister married Bill.
Bill loves racing.
He tapes races and then watches them over and over, beginning to end, enthralled.
So now my father watches racing. He puts it on when my sister is here. He puts on CMT when she's here too (because somehow Bill, living in DC at the time got Wendy into country music).
And he's taken to watching it even when she's not around, adopting all of her and Bill's prejudices about the participants.

He just spent half an hour yelling at the screen "C'mon Rudd! Get around him! C'mon Jarrett! Get on the inside! c'mon!! You bastards! you just let Gordon pass you! Gaddammit!" and then he changed the channel. Ten seconds later he was back "you idiots! what are you doing! Do it! Do it! C'mon!" and then, when something happened that was particularly displeasing to him, he actually threw the remote at the tv. It bounced of the screen. And I stared at him while he walked over, picked it up, sat back down, and kept on with his screaming.

He used to just scream at, beat, and intimidate us.
Now he threatens and demeans the flickering tv people.

laugh? cry? hmmm