bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 06:46am on 02/04/2009 under , ,
Today is a roller coaster.

I have four blogs trying to claw their way to the surface but it is six AM and I am tired and my pinky finger is starting to spasm. It's because of the way I hold it when I blackberry.

It is too late to be coherent.

I told a friend tonight that, no, we cannot continue our discourse on sexuality because my brain cannot take it. We can, however, talk about the Indigo Girls.

My brain gets used up. I joke that my memory gets full and jettisons things I don't need. My close friends know that they can tell me a story two or three times and I'll laugh every time like it's the first. Friends who are less close get annoyed when I don't remember stories they've told me, or experiences we've had together.

An assistant with a bad memory. Hilarious.

Except I have systems, tons of them, and when something is VERY important I make it imprint or I cheat with blackberry alarms and napkin notes.

And then there are things that imprint with no work and never go away.

Almost all of these things involve women.

Occasionally these things involve kissing women.

Frequently these things involve wanting to kiss women.


Tonight I read a line in one of my own blogs that I (of course) do not remember writing:
"I am about as slick as a t-rex in a shopping mall.

I love that line.

It's true.


Another line I love, from an almost-poem:

"I grabbed madly for the girl with the almost key
Instead of the one with the lock."

It's obviously about the pain two bottoms feel when they find themselves alone together, and naked. It's that sort of, "Well, fuck, what do we do now?"

The answer, I have found, is usually "watch tv."


I have a folder in my email program called "God and All The Angels." You should ask me about it some time. It's a good story. No, not right now. Now it's six a.m. and I'm a better storyteller before the sun comes up.


In the course of a year, I send and receive more than 36,000 emails. This is totally insane. NOTHING is that important.

But I love communicating.


I love my life, actually.

The sun is up.

It's April.

bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 11:31am on 27/02/2009 under , , ,
I want to post, but I also want to get enough work done today to justify taking tomorrow off, so I'll make it short.

I work a lot. I play less. I am okay with this, remarkably. I love the chaos and energy of tour, but right now I'm also enjoying wrapping myself in my comforter and answering emails. Balance. I'm working on it.

[ profile] strawberryjulia found herself in a bit of a pickle and needed a place to crash for a few days here in NYC. I offered the couch, because that's what I do, and because last fall I posted a very sad blog entry and she replied almost immediately to say that she understood and she hoped that knowing that someone else was awake and reading what I was saying and understanding would help. It came exactly when I needed it. And it did help.

So, two days of the delightful, pink-haired [ profile] strawberryjulia commenced. I have a longer blog entry in my head all about friendship and the internet and letting people you've never met into your home.

The short answer is, I am really lucky that there is so much love in my life. Hi.

I hope I remember to write that blog.

Oh, and I got a haircut:

It also does this:

bethofalltrades: (Default)
Today I listed to a live version of "Coming Up" by Ani DiFranco and I started crying when the audience screamed the final word with her.

and whoever's in charge better take the elevator down and put more than change in our cup or else we are coming UP.

Then I cried at this cartoon, which [ profile] tevriel sent me ages ago when I was on the brink of a total nervous breakdown:

Then I cried at this [ profile] ljsecret:

Then I cried about my life.

Then I wondered if maybe I was pregnant. I tried to remember my last period and I couldn't. I tried to remember what I had for lunch two days ago and I couldn't.

Then I remembered that you generally have to have sex with men to get pregnant, so I figured barring immaculate conception, I was okay.

Then I took a shower and played "Louder" by Vermillion Lies. I played it loud. I sang lounder.

Then I cried in the shower, even louder.

Then I ate some French fries with Frank's Red Hot on them.

Then I shaved my legs. I haven't shaved my legs in almost two months. I bought razors a few days ago because it had gotten to the point that it annoyed me. I used three and now my body is relatively hairless.

Then I bought An Open I by Kate Morrissey.

Then I tried to talk to [ profile] indecisean on the phone, but his phone was messed up.

Then I snuggled with Cinderella.

Then I IM'd Steven and realized how glad I am that he is home.

Then I IM'd the Wizzle and talked to her about what was bothering me and we bonded and made a plan to get trashed once she moves back to NYC.

And now I feel much better.


ps - Go download Vermillion Lies tunes for FREE--- or, if you dig them, choose what you pay for them. Please please please do it. They are amazing and coming on tour with Amanda in November!
bethofalltrades: (i have a feeling so deep)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 12:19pm on 05/03/2008 under , ,
I woke up late today. 7:30. I need to leave by 7:45 or I feel too rushed.

I showered anyway. Checked my inbox. Brushed my teeth. Pet the cat. It was nearly eight before I left my house.

I made record time to the Canal Street station. I could almost make it to work on time, even without rushing. I was going down the stairs to the Q train when everything stopped. A jam, people not moving, rustling of papers and shifting of feet. I got frustrated, since I could see the train pulling in. I would really rather not be late.

As the crowd parted, I saw a woman lying on the stairs, sobbing. People were pushing by her, stepping over her, not even looking down.

I asked her if she needed help and she said yes. I dropped my things and sat down next to her. A woman passing by asked what she could do and I told her to get a station agent. A man handed me a bottle of water to give to the woman lying on the stairs. A homeless man stood at the bottom of the steps and told people to go another way.

Her name was Lisette and she'd hurt her back when she fell. I sat and held her hand and talked with her for forty five minutes until the paramedics took her away. They'd arrived a half hour ago, they said, but they were lost in the station.

One of the police officers asked me who I was.

"I'm Beth," I replied.

"And you're with her?"

"No. I was just walking by."

He seemed surprised, which made me sad. As soon as I saw her lying on the stairs, I knew I had to stop, if only because if I told my mother I had walked past someone who needed help, she would be on the first plane from Pittsburgh to beat me.

Lisette and I spoke for forty five minutes, as I told her all would be fine and distracted her with questions about her life. She is getting laid off from her job. Lisette and her husband have two kids and she's always wanted to be a travel agent, so she thinks that maybe she'll try to do that next. Then they can take beautiful vacations, the four of them.

I told her that when one door closes, it is because a better one is opening, and that I was sure she'd be in Paris soon.

She thanked me for staying with her.

I told her that I go where the universe puts me, and today it made me late.

bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 11:55am on 20/01/2007 under , , , ,
I pulled the bright orange greeting card out of my purse at the diner last night, four drinks into what was an evening of immense relief. Found a pen in the depths of my cluttered purse and tried to write something to a kid I used to know on the occasion of his sixth birthday. The card was, of course, already late, even though I bought it with plenty of time to spare.

It is now back in my purse, still blank.


On the train, bitching loudly on the phone to my mother about how much I hate my job. The train starts to go underground and I say, "I love you, Momma." The fortyish woman across from me smiles. She's wearing a long fur coat and she says, "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation... I think we're a lot alike."

"You hate your job?"

"No. I call my mom every day."

And so we talked about mothers and how she lived away from hers for two years and hated it and since then they split their time between New York and Paris.

"My mother," she says, "Is the smartest person I know. Today I was telling her about-- well, you know, everyone has problems. And she said, 'Jeannie, you have to take it one step at a time towards happiness.'"

Again, curse the universe for sending me what I need to hear. "Your mother is very wise," I say, and Jeannie squeezes my hand and wishes me a lovely day as she dashes off the train at Canal. My day is instantly better.


I made it through my last workday without the Princess. I hadn't realize how much better she makes the office seem. Last week was really, really shitty, but next week is sure to be better, if only because she'll be stopping by my desk ten times a day.

My weekend is so infinitely boring. Today, grocery shopping and the hardware store (to buy supplies for mouse-proofing.) Tomorrow, laundry. This is probably all a good thing, though.




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