twice now i have seen a miniature version of me on the bus. both times she was wearing my standard green cargo pants and a black shirt. she has my haircut, my eyebrows, my slightly irritated stare. but she only comes up to about my sternum. she's tiny. and i'm pretty small to begin with. i wonder if i should talk to her. does she notice the sameness of our appearances? or am i seeing a pattern that isn't there because i still so desperately want to fit in, just like back when we were all teenagers? she gets off at fifth avenue. i wonder where she goes...

maybe i've got intestinal parasites. wouldn't that be gross?

well, the tension has hit a breaking point in my rumbly tumbly. i was shelving in popular library and chris came up behind me and said, "just give up on the socks, angela," referring to my outburst this morning when i couldn't find a specific pair of socks that i wanted and made myself late for work emptying out my dresser drawer and piling all the socks on the floor. he laughed and i jumped up and yelped like a damn dog, startled and strung out. "was that really necessary?" i snarled. "you're lucky i didn't punch you in the face." "you're pretty tense." "it's true." as i was warming up to that idea, i attempted a muppet face, and it only brought the smallest of smiles. oh well.

a toast: to red meat!

...la la la...

where is chris? oh where is he?

again with the trouble in tummy land. what is up with that? it's gotta be the cheetos. i was thinking about my chronic stomach problems from a few years back, and hoping that the medication i take is still enough to fight off the constant churning. maybe it's a sign from my subconscious that something is terribly terribly amis. did i spell that right? does it matter? ahh...feel like a 6 year old today, probably going to throw a massive tantrum later, i've been feeling the anger build up in me for the last few days, all i need is an excuse to freak out. i wonder who will bear the unfortunate weight of my spaz attack...duck and cover my friends, duck and cover. stop drop and roll. oooh. wow. it's really time to go.

trying to write about my mom's adventures at the drag show we took her to, but here in periodical land, there is great demand for my microfilm machine expertise. so, i tutor grown women in how to thread film into the machine and run down the controls and behold! it really is as simple as that! and yet they are amazed.

winning title from today: "how to catch crabs" i love that.

trying not to touch my face with my gross hands. don't believe how icky materials get here. my fingers were black after only one hour of shelving. that never fails to repulse me.

i think my pug dog enthusiasm is waning. need help.

stomach producing many ounces of acid, eating my gut from inside...when your body turns on you...why? the thought of ingesting any coffee makes me queasy. like i'm about to board a plane. yes, that's what this is. flying day apprehension. but since i don't have a plane ticket to anywhere, it must be about something else. i wonder what. maybe it's because i've been forgetting to take my pills at the right times and in the right order. and also my hysterical womb shrieking at me for more cheetos and rootbeer and to get my ass back in bed. ugh. i've gotta tell you, i don't feel very funny at all. chris didn't sleep last night, stayed up in the bathroom reading flatland so as to not wake me. poor snooter. weekend looking bleak, if i don't feel any better. want to keel over. oh bleck!

winning title from yesterday: "compendium of pea diseases"

saw puppies in the park surrounded by street kids. lots of black rubber bracelets and swearing. i wonder if the puppies would have that new puppy smell? they should bottle that.

actually, now that i think about it, i've really got nothing to say.

saturday, in chronological order:
1. helping my sister at a photo shoot where the hypertrophic sunflower she was hunched over spilled it's earwig stowaways onto her legs, causing interesting but horrifying noises from both of us.
2. copying down another 100 addresses for my friend david, who hasn't updated his address book in at least five years and has collected multiple piles of cocktail napkins with scrawled names and numbers. i have catalogged maybe 300 or so names thus far.
3. coffee with my boyfriend's ex-girlfriend, to dispell some of the mythic proportions that we had built each other up to, and subsequently showing her a house occupied by my sister's extremely recent ex-boyfriend, in the hopes that they can find a roommate situation between them that would be mutually and financially beneficial, while he wasn't at home.
4. having the ex-girlfriend then call me "sweetie" when she called me later that afternoon.
5. having beer with my sister and her high school boyfriend, who recently married, bought a house, and got a dog, who made a cameo, the dog, and is named "jet" and is only six months old and so still retains that "new dog" smell that you get from inhaling deeply with your nose buried in a puppy's fur.
6. letting my sister, albiet unknowingly, operate heavy, expensive machinery after having four beers in the sun dappled afternoon, and spiriting away many many copies from an ancient copy machine that gets so hot it almost smokes but, well, i have to be able to publish somehow.
7. reading a comic book based on not only the jack the ripper murders, but also on a hit television series called "CSI" while taking a bath in my boyfriend's enormous luxury tub, and sort of liking it.

things that kept me awake last night, in alphabetical order:
1. ceiling fan motor
2. neighbors in the courtyard
3. rain
4. tossing and turning

okay, cheeseball vampire novel in hand, i finish out a night at the humanities north desk. uneventful in a security guard sense of the word. finished my zine. guess i'll distribute next week. remember to take some to reading frenzy and send one to punk planet.

boring minutia aside, vampires are the coolest, n'est ce pas? all that girly lace over bare white chests and whatnot...sculpted cheekbones and a knowledge of wine...kind of makes up for the neck sucking...maybe...why is it that all women who write vampire books do so with an erotic edge and all men go for the 'alternative history' thing?

i woke up this morning with a huge sheet crease on my face, traveling right over my mouth and onto my neck. chris woke up and said, "i love you, scarface." it was the best first sentence of the day ever. i felt like a real pirate.

communication weirdness is always the weirdest kind of weirdness.

brushed my teeth really well this morning, and yet i still tasted that tooth-grinding taste from having my jaw clenched shut tightly all nightly. will bleach really cause internal burns? wish i didn't have to work so much/shelve so many books. if i didn't, would i wallow in bed eating kettle chips and watching nothing but x-files reruns? woe to me, for the answer is yes. almost done with the zine about my trip home. it's much much longer than i had anticipated, yet chris is being so great helping me with the editing, and i know that's hard to do, help cut corners on something made by your girlfriend. kudos to you!

second day of rain. wonder if winter is officially already here to stay. i like squirrels, but not in my bedroom.

i'm wearing a goddamned PINK sweater. what's up with that?