12.4.02 – Harrisburg, PA

internet access is somewhat limited these days, so i’ll continue to sponge off other people’s material. here, my mom waxes poetic about my cat:

He sits on the chair and stares and chitters endlessly as long as the junkos, wrens and sparrows are dining. His tail switches with great purpose and energy while he hunkers low on the chair and makes his primeval hunting sounds.

[grin] i miss my cat.

12.3.02 – Philadelphia, PA

i love him because, part II (see 11.11.02):

I love him because he buys me jewelry out of gumball machines and asks me for advice.

I love him because when he brushes his teeth, he says ‘I’m gonna throw a scrub on these pearly yellows.’

I love him because when i ask him to tell me a bedtime story, he tilts his head, is silent for a moment, and then begins: ‘all his life, the old man had never seen the other side of the mountain…’

[i love him because] he has nice arms and makes the perfect cup of tea.

From Oil Notes by Rick Bass: She laughs when she skates. I think I feel too strongly for her but do not know what to do about it.

…you live with someone for long enough and your nose magically fits in their shoulder. their foot behind your knees, your arm on their back. add two cats who twine together in their sleep, and you have a monkey’s fist for a bed.

thanks for sharing.

12.1.02 – NYC, Hawthorn, NY, New London, CT

and we’re back, folks. feels like we hardly missed a beat. roadside motel, take out chinese for dinner, 7am call for a show tomorrow.

air travel is funny. there’s this distorted sense of distance. i’m on the west coast, and i get on a crowded, claustrophobic little tube full of people, and four hours later it’s the next morning and i’m in new york city. travel this weekend was predictably awful: mechanical delays led to missed flights led to additional connections led to missing luggage that took a side journey to portland without me, but in the end, all of the delayed connections in the world couldn’t have kept me away. the weekend was sleeping in late and going out to breakfast, walks in sunny, lithia park and falling sleep watching movies, tangled up on the sofa like a litter of sleepy kittens. time with andy gives me a reprieve from my type-A need to constantly need to justify (to myself, my own worst critic) my time as well spent: self-improvement thru reading or organized socks or earning money or whatever. i don’t feel like i have to justify what i’ve done with the hours i spend with him. something sets me free to just be.

11.28.02 – Ashland, OR

i am thankful for all of the wonderful people in my life.

11.26.02 – Richmond, VA

wednesday: richmond -> chicago -> portland -> medford -> ashland. 1 airport shuttle, 3 airplanes, 1 taxi, 15 hours.

posts will likely resume when the tour resumes on sunday. happy thanksgiving.

11.23.02 – Raleigh, NC; Asheville, NC; Greensboro, NC

i have the asiatic death flu. every time i turn my head at an angle the whole world begins to spin, sort of like drunk spins only without the alcohol. there’s a mall across the street from the motel, so i walked over there in seach of cold medicine this afternoon. wandering (weaving, really) thru the mall amongst all the christmas hoopla, it hit me how NORMAL everyone else looked. i mean, they were spending saturday afternoon going christmas shopping, with their friends or family, wearing clean clothes (i was wearing my load-out sweatshirt from the beginning of the week, which didn’t seem dirty until i looked at it in the sparky clean mall full of new clothes) and perky hair and after shopping were going to go home to their houses and cook dinner and be NORMAL. i’m tired of this gypsy lifestyle. i want to have a home to go to. i want to leave my shampoo in the bathroom and munch out of the fridge whenever i’m hungry. whine whine whine. being ill is the quickest way to make me into an 8-year-old at heart – whimpering for someone to bring the remote and make me soup.

11.19.02 – Greenville, SC; Charlotte, NC

countdown to thanksgiving: 8 days to andy, ashland, cooking dinner, walks in lithia park, and a cozy weekend without tour life, motels or fast food. will someone wake me when it’s next wednesday?

11.16.02 – Marshall, TX; Lake Charles, LA; New Orleans, LA; Atlanta, GA: we are experiencing technical difficulties

i have this eerie feeling that eudora is eating some of my email messages lately. i see it download four messages, say, and then can only find three new ones in the inbox. if it appears that i’m ignoring you, don’t take it personally, and maybe try sending the message again. given that one of my biggest pet peeves is narrowly missing phone calls, this now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t email stuff is driving me bonkers.

11.11.02 – Shreveport, LA

i love him because he wears moccasins in the winter.

wynona ryder in Mermaids. i love this line because her reason is so completely arbitrary, yet it’s such an integral part of her love for this boy. it’s the little things, trivial things, even, but concrete details that you love about a person, like moccasins in the winter.

i love him because he cried at the end of The Hobbit.

this is an audience participation post. send me your “i love him/her because…” please.

11.9.02 – Jackson, MI

on war and peace and smutty novels:

everyone on the tour gives me shit for reading war and peace (i am, as usual, the resident literary nerd). i got into tolstoy the easy way, thru smaller novels, but war and peace really is magnificent – i’m not just being pretentious. i admire tolstoy because he’s one of those writers who has a style that no one else has ever managed to emulate, yet he’s inspired generations of writers with his attention to detail. and i just figured out who, exactly, he inspired. see the passage below:

After talking for a little while in the general circle, Speransky got up, and going to Prince Andrey, drew him away to the other end of the room. It was evident that he thought it well to interest himself in Bolkonsky.

“I have not had time for a word with you, Prince, in the engrossing conversation into which I was dragged by that excellent old gentleman,” he said, with a smile of bland contempt, by which he seemed to take for granted that Prince Andrey and himself were at one in recognizing the insignificance of the people with whom he had just been talking. This flattered Prince Andrey. “I have known you for a long while: first from your action with the serfs, the first instance of the kind among us, and an example which one would desire to find many following; and, secondly, from your being one of those kammerherrs who have not considered themselves wronged by the new decree in regard to promotion by court favor, that has provoked so much criticism and censure.””

“Yes,” said Prince Andrey, “my father did not care for me to take advantage of that privilege; I began the service from the lower grades.”

“Your father, a man of the older generation, is undoubtedly above the level of our contemporaries, who condemn this measure, though it is simply an act of natural justice.”

“I imagine there is some basis thought even for that condemnation,” said Prince Andrey, trying to resist the influence of Speranksy, of whom he began to be aware. He disliked agreeing with him in everything; he tried to oppose him. Prince Andrey, who usually spoke so well and so readily, felt a difficulty even in expressing himself as he talked with Speransky. He was too much occupied in observing the personality of the celebrated man.

“In the interests of personal ambition perhaps,” Speransky slowly put in his word.

“And to some extent in the interests of the state,” said Prince Andrey.

“How do you mean…?” said Speransky slowly, dropping his eyes.

now, the same passage, re-written so that the characters are of opposite genders and are meeting, say, at a cocktail party full of powerful business tycoons:

After talking for a little while in the general circle, Angela got up, and going to Andrey, drew him away to the other end of the room. It was evident that she thought it well to interest herself in him.

“I have not had time for a word with you, Andrey, in the engrossing conversation into which I was dragged by that excellent old gentleman,” she said, with a smile of bland contempt, by which she seemed to take for granted that Andrey and herself were at one in recognizing the insignificance of the people with whom she had just been talking. This flattered Andrey. “I have known you for a long while: first from your action with the Deluca account, the first instance of the kind among the firm, and an example which one would desire to find many following; and, secondly, from your being one of those partners who have not considered themselves wronged by the new decree in regard to promotion by nepotism, that has provoked so much criticism and censure.”

“Yes,” said Andrey, “my father did not care for me to take advantage of that privilege; I began the firm from the lower ranks.”

“Your father, a man of the older generation, is undoubtedly above the level of our contemporaries, who condemn this measure, though it is simply an act of natural justice.”

“I imagine there is some basis thought even for that condemnation,” said Andrey, trying to resist the influence of Angela, of whom he began to be aware. He disliked agreeing with her in everything; he tried to oppose her. Andrey, who usually spoke so well and so readily, felt a difficulty even in expressing himself as he talked with Angela. He was too much occupied in observing the personality of the celebrated woman.

“In the interests of personal ambition perhaps,” Angela slowly put in her word.

“And to some extent in the interests of the state,” said Andrey.

“How do you mean…?” said Angela slowly, dropping her eyes.

see? instant smutty novel. at the end of this scene they slip off to the ladies’ room for a hot, steamy sex scene before their respective spouses can notice they’re missing. it’s his attention to physical detail that reminds me of a smutty novel. he sketches out subtext in the flick of the eyes, in the way that a teacup is lifted or a head is turned. i don’t have any smut handy to use as a comparison, but i imagine that the curious could find plenty on the internet without too much effort.