June 29, 2010 § 1 Comment
Why is my Jade Plant doing so poorly after i put it on the terrace?
Oh shit. it is over-watered. oh my.
I just wiki’d the reasons for its failure because I was taking great care of it – but someone keeps sneaking it water daily. Jeez. So I just went out on the terrace in my underwear to dump the water tray into this awesome pot which has no plant in it. and I consider that my: “did the fuck what I could” of the day.
My aloe is kind of indifferent
and my cacti just stare at me from the corner as if to say:
“the ceiling will leak eventually.”
More Self-Indulgent Patter:
- How come I can finish a Nick Flynn memoir and not Anna Karenina. I am lazy, yes? No. Nick talks about alcoholism and the homeless and living on a boat.
- How come I can not finish what I start in a meaningful way? I used to be way more productive. it makes me happy to wake up amongst my books and read short stories now.
If I start a love I can not finish it. If I start my fingertips on my collarbone I cannot finish them over my scalp or until they are on someone elses (which is hard because there are not very many people I care to touch especially their hair.)
If I start the black eyes 7″ from 2002 on ruffian records, I can not stop until I hear the final beat of “Shut Up, I Never.” I also start listening to “some boys” which has such intense lyrics that I feel i should have written them. but then because my iTunes is in alphabetical order it immediately goes into sabbath which I would prefer it not to but am too lazy to change. I found a lot of cassettes for my car but they are along the line of: Faith No More, Mr. Bungle (shit Patton makes me cringe now), and Alice in Chains. and best of punk rock (vole 1. ?? huh) and I really have no interest listening to those things in the morning when I’m getting my bearings with the motherfuckers in the Bronx. those shmos.
- How come I am so impatient? I’m barely satisfied unless I get an immediate response. I provide people this courtesy. Most of the time. Exceptions are probably when I’m in the country (if my radiator wasn’t busted: fist shake.) or when I’m flying/ out of the country. Then email me countyslutho. mesh.
I am so impatient that I don’t like too much tonic in my gin, I don’t leave shirts long enough in the RIT dye or let them rinse clean. I need a Madaba sandwich when I fucking need it. I need to obtain a cigarette in my car on the highway as fast as I can fiddle. I don’t know how I’ve never been pulled over in New York State for going 85 in a 45 over a drawbridge. Things of this nature will bend me over and Karmalize over my raw ass one day. I don’t have the patience to sleep. I have patience for art projects with kids. I miss my old job. I have no patience for learning Spanish and am more interested in making a word quota per day.
also: things like this.