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runswithscissors


Friday, July 25, 2003

Goddamn, once more I wake up on a Friday morning with no clue where the rest of the week skipped off to. I have been drifting through time. Not that I'm complaining. It is outrageously, possibly even criminally beautiful here, and I'm pleased to be in the middle of it all, days skipping by at light speed and all.

Light speed or not, I have been in production mode, getting done piles of things that need doing. The difference between my existence in a rented flat in Madrid and the life of a homeowner here is, well, there I actually have free time because I don't have to work on the place. Here I do, and any time I get the impulse to do some work, there's work waiting to be done.

The last few days: rain or gray skies w/ intense humidity, broken up now and then by short, sudden spells of brilliant sunshine. Days during which the thirsty earth got a good, deep soaking.

I ate my first home-grown tomatoes of the season last night. Or the night before. One of the two. I'd forgotten how nice it is to be able to step out the door and pick your own. Orange tomatoes, though, instead of red. Weird. Tasty, but weird.

Speaking of food: I did not slip into the potential take-out dinner binge I mentioned at the end of this journal's last entry. Too much going on. I realized something about the woman who runs the café, though. When I picked up that first meal, she and I stood chatting about N.Y. and Madrid for a while. She's a woman of a certain, classic look, a look I know from N.Y.C. and the N.Y.C. area -- short, pretty, Jewish, intelligent, with a lively personality, black hair, a certain kind of cast to her features. As we talked, something about her rang a bell somewhere up there in my teeny brain, but I couldn't put a finger on why. Later it hit me -- something about her reminded me one of my oldest friends, a woman I know from college. Not her voice, not her manner, not her body or bearing, not her hair, not her clothes, not her voice.

Her face. Only her face. But the facial resemblance was so strong it was eerie. Hence the bells.

Right. Tomorrow I drive down to New Hampshire to spend the day with friends. But before I go: the following are actual search requests made via Google and its brethren (or sistern) that have led people to this page during the last couple of weeks (if these are any indication, there are some strange folk passing through the neighborhood):

skimpy tight dress

pignose spain

satanic souls defaced websites

second toe longer than the big toe

female pee desperation

group diaper changing

helen hunt dryer picture

transvestite ADVERTISING

soda floats beer sinks

stocky guys in tight shorts

bulemic blowout game

rws 10:14 PM [+]

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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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