'cause i'm hot (HOT!!!) sticky, sticky sweet...

was today's the last
warm rain of the year? don't sigh.
there will be more years.



i'm just talking to myself there. pay no mind. maybe it's always warm where you are. maybe i hate you.

maybe i don't. i guess you'll never know.

there was a visibly agitated green wing macaw just like ours on scrubs tonight. i know that they're at their most adorable when they're all poofy and whatnot, but it isn't generally a good thing to see, especially when the bird could reach you with a quick sudden jab. a word to the wise: do NOT let parrots sit on your shoulder, no matter how many times your pirate mentor calls you a scurvied wench. there's a very real chance that you could lose most of your face. i'm teeming with bruises and puncture wounds, and my crazy bird knows and trusts me. of course, in the end, it's your face and your decision. but if you've ever wondered why so many pirates wear eye patches, well, i think you can guess what my theory is.

i'm a fickle whore, but forget everything i've ever said, i'm going to quit my job and devote myself to stalking sufjan stevens. do you ever think about stalking people? i think about it sometimes, and what i think is that if i were going to do it, i would do it like this: i'd buy up about two hundred pounds of valentine's candy and stash it in the trunk of my car, which i would park somewhere near my beloved's homestead. every morning i'd fill an extra-large shopping bag with candy and get comfortable within sight of, but not unsettlingly close to, the front door; i figure across the street would be about right. whenever my stalkee entered or exited the house, i would keep pace with him from my side of the street as i hurled fistfuls of necco hearts and pink m&ms across the tarry divide. perhaps i would sing a song, maybe "pour some sugar on me." what do you think, three weeks before he was mine? less? it would win me over. and, too, you don't know this, but, i mean, i'm cuter than a freakin' button. does anyone know about almost bendy and the psychic bib productions? if so, you might be interested to know that i am also almost cuter than a zipper, and if you dig chicks who cut their own hair and never take the extremely chipped nail polish off of their jagged bitten-up nails, i'm verging on paper clip caliber.

please try to watch the presidential debates thursday. it's awfully important. i understand that public political statements are cultivated and groomed like topiary, but still. there's a chapter in "the man who mistook his wife for a hat" where the author talks about a group of psychiatric patients watching a televised presidential speech. most patients in the group have a brain disorder that has rendered them incapable of understanding the literal meanings of spoken words; they can still carry on conversations somewhat successfully, though, by interpreting the facial expression, tone and cadence of the speaker and deriving meaning from those patterns. during what would appear to be the most serious portions of the speech, the entire group consistently cracks up laughing, because they know the president is telling lies on top of lies.

there are some things you can only pick up in the moment, is what i'm saying, and most of us have to pay intensely close attention even then. so watch. it's your country, it's your planet, it needs your help.

the earth and i love you, even if you're not sufjan stevens, even if there's no hope of you ever carrying a tune. big sugary smooches to one and all. smooch. smoochsmooch.















smooch.