i'm calm enough in real

i'm calm enough in real life about my last-minutedness -- hell, i went to see spellbound at 10 p.m. tonight, having packed all of nothing -- but i think that, were i actually to sit down and write about my (lack of) progress toward readiness for the seven-week jaunt across the atlantic for which i'm leaving tomorrow, i just might lose it.

so excuse me now for my brevity, excuse me later for my absence, and please, please, excuse me for the overload of prepositions in this post.

and feel free to send me email: katekinks*at*hotmail*dot*com. put something non-spammy in the subject line.

i have something to say to the driver of the SUV with the license plate frame that reads MY GRANDKIDS ARE CUTER THAN YOURS:

MY GRANDPARENTS ARE CUTER THAN YOU.

bring it.

happy day today.

happy day today.

dear new neighbors,

fyi, this community does not tolerate frat rock.

regards,
kate

beach-bound heroism

i was going to write a post entitled "ab side" (a lame word-spin off the successful ab workout device, a device which carries a story of its own that involves myself, a hardwood floor and a very large and very painful bruise above my left temple), and the post was going to detail the wrenching ache on the sides of my abs where, on account of a cough that is going on six weeks old, i have developed, strengthed, hardened, and now PULLED two hitherto undiscovered muscles -- cough muscles -- and furthermore, the post was going to be an unnecessarily lengthy way of broadcasting my wimpy complaints about the small annoyances that came from not being able to walk upright or sing at the top of my lungs in the car or clear my throat with any efficiency or receive big bear hugs.

but after i received a ONE-HOUR MASSAGE tuesday night, the point became moot. no whining here, no siree.

so how about a story of the heroism of two adventurous beach-bound trekkers? (i mean that in a star trek-less sense.)

yesterday the long-missed san diego sun emerged from the shroud of grey behind which it had hidden for week after dismal week. the beach called; our heroine answered. ghastly pale from weeks without sunshine and turning nearly blue 'round the edges, she had left work early and found a companion with whom to make the journey. they set forth with Swimsuit and Towel and Boogie Board. they braved traffic, oh traffic, oh heavy traffic, laiden with the swimsuits and towels and boogie boards of hundreds of other travelers, turning a ten-minute drive into a thirty-minute one. they survived jams, they were optimistic through standstills, and they approached the nearest beach with plenty of spunk.

anticipating the hoards of beach-goers and their scores of vehicles, knowing the clogged streets and saturated lot that lay ahead, our heroine asked her companion for advice. should they give the parking lot a shot? should they gamble being caught in the web of space-thirsty drivers, drivers willing to stop dead in the lot waiting for a spot to open, like vultures, with the miniscule possibility that our heroine and companion might find such a golden parking space themselves? the companion, feeling daring, directed her to take the risk.

and so our trekkers ventured into the parking lot with caution and calculating precision. which lane should we take? are they leaving? should we stop? they were cool-headed and confident, having surmounted the only somewhat surmountable to get this far and knowing that their strength of will would get them to the sandy, salty shores in time, in due time.

but then, suddenly: a halt. a halt! a line of cars long enough to obscure the source of the stoppage stretched out in front of them. a minute passed without comment; then another. our trekkers shifted uncomfortably. our heroine pulled restlessly at the halter top of her bikini; her companion sighed and apologized (needlessly) for misdirected advice. yet another minute passed, and another, and another again. would they ever move again? would the ocean elude them? would an afternoon of Blissful Seaside Relaxation be thwarted by this Jam of Outrage?

NO. it wouldn't. our heroine, blessed by a few spare feet of maneuvering room behind her, set her vehicle in reverse, scooted carefully backward, returned to forward motion, and pulled out of the line with smoothness and speed. she squeezed between the line of cars on her left, still waiting, never moving, and the filled parking spaces on her right, where were parked the risky and the lucky that had gone before. she and her companion pulled ahead of the first car in line, the car that had caused those moments of impatient misery, and then there it was:

an empty parking space.

just sitting there! unguarded! unclaimed! unKNOWN! how it could have been, is a mystery, but it didn't matter. our intrepid heroes, having braved the obstacles and held faithfully to the hope of seeing the sand, the waves, the long-awaited sun in all its oceanside brilliance, had been rewarded. they had WON.

oh jesus christ, look at

oh jesus christ, look at the blogger edit page.

did i say i'd have

did i say i'd have time to write when i wasn't working? i'm sorry, the sun came back.

hello, sunshine! hello, ocean! hello, suddenly happy san diegans!

coming soon, when i have

coming soon, when i have time to do anything besides work:

ab side.

tell me this song doesn't

tell me this song doesn't make you want to hold your favorite cowboy's (or cowgirl's) hand and gaze off into the dusty sunset.

i told you they were good.

wait, hold up a bit.

when am i leaving for london?

a week from tomorrow, you say?

AHHHHH!

*contemplates the idea of packing at some point*

a moment of silent uncertainty

a moment of silent uncertainty exploded into the space after the kiss, the kiss that was her fault, an awful failure of aim and timing and choreography that left him with a wet spot where a dimple would be if he had one. a silent freeze frame of dilating pupils, reddening skin, the choked fragment of a laugh. the pull of the air around her toward the escape hatch that was the door, until he broke in with a mess of confused word-pieces and stuttering shock:

"wh- wh- why did you d- do that?"

"i thought it was a shame that no girl had ever simply grabbed you and kissed you." he once told her that he'd never been suddenly and unexpectedly kissed. "i sort of missed, though."

there was none of the suave lover in her when she kissed him that first time, in the cramped, cluttered stock room in the back of the bookstore. it was all rushed and hasty and bite-the-bullet-ish, from the cigarette she'd smoked nervously earlier, when she made up her mind to kiss him, to the way she tried to apologize beforehand for the inappropriateness of the act ("um, garble mumble mumble hum"), to the flustered "fuck it" that escaped her lips only a second before they landed on his face.

"do you want to try again?" he asked.

she tried again. and again. thousands of times.

i drove to LA on

i drove to LA on tuesday to see a friend of mine play her first gig at a restaurant in hollywood. i'd never heard her play before, i wasn't even sure what kind of music she wrote. i had no idea what to expect.

and she was good. i was utterly stunned! she sat prettily on stage with two boys, two guitars, a violin and a mandolin and made very sweet, very good music, and i got chills. i've known just enough musical hopefuls to recognize a group that is made mostly of hollow expectations, and this sure wasn't one. keep your ear open for the apple core snipers.

(anita coats knocked me over, too. she has a record out and it's defintely worth a listen.)

someone found this site by

someone found this site by searching for "sex addiction"!

i'm not going to say anything about that. i'm just going to continue laughing here by myself.

giggle.

giggle.

got sick of that third

got sick of that third dimension

today i'm in the

1. today i'm in the vice chancellor's office, filling in for his secretary while everyone in the office is in a meeting. all i have to do is answer the phone if it rings, which means i have several hours to eat peanut butter m&ms and read. i could really get into this.
2. ever since my flight home from oakland on sunday, i've been thinking about plane relationships. you know what i'm talking about: the sudden intimate friendships that flourish for a few short hours of travel. i don't go for that kind of thing. i'll shake your hand and introduce myself, i'll smile politely as you settle in next to me, hell, i'll even ignore you when you say, "gee, i hope you fine ladies don't decide to gang up on me!" and wink. but i am not interested, no offense, in your failed marraige, in what an attention-grabbing hypocrite your wife is, in how much you're paying your lawyer.
   and it amazes me that some people are interested. we hadn't even finished boarding on sunday and the woman two seats down from me already knew so much about the man between us that she could tell him exactly what he needed to do to fix his life. "you just need to CUT TIES with that awful woman." by being within hearing distance of their conversation i found out more about a total stranger's love life than some of my closest friends know about mine.
3. i was reading my ex-boss's online diary (it doesn't seem like a 'blog') and found some real gems in her lovelorn ramblings about her affair with a married man (my other ex-boss). an example:
   I never really told him my opinion of his wife because, well, if you can't say anything nice...
   But he decided he wanted to know, so I told him. I didn't say everything I wanted to say, but I got most of it out. I said, "She's a bitch."
4. hey, new york? hello, boston? see you in september.

re: the internet.

it's not stopping but it's slowing down.

don't you think?

reasons i may have been up until not long before the wispy arms of dawn started to emerge along the skyline:

• moonlit surfing
• an affair with a college professor
• rappelling down a building to steal diamonds
• hiding in the zoo after closing time; swiping the two-headed snake
• sex in a clock tower
• designing the perfect bra
• mom showing me about her college years speed habit
• moonlighting as a bouncer
• thwarting mayor murphy assassination attempt
• writing this post my novel
• attending a high school prom
• finding and taking those "watch for illegal immigrant families" highway signs
• watching gilligan marathon
• on the phone with my best friend in burma

good morning, east coasters!

i almost just wrote "east coasterners." for my excuse, please see the time stamp.

you know you live in

you know you live in san diego when wearing close-toed shoes makes you feel "wintery."

i'll let you in on

i'll let you in on a secret. i consider myself intelligent, but i'm fairly sure that, upon meeting me for the first time, people can't tell.

so imagine the state my nerves were in as i walked (see below) from my brother's place to gaylord's coffee house to meet greg of "geese aplenty", someone i was sure would respond to anything less than rapier wit and dizzying intelligence by striking down the culprit with some sort of conversational trident or a rod of intellectual lightning. frightening scenarios ran through my mind, scenarios that involved me asking, "so, where are the geese?" and laughing desperatey, scenarios that involved greg saying, "you weren't kidding about the 'poser' bit," and walking away in an insulted huff, scenarios that ended with a disgraceful exit from blogdom and from the respect of its elites.

but if greg was disappointed in me, he didn't show it. he was as funny as he is on his website (and i showed my appreciation of his humor by coughing heartily, which is like laughing heartily for the infirm), and he was as nice as he is in his comments (though he says "dude" less, i think).

and when i emailed him afterwards with a less than eloquent "you're cool in person!", he responded with a comment that included the words "charm" and "pulchritude" and reminded me how fortunate i am to have enlisted the internet friendship of someone who can always make me feel good by complimenting me with a word i don't know. (but i looked it up, and in case you didn't know either, "charm" means "the quality of pleasing or delighting".)

so the moral of the story is, i either a) come off better than i thought i did, or b) am happily oblivious to the disenchantment of others upon meeting me in person for the first time. either way, though, i got a hand delivered mix cd out of the deal, so i figure i win.

an internet break from my real-life break.

i would move to oakland simply for the ten minute walk i just took from a coffee house to my brother's apartment. it went like this:

- stroll down charming, neighborhoodly downtown street;
- cross over small wooded block;
- take short dirt path to arterial; cross arterial;
- walk up residential street;
- when passing father and daughter who have tied one end of a jump rope to a tree so father can swing the other end and daughter can jump through, hop through yourself (failing miserably is okay) and exchange friendly hello;
- turn onto sheltered, hidden concrete path up the hill, crowned at the top with a steep, rustic-looking staircase;
- emerge onto winding uphill road and follow it up;
- turn into courtyard with view of oakland, san francisco and the bridges and bay in between, and you're home.

a walk in san diego (i should say la jolla, actually; it's its own species of town) goes like this:

- walk out of apartment complex and cross street. watch out for jaguars driven by doctors (you'll know them by their personalized license plates e.g. "DR JAG", "MY VETTE", etc.), because "pedestrian" just means "speed bump" to them;
- head to the intersection with the four-way stop. you'll know when you've gotten there because when you stand in its middle, all you can see is cement from horizon to horizon;
- if you can find the other side of the intersection, keep going down the street. admire the unending rows of townhouse clones, because there's nothing else to see;
- arrive at traffic light. at this point, take out the novel you've brought with you and read it. the light will change around page 315;
- cross the street and turn into parking lot. it's two and a half miles wide with rows of parking spaces separated by lanes that are exactly one car width, and the speed limit is 45. if you can make it across alive, head into the city-sized grocery store;
- because i'm pretty sure that's where everyone in the entire town hangs out most of the time.

(they say distance makes the heart grow fonder. i guess 500 miles isn't far enough.)

photos!

this is a rare sort of picture, as my collection goes -- not posed, not facing the camera; candid, but not in the "this is how i normally look, because i'm normally staring stupidly into space" kind of way -- so i like it, even though i can pick out little imperfections, like the way my smile always seems to overgrow my mouth.

why post it? i don't know. maybe narcissism. why question the urge?

tonight i will fly up to the bay area to spread this insidious, undying cough! mwah ha ha! visit my older brother and sister, who live in oakland and berkelely, respectively. spending time with them is a complete delight for me, so i'm pretty excited. i love that they are a smidge older than i am -- my sister turned 36 this year and my brother is 34 -- because it puts just enough space between them and i for me to learn from them. this is something i find more difficult to do with the two siblings i have that are closer to my own age, who are easier to bicker and banter with than admire and glean advice from.

and i learn so much. from my brother i've learned not to roll in poison oak. from my sister i've learned always to pull my navel toward my spine while doing pilates. most importantly, from both of them i learn of all the dirt on my dad that us younger kids never found out about.

us, oh, twenty years ago:

warning: spleen vented ahead.

last week at an informal dinner party, a man took a long, careful look at me and said, "you must have one american parent."

how does this shit fly anymore?

i have two american parents, thank you. and if you want to climb three or four levels up my family tree, you'll find chinese. pray they don't hit you over your ugly head with their chopsticks, racist prick.*

* one person asked upon hearing this anecdote if the man was really racist or simply tactless. well, he also opined to my muslim aunt that most muslims are terrorists, and he was telling at length of his amazement over mexicans who "don't even speak mexican" (gasp! spanish is an imported language?). you can decide.

ah, codeine. codeine, i expected

ah, codeine.

codeine, i expected more of you, frankly.

updated at a notably not cough-free 3:26 a.m.

it's still a challenge to

it's still a challenge to breathe without collapsing in a coughing fit, but at least i can now look at the computer screen without my head spinning. in honor of that, some ideas apple abandoned:

iRoll -- wheelchair.
iBrowse -- internet browser.