Uh-oh

Tonight I tasted the wonder that is ... tofurkey. Oh my word, how had I not yet tried this delectable treat? Oh me, texture, turkey; taste, turkey; yum factor, totally turkey. After I got off the train from a hard day of work I had a sweet lil' feast waiting for me (thank you big sis).

Also, on a much unhealthier note, I am back on my pop-tart kick. This is the devil's desert. This time it's not even trying to be healthy with a fruit flavor, it's only double fudge tarts for me!

Diabetes HERE I COME!

I think that the Tofurky yoked with the Choco Pop delish launched me into an infinitely more manageable mood than I had been in as of late. Cheers!

I looked around to see if anyone had taken note of the tree. It was in plain site. A hustling business woman passed by without so much as a glance. I rubbed my eyes, just in case; The tiny tree remained. I reached for one of the bite-sized treats. They were real. The citrus aroma lingered on my fingertips. I stood transfixed by the tiny leaves swaying in the city wind. All of a sudden I got quite protective of the little tree. It was a testament to something bigger than myself. I was jostled out of my awe by the low purring of a tabby kitten...

Also I th ink it'S time for another HAiR cut!

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead!

That's supposed to be cartoon me ... dashing no? It is very late (considering I must wake at 5:15), and for some reason I am drinking coffee and messing around on the computer in lieu of sleeping. Man oh man life is really starting to get interesting.

Today I was walking along a city street; The heat was unbearable and so was my attitude. I couldn't stop thinking about the future in terms of the past. My ankles were sore, and my skin was beginning to burn. After I thought that I could take it no more, I came upon the tiniest orange tree I had ever seen. It was growing out of a cement side-walk crack on the corner of Kimball and St. Louis. The oranges were no bigger than my thumb, and the tree itself barely reached my knees. We both got stung by wasps.

Apartment hunting went smashingly. Move-in isn't till the end of time, so I will complain often, but half-hearted. What doesn't kill me will give me plenty of time to read and make me more appreciative of the good times. I just ordered three books from Amazon... a little something to balance out the drone of GRE preparation ... mmm, poetry, time-travel, and dueling with wind mills!

Have I failed to impress you?

I'm having second (and third and fourth and tenth) thoughts about my life as a writer. Maybe I got no business here.

I'm sure of this though, http://www.bringthemhomenow.org, certainly we have no business there. Except maybe for, open-handed nothing in return humanitarian aid.

A system of reference
A sequence of nostalgia
A catalogue of nerves

"she looked crushed under the weight of her impossible love." *



* As She Climbed Across the Table - Johnathan Letham

I'm a bad woman-'Pasadena'

First off, I'd like to say hello to a new reader: Hi Momda, you've stumbled upon my blog. It might reveal a lot about me if you let it but just know I don't filter myself. I write what I feel/experience/imagine, and I certainly don't worry about what others are thinking. You should try it (maybe you already do on pen and paper?). Feel free to poke around, It's nice to have you. Enjoy.

I was once an elitist, there was poison in the well.

Then I let go. Purged the pretensions. Enjoyed Japanther!

In other news check out our tees, The Modern Tshirt Company!
Saw This Bike is a Pipe Bomb last night with the boy. It was grand, I hadn't been in such a lovely ruckus for a long time. It was refreshing.

The wonders of the "El"

I got to sleep in today ... a whole two hours! Seriously it was delightful. 5 a.m. hurts my heart, but 7 is quite manageable. The weather is perfect and I'm in high spirits. The rugrats are sound asleep in the other room. I think we'll go to the zoo today. After work I get to take Miss Owl out for a birthday dinner. Oh joy, one of the luxuries of this thing called money. Oh, I do love treating others. Tomorrow is little sis' 16th birthday party! What an exciting age.

I'm drinking a peculiar orange "drink." It is remniscent of Tang minus all the nostalgia and goodness associated with Tang. A powdered abomination ... It tastes of battery acid. Rememeber the awful Stephen King movie/book IT? " I believe in Santa Claus. I believe in the Easter Bunny. I believe in the Tooth Fairy. But I don't believe in you. This is battery acid. Now, you disappear!" The end of the movie ruined every ounce of bad dreams that clown gave me. I mean c'mon, a claymation spider? Anyway I'm all over the place today, I'll just end with a sample of a little something I've been playing around with:

"Dame un beso." It's Spanish she said staring across the table, "Well aren't you going to ask me what it means?" I shrugged my shoulders, transfixed by the delicate stretch of skin where her ear connected to the rest of her body. "Hello! Earth to Owlsley, it means give me a kiss." I did't care what it meant I just wanted to envelope myself in that fold of skin. I imagine it's the softest thing about her. All I know about Karen is the brief run-down my friend Jen gave me; "Tall, but not a beast, short hair, short temper, red Prius, and she loves latin food. Authentic, not that Taco Bell bullshit."

I narrowed my eyes honing in on the spot. She didn't notice I was scrutinizing the area. I think it might be called the lobe? She had a set of lobes to die for. Our appetizers arrived, soup for her, salad for me. I was momentarily distracted.

Upon finishing my tasty tidbit I focused once more upon her fleshy fixins. The skin was milky white and smoother than a heifer's udder. The skin slightly scrunched when she smiled. Every now and then I nodded politely so as to not seem rude. She continued talking Over the course of my intense and singular scrutiny I forgot that Tam posessed not one but two luxurious lobes.

I wanted to swing from the folds and then spread them out on a grassy knoll for a picnic. I wanted to pepper them with kisses, I wanted to -- "Are you listening to me? The waiter needs to know what you want." I was snapped from my transfixion.

"Uh, sorry good man, what's that?"
"We're out of the mango salsa, so sorry, would you like me to replace it with the small flaps of skin that connects the lady'a ears to la cabeza?"

Did he? Well do I, "I'll take some of that, and give me some grilled tofu smothered in ear lobes as a side dish. Oh I get two side dishes? Then I'll have the baked sweet soft connectors casserole." I nodded my head in delight and the waiter took leave of the table. I wore a dopey grin on my long face.

"Well aren't we hungry? I didn't know you liked sweet soft connectors!" I dreamily nodded my head and reached across the table for a squeeze. "Ouch! What the hell are you doing?"

Ahh yes, a small excerpt from the silly mind of The Last Unicorn. Trash it correct it tell me what you think!
Also I implore you all once more ... I'm getting ready to start the long road to the GRE. I'm serious about it this time folks! Any tips, good books or study aids? Let me know!!!

Pitter Patter Goes My Heart

where to start?

We have learned that humanity can cultivate intellect to an astonishing level of accomplishment without becoming master of its soul.

H.Hesse

I finished reading Johnathan Lethem's As She Climbed Across the Table. It was quite interesting, but I think the prose was a little too flowery for me. Interesting concept though. Check it out especially if you are interested in physics.

Pitchfork was lovely and dusty, and our company did very well. Hipsters are an obnoxious and ugly bunch. Haha. We have tapped our market and we know it well.

I'm writing a series, it is coming together nicely, perhaps I will post a bit soon. I miss the fact that I won't be taking classes this fall. I should make up my own classes.

The commute is killing me. I'm tired all the time. I'm not broke, but who needs money anyway? Woe is me. Okay it is infinitely better than working in an office for the man. I'm working for the WOMAN!

You're a Book to me.

Tonight I realized that I only like driving when I have no place to go. I like to drive with the windows down, the stars and night earth slapping me in the face. I dig the dark cool air, it tastes like dirt pure or something. Tomorrow I must wake up at an unreasonable time. Why am I still up?

Because my right hand is seared with a burn, and my left is sliced from left to right. I think I see my story in the stars. It says don't settle for nostalgia, don't give up, and kiss often and long. I tend to agree.

So tomorrow starts my crazy busy weekend. Should be interesting...

Tick Tick Tick

Frustrated by my physical and creative limitations. Fingers hurt from making.
Feeling lethargic. Cause? Fear under fire. Pressssure.
Today I got turned down by a librarian. What a load. What a spine in my clear pond wading.
All I wanted was some Freud.

Metric, Glass Ceiling
I need more female role models who aren't librarians.

What day is it again?

July, you move me through time and space.

I am starting to compile my fall reading list. Suggestions Suggestions?

Look to the left I updated my links. I am a cyber stalker. Aren't we all? Enjoy.

Stay cool. Drink water. Eat fruits+veggies. Smile it cools you off, I swear.

Two way monologue

It's too hard for me to build castles out of Midwestern ideals. It's a struggle to cultivate grass towers and break glass ceilings. I've seen the future and the past. Oh brother, it's such a gas. Black and singed and ruddy, or maybe washed clean like a ruby in the middle of a field at the end of a coastal spring. I don't trust the magazines as far as I can cut them up and make paper beads.

I could have guessed that would happen, but still it's a little disappointing. But don't paint me that picture, I'm not forlorn. My eight tiny fingers are fat like sausages and stained with the blood of butchered blueberries. I smiled as I squished each one. I can still make a difference. Maybe I'm doing it right now and you don't even know.

I peered into the face of a modern revolutionary with an overstuffed heart. Legos. I've never fit anywhere correctly; But when my grooves and your soft edges connect something happens. Don't ask me what or why or how purple. I don't know. I'm still a little skeptical. All smiles and spread hands, curled toes and inside giggles. But I like it, no I dig it, I welcome it. I think about it midday when somebody is telling me about their new baby or a video on YouTube. Is that rude?

Can it be this lovely for this long and this and this and this? You see maybe the secrets are all unlocked and it's all about this? Maybe you need this to save the world or yourselves or that? Don't you think it's okay for me to change my mind about what I think about fashion and god?

or are those the things that should be set in stone? What do I even know about twill and the holy trinity?

*** This weekend was lovely and weird. I spent time watching the squawk box. Folk music, love, and revolutionaries. I'm confused about how I should live my life. Do I change my world or do I find a sleepy Vermont town that won't accept neo-republicanism as a ruling format? Is it my world to alter? Am I becoming a softy? Where is my gallows humour in the face of soft beards? Why do people get scared(or angry) when I change my mind about things? Is it because I've looked 15 for 7 years? I've accepted change as gain, why won't anyone else?

This week is going to be busy busy busy. I'm broke. Really really broke and somehow I thought it would feel different. Go figure. That concept is not nearly as encompassing as I imagined. This lords and ladies is a lovely revelation! This my dears is a first (ha ha surely not a last).

I am writing and reading regularly again. Can you tell? Can you? All things considered I can't seem to wipe this dopey grin off my freckled face.

No Pressure

Seriously that 100th post was stressing me out. Now I can write whatever the hell I want.

(as if I couldn't before)

I want to go to a place where the winters are warm. I want to squeeze stars in my hands.
I've gotten over the hump. Midsummer I cried for three days straight (this was last week). I thought I'd have to work in an office, I thought that the dark knight of adult-hood was coming to swoop me up. Never to be seen again. But, hey ho-hoorah, I'm here. I still have my baby fat around my belly button and crowning my biceps. I'm still waiting for my flowers of the desert chest to bloom (ACTUALLY, I read that a new clinical study shows that gals can still develop well into their late twenties). Not that I care or anything (tehee). I've rather grown to love my petite jollies.

I just realized that blossom, contains the word bloom, go ahead just remove the esses.
Blossom: The flower of a seed plant, to blossom (intransitive verb) to come into one's own.
Bloom: flower, period of flowering.

I've taken a position as a full-time nanny. Sure I have a degree, sure I wowed the folks at the corporate office, sure it's a pay cut (not by THAT much), but I will be infinitely more happy.
Anyway I'm just biding time until grad school. The woman I will nanny for is lovely and the kids equally so. She encourages me to write, exercise, nap, and eat her food. Chicago Public Library here I come. So that's that. Now that my moral fibers are done being roughed up, I can settle a bit and get excited about what's left of my summer.

oh yes, enjoy the fire in the sky!

100th Post, wahooo

Was the wahoo a bit much? I've spent the last week or so trying to figure out exactly what to write about in my 100th post. After thinking and thinking I had nothing. It led me to the realization that I don't usually approach my blog with a specific topic in mind. That led me to begin thinking about why I keep this blog. Of course that led me to the bigger question: Why Write?

The forms have changed, as have the lingo, but empirically it always comes down to three simple things:

1. Because I want to
2. Because I need to
3. Because I have to

I'm sure that all you who read this blog don't really care that I saw a deer or who I endorse for the presidency. Why would you? I don't lead a particularly exciting or eventful life. Perhaps the traffic to my site keeps increasing because I strive for richness. Not monetary but in my quality of life. I want every moment to count. Every damn one of them. Maybe you all can relate who knows. Or maybe it's just entertaining to see an awkward gal like me stumble through early adulthood! Whatever the reason, thanks for reading, because I really enjoy writing.

This blog helps me to focus my thoughts and wiggle my creative toes. Yeah, sometimes I could use a little feedback on writing and life (don't be afraid to comment!), but on the whole I write for me. I write because if I don't I'll either explode or shrivel up and die. I write for synthesis. I write for archival and nostalgic purposes. Ultimately I write because it makes me happy.

This ol' thing has seen The Last Unicorn go through a lot of changes, the great, the sad, the mad and the embarrassing. I love looking back on old blogs.

I'd like to bring a little bit more creative writing back to my blog. I'd like to bring a lot more creative writing back into my life. Times are funny for The Last Unicorn, but I won't deny the fact that wildlife is attracted to me like flies to garbage. It is lovely and bizarre. So I promise not to account for wild life run ins anymore, it's probably just getting old (NOT TO ME!!!). Maybe if I see a giraffe in my front yard, but anything that is indigenous to the Midwest I will glowingly keep to myself.

Pitchfork is less than two weeks away and moving about a month (hopefully). Holy moly where has the summer gone? Things are changing so fast. I have to throw on my running shoes just to keep up with my own life. I have no idea what the next six months hold for me, it should be quite an interesting ride. I'm excited.

A few things of note:

SOME PEOPLE ARE CUT OUT FOR THOSE THINGS, OTHERS ARE NOT.

PROTON ACCELERATORS CAN BE FUN.

IF YOU HAVE A BIKE, RIDE IT!

WHO REA,LLY CARES' ABOUT PUNCTUATION? A: JERKS.

MAKE FRIENDS WITH IDEALISTS. IT IS PAINFUL AND LOVELY.

I'LL ALWAYS HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR YOU CONOR OBERST.

ESCAPE YOUR EGO, INVITE IT BACK FOR TEA, AND THEN DRAW UP A GAME PLAN.

STOP WATCHING T.V.

DANCE DANCE DANCE DANCE DANCE DANCE

WHO CARES WHAT THEY THINK?

KIND OF LIKE SMITTEN.

READ READ READ READ READ READ READ

SHOW DON'T TELL.

MAKE THINGS WITH YOUR HANDS

DON'T READ SELF HELP BOOKS!

finally

FREQUENT YOUR LOCAL FARMER's MARKET (mmm)

stay tuned till next time to see if The Last Unicorn can shimmy around for another hundred posts (fade out the clap track).