sleckey.com

I know. You want to know why I haven't rambled. This is the only way you hear from me. This way. Rambling feels more like a burden now. I used to ramble about drooling at the chalk board, but now I feel like people actually read this, people I know. And that takes half the fun out of the ramble.

I can try though, can it hurt? I'm not really over-exposing myself (that's on sleckeyporn.com) but I certainly do say lots of dumb things.

Back to the trivial. I saw the New York City Ballet tonight. Those men wearing tights are very distracting. Muscles everywhere you look.... meanwhile the women look like someone forgot to feed them for 5 years. They look near collapse as far as I can see. And I expect if someone exhaled too quickly, the female ballerinas would simply waft off the stage altogether.

12-22-01

Vinnie, you piece of shit. After I spent all that time cleaning-- with you just watching (if you can call it that). After I was in such a good mood that I decided to give you a treat-- a little lump of peanut butter. What do you do. Do you eat it and play with me? NOOOO! You slide yourself over it and drag it all over the place, smearing it over as much freshly-cleaned space as possible. Then-- THEN when I try to clean it off you with a Puffs Tissue, you have the absolute nerve to grab on to the tissue and not let go!

Fine! Remain filthy! Remain there still as a rock! Remain in that corner with a tiny bit of tissue still clutched tight in your claw! Just for that I'm shutting the heat off this weekend, so you can think of THAT while you huddle in your shell under woodchips for 72 hours straight! Bitch!

10-15-01

It's been a while. I can't type anything real. Only the moment I'm typing from. Right now I have that awful feeling of exhaustion that convinces me I won't be able to last the journey from my chair to my bed. And the final pre-bedtime tasks seem beyond my strength to do. I can't be expected to brush my teeth, to take my shoes off, hang my jacket, set the alarm and get up and go to work, shut the light off and on and off. Not now.

09-18-01

Yesterday I was given a face to put to the disaster. Gary's. Then I felt a little tiny bit in touch with the hundreds of thousands that are grieving for lost moms, dads, daughters, sons, coworkers, friends, mentors, confidants, rivals, et cetera. But there was nothing to do about it. I sat staring at the wall for a few hours, dripping. Who does that help. Who does that bring back.

Today was more a string of selfish panic attacks. There are so many planes overhead and trains going by and large trucks and construction noises and every one makes my heart stop beating.
I've long known that "tomorrow is promised to no man" (the last time I said that out loud I went into the hospital the next day with a PE, so I don't recommend saying it) but it seems more immediate now.

This isn't meaningful. Sorry about this. I want to force myself to write. But we're going through so many different directions of thought during the day, it's impossible to get any of it into a ramble. Hours of happy distraction. Minutes of staring at planes going by. Hours of fear and anger. You know. You feel the same maybe.

09-15-01

it's impossible to stop seeing it in my head over and over. looking out through the window. not believing. that plane's too large to be flying so slow. that plane's too large to be flying so low. too low. this isn't happening.

i guess i feel the same as a million others do. lucky to be alive. lucky my family is alive. lucky my friends are alive. horrified depressed happy scared strong useless confused enraged crying shaking nervous sad loss lost disbelief wishing connected waiting looking listening jumping running crying

holding on

What a day this has been, what a rare mood I'm in 09-08-01

My birthday is tomorrow.

I'm going to be *gulp* 28.

My little baby sister turned 25.

I've got to stick to my policies; certain topics cannot squeak their way into rambles. Dangit. Maybe that's why there have been so few rambles lately. Maybe my butt.

Oh wait. My friend just pointed out that 28 is a perfect number. Now I feel special all over again! Check it out here: perfect numbers or perfect numbers

Is it a fancy, not worth thinking of? 06-24-01

This is summertime now, so here we are on a new Ramble page. And I'm tearing down my walls and admitting to being in New Jersey. A few weeks ago, my company moved here... and so now I ... *gulp* ...live AND work in NJ. AHH! Don't worry, I still play, frolic, and cause trouble in NYC, which is right outside my doorstep if you don't count the Hudson River.

So.

Friday night we did a bad, bad, thing. We stole. We ate someone else's leftovers that we just happened on. We left a bar without paying for our overpriced margueritas. We threw down a mattress across a manhattan sidewalk.

That's right: Girls Night Out.

Anyway, I watched a cross-fire style show today that hosted Ralph Nader and a few female liberals from the press, as well as one white-haired chap who opposed Nader's views. It was amazing how boring the discussion was. I barely know who Nader is, and yet, everything he said in that 30-minute-segment, I had heard him say before. I supposed repetition is key when you're trying to get an important idea across. But I must say, he seems to be fighting a losing battle. His "vision" probably cannot be acheived until after a.... revolution. Like a big fat russia-style rebuilding of democracy.

Alright I'm going to go scent myself with mangos, put on silver hoop earrings, and gulp a gin-and-tonic.

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