all the umbrellas in london

if i make it tonight it'll be all right
it'll make a good song or something
i've been trying to give myself reasons to live
and i really can't think of one thing

i drive around, i walk around in circles
'cause i've got no sense of direction
and i guess i've got no sense at all

all the umbrellas in london couldn't stop this rain
and all the dope in new york couldn't kill this pain
and all the money in tokyo couldn't make me stay
all the umbrellas in london couldn't stop this rain

i don't cry anymore, i go out the door
and i usually keep on walking
i will sit in the bar where the cocktails are
but i really don't feel like talking

i lie around and let the darkness fall
'cause i've got a sense of perfection
and nothing makes much sense at all


why the magnetic fields always know the right thing to say.

meet my tumor

you don't have to know me well to know i've got a very, very soft spot for animals. all of them. i'm not grossed out by spiders, pigs or slimy worms. if i could, i'd take care of them all. build them a nice little home, introduce them to friends and feed them daily.

a month or so back, i found a kitten in jordon's back yard. had i been alone, that cat would have been introduced to the house, gotten it's own bed and pillow, and established its eating and pooping place within minutes. from 0-60 seconds, it went from being just another street cat to being my cat. my brain works fast with these things.

but jordon was there, and for a man horribly allergic to all things fuzzy, my approach was a no go.

so i got a box. and two bowls. and the softest towel available. we made it some food from things around the kitchen. the other bowl was for water. the box i turned into a house, with the soft towel serving as the bed/resting area. the cat liked it. although jordon insisted on not naming him, he ended up accidentally calling him 'stinky' (the cat reaked) and i took that as its ownable name. stinky also went by neener-neener in my book.

neener-neener ate, played and left. jordon swears that every now and then he sees stinky in the neighborhood, but he may just be saying that to make me feel better. neener-neener's home (box, two bowls and the towel) still rests under the bush in the back yard.

a week after stinky, we found an injured baby bird. yesterday, jordon found a toad.

imagine, in a course of one single month, i could have acquired a cat, a bird and toad. all of them, of course, to go along with my actual pet - a pit bull named bullet (who some like to address as ''veda's tumor'). but bullet really isn't the tumor. it's my necessity to collect all things living and give them a better home that cause the diagnosis.



but for goddsake's, just look at how cute they are!

today's feeling - fleeing.

today is aaron's birthday

here are ten things about aaron that you should know:
1. aaron is a good puppy daddy
2. aaron is generally late
3. aaron likes post-it notes
4. aaron likes to kill
5. aaron is sensitive
6. aaron eats baby fingers for breakfast
7. aaron is tall
8. aaron has great fashion sense
9. aaron smells like apples
10. aaron is actually not of human kin, and is instead a wild baby bear released into the urban landscape from an early age

afternoon coffee break

aaron: "i'm going to lose like 25 pounds on this thing!"
matt: "you're going to look like matt damon at the end of that movie"
aaron: "uh-huh"
matt: "you're going to look like tom hanks at the end of philadelphia"
aaron; "dead?"
laughter
bridget (very coldly): "aids is not funny."

sorry alabama. sorry atlanta. i'm just not coming.

if you were me right now

you'd be wasting time in between interviews.

seattle. birmingham. atlanta.
day one. two. three.

weekend in mpls. i hope.

if you were me right now, this would be your life:
airport. flight delay (northwest never disappoints). 4 hours in the air. crowded terminal. teens everywhere. there must be some sort of a school thing. either that, or i need to start giving alley abortions (too insensitive?).

if you were me right now, you would be looking forward to this:
silence. the w by the pier. wild salmon. shrimp. drinks. long, long shower in a bathroom you have never been in. crashing hard in bedsheets your bare feet will never touch again. not making the bed.

early morning wake up call. "this is hard work."

"we're ok"

mpls is in an eerie state.

people are sad. i am too.

sometimes, moments like these make the phone message inbox flood with concerned friends sending texts such as:
"are you ok?"
"is everyone alright?"
"alive?"

texts to which one can only say "yes, thank you." maybe even give them a list of other people who are alive as well in return, "yes, i am ok. so are rita, mary, isaac, katie, jp, liz, jordon, pants, carissa, kat, and jenna."

given my thorough response, i never would have expected a follow up. especially not this one:

"fuck. i wish you were hurt"

thank you dirty. thanks for making me smile. such a weird day. you knew exactly the right thing to say.

i am glad we are friends. and that we're all ok.