Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Something is happening, only I don't know what

Something is happening but I don't know what. Ever get that feeling? There you are, stretched out on the sofa, watching some lame tv serial that you don't even understand because there are no subtitles and suddenly, you think, geez, is there any chocolate left.

There isn't. What is the point of living when there is no chocolate within crawling distance?

Think the Dave Matthews Band.

Oh, wow, look at you now
flowers in the window
It's such a lovely day
and I'm glad you feel the same
Cos to stand up, out in the crowd
You are one in a million
And I love you so
Let's watch the flowers grow


I know this is Travis.

But I had a point with the whole Dave Matthews thing. I was gonna link my point but can't find it, and anyway, you know the video I am talking about, right? You know, the one with the ultimate couch potato? The one with the cathether, so he didn't even have to get up to go to the bathroom?

Anyway, so I just finished Gertrude Stein's Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas which I enjoyed (I love, love, love women who declare themselves geniuses, go Winterson! go go Stein!) and I realised that I had had a surfeit of male writers (good as they are) and was direly in need of feminine ecriture. When I did Greek Myths (of course, I did an essay on women in greek myths), I learned that women are just this side of civilized (I'm not talking about mem sahibs here, but then, even they have torrid affairs, which means there's still hope) and I rejoiced in thinking of myself as something not quite quite.

Yes, I read poetry and write articles about venture capital, but I suspect I'm only pretending. (Mum has just come into the room and she is opening a present from one of her Japanese students, which is wrapped so well that it seems a pity to open it, they are so civilized, except at night, I know what I'm talking about, I was over there for an economic tour when I was 21 and a really ugly editor from the only English business newspaper slobbered all over me, nudge nudge wink wink, I was so flattered I wanted to bite him, and not in a nice way)

Anyway, I thought I should say hi. Because I'm off to see the Queen. Or a whole bunch of queens. (I love queens, fag hag, that's me, everyone should be gay, then there would be no babies and the population would not explode, and we would die out as a species, which would be a bad thing, a very bad thing, or would it?)

No, I'm not drunk. At least, I've had a cuppa. But tea, not gin. Yet I feel strangely unhinged.

Maybe the veneer of civilization is finally wearing off.

It took long enough.

So did I fool you?

Anyone?

17 comments:

hot coffee girl said...

No, you didn't fool me one little bit, my dear. I knew you were loopy all along...why the heck would I read you otherwise?

I actually love that feeling of coming unhinged just a little. I think that it's lovely. (And the reason so many people do drugs, I imagine.) It's more fun without the drugs, though, isn't it? To feel that delicious maddening creep up?

Love it. And fags. Love them, too. Oh yeah-and you. Wow. the madness is seeping out into your comments. Thanks for that.

lakeside ling said...

The estrogen level was off the charts at my last job. I miss it so.

QuillDancer said...

Jenn -- I am always a little unhinged. That's what makes me such a successful teacher ... I meet the kids at the edge of insanity, which -- you must know -- is where they live.

Jenn said...

HCG: Definitely a lot more fun without drugs. But then, I wouldn't know. A friend wanted to introduce me to dexies just to see how hyper I could get (now, I can hardly handle the Aussie coffee, what more dexies). Attempt was abandoned. We both lost interest, and wrote obscure poetry instead.

Ling: Hah. I remember the job I had with lotsa women. Oni thing is, they had more testosterone than any man I've ever met. Would like a job like yours.

Quilly: Sometimes I think I need to grow up. Am stuck at about 5. Because my life ended when I was 6. They made me go to school. Now if you had been my teacher, my life wouldn't have ended at 6.

QuillDancer said...

Jenn, my first teacher was a nightmare. I have never forgotten her and I work very hard to never be like her. She ate children's souis for breakfast.

Jenn said...

My lovely Standard One teacher, called us, among other things, stupid cows (there was one little girl she referred to as fat lump of shit) and beat the living daylights out of us. I was terrified and I cried every single day for a whole semester.

emily said...

you're amazing

goldennib said...

Everyone is too quick to take artificial adjusters, to correct their natural nuttiness or to manufacture some nuttiness. Au natural is best.

Don't let the Queen cut off your head.

QuillDancer said...

Jenn, there will be a special place in hell for her. My first grade teacher didn't exactly call me names -- she called me, "The extra little girl," because I came in a week late and messed up her perfect paired-heads classroom.

The school was old and it had the ancient desks hooked to the floor with a bench seat that sat two kids. The bench seats were full and they had to bring in an extra desk for me -- and they sat me at the back of the room with the damp coats and dripping boots. I was always called last for everything and was not allowed the use of my own name. Not as bad as what you went through, but still traumatic.

Teachers change every life they touch. I keep that in mind. I don't want any of my students writing crap like this about me when they grow up.

lemontree said...

hey jenn
you r one lucky person to be feeling this carefree unhinged uncurtailed bliss....

Grey Shades said...

I think its kinda nice to be unhinged. Atleast helps me take a step back and see the world in a different light! Do you come online these days? Lots to tell you!

QuillDancer said...

I hope your still feeling unhiged. I have a cold and am definately feeling restrained. I am trapped here between the tissue box and the garbage can -- looking like W.C. Fields only I've not had the pleasure of a drink. Waaaah!

Jenn said...

Emily: Hello, thanks and welcome to my blog.

Nessa: He he...once my artificial adjuster was Evian water, and I sang loudly and untunefully in the middle of the street. The friend I was with hit me on the head to make me stop.

Quilly: You poor thing...*hugs*...but your kids will have inspirational Chicken Soup for the Soul-type stories to tell about you.

Lemon: I know. Sad sigh. Am feeling sober again now, though.

Grey: Can't wait to hear your news but it will have to wait till I return to my hazy, crazy, lazy land.

Quilly: Poor baby. Drink lots of soup and curl up with the kitties...and read trashy romance novels...take care of yourself.

hot coffee girl said...

Get your unhinged butt over to Buddha's site and wish him a happy one. Sheesh. All day and nothing from my favorite partner in hijacking crime.

Grey Shades said...

Where you be? Tried calling but couldnt get through! :(

Jenn said...

HCG and Grey: Sorry, am in England at the moment, taking long walks in the countryside (getting lost if there is no one with me because I have a crap sense of direction) seeing Shakespeare country and Hardy country and Jane Austen country and Kenneth Grahame country...

Will be back at the end of the month, k?

Grey Shades said...

Oh that sounds fantastic! :) Do take lotsa snaps and say Hi to J! You have a great time lady!!!!