anonymousblack: (rosewater tarnish)
GUESS WHO JUST FIGURED OUT SHE CAN PUT ROSEWATER INTO HER NEW ULTRASONIC ESSENTIAL OIL DIFFUSER

MY BRAIN IS:
30% (pre-existing) SINUS HEADACHE
58% HAPPINESS
12% TBD


updates as they become available


anonymousblack: ([mom] boys and girls)
it's the term i may as well use to refer to the shelf stuffed with blank books on the east side of the study. an intention of journals. journals of all shapes and sizes, styles and bindings; with blank pages, lined pages, with earthy artisan grained pages stacking in deckled edges. wednesday morning sitting up in bed i started a list of projects i've been intending to dedicate a blank book to and really, i could either have a fecund continuum for ideas to flow or i could have an unchecked mess of paper everywhere (as opposed to the current situation, wherein i have an unchecked mess of papers quarantined to file boxes, plastic bins, the work table, an old shoe box under the orange theosophist chair and, also, a drawer.

i always figured you probably weren't exactly a hoarder if you only maintained unreasonable collections in a few, very specific generas? but then i took an account of my unreasonable collections: paper, crystals, candles, books, music media, incense, tea, herbs, white gel pens and, uh, possibly mugs, and i begin to doubt my station on the good side of the hoarding tracks. i save all the books, i save most of the papers. bills and invoices, eobs, diagnoses, letters from friends i haven't spoken to in years, seven word scribbles written on a fragment of a special orders report from 2002. have you ever found a phone number scribbled in the margin of a notebook from twenty years ago--no associated name, just the number--chicago area code, elgin exchange, and then? i've thought about calling, but, then, i probably wouldn't reach the person i intended in 1994.

maybe i'd find the person i was supposed to reach, instead?
anonymousblack: (hope is the thing with the feathers)
I GOT TURMERIC ROASTED LENTILS ON THE SHOULDER OF MY BLACK KRANKY 'LAUGHING ON THE INSIDE' HOODIE.

WHY.
anonymousblack: (better days will come)
[electronic sample noise from a children's interactive board book]

child: mom! look! look at what i found! look at what i found, mom! i found a book! mom!

child's mother: um-hmm, timmy. do you want to pick a book?

[another electronic sample noise from a children's interactive board book]

child: i found a book, mom! mom! mom! i found a book! MOM! MOM! [electronic sample noises] IT MAKES NOISE, MOM! [as if this discovery equates that of fire, antibiotics or chocolate] THE BOOK MAKES NOISE! [as if child is discovering this anew with each moment] SEE MOM? THE BOOK MAKES NOISE! THE BOOK MAKES NOISE, MOM!

[electronic sample noises]

child's mother: yes, timmy.

child: MOM! LOOK! LOOK! [miraculously, no diminishment of this discovery has yet occurred] THE BOOK MAKES NOISE! THE BOOK MAKES NOISE, MOM! [child shouting over electronic sample noises] THE BOOK MAKES NOISE! MOM! THE BOOK MAKES NOISE! I FOUND A BOOK, MOM! THE BOOK MAKES NOISE! LOOK, MOM! THE BOOK MAKES NOISE! [electronic sample noises]

child's mother: yes, timmy, i see.

[electronic sample noises]

child's mother: that's really for babies, timmy.

[electronic sample noises]

child's mother: timmy, do you want to pick a book?

child: MOM! THE BOOK MAKES NOISE! THE BOOK MAKES NOISE, MOM! LOOK! MOM! THE BOOK MAKES NOISE!

[conversation continues for several minutes with very little linguistic or tonal variation]


*

so strange.
the little boy was so incredibly enthusiastic about the noise. lovely that there was also a book, but obviously the purpose for this item's invention was the fact that you pressed buttons on it and it made noise.
which, i suppose, is refreshing in this modern age of touch screens and earring cams; most of us have rarely considered the technological marvel of interactive board books. well, i've certainly considered them, having worked in as many bookstores as i have, though my consideration process generally involved hiding them behind quieter inventory.
his mother was so entirely indifferent, her indifference just seemed to make the little boy more enthusiastic. they were ignoring each other completely, in their separate modes: boy in enthusiasm, mother in distracted indifference. it was like they were in different rooms! this conversation just went on--and on--and on--for the better part of an hour. it was a marvel of endurance for both parties.

an incredibly disturbing marvel of endurance.

i don't know how this interaction left me feeling about the future of humanity.

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selva oscura

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