I kept wondering why npr had incongruent calypso music in the back of this really really long story that seemed to be several stories combined only they didn't combine--then realized I still had this open...
It's good, everyone's mother should play.
2008-04-08
2008-04-05
sarah
so a few years ago a friend of mine died, january 16th 2006 actually.
we hadn't really talked in several years, and the last interaction wasn't all peaches; her mocking goths, as i sat there fat and dyed-black haired in my sisters of mercy t-shirt.
but i was always happy to know she was alive, that she existed. i got along better w/ her last girl-friend. she went to the college of my dreams, that I wanted to attend before she knew it existed (they rejected me.)
i took it much harder than i ever thought i would. some consider me cold, heartless; i didn't think i cried except for self interest, knowing everyone's time is up - when a friend committed suicide in the 6th grade i never shed a tear. but her death was harder, when i heard i lost the ability to stand. was at work, had to go back to my desk and drink a 1/2 gallon of water just to feel my body enough to stand again.
for months afterwards i'd wake up crying, having conversations with her in my dreams.
the funny bit is, she was one of the most significant people in my development, and i never think she knew.
first time i ever did speed--with her, of course she'd done it before, old hat to the game. but i was one of those easily impressed youths.
and that was where our friendship fell apart.
last time i really saw her was after i'd been up three days, had a promise with the roommate to stay clean 'till we saw each other again. i tried to be a normal(?) teen, stay the night at a friend's house, roommate smoked, i wigged, had to go back to the den. I don't think my friend's parents even really knew what was going on, and if they did never faced my father about it.
she moved to New York, went to England, went to college. i got into a dead-end 7ry relationship.
and looking into her coffin, all i could see was the 8yr old lip-syncing to the oldies (rob orbison, marvin gay, hey mr postman) and the 15yr old i took acid with, swimming in the pool (made of jello) listening to james, listening to blur-park life, which i'm listening to right now, thing of her.
and i looked into that coffin, and saw the precarious (totally not the word i want, but my vocabulary is failing me) nature of life, saw one of the most alive people i'd even known--pale and dead--and cried harder than i knew i could.
we hadn't really talked in several years, and the last interaction wasn't all peaches; her mocking goths, as i sat there fat and dyed-black haired in my sisters of mercy t-shirt.
but i was always happy to know she was alive, that she existed. i got along better w/ her last girl-friend. she went to the college of my dreams, that I wanted to attend before she knew it existed (they rejected me.)
i took it much harder than i ever thought i would. some consider me cold, heartless; i didn't think i cried except for self interest, knowing everyone's time is up - when a friend committed suicide in the 6th grade i never shed a tear. but her death was harder, when i heard i lost the ability to stand. was at work, had to go back to my desk and drink a 1/2 gallon of water just to feel my body enough to stand again.
for months afterwards i'd wake up crying, having conversations with her in my dreams.
the funny bit is, she was one of the most significant people in my development, and i never think she knew.
first time i ever did speed--with her, of course she'd done it before, old hat to the game. but i was one of those easily impressed youths.
and that was where our friendship fell apart.
last time i really saw her was after i'd been up three days, had a promise with the roommate to stay clean 'till we saw each other again. i tried to be a normal(?) teen, stay the night at a friend's house, roommate smoked, i wigged, had to go back to the den. I don't think my friend's parents even really knew what was going on, and if they did never faced my father about it.
she moved to New York, went to England, went to college. i got into a dead-end 7ry relationship.
and looking into her coffin, all i could see was the 8yr old lip-syncing to the oldies (rob orbison, marvin gay, hey mr postman) and the 15yr old i took acid with, swimming in the pool (made of jello) listening to james, listening to blur-park life, which i'm listening to right now, thing of her.
and i looked into that coffin, and saw the precarious (totally not the word i want, but my vocabulary is failing me) nature of life, saw one of the most alive people i'd even known--pale and dead--and cried harder than i knew i could.
2008-04-04
three bean salad
Mix together in large bowl in amounts that please your senses
- 1 can black soy beans
- 1 can kidney beans
- 1 can green beans
- marinated roasted red peppadew peppers, torn to pieces
- small onions marinated in balsamic vinaigrette (can be found sometimes in the olive bar area of yuppie grocery stores) torn to pieces
- pepperoncinis, torn to pieces
- chopped garlic
- powdered garlic
- fresh parsley
- fresh oregano
- dried thyme
- red pepper flakes
- kosher salt
- olive oil
- balsamic vinegar
- white vinegar
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