Apr. 07, 2003 - 23:24:25
Dear Vincent, I read a book called "Three Dollars" in which one of the protagonists rated her days on something she called the "Ordinary Index." If such a thing existed, 10 being the most ordinary and 1 being the least, than my ordinary index is at about 10 this week. I feel nominally normal, mostly mundane and tragically typical. I'm here and there, bland and passive, my thoughts muted and my desire to accomplish anything is steadily ebbing. Therefore I think that the only obvious thing for this letter to dwell on are the very ordinaries plaguing me right now. This letter will be a bit of a rant, a bit of a wine, but mostly, it will probably be very ordinary. My apologies. A bout of the ordinaries inevitably ushers in a little time with the television. I've got a lot of trouble with just sitting and watching so I usually end up trying to do something else while I'm watching. I'm not sure if I consider it 'watching' t.v. so much as it is sitting in mindless stupor. I ended up watching some a of a show called "Fear Factor." They poured a bunch of night crawler bugs into a blender and... hmm, how to say it- 'blended the bugs.' Then the contestants were expected to drink it if they were so inclined to go on to the next round. I found myself aghast. Needless to say, they drank the bugs. I expect that that's why they got picked for the show. Because these are the type of people to drink bugs. It was enough to make me call Diane and tell her that in my old age, should I develop memory loss I want her to remind me everyday that I never, at any point in my life wanted to drink bugs. I was also slightly astonished that there's no type of group against this kind of thing, blending bugs can't be sensitive to some facet of life, can it? Yuck. Bleh. Ack. Yuck. I'm not sure that I'm a fan of reality t.v. It's like saying, here, we'll pay you, but only if you're a big enough asshole, or if you're devious enough or if you do something really gross. I flip the t.v. on and I feel like I've got box seats to the trivial Olympics. Americans have too much time on their hands. Mean thought of the day: Tell someone they're typical. If they aren't insulted, it reaffirms the insult. Sometimes I knit. Stereotypically, I would make a good grandma. Although, my needles don't make the 'click-click' noise. I'll have to work on that. I also won't be able to make sweaters, or socks, or anything that usually typifies grandmas knitting. The only thing I can knit is scarves. They're straight, lengthwise and widthwise. There's no tricky looping or turning. I can make all kinds of scarves, but the disclaimer is "only scarves." Those who love me will never have cold necks. I suppose, that if someone I knew desperately wanted me to knit them a sweater, I could knit them one long scarf and wrap them in it many times and secure with a safety pin. After securing I could exclaim, "there!" to signify my sense of accomplishment. Especially when I've got the ordinaries it helps to pronounce "there!" every once and while, just to feel I've done something worthwhile. I learned to knit for a rather backwards reason. I liked the feel and the color of the yarn in the store. So I bought some yarn and some knitting needles and a little booklet called, "I taught myself knitting." (Which should have really been called, "I taught myself to knit using this little booklet.") But, I knit infrequently, in the dog days of winter and when I have the ordinaries. It makes me feel good to know I can though. Sort of like it makes me feel good to know I can peel an apple in one long peel. I saw that in the chick flick 'Sleepless in Seattle' so I learned. (Also during an ordinary stretch.) More normal girl stuff: Do you remember the infamous Marc and Melissa? (This would be the couple I insulted by asking if Marc was one and same with the boy who licked the icing off Melissa's friend's fingers at Melissa's party... yes those two.) Marc has been history for a few months now. But Melissa has been dating a guy name Matthew. He's quite the gentlemen, got personality by the pound and is very enamored by her. Unfortunate because Melissa has cheated on Matthew with none other than Marc, who consequently, was history in the first place because he cheated on Melissa. Marc works at the bookstore. (Keep Melissa ready to be pulled up again, I'm going to elaborate on something else before I come back to her.) Krissy is pondering ending her relationship with her boyfriend Brad, because he seems to be developing a drug addiction. Courtney is going to sack Joe if he doesn't agree to more commitment. Got all that? This Saturday, after the art show I made the fatal error of accompanying the three above soon to be single females out for coffee. Sitting at a little table, inside the bookstore, a period of mindless, ditzy, question/answer ensued. Melissa: Should I break up with Matt? I mean, I kissed Marc, but Matt is like my best friend. Courtney: Yes. You cheated on him. You owe it to him to be honest with him or at least break it off. Krissy: Brad crashed at my house high last night. That's the fourth time this month. Mel: He's a dead end Kris, end it now. Courtney: Joe just doesn't seem to want to commit. Do you think I should confront him? Krissy: Absolutely. If you're not on the same level in your relationship then obviously maybe it's not best to be seeing each other selectively. Mel: What do you think about all this Meg? I started. I'd been drowning myself in the Rock and Roll Encyclopedia. (Legs cross underneath me, chin in hand, hair in face...ignoring the world.) Me: I don't know anything about anything. Don't ask. Mel: You always have an opinion. Me: It's true, and you won't like it. Best leave me out of this. All in all it was a productive night. Melissa lamented, "I feel really badly about cheating." Then she disappeared behind a magazine rack where Marc was shuffling some magazines around ('working') and didn't come back. Krissy went to pick Brad up from somewhere, after he called sounding wasted. Courtney called Joe the next day. He told her he didn't have time to talk about their commitment issues. She's giving him another few weeks. Thus at 10:25, your time, I was sitting, very alone, religiously reading the Rock and Roll Encyclopedia when I sent, uncluttered, good luck thoughts your way for your show. And yet more of the awful ordinaries: Perhaps the most disheartening part of the week is that I seem to be just as typical as the events described above. This paragraph should perhaps be entitled, "Winning Robbie." Robbie is a guy I met recently. He's exactly my height, he likes to read and he loves musicals but beyond that we've nothing in common. He's got dark hair, funny eyes and even when he's trying to look good he photographs like a fish. (That's very unkind but I'm not taking it back.) We've become fast, flirty friends. He laughs at stupid things I say. He laughs when I'm indignant. He laughs when I'm elusive. He asks me questions like "Where are you?" when he talks to me online. (Sometimes I'm at the library or elsewhere...) and I say "I'm here and there. That's why I'm clumsy. I'm here and my feet are there." He thinks that sort of stuff is funny. I find myself trying to act winningly with Robbie. Of course, then he says the wrong thing, for example, "see that girl? she's hot." And then I think... 'typical.' So, if he's typical, and I like him, what does that make me? Ugh. I've taken to kicking myself in the shin when I think about him. I'm developing an ugly bruise. Robbie would drink worms. Probably. I like the idea of something of a natural disaster throwing emotions and colors out of whack. Then again, I am sort of slightly clinging to the first idea you tossed out there: watercolors down the drain. I don't like the idea of something stemming from fashion so much, if exactly because of what you said- the "realistic distancing." I don't think I've ever been much for "realistic distancing" in my writing. I'm feeling much too normal to really have any good thoughts about his but hopefully I'll be more myself tomorrow. I feel blend-able. I feel boring, brief, trite, silly and senseless. I feel shaded, unremarkable, blue jeans and white t-shirt, hours of t.v. a night, ignorant, incoherent, mass produced, plain, mundane, normal, and bland. Ordinary. "Something Corporate" is the band of the hour... "Dressed by dawn and out the door, No lights she's memorized the floor." "I woke up in a car, I traced away the fog, So I could see the Mississippi on her knees" "With your babies breath, Breathe symphonies, Come on sweet catastrophe" "So I fall, I don't want to feel this small... I let my heartbeat drop, I falter as the music stops." "I want to read good news, I want to be innocent again, I want to read good news, But nothing good is happening." "Maybe when I'm done with thinking, Maybe you can think we whole, Maybe when I'm done with endings..." They have really beautiful piano during certain songs and strong melodic lines. I'm so proud Vincent- I'm interpreting the lack of mishap in your show to mean than it went well. The remainder of it's run will undoubtedly be hitch less, and it will get better every time. As for what the audience responded to, wasn't it you who sent me the quote that said, "Everything is the opposite of what it is."? Congratulations. So, that's the Ordinary Index. Hopefully it's not too disappointing. (nfpc) Got some real time for chat this Friday? (/nfpc) Lackluster, Meghan
what they said - what they will say
