Monday Morning Stream of Consciousness
I can't believe how much people can talk about themselves.
And for how long.
The notion of urban anonymity is a myth.
It's just an organic balance of blending quietly into the crowd and being called out on the sidewalk on a Monday morning in your hoodie and hangover hat. (Thanks, Ali.)
The world is small. (Good thing I brushed my teeth.)
And any neighborhood can feel like Mr. Rogers' when you've been there long enough.
People are exhausting.
Mad Men is one of the more excellent discoveries I've had of late. Smart, sorrowful, sharp, stylish. I understand why so many are hooked. Add me to the list.
Organic Honey Crisp apples for the win.
How do you read and write if you have children? How do you have any mental space at all when you have small creatures tugging at you and needing you from the moment you walk in the door? How does anyone ever produce anything creative in that context?
Avocado-cheddar-salsa omelet, hello.
It's astonishing and vaguely depressing how on autumn Saturdays my Facebook news stream is completely dominated by old NE acquaintances commenting/posting/lamenting/celebrating about Nebraska football. Sigh. (Isn't there more?) Amazing how you can not live somewhere for, like, 12 years and still find this old regional subculture thrust in your face, just like you're there in Lincoln and the streets are quiet and the stores are empty because everyone's wearing NE red and watching the game.
(I repeat: the world is small. And football is the unifying factor in all of it, it seems. Just ask the Cal fans, or the Penn State fans, or the crushed 49ers fans, from last weekend.)
There is so very much more world out there than we will ever see. Or can.
Neon green frosting, whether used to approximate leaves or not, is totally inappropriate.
As is smiling at un-smiley moments.
(Seriousness is underrated as an aphrodisiac.)
It's remarkable how tiny personal qualities can make you flush with a crush on an unknowing person. Witness this dude at the bar the other day, who was
- dining solo (hot)
- eating a veggie burger (hot)
- wearing a Stanford gymnastics shirt (hot)
- reading a dusty old book on art history (hot)
- ostensibly straight, and floppy-haired (hot)
Browsing at the little mom-and-pop bakery on Polk St. this morning, I scanned their list of available cakes, and then saw, in the far bottom left corner, in tiny italics: gay-owned bakery. Why the strange stealth placement? Love the shout-out to solidarity. All of our purchases are political. Support the businesses that endorse the values you share.
Did Berlusconi really call Barack and Michelle "tanned?"
It's grey and cool here today and I'm glad.
God I have a lot of bundts to blog.
Who are these Kardashian people with the trashy "K" names and the bad hair and why are we paying attention to them?