May 13, 2004

I had a dream Ewan McGregor was my boss at McDonald's and he fired me when I spaced out and forgot to come back from lunch for several hours and acted flip and unapologetic when I did return, and also because I was a generally shitty McWorker. He seemed well pleased to have a legitimate reason to fire me, and was absolutely unaffected by my flirtation--which in my dream was significantly more persuasive than my bumbling real-life coquetry--and when he fired me, I realized he'd hated me the whole time. I woke and felt unaccountably ill at ease, realizing I was probably ruined for any real job, even McDonald's, and that I was kidding myself if I thought I had any lasting charm.

So I started to write a book, a sort of a cookbook, although I knew as soon as I started I'd abandon it within a few days. I was going to keep it a secret because I'm ashamed at how I never follow through with anything, but I decided I don't care. I'm sick of keeping secret all my plans just because they're doomed to failure. So there! And and they're not all doomed to failure, either, so screw you! As soon as I get back to Texas, I'm finishing my collaboration with Kelly Sue, and it will be dandy. And after that, we'll write a hilarious and impracticable self-help book together and it will be great and we'll get a TV show and you'll all be sorry you didn't believe in me. Either that or I'll charge ahead and sort out my whole epiphany plan and find my bliss and all that horsecrap. And then I won't have to worry about Ewan McGregor firing me from McDonald's.

Now that I'm leaving Seattle soon, I'm actually going to miss it. Mostly I'll miss the boy and the sex, but I'll also miss the following:

1. Having most everything--groceries, general stores, restaurants, bars, movies, junk food, vet, massage therapist, shopping--within walking distance.

2. Cheap and nearby thrift stores.

3. Churches which clean out their basements and let you keep the stuff. We got the following for free: 2 great 50s chairs, which we reupholstered; a rolling cabinet; a vintage high chair/step stool; 2 nice lightweight sawhorses; a plywood decoupage cutout of a choir girl dressed as an angel; an embroidered Last Supper; a table/lamp with an iron base; a towel rack; 2 great vintage card tables, including an oval one; a bookshelf; an absolutely insane puppety set of crèche figures; one of those rotating colored lights for my aluminum Christmas tree; and a big stack of wonderful vintage children's books, mostly religious, but also with horses, trains, and baby animals.

4. Being able to open the windows without the house filling with flies, June bugs, moths, or mosquitos.

5. Few children, none of them screaming or squalling.

6. Abundant flowering shrubs and trees.

7. A nearby drive-in with a fabulous mod concession and $7 double features.

8. A lack of whatever inflames Kiki's allergies. Her fur is actually growing back. (I'm quite allergic here, however.)

9. Dick's French fries and burgers, Fried Goodness at the Satellite Lounge (which I gorged on with Wedby and Rebecca while drinking so much that the rest of my night was a contented blur), Piroshky, the grilled cheese sandwich at Bleu, the excellent and very cheap barbecued pork sandwiches and bao from Seattle Deli, and the very good cosmopolitan-style lemon drop cocktails served everywhere.

10. Abundant public radio.

11. The Space Needle. It's just delightful.

12. Mountains and green. Not technically in Seattle, but close enough to count.

13. The fabulous weather. When it's not cold and rainy, it's just stunning.

I will not miss:

1. Dirty looks from strangers, people who never nod or say hello to passersby, the general unfounded haughtiness. And the suspicious, grouchy way it makes me feel towards everyone I encounter, whether or not they're being dicks.

2. The incessant clanking of the radiators, which makes a racket like hammers and wrenches and frying pans pounding metal pipes and occurs mostly while you're trying to sleep.

3. The incessant racket of traffic, punctuated with frequent police and fire sirens.

4. Particularly expensive gasoline.

5. Expensive groceries.

6. Expensive cover charges, expensive cocktails. Expensive everything.

7. That nutjob bum who wanders up and down Broadway screaming obscenity constantly.

8. Not having a yard, and the subsequent lack of outdoor privacy or solitude. It's particularly annoying with such pretty weather. It would be nice to barbecue, for Chrissake. And I'm so excited about my doggy door and going outside barefoot of in my pajamas that I'm just beside myself.

9. Not having access to Hobby Lobby, a dishwasher, or a reliable vacuum cleaner.

10. My sneezing and gooey, drippy sore throat.

11. Outrageously priced real estate. Even when you don't want to live in a place, it's crushing to see impossibly expensive real estate. Austin's getting up there, but buying a home is not an unreasonable dream.

12. Lack of parking, and planning my day around whether I have a good parking spot.

13. Bad television reception. I miss Fox.

14. Worrying about the landlady, the neighbors, the precious floors, the running toilet, or trouble from the dogs.

15. Population density.

16. The absolutely deranged non-system of street numbering. The maniac who planned/named the streets should be hanged.

16. Cabin fever.

04.29.04