I’m upset and I have a headache.
I’m turning off BullshitFest 2008 and putting in Joe vs. The Volcano.
pizza is on its way.

from my barstool.

As of this week it’s no longer just the fringies who are seeing the potential or inevitability of financial collapse in the United States. The Fed isn’t bailing out Lehman (nor should it– just encourages risky behavior), AIG is set to go tits up any minute, and Washington Mutual (where I keep all of my 17 cents) has been rated as Junk.

I believe we are headed for the second Great Depression. Seriously. However, I’ve believed this for over a year now and I think I have come to terms with the fear. It will be bad, Bad with a capital B. And yet, This is Life. It’s the way the ball bounces, the cookie crumbles. Human fallibility will always operate this way, up/down/up/down. We’re not smart/savvy/selfless enough to operate any other way.

In the last year I’ve gone through the stages of grief for our economic stability. I think I am now in the acceptance stage. In the past week I’ve begun to notice that there are some positive effects (granted, if I can’t feed my children, it will become another outlook entirely– witness Maslow’s hierarchy).

Small pleasures I had taken for granted have become of great value to me. With affluence (of a type) I had lost the feeling of satiety from life. Seriously. Going out to eat was a given. Movies were a given. New shoes, a day trip, a hotel stay: nice, but expected. It was like an addiction. The thrill had to be bigger every day not to be met with boredom.

This weekend we went to a local football game. It was fun! Last week I went out to dinner with a friend, the first time in a month. It was novel! Instead of looking at the local movie schedule and thinking, pish, nothing all that great is playing, I’m excited thinking, wow, I’m saving my nine bucks till something I REALLY want to see is playing.

I cooked chicken and broccoli and ate in the dining room with my three kids. We played cards. It felt good.

Things are going to be Bad, but nothing is ever All Bad. There will be moments of joy. You know, until the aliens arrive and enslave us as their food source. Maybe even then.

my son, Dylan, is living in Moss, Norway (south of Oslo) with his ex-girlfriend and her family and is really, really lonely. he’s currently looking for a new living situation, like another homestay or some kids to apartment share. I think he’d even be happy just to have someone with whom to go have coffee. seriously lonely. do you know anyone there?

I’m looking at the new Vanity Fair. the only reason I bought it was cos one of my clients specifically asked to have it at the salon. I’m not much of a mag reader unless I’m in a waiting room.

I flipped through it. meh. as always. then there was the Hermes ad. droooool. I even thought about ripping that page out and taping it to the wall next to my computer. but that seemed like kind of a fangirl thing to do cos it’s a guy. but I thought about it and realized I don’t give a shit who’s in the clothes, I just like the clothes. why that and nothing else?

realization: I fucking HATE girl clothes. seriously. all of them. with the exception of some skirts, the fifties type, or the flowing type. I hate girl shoes, except for the ballet flat type which hurt my feet and I shouldn’t buy. any girl shoes I like are modified man shoes. I only like skirts when the tops with them are biggish, soft and flowing, and they never are. basically I like menswear topping a hippy skirt or a long fitted tee and a fifties skirt. otherwise? pants, jeans, menswear in chi-chi fabrics.

I really hate girl clothes. I think they look stupid and uncomfortable. I realize tho that they are fashion and I can appreciate the fashion. I still fucking hate them tho. HATE. I want to start wearing the shitty clothes that I like.

maybe love is like fairies– it goes away if you don’t believe in it.
I was going to say like Santa Claus but I don’t think you wake up to discover love is your dad who fixed the handlebars of your new bike to the axle while drunk on eggnog.
clap for love, people! don’t let love die!

no nothing’s wrong. I just have some horrible throat malady. and pimples. a passel of pimples.
pear pimples for hairy fishnuts.
and if you get that reference you win a cookie.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

sore throat bad. pain pill good.