realtime

Blogs don't run in real time.

The first post I ever wrote was about my Thanksgiving hangover.
Actually, it was about the dry toast I ate after having become sick due to my Thanksgiving drinking escapade - that began on Thanksgiving (but bled into the next day) and those were altogether different times (with altogether different problems) that (thankfully) are no longer the case, but (and) it makes sense (that I was hungover to such a degree).

It was titled toast. That first post. And it was deleted millions of years ago.

I started this blog three years ago.

But it might as well have been nine years ago.

Time - weirdness.

The same memories about events that I've blogged about back then - seem more or less as many days or months ago as those events actually were.

Yet the posts that I wrote regarding said events - take on an ancient quality that I can't explain (to myself, I'm talking to myself - I know).

(pause)

Just now someone downstairs threw an incredible amount of beer bottles into the garbage. I'm on the third floor. The window is open tonight as it is unseasonably balmy.

That was a lot of beer.

Whatever. I am sure that time is warped in this medium. Integarted into one's life, the blogger produces a record of sorts. The kind that (at least) I can't shred - or otherwise toss out.

Because the DELETE THIS BLOG button..?

Is priceless.

fege yogurt: anytime, anywhere

It turns out that holding down a job while trying to maintain a google ranking is not as easy as it sounds.

Particularly when it comes to Fege yogurt.

Sometimes my google ranking is gone altogether. As though I've never written the words Fege yogurt anywhere. Ever.

And I feel bad.

And this, even when I employ very specific key words. Or quote my entire post in the cache bar.

No. Nothing.

Then, after I've completely calmed down, dried my eyes, and made myself a salad - that is, gone through the full spectrum of emotions that leads to real acceptance - am I suddenly back. In there. Somewhere in the middle of the google page that corresponds to the keywords Fege yogurt.

Then, a few hours later, quite casually (no alarm sounds) my listing is gone.

Then, it's back.

And I'm laughing, and everything is going to be alright.

Maybe it's the second listing. Maybe the third. But that's ok.

Then it's somewhere on the page.

Somewhere could be anywhere.

Which invariably leads to being nowhere on the page.

And on and on.

(reprise)

Once, briefly, my google listing for Fege yogurt was in a little cloud that formed above the top of the page.

Actually, it was above the top of my desk. Quite near my computer.

But this was only once, and very briefly..

yogurt

Thank you to a little vintage store called Lenny and Me (Chicago). Not fun-me shopping, but gifts. Alas, I love this store.

That's one.

Two:

A friend of mine (without any provocation) decided to lend me some movies. How did she know I wouldn't feel like supplementing my netflix with a trip to video store this weekend?

Three:

As well, my boyfriend's friend - who is certainly lending him some dvds as I write this. Because he always does. And that's always good.

Six:

I skipped five. Just now I learned something bad about five. Thank you, six. For stepping up.

And, finally, seven:

Fege yogurt. Where have you been hiding?

I love Fege yogurt. I have never felt as free to simply eat sour cream right out of the container like this before.

I know. It's yogurt. Only it's thicker, smoother.

Probiotic-ier..

butterflies: not necessarily free

So it's Thursday and I've got a few things on my mind.

Things are looking up. People are opening up businesses, turning corners, getting inspired. It's really busy at work. And my brother landed himself an amazing gig. He's squarely on the path to career satisfaction.

Maybe even artistic satisfaction.

Which is amazing, and has me thinking.

About paths taken or not taken. How minor changes made in the past would have a huge impact right now.

This was best demonstrated in an episode of The Simpsons.

It's the butterfly effect.

And hindsight is a bitch. Consider:

1974: I begin to use and flush q-tips down the toilet on a daily basis (for two years).

This makes perfect sense to me at the time.

1976: A few plumbers arrive and extract something out of a pipe in the wall.

My parents begin asking questions pertaining to q-tips

(nothing ever comes of it).

1983: Daily avocado activity begins!

1984: Daily avocado activity (and the occasional peanut butter and jelly on waffles instead of bread - sandwich) has a negative effect on me that I can't deny.

1985: Daily avocado activity ends.

1989: I decide to wait tables for a couple of months. Just to get ahead of my bills.

1994: I get comfortable and take up with avocados again (but not the waffle thing).

2005: I discontinue waiting tables.

2007: I finally push off doing laundry for too long. There is no turning back.

Also, avocados=over. For real this time.

So should one attempt to live in the present while simultaneously reading it as the past? Is that not the formula for living in the future?

But wouldn't that be as bad (and way less glamorous) than simply living in the past?

Wouldn't it..?