tavie.com

I can't think of a clever way to report
that I am off to Linn's summer house in--correction!!-- Smålland for a few days
to enjoy the Swedish countryside.

So I will break the lines
up and make it look
more interesting
in this
manner.

Back
soon.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:43 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, July 02, 2002

Today I bought comfy shoes like Linn's friend Ulrika has. I love them very much.

Linn got her hair cut. I waited in the waiting area. The salon made me nervous. All those snipping sounds. I kept imagining the scissors would go crazy, come flying out of control towards my head. I sat on my hair and read Franny and Zooey.

I just measured my hair. My hair is 90 cm long, or 34.43 inches. Almost at three feet. Grow, dammit, grow!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:22 PM | shower me with attention

Monday, July 01, 2002

Heart palpitating annoyingly when I try to lay still and sleep. Definitely slept too much today, not enough exercise. Restless leg. On last story in Nine Stories. Keep putting off finishing it as don't want book to end.

2 am, Swedish dawn. Comforting. Hope Linn feels better tomorrow. I'm not such a good nursemaid, all I do is wring my hands and cluck. Made her laugh, though, by singing that song by the Proclaimers about walking 500 miles. Sang it incessantly today. I can milk a joke better than Carson.

Keep seeing phantom cat movements out of the corner of my eye. Linn doesn't have a cat, but I'm so used to having one or two around that my mind supplies them in my peripheral vision when I'm not attending directly to the sidelines. That's interesting.

Stupid heart palpitations. I would like to go out and walk around but even though it's light out it is just 2 am. Stupid restlessness my own fault. This too will pass.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:25 PM | shower me with attention

Oh, Happy Canada Day. My tattoo itches, still. In honour of Canada Day, one supposes.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:59 PM | shower me with attention

Nothing much happened today. It was nice.

Linn has helped me throw my tentative future plans into turmoil by suggesting that perhaps I should be an art major. What a terrifying idea. Terrifying and strangely exhilarating. It was either English or anthro before with leaning toward anthro, but now it's back up in the air. What to do, what to do. All that I need now is someone with the... no, I overuse that line.

Well, probably was never going to go with English despite my accumulation of English credits. Hate being forced to write about literature. If only I could just read it and somehow get a degree. Stupid writing, why is it so hard. Was going to be anthro major/English minor. Maybe anthro major/art minor. Art major/anthro minor? Why aren't I really, really, unmistakably good at anything?

Whyyyyyyy tell me whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy tell me whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy...
Now he'll never know... how much I... love him...

Ah, I amused myself.

(Mom, go AWAY. I mean it. This means you.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:53 PM | shower me with attention

Sunday, June 30, 2002

Oh, Susan,
the hope of fusion
is that the halo will reappear.
It may be pure illusion
but its beautiful while its here.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:41 PM | shower me with attention

A note. Today is the 6-year anniversary of the day that my best gal Erica and I first met one of my dearest and closest friends in this world, my mentor, my Ade. Of somewhat lesser but equally impressive significance, it was also the first time I ever met Mr Foley. Six years feels both a breeze and a lifetime. Doublethink again. Today's an important day. I like remembering important days.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:13 AM | shower me with attention

Yesterday was three damsels in a tower, picnicking in a gentle rainstorm. A fat bumblebee was our host. We hadn't meant to consume our entire lunch on the top tower of Stockholm's City Hall, just fortify ourselves after the long climb with bits of cheese. But slowly, the crackers came out (for some), then the bananas (for me), then the lemonade, and before we knew it we were defending our salad and Swedish meatballs from Mr Bee. We had come across the one dry corner of the tower and the view could not be beat. Perhaps my favourite picnic in memory.

Linn took Kitana to the train station early this morning. She let me sleep. I will buy her a present. ("No you won't or I'll kick you in the face," she says, the love.) I slept late. Now my underwear is drying on the balcony and I am full of my new favourite Swedish delicacy, hard-boiled eggs and caviar from a tube. I will bring back a tube for my mother and teach her how to eat this dish properly. A note to my mother: Stop reading my blog or my writing will be compromised. Please cease and desist. Do you really want to rob me of this outlet? Stop, I tell you, or I'll hold my breath until I turn gay.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:06 AM | shower me with attention