is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Home.
I woke up today to the sound of Marco vigorously rubbing something on his surfboard (and no, that is not a metaphor). (This is better than waking up to Marco intently wet-vac-ing the carpet, but worse than waking up to Marco painstakingly cleaning the kitchen.) Marco saw me and said, "Sorry about the terrible scraping noise." I replied, "It's OK. At least you're not continuously pulling stryrofoam out of cardboard boxes." Then I asked why he was scraping off something that, from the looks of it, he must have put on there in the first place. Turns out, you have to wax your surfboard, but then you have to keep waxing it, but if you keep waxing it, the old wax will begin to turn black, and that will be unsightly. It won't be bad for surfing, but it will be bad for looking, and if you know anything about Marco you know that he cares, with an intense dedication to scrutiny, very deeply, about how things look.
Speaking of which, I asked him to model for me the fabulous new green leather jacket about which, as he was shopping for it, he asked Evany, "Hey, is this jacket saying 'your youth called and it wants its jacket back'?" and Evany advised him that he simply had to ROCK the jacket, yes, that jacket. But he was in sweatpants and was unshowered, and felt that he could not model the jacket in that state, so he took a shower and got dressed in some nice denim and THEN he modeled the jacket for me. And it is very nice. It makes him look like a superhero rock star. I can totally picture him doing his guitar moves on stage in it, and then shooting some claws out of his hands and doing battle with the forces of evil, or of bad music. Though of course it would be weird to wear a leather jacket on stage, given the heat of the lights, etc. But in my mental picture temperatures are always perfect, so I take liberties.
Marco just walked in and said, "man, on a trip like this (he and E are currently packing for a week in San Diego with her extended family) I'm thinking that, in addition to everything we are bringing, if we brought my Les Paul, Marbles (the cat), and the turtle, and then the house burned down while we were gone, I'd say, well, OK."
Then Evany walked in, and directed a comment at me.
Evany: You don't have to keep the dorky keychain on the keys I made for you.
Jill: I want to keep it. (it is a grey and pink felt animal)
Evany: It matches the pink keyholding ring!
Jill: I noticed!
Evany: Let your inner 12-year-old asian girl out!
Jill: But I like to keep her imprisoned.
Evany: SHE CAN'T BREATHE!
Last night as we were eating a startingly good "artisan" pizza from Round Table, and watching In Her Shoes, there was a rather startling and pronounced earthquake. Daisy the dog tried to kill it, then sulked off in a crouched posture. None of us even got up off the couch.
When it was time for sleeping, I smiled when I saw Marco taking the batteries out of the clock in the living room (where I was about to sleep on the couch). It is nice when friends not only remember one's preferences or idiosyncracies, but also continually humor them. I can't sleep when I hear machines or clocks. It is ironic, I suppose, that sometimes I have to use a machine to drown out the sound of other machines, and that machine creates the sound of organic occurrences such as rain, surf, or "summer night." Human beings, when they create problems for themselves, usually are able to create new things to solve the problems caused by the old things. The new things cause new problems, requiring new solutions. It is called capitalism.
Speaking of which, I still have a few loose ends to tie up with money for the xmas season. Evany has this cute cute wrapping paper from Old Navy with xmas-themed robots on it, so maybe I'll brave that trial-by-fire and go there today. So Evany said, "so, you're going to shhheeelllllmooouunnd." (Whenever she says "shellmound" she says it in a slow and deliberate way as if it might be an innuendo. And it might. And yes, I'm going there. It's a shopping plaza in Emeryville.) I said, yes, I suppose I must. She continued, in the voice of history-channel voiceover, "Shellmound is a tremendously important historic Native American site, which we now honor with Old Navy and PF Chang's." I concluded: "All. true."
And now I must brave that scene, pay homage to the unspoken North American genocide, and then retreat to Benicia, to a historic dwelling that has no access to the internets! Friday I move in to Roderick and James' place, to gaze at their lovely view, revel in their comfy bed and beautiful furnishings and large screen flat panel television, lavish attention on the always pretty-and-plump feline Lionel, and use the wireless internets.
Now Marco is wet-vac-ing, and the universe is at one with itself.
11:04 a.m. - December 22, 2006
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