Gabe’s Neighborhood

Today I launched my very own mobile technology blog, tnkgrl Mobile.

Please help me promote it by posting a link in your blog. Thanks :)

I'm too lazy to publish the same shit twice so (for now) I'm posting pretty regularly back at Live Journal. www.weirdontop.com will take you there.

Yesterday two things happened:

1. Kerry arrives. My exfiance/close friend (isn't it nice when that happens?) is visiting us for a week. When we split up she got the dog and I got the cats. (It was an easy decision.) But then she got breast cancer then she got chemo then she got so sick she wasn't able to take Ellie for walks and stuff. So then she put Ellie on an airplane and sent her out to me to be a New Mexico dog. That was about 8 months ago. Tonight Kerry is here and she and Ellie can't stop slobbering on each other. It's kinda cute but mostly gross.
   
2. Last night Slutpups took my truck and to go do laundry at the friendly neighborhood laundromat. She left her bag on the truck seat, walked about 20 feet through the front doors of the laundromat and came back out an hour later to find the window smashed and her bag stolen. Everything was in it. Wallet, laptop, charger, expensive text books, important teacher papers, the last of her meds and, of course, her favorite lip gloss.

you gotta love eBay

Tomorrow there will be two Thanksgivings.
Thanksgiving #1: An afternoon at my stepmom's with a bunch of over-50 dykes, most of them rough, grizzled and full of stories about either A) Stonewall or B) Kent State. I'll be busy listening while at the same time staving off hearty meats and scary emotions. The emotions will stem from:
It's not fair that this will likely be my last Thanksgiving with Jude vs. I'm so grateful to have one more Thanksgiving with Jude. The meats will stem from The Carnivores.
Thanksgiving  #2: An evening with queer friends (our own age) where I will be looking forward to stories about A) sex and B) sex. I really am that vapid. I will listen, maybe contribute, drink some wine and try to forget about the network of tumors eating the life out of someone I love a whole fucking lot.

It started out innocently enough. I took Ellie for a walk, something I do every day right around noon. It's a good break from work, my computer, being inside. I'm not in the habit of taking my credit card on dog walks but for some reason I didn't question why I was putting my Visa in my back pocket. I just did it.

Twenty minutes later Ellie's tied to a tree and I'm inside walking, walking furtively away from the fiction section toward the bookstore cashier.  I yelled at myself (in my head, of course), "Put one of them back right now! You don't need two books by Rick Moody. Read one then buy the other." I keep walking toward the cashier. "Put it back you impulsive little shit!" shouts the mean me. This causes the spoiled me to pipe up. "Hey, I could've gotten the $25 William Gaddis paperback too but I didn't."
At the cashier's:

• Demonology - Rick Moody
• Garden State - Rick Moody
• My Girlfriend Comes to the City and Beats Me Up - Stephen Elliot (love him)
  

"It's Rick Moody's fault," says the me who refuses to take responsibility no matter what. "If I hadn't read The Ring of Brightest Angels Around Heaven. If I hadn't fallen in love with the way he writes about drug addicts, loneliness, empty sex, fallen horses, first kisses. If I hadn't enjoyed all the good SM writing (which consequently led me to buy Stephen Elliot because he's the best SM love story writer ever) if it hadn't been for that."

"Jesus Christ, relax already," says the slightly annoyed and kicked back me. "You bought a couple of books. It's not like you were in an alley buying dirty heroin. You read. No one reads anymore. Books should be your fucking reward." (The slightly annoyed and kicked back me takes an imaginary drag off of an imaginary cigarette and blows an imaginary smoke ring into the faces of the other (very real) mes.)

"I know but I can't really afford to blow my money. I should've at least bought used books." This is from, yes, the whiny me.

"Listen, you need these books. They're inspirational. They're influential. They'll be the fuel when writing your book." This from the go-get-em-tigerish me.

I tell everyone to shut up then I get up and walk home with my dog and my books.

Sometimes I still dream about their pink bodies

floating above my nightstand in jars of formaldehyde.
To calm our nerves the teacher told us these pigs

were never born, but salvaged from pregnant
sows after slaughter. I sliced carefully

with an Exacto-knife, opened the lids of its eyes.
Though I never spoke it, I wanted to

remove its organs and christen them
in the stainless steel sink. There was a girl

in my class who found her newborn sister
facedown in the tub while her mom slept

drunk on the bathroom floor. I wondered
if death was the puddle of water beside her

and life was the spider who passed by.
The teacher asked us to find the pig’s heart,

remove it and place it on the tray. I placed
my fingers inside its body and turned to the boy

next to me who was cutting off the legs of his pig,
one by one, and placing them in a line.

-Kelli Russell Agodon

There are a lot of really amazing poetry journals with websites that showcase poets. I found this one in Poetry Southeast courtesy of Riley Dog. Never stop reading poems, people. It's important. Really.

Abbey Tomato vs. Ellie Mae

I'm not above doling out a little cuteness. Who won this staring contest? Abbey Tomato the ferocious precocious 8-inch mini tiger, of course.

It's a brave new world, b*tch boy.

Communications with Bitch Boy continue. Last week we sent him a six-page negotiation asking him his interest in everything from mummification to electrical toys. We told him he needed to look up whatever terms he didn't know. In fact, we said, go educate yourself, Bitch Boy. Get thine ass to a leather shoppe. Buy some books. Check out some websites. We despise ignorance, Bitch Boy. Oh and in your next email, send us a picture of your man organ. Two pictures, one flaccid, one hard.

We must give Bitch Boy due credit and say he's been completely compliant thus far (although we are still waiting for the pictures which he's supposed to send today). In the negotiation we asked what he'd like his doms to teach him. His answer: "The joys of BDSM. I'm a bright-eyed, eager tenderfoot." And when we asked what three things he absolutely did not want? "Permanent physical scars (emotional ones are fine). That's about it." Does he have any idea what he's in for? [Insert villainous waah-ha-ha laugh]

Tentative plans look like he'll be there the first half of December but he has yet to buy his plane ticket.

Show us a great Halloween costume.

The Evil One. Me.

I was evil in 2004. So evil that when I went out to a club Halloween night hot girls people could barely stand to look at me! I felt kind of lonely, just like The Evil One must sometimes feel.