August 27, 2006

The solitary vice.

You may have noticed that I haven't posted this week. Or, given the general dearth of comments on my last few entries, perhaps you haven't noticed. Regardless. How could our logoquacious (which is a new and useful word that the English language has needed since the invention of the internet) friend Dianna move into an all-new house with all-new people and not have a single thing to say to the internet about it?

Evidently I'm expending my energy in other ways. No, not those ways. I've been engaging in a shocking amount of social activity since I moved in on Thursday. It just sort of happens when you live in a co-op; you take a book and sit in the living room reading, but three people wander in and you strike up a conversation. You hover in the kitchen making banana bread, but when you venture out to look for walnuts someone hands you a carrot and you have to stop and find out why. You could theoretically stay in your room all the time, but why? The house's common spaces are bigger and better-decorated. The kitchen stereo is connected to a computer that can access your iTunes library remotely, so anything you could listen to in your room you can listen to there on better speakers. If you do your letter-writing on the couch in the dining room you can have the house cat (who is as a matter of record a furry lizard and not any sort of warm-blooded domestic animal) sleep companiably on your feet. The sensible co-op resident takes advantage of these opportunities and hardly has the solitary time necessary for the composition of brilliant blog material.

Not to mention that I'm waiting on a proper chair for my desk, so I'm writing to you from a perch atop a stack of book boxes which is neither comfortable nor ergonomic.

Until such time as I get burned out on the company of my housemates, then (and because that could be a little while), I give you a brief list of reasons why I do, in fact, heart my co-op just as the pin on my bookbag asserts.

  • The stencilled sign outside my bedroom door which reads "cunt love",
  • The names on the toilet stalls all over the house: AC/WC, The Radio Head, Sonny Baño, sTool,
  • The inexplicably named Ronald Reagan Memorial Zen Garden,
  • Rope swing #2 in the backyard (rope swing #1 being appealing but highly perilous),
  • The presence of an honest-to-god library and study room in the house, whereas in my last co-op the former was a smoking room and the latter was a storage closet,
  • Soy milk from a milk dispenser! Soy milk from a milk dispenser!
  • The aforementioned furry lizard,
  • The 12-foot-long bay view out the window of my temporary room,
  • Vegan chocolate sauce by the case, and
  • The fact that there are upwards of twenty couches in the house, to a population of fifty people.

It's a woefully incomplete list, but a better one will have to wait until a time when I'm not in a hurry to go play my guitar on the roof deck. Ho-hum. American Dream of suburban nuclear-family living, eat your heart out.

Posted by dianna at August 27, 2006 07:31 PM

Though I am only able to appreciate soy milk in carefully measured doses (mixed with chai or transmuted into some kind of frozen dessert), and still cling to a future of said American Dream (that is, once I can escape the siren's call of alternating living with parents and dormmates), that still sounds like a pretty sweet deal.

And the notion of a furry lizard reminds me of a really horrible cinematic rendition of Ray Bradbury's very interesting short story A Sound of Thunder.

Posted by: Erik at August 27, 2006 10:50 PM

Are you soy intolerant? Or merely suffering from a lack of supply? The answer makes a difference to whether I gloat about my nigh-bottomless crock o' soy or tactfully gloss over it.

As for the Bradbury story and cinematization, I can only say... what? I know neither and am puzzled as to how furry lizards are involved. Please help.

Posted by: Dianna at August 27, 2006 11:46 PM

Is the cat-lizard some kind of DNA-cloned throwback to the age of reptile-like mammals? Or was it mammal-like reptiles? For christ's sake, that was the one science class I took at Berkeley, so you'd think I could remember one thing from it. Anyway, I was picturing something like an iguana with a mohawk of fur down its back, but that went from cute to Gremlins very quickly. Ick.

Posted by: katie at August 28, 2006 04:55 PM

gremlins! they'll eat your spleen! eep!

'a sound of thunder'--ha ha ha ha!!! why did i see that TWICE?

your co-op sounds fantastic! i love couches, rope swings, and ronald reagan.

Posted by: michele at August 28, 2006 05:48 PM

kilroy was here

Posted by: poot at August 28, 2006 08:31 PM


I assume that's because it had baboon-lizards and not because of the mindblowing (well, something-blowing...) special effects.

Posted by: Erik at August 29, 2006 07:51 AM

those baboon-lizards were seriously freaky. who knows why i see anything twice? i think my brain refuses to believe something was as bad as i vaguely remember it to have been, so i have to reconfirm the badness. i think this is partially why i write movie reviews--to remind myself of the horror without having to re-watch it.

Posted by: michele at August 29, 2006 11:22 AM

maybe the gremlin cat-lizard could eat gene's appendix

Posted by: kati at August 29, 2006 02:39 PM