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.
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.
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.
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.
I assume that's because it had baboon-lizards and not because of the mindblowing (well, something-blowing...) special effects.
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.
maybe the gremlin cat-lizard could eat gene's appendix