eternal grey and rust

People keep talking about how the weather sucks but soon they'll be complaining about how it's too sunny out and at least we're not dealing with the aftermath of earthquakes and tornadoes or living next to the Mississippi.

And I wonder how much asbestos I've inhaled and lead I've ingested, wondering if there will be anything left of me. I wonder what will be messed up later on because of all the art-making now, all that turpentine, oil paint and lead-laced flux.



My car is starting to feel old too. It needs new breaks, an oil change, and the muffler that was already starting to go is now clanking against the trunk, the purr is now a roar and I'm hoping my it gets fixed before my sister had the kid because I know I won't get through the cracker suburbs without getting pulled over in the meantime.

I bought motor oil at Murray's last night and even though I totally know how to pour it into the engine myself, having done so weekly in the latter days of the Sexy Saturn, I was relegated to damsel in distress by an guy in the parking lot who told me what I already knew about car engines (admittedly not very much but still...)

While I insisted that I was okay and that it wasn't a big deal he said I needed a husband and gave me a card with his number in case I break down so I guess he can be knight in shining armor or something. Like heck, I'm going to call some random man I met in a parking lot when I'm in a position where I'm most vulnerable. Right.

small mercies

So I'm driving to the station this morning listening to Dricore's Guru tribute when all the lights on the dashboard go on and the engine dies. So thankful that this didn't happen on the Shoreway or down St. Clair somewhere or whatever. I pushed the car into the lot, played some Fela so I could go and take a look at it, and took it down the street once I got out.

I was really distracted and kind of stressed out so my plans of doing all South African music in honor of Freedom Day didn't happen and I played a lot of 70's west African dance music and vintage sounds from Angola instead and this is the first show I didn't write down a playlist for.

Otherwise, I picked this up on one of my walks to the library and it's rocking my world. Reminds me of Cream or something...

accident waiting to happen.

Got in a car accident yesterday, rear-ended someone, totally my fault, no one was hurt, but I feel so bad. And the front end of my car is all smashed up. Thankful that no one has any serious injuries, thankful for good friends and my sister who stuck with me, and for Mukhtar giving me a ride home even though it's completely out of his way and he and his girl were supposed to go see a movie. And he made me laugh which I needed so badly.

life goes on I guess, right?

i hate fast cars

By the time I reach the weekend, I am dead.

My ultimate ideal of a chilled out night is crashing on the couch and letting myself be enveloped with good music and I got to do that... waking up only when the phone rings and then to heat up some egg rolls and paint a little bit before crashing again.

I helped a friend of mine and his family move on Saturday, folding down the seats of the Sexy Saturn to pile bags and boxes up to move them a street over. The car is a mess now, with sharpie drawings and writing on the back seat, and I completely destroyed my side-view mirror trying to back out of the narrow space between the house and the fence on the other side.

Me & Alex patched it together yesterday with a combination of epoxy glue and masking tape, and I reinforced it this morning with duct tape from my future father-in-law. So far so good I guess, even though there's chunks of glass missing from the mirror and a good portion of it is covered in clear gunk.

Most people would be ashamed of this but I just laugh because this is what I know. My parents drove beaters for years, cars that stalled out whenever Led Zeppelin was on the radio, cars where the ceiling was ripped and dangling, the doors were patched with duct-tape, and bungie cords kept them from flying open. If someone hits your car, what's the big deal, you know?

And no one is going to steal it for sure.

My dad thinks I'm crazy for wanting another station wagon, the kids tell me I should get a convertible, the guys say I should get a sports car because "girls look sexy in sports cars." ummm... yeah.