so close no cigar ad nauseam

  Current List of Thoughts Keeping Me from Sleeping Right Now

- my cat has been bringing a lot of dead things around again. figures. it’s real nice to be greeted with the body parts of birds, mice, snakes, rats, big-ass bugs, lizards, etc. at my feet. it’s good to be reminded of death's atavistic omnipresence right before bed

- summer has brought ants, trails of them that meander through the kitchen and when available, all over the dead things the cat brought in

- late one night i was petting the cat when i swore i saw a flea on her neck but couldn’t find it

- read the wikipedia page on fleas at 4:11 a.m. and then looked through microscopic pictures of them which was a terrible, terrible idea

- been having hallucinations of bugs around me, on me, in me. phantom skitters across skin that leave my slaps empty-handed. scratched skulls and paranoid leaps and overzealous clouds of disinfectant. thanks, summer. thanks, cat

- i’d gotten into the habit of making myself an aztec clay mask to calm down and feel renewed after panic attacks. then one night my gaze caught on the row of jars on my desk, little jars of ashes. ashes and aztec clay are damn near identical. a face full of ashes. i’ve since switched to mint julep

- i need a new doctor because i think i need another EKG but i can’t go back to the family doctor from forever cause when i went last year the nurses all came to ask how my dad was “how’s Gary?” “we miss him!” “he used to call all the time” “he’s so funny” “tell him to call! he hasn’t called in a while” and the look on their faces when i responded, cooked to a crisp a little spot in my stomach’s depth that knew, no, i can never come here again

- and oh yeah, my brother called. well not really, we were driving home after sushi when Herman answered a call and passed the phone back to me. i didn’t know who it was but when i heard “Kate?” my mouth went a bit slack cause 4 seconds ago i didn’t know if i’d ever hear his voice again. the only thing i remember was driving through the canyons in the dark and making plans to have dinner at 6 tomorrow. and i handed the phone back and i had cried

- when i spotted him he was sitting in the jack in the box parking lot, smoking and reading a book, next to a giant survivalist backpack holding everything he owns

- neither of us were hungry so we split some french fries and he told me how downtown is so fucking bad, not like the valley, and the guards there don’t give a semblance of a shit and he saw someone accused of snitching get slocked and it made him resolve to never ever get sent there again, and the last judge says he could get into a program or do six weeks in general pop and he definitely chooses the program. he agreed when i said we were going to the house to talk to Herman and the family. he said he needed to use the bathroom real quick and i knew he was going in to use so i stepped outside to text our uncle a synopsis of the evening while waiting

- he essentially said everything we wanted to hear, like he had collected the perfect soundbites, and we made plans to meet back there in 20 hrs and the rehab counselor would join us

- i felt really good as i drove him to our friends’ house, cause he responded so well when i showed him pictures of grandpa and grandma at the zoo last week and he even apologized for making me worry for so long. i told him how i’d only seen like 3 episodes of breaking bad and one of them was the one where the girl from don’t trust the b in apartment 23 died of a heroin overdose and i think about it a lot and he apologized again

- the super suburban lawn reassured me when i dropped him off at the house. he gave me a couple friends’ numbers which further reassured me and i gave him $2 for payphone funds. i moved to walk to the door when he said he was going to stay outside and have another cigarette. i noticed that he had buckled all the straps on his huge backpack, but i didn’t want to dwell on that. we hugged and i drove off, making the ASL sign for love you out the window as i rolled away. an old throwback to happy family traditions. i don’t know that he saw it but i hope he did

- i thought i had the floor plan to the local Target down, but i had to search a bit for the men’s underwear. looking through the rows of bags of socks, i was pleased with myself that i remembered the exact style Mike liked (in black, only black.) when i had to pick out underwear though, it took some thinking. my mind flashed back to the last time i was confused in the men’s section: a month after Mom died and I was buying much-needed clothes for Dad for christmas. changing into new clothes always makes me feel better, and i wanted him to feel like that. but picking out the right clothes proved terribly difficult. and i’d forgotten that men’s pants have two numbers and i didn’t know which ones would fit Dad and the only person in the world who would’ve known died 6 weeks ago and christmas was a week away and i didn’t have time to shop again so i needed to know, now, but there was no one to call and i just started crying next to a rack of pants and i remember being very composed and stone-still considering the size of the silent river of tears flowing down my face and thought maybe this is how mannequins cry

- i sat in the spot where 24 hours prior he’d promised to be, until i decided everything was bullshit and went home

- now there’s a bag of socks and boxers in my car, in the spot where i’d driven Dad’s ashes for almost a year

- an unknown number turned out to be some mormons who’d found Mike’s wallet on a bus. now they won’t be able to identify the body, i thought, before i could help it. the mormons totally fulfilled my stereotypical ideas though cause they were really just so damn nice

- summer has brought swarms of tour groups to work and they drive me nuts cause they are on vacation and i am the opposite

- i do like spotting the out-of-state tourists who are obviously dressed in their heartfully planned “California outfit” which usually consists of end-of-the-line incarnations of things Californians wore quite a while ago. i think it’s endearing

- the thing that really cracks me up about tour groups is you hear the tour guide on the speakers as they drive by. the tour guides always ask which shows the tourists watch, so they can point out where it’s filmed. they say things like “And guys, remember when Rachel and Ross kissed after that tomato fight? They fought and kissed right in front of that storefront to your left! Yeah, I know, right there! See?” and the tourists usually gasp or clap amid a bustle of cameras. it’s so funny, the wording, the idea: this is where it happened. this is where those people did something memorable. you’ve seen this place before.

- but like, you haven’t. and they didn’t, they weren’t people. it didn’t happen. it was written and edited and rehearsed and performed over and over and it wasn’t one time, it wasn’t a moment you saw, it didn’t happen.

- but the reactions that result from that spot being pointed out, explained, recognized, remembered, are almost real. so weird. it’s a trip to think about while walking to my car

- i fucking spilled a family sized box of Lucky Charms all over my car’s front seat like hours after i bought them. i was so. pissed. the birds swarmed the rainbow on the ground around my car for days after. there are still crumbs i haven’t gotten and i tell myself the car wash guy has to have seen worse

- my (future)husband Donald Glover is in Magic Mike XXL but he's NOT playing a stripper UGH


First, shout-out to the messages from people who've somehow found this blog. Your kind words mean a lot. Special shout-out to the sad grrrls of Tumblr: my gawd, babes, i feel yah. Second: i really will have new copies of zines in the store soon, promise for real this time