Saturday, April 26, 2008
Last night what began as an early-evening nap to revitalize myself for study became a fifteen-hour sleeping/tossing-over-in-bed fest. I took a break for about an hour to lie on the floor with my feet propped up on the recliner and the DVD player set on my tummy, to watch a few episodes of "The Twilight Zone" as I tried to drain the liquid out of my lower legs. As far as quarter-life crises go, other people probably have worse.
Birthday goodies received, 2008, #23:
from John: a hugOther birthday presents received included cards, dirty looks, and more food. Next year, I hope everyone sends toilet paper, for that is an expense I must make again presently; I have run clean out. For whatever reason, I resent paying for the privelege of wiping my ass. I used baby wipes at one point this year, but that luxury costs quite a bit more.
from Gilbert: an orange
from Michael: die Nachtricht, daß das Dasein eine Bedeutung hat
from James: an apple pie (which I forgot to take home)
from Curtis: a burger at work
from Tammy: a Fanta and chocolate fudge Poptarts
from Jenni: a book written by Kermit the Frog with lessons on life
from April: a screaming squirrel and an Oscar the Grouch journal
from George: a mood ring
Labels: apple pie, baby wipes, birthday, Fanta, feet, friends, hugging, Kermit the Frog, list, oranges, Oscar the Grouch, Poptarts, sleep, squirrels, The Twilight Zone
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:17 AM]
We Are Never Out Of It
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
This morning the rain beat thunderously loud on the pool roof, which, relievedly, drowned out the pop music station enough that I could kickboard along to my own imagination for once. The noise made me consider whether a nuke might have dropped; this then led to what I might do after nuclear fallout. Ere I paddled along, I glanced over at the other swimmers and wondered, if we were the only people on the planet to survive, which of us would be eaten first. I figured the tall bald guy would be first to get roasted, then perhaps the Asian.
I emerged from the pool and showered in disappointment that the bomb hasn't dropped yet.
Too tired after a three-hour workout to do anything else, afterward I read Doctor Faustus for German class for about three hours, sat through class (watching scenes from a production of The Ring Cycle and trying to pick out the German), then napped. Now I am at the coffee shop, pretending I am doing something dreadfully important. I might return to the Lair to cuddle with Kermie, for whom I never have to pretend anything.
Labels: bombs, coffee shop, Dr. Faustus, German, Kermit the Frog, kickboarding, nuclear fallout, pretending, rain, sleep, swimming, The Lauree Lair, The Ring Cycle, working out
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:20 PM]
Our "Two Posts A Day" Lauree
Monday, April 07, 2008
Since the day I was born, I have never cared much about my birthday. I will feel just as dejected about existing as I did the day previous and do not anticipate a change in that course. But I have been inspired by a blog post from 24. April 2005:
Of course, Kimmy and I are not capable of destroying a race (there must be more- this "Michael" is probably their leader) of aliens by ourselves, so we enlisted the aid of our coworkers, Fisayo and JPat, as well as our manager, Serg (who doubted our possibilities for success). However, none of us could facilitate a plausible course for destroying the aliens, and we therefore sought information from persons coming in to buy food, if they appeared knowledgeable about the subject of eradicating alien life forms.This year, I want to go alien-hunting by day, between Greek and German classes; after sunset, I will look for ghosts. All my friends are chicken shits, though, so I will probably have to resign myself to conducting these investigations with the aid of Kermie and Funshine.
Though many people who come into Sam's at 12:30 a.m. for munchies seem alien-wise, apparently none of them know how best to kill the aliens in our midst. Several people I asked did not understand the gravity of the situation, which I found rather sad, for they will probably be the ones who are eaten first.
At some point around one a.m. the line at my register extended back about six or seven people, who were all apparently friends, chatting with each other about the party they just returned from (less enebriated, though, then other people I encountered last night). The first guy, wearing a bright blue shirt that read, Horn if you're a honky, looked at me blankly when he handed me his candy bar and I asked, "Do you know how to kill the aliens?" I said it loudly to be heard over the Offspring, and everyone in line stopped in mid-sentence to look at me. Pleased to have full attention, I explained the situation, but no one offered answers. They each exited, laughing, oblivious to their impending deaths.
Close to closing time, a boy came in for cookies and two twelve-packs of Dr. Peppers. Dejectedly, I asked for the hundredth time: "Do you know how to stop the aliens?" He could offer no suggestions, either, to which I simply shook my head and uttered, "Shit." He felt sorry for me, though, and wished me luck.
It is for all humanity that he should feel pity, for we are doomed.
Labels: alien-hunting, aliens, birthday, death, Funshine Care Bear, ghost-hunting, Kermit the Frog, munchies, t-shirt, The Offspring, working
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:40 PM]
We May Not Awaken You
Sunday, March 02, 2008
In lieu of preparing for exams and catching up on sundry coursework assignments, I spent the past three days sleeping, working out, and reading Benjamin. I also applied for a few jobs.
Now my tummy hurts. I may return to the Lair (from the coffee shop) earlier than I had intended, for the purpose of conducting a drug-induced sleeping expedition. Last night's sleeping expedition did not fare well- the wind howled against the building without relent; Kermie and I cuddled the tighter, but never settled into the comfort of full slumber.
Nevertheless, despite feeling extremely alert this morning, I managed to avoid reading Plato's Apology. I ate breakfast and somehow felt accomplished enough.
Lubbock winds tarnish everything, to include the shoes, encrusted with wind-blown dirt, that I threw out this afternoon on account of their over-worn condition. Ow. Sleep.
Labels: breakfast, coffee shop, dirt, job searching, Kermit the Frog, Lubbock, Plato, reading, shoes, sleep, tests, The Apology, The Lauree Lair, Walter Benjamin, wind, working out
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:55 PM]