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For World Book Night yesterday, mom and I put books on people's cars like the religious rubbish I always find on mine. My literature was about a different god though. That was exciting for me. Passing along the good word about books. I'm about that. It was also Fahrenheit 451, which is not my favorite Ray Bradbury book but obviously I love it because he's an amazing writer and his work never fails to make me fall desperately in love with the human race all over again despite its many, many failings. (Kinda like watching Doctor Who.)


Overheard a woman at work saying a lovely sentence: my cousin was married to Juicy.

That's it.

I wrote that shit down the minute she finished saying it. What a friggin' sentence, man. 'My cousin was married to Juicy.' I have so many questions.


A woman I basically grew up with comes into the one branch frequently and when she looks me, there is not even the slightest flash of recognition in her face. She knew me through the end of grade school and all through high school, the period of your life where you do a great deal of changing physically. She knew me before I had glasses, knew me when I got them, before I had braces, when I got those, when I got those taken off; she knew me while I was gradually getting taller because I'm short so naturally I didn't have a sudden growth spurt. I spent countless days and nights at her house with my best friend and she looks me in the eye and there isn't even a glimmer. I don't register to her at all. She's seen my name tag, that also means nothing. She knew my mother and her family and I wonder if she would recognize any of them anymore, or if they've been obliterated like me. It's stunning. Other than that, she doesn't show any other signs of memory loss or deterioration. She drives herself to the library, she reads constantly, her hearing was always a little bad when I knew her and it doesn't seem to have gotten any worse really, she knows off the top of her head that May 15 is a Wednesday this year (when her books are due back). So at a glance, it seems like the only thing she's forgetting is me. Which I guess, having not spoken to her in almost another decade, isn't too much to complain about. It just makes me curious about the brain and its workings.

Love and Marriage and Work and the English Language

When I've been up for a while and Jeremy is still asleep, I'll pass the bedroom and see him taking up the entire bed and think, 'man that guy's amazing, I'm glad we're best friends... how do we both fit on that thing?' (cause he's kinda tall, I don't know if I've expressed that before). Then I'll go in and kiss his forehead or whatever. Except I always give him a heads up like, 'Husband I love you,' or 'Jeremy I'm going to kiss you,' or my personal favorite, 'hey don't punch me in the throat,' cause of that one time I attempted to kiss him while he was sleeping and he tried to punch me in the throat. Cause he thought I was a zombie.

This is what I married, guys.

I chose him.

He was like, 'you wanna do this thing?'

And I was like, 'pssh, hell yeah!'

Yesterday at work I wrote angry missives to each patron I had. Well, almost each patron. I would finish our interaction, and write a few lines on some scrap paper about how much they were damaging the human race. Then I would tear that shit up and pretend it never happened. It made the day a little better.

Also of note, I went to the wrong library yesterday by accident. (Obviously, because who would do that on purpose?) When I showed up at the right library the guard was like, 'this one is ----' and I was like 'oh no kidding asshole? I thought it was ----.' (Dashes because while yes, it's pretty clear where I work, I don't think I've been specific about names... Have I?) I really hate it when people think they're being clever by pointing out the mistakes you are already aware of. When it happens to me I always have to rifle through my extensive memory and check if it's a thing I do and this is the universe telling me not to be such a douche. I do it. To be fair though, I only do it if I know the other person won't be aggravated by it. To be more fair, I don't mind it sometimes, but first thing in the morning when I'm clearly running late because I can't read a schedule, apparently, and I'm worried that not even a full week after an excellent evaluation my coming into work late because I'm an idiot will make my supervisors reconsider their position... that is not a good time to think you're clever, random security guard.

Light note: a patron owed money and when she asked how much I told her three fifty. She replied, tree fiddy? And I stifled a laugh. (Guys I just learned that I've been spelling 'stifled' wrong, for years. Blogger just angry red lined it when I put two F's in it. How did I not know this? It's literally been years.)