04-07-03 - 7:58 p.m.
i don't know about you, but i have some weird-ass random thoughts while shaving my legs.
bonnie raitt is janis without southern comfort. or maybe billie without skag. or maybe just a beautiful voice that actually makes you yearn for the shit side of love.
as an opinionated survivor of post-war vietnam, i've kept my iraqi views to myself. watching the news tonight, i can't help but wonder what it's like to be despised and hunted and idolized; strolling the deserted streets of your devastated town with cocky self-assurance one moment and dodging bombs the next. are you scared? defiant? invincible? and in the midst of all this ruin, should you survive, will there be a dry-cleaner left in town to restore life to your fetching beret?
patrick gave me an empty perfume bottle today; shalimar, circa 1926, a smidgen of crystal tucked into a beautiful velvet box. for those of you unable to understand the sentiment behind this bizarre gift, think early pooh, before disney prostituted aa milne's touching art. even spoiled by piglet and eyeore's greed and ineptitude, pooh was thrilled by the thought behind their birthday gifts; an empty honey jar and deflated balloon. besides, from what i can tell, shalimar smells like my grandmother's dresser drawer. if i had a grandmother.
tomorrow, armed with cds and a trusty can of fix-a-flat, berries and i are off for sacramento; my pilgrimage to mecca to see bruce. with any luck, we'll find a decent mall and beautiful dress; something cutting edge in black. my kelly osbourne lookalike has been nominated for prom queen. laugh all you want, but right now, as a mother, i feel pretty fucking fulfilled.