a lemonhead, a workaholic, and a passivist

There was a time when I was young. And there was a time when I was old. And now is the time when I am ageless.
Today I learned that writing a rondeau can be incroyable. I mean, zut alors, who knew writing a poem about autumn could lead to quelqu'un qui dance, un autre qui chante, et moi qui a dit "un pause--break it down." C'est la vie, c'est la guerre, c'est la pamplemousse, n'est-ce pas?

"
Under pressure
that brings a building down
breaks a family in two
puts people on streets
"

Mi familia is trying to cut down, eliminate, simplify, stop collecting, electrify etc. I have mandated--at least ma souer knows this--no day of birth presents for me. When it takes two SUV loads to move one person, one poor university student kid, no good tanto. What do I get rid of? I don't know. Can't lose my pet dinosaur, can't lose the books, can't lose my vogue magazines, and when it comes to clothes--oh gee. You see, I don't wear most of them. I buy them at thrift stores and then it's just not a real thing. But I keep them because I think, Hey, fantastic amassing a crazy wardrobe, not for me, but for my cheep indie films that are someday actually going to happen. Someday I am going to want that oddly textured crotched sweater in that bright color.

At my life blood job of a grill (which I am relaxing out of. I say no now. No I will not work any more thursday mornings. No I will not work on October 27th because I am eloping. that's a lie, halfways. now guess which half.) we sell these giant cookies. They are like three cookies put into one. Please have a party and share one. They are kind of the bane of my existence. You have no idea how many cookies you will sell, merely because they are large. It's really the obsession. If they were small people would be thinking cool. I could choose between a cheese cake and a chocolate chip cookie. But as soon as you make that cookie 4 times larger and more deathly, the public goes nuts. Thought processes crash from cookie overload. Rational though is all melted. People try to butter me up, argue with me, beg, drool all because this cookie is large. McDonalds has set this as their whole financial foundation. The blindingness of supersize. When you make an object of food larger than someone's brain and out of substances that will clog your precious blood vessels people can't resist buying it. Maybe it was these cookies. Maybe it was the 113 blond rich california freshman. One of these things helped me develope a horrible joy in telling people they can't have what they want. Will there be anymore cookies? Nooooope. I had a whole conversation with someone the other day while he was on his cell phone ten feet away from me, inside the grill, and I was on the other end of the line on the grill's phone.
I'd like to place an order.
I'm sorry we're not taking phone orders right now, we're too busy. (I see you)
What? Oh why? Please? We don't want to stand in line.
Sorryyyyyy.
Why can't I place an order?
You see me right now? I'm on the phone with you. Therefore I'm not making food. Therefore no food is being made. That's a problem.

Sometimes I like bands just because they are small, I've discovered them on my own, and they have good style. I mean clothing style. I have often pondered this last thing. I have a passion for style. All aesthetics really, but mainly clothing. This is sometimes a sad thing in my life. I have a good friend--well all my uni friends claim I'm heartless. One night we were sitting around the kitchen table in the second ghetto place I'd lived (I'm now in number four) and we were discussing the problem they seem to think I am. Friend one had been alleging that I don't have any passions, I never show any emotion etc. My roommate says
"Marge has passions...........for skinny jeans....."
yes.
oui.
si.
Skinny jeans are the only thing she could think of.
My sister liked playing with dolls. I just liked changing their clothes. I've been interested in fashion design my whole life. style.com is speed dialed into my web browser. I am obsessed with Nicolas Ghesquiere. I have the dream, the desire, the appreciation, but the career never seemed to fit. (I go with "seem" feelings often. They seem right.)
I don't know why it's just the clothing out of all aesthetic things. Long before I had any consciousness of the rest of the world outside of the student housing apartment I was born into, I loved dressing up. Fashion. hats. Sweaters. Changing. Outfits. Wearing clothes. Thinking about them. Drawing them.

Anyway, I've got to read Oedipus the King. Rex rex rex rex rex rex rex.

rex.

(Quote from song 'Under Pressure' by Queen and David Bowie)