/// punny punny punny! \\\

F A L L I N G    S L E E V E S

I should note that when I first thought of this (after a successfully witty night, at least that's what my Mom will tell you) I thought to myself (chuckling), I am so funny tonight! I'm so clever! It wasn't until I started making this picture I realized that it wasn't actually that funny. Didn't stop me though.

A N N O U N C E M E N T ! ! !

You never thought I would but I did. I actually posted stuff into my etsy shop. Now go buy ten of everything.


margebjork on etsy

slogging through poetic irony/envisioning grunge era combat boots

As the dutiful ticket hander-outer and general inspirer of parking dread that you are, you will come to find that quantum physics and the 4 Non Blonds make some of the best listening material while mucking through your gravel lots.





High ground still holds its magnetic power over me only now it's not so much chairs, tables, or counters. I find myself walking along parking blocks and retaining walls as I make my rounds. I tap pad the tickets into a gadget about the size and weight of those Saved by the Bell cell phones and my hip slung printer gurgles them out. In the seconds of print-waiting, if I happen to be listening to some moving jams, I stare up at the trees, do a little twist and tap my toes on my cement balance-beam perch. Yes, as promised K$, I've been dancing on the job.

whirlwind in my brain every time I sleep

Last night–or rather this morning sometime after waking up starving at 2:30 a.m., eating toast and reading for two hours (Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens) and crawling back into bed to marvel at how I'd forgotten thunder can be R E A L L Y    R E A L L Y    L O U D–I had a dream that I was going to be crowned Miss North Dakota. Only they checked with me first to see if I'd actually accept even though it seems I'd competed in this pageant of my own free will (Meaning no disrespect to pageants, it's just, well, me. My perverse sense of humor answers black lipstick and fake nose ring to the question of pageant). We can realize this means that even in my dream they knew my erratic history of conforming to society. I think they wanted to save their faces and mine by confirming this outcome beforehand in case I took the public moment as a soapbox on how factory farming of livestock and agribusiness contribute more than television to the dwindling of our culture, intelligence, and character as a nation; or expound upon my current moratorium against reading news of domestic politics; or for fear that I would show up as Zombie Miss North Dakota.

I thought about what it would mean to accept the crown of Miss North Dakota and I knew it could only mean one thing: appearing on national television in a swim suit.

I declined and I'm sure they went off to surprise another, more deserving young lady but I woke up. 

et alors, nous voyons...

I haven't the foggiest idea of where my college diploma has ended up after this move, however, I did just find my Cloud Appreciation Society certificate!


New theory: People who know where their college diplomas are don't end up with part time jobs giving out parking tickets to other students who are in pursuit of their own diplomas.

my weekend:

I have attended two dance parties this weekend. I have been the only attendee. They were held in my living room and bedroom. There was music at one of them.

now bees try to pollinate my headphones

true story. Or stories, because it happens frequently. I thought this was because of the floral print but one was bent on pollinating my nose yesterday and my nose is not floral print, so...


The trick with being a parking attendant is not to roll your eyes when it seems that some people think a garter is a sufficient substitute for a parking pass around their rear view mirror. Or their high school graduation tassel, Guinness beer lanyard, or crucifix. I prefer parking passes. In fact, I have developed a great love for parking passes.


It's a small campus, about the size of your thumb. Half of our lots are gravel–which has as much to do with the campus being in a flood plain as much as with the student body size. I'm learning license plate numbers and soon might have all of campus memorized. I already dream about ticketing at night which is the worst. In the day I'm pleasantly distracted by podcasts, in sleep it's just not restful.

As the Solo Enforcer of Parking Dread I can make my rounds in an hour. I'm having to memorize staff vehicles–there aren't many campus cars so everyone drives their own. I only deal in parking so vehicles are always separate from owners. It's a hazy guessing game but nobody seems too worried, so I don't worry either. If I ticket someone on staff they just tease, "Well, we know you're doin' your job." Of course they know I'm doing my job, in fifteen minutes of my morning shift I more than covered my wages for the day with all the fees I hand out.

Sometimes I have a desire to confront students on the sidewalk and say, "Do you know that I graduated? Do you know that I have a bachelor of arts? Isn't it weird that now this is my job?" I imagine that if I did this some sort of hysteria would erupt like uncontrollable giggling or I would just become excessively awkward and stutter. Why I feel like doing this is not something I fully understand. Part of it is narcissistic, I have the impression that the smaller population size you put me in the more I'm bound to stand out and so I'm convinced it's only a matter of time before everyone on campus has seen and recognizes me. 

In fact, at the heart it is rather a selfish desire: to try to command attention from perfect strangers who have their own lives with concerns and hopes. Particularly strangers who are in pursuit of their undergrad and who do not need to be squashed by the reality of what that degree might get them. 

Maybe it stems from a natural desire to understand and validate my current position in life. I may have always imagined growing up that I would be an artist living off of my wits and exploring the outlandish corners of society and philosophizing on their poetic qualities but still I find living it a challenge. I can only see two steps ahead and I want to know two years ahead. Is that so much to ask? So far the answer has been yes, it is too much to ask. Probably because I'm pushing, rushing, wanting, instead of meditating and prayer and......what? I just don't know.

mean lady

I gave everyone in the world a parking ticket today, or at least, it feels like it. But tell me, is it inhumain to smile and bop your head a little bit as you listen to Talulah Gosh and slip a $10 fine under someone's windshield wiper? No. It can't be. Especially with the product of today's side project:

Upon seeing what I'd done my dad buried his face in his hands both in laughter and horror.

"I equate happiness with contentment, and contentment with complacency, and complacency with impending disaster."*

I've been thinking this for years: "[Laurie] discussed the differences between British and American TV. 'I think good-looking people seldom make good television,' he said. 'And American television studios almost concede before they start: ‘Well, it won’t be good, but at least it’ll be good-looking. We’ll have nice-looking girls in tight shirts with F.B.I. badges and fit-looking guys with lots of hair gel vaulting over things. So at least we’ll have achieved that base standard of entertainment.’ He shook his head. 'I think that’s hugely misguided. The glory of American television is Dennis Franz.”


*Hugh Laurie, link NYT article

half of me thinks you'd want to stay updated half of me thinks blogs are absolute vanity

Cutting my hair this afternoon turned out to be somewhat more of an adventure than I had intended but that's what you get when you forget that little safety switch on the hair clippers. 

In truth, I've always wanted to try steps and push my androgynous limits but have been too chicken. Huzzah!


I've moved in with my parents to a small hometown which makes my Friday night socials the kind of things you want to write books about. I won't be writing books, I'm at my limits trying to think how to tell you properly of characters I spent my night with. Suffice it to say we watched Singin' in the Rain, jumped to a discourse on West Frisian–the language of Friesland and of which I'd never heard of but is believed to be what English would sound like if we hadn't been conquered by Normans (the French). And to finish it off:  





I've been thinking, it's kind of great to be here. 

because of my excessive fondness for strange juxtapositions and journals:

THIS IS THE SECOND DAY OF APRIL 2011
it is mostly cloudy and I will appreciate it-clocked in at 11:03

4 April 2011
FROM B&N TODAY
Stories and poems for extremely intelligent children of all ages (a book) (on shelf next to Best of Women's Erotica 2)

7 April 2011
"P A T I E N T   S P R A Y E D"

8A
butter
plumb sauce
produce

24 April 2011
There are so many things I hear in church and related activities that sound extremely apocryphal. 

we cannot remember the future, time just keeps moving forward

xkcd + clouds