It's Fridaaaay, Bitches

happy Friday all you pyt’s.
if you are down in the dumpster,
listen to the song and let it make
you feel cool. cool like debbie
harry cool. cool like Sofia.
cool like wes’s brain and the
rodarte girls. if you are high
on life, remember a bird could
poop on your head. like it did
us. monday afternoon.

keep it real, keep it calm.
keep it strong and keep it cool.

*f

Love & Memories

Why do some songs pull on your heartstrings? Why do some songs resonate in the deepest part of your gut? They ignite flashes of memories in your brain. You remember the first time you fell off your bike. Hit your head (you were wearing a helmet) and scratched up both knees (two giant strawberries). The first time you cried over those sharp pains in your heart (you really loved him, how could you live without him??). Hugs at the visitation (why am I consoling other people? you thought). Blink of the eye lucid images appear. Your mom’s laugh. Your friends at the beach. Your visceral reaction toward tragedy: 9/11, shootings, Katrina, tsunamis, tornadoes, warfare…bursts of color. Red hues. Black smoke. Blue skies.

Maybe you can relate, maybe you can’t.

For us, music has always been profoundly personal, private, shared and deeply loved. It began with a summer of Kurt Cobain fascination (an entire summer of music video watching: Soundgarden, Blind Melon, even Snoop and Dre). Inspired crushes with each verse, notably “She Loves You” by the Beatles per a grade school chorus concert solo. Our heart soared and lept. We might have even wept a little.

We clung to DMB in high school, just like our friends. We wore only clothes from Express. Just like our friends. We secretly adored Ani, unlike most of our friends. We secretly wanted to go to art school, unlike our friends. We wore mostly black for a while, our math teacher (Algebra III, don’t ask) pegging us the “Princess of Darkness.” Rebel phase. We progressed and developed devotional crushes on classic rock. Van Morrison. The Stones. John Hiatt. The Doors. Bonded with Rick Springfield, Joan Jett, Bob Marley, Zeppelin, and Cougar Mellencamp at all our local college bars. Bonded with them more than a few of our college crushes? Definitely. Seeing as this relationship lasted longer than the inevitable 2 am last call.

Now? We breeze through hip-hop, jazz, sultry soul, and mellow indie rockers. Music ignites us, always excites us. And we love, love this song by Oren Lavie. It’s a LOT Badly Drawn Boy. A little Postal Service. A little Nick Drake. A little Hellogoodbye. A little John Mayer-ish with deeper, more poetic lyrics. It’s a resonator and definite stimulator. Lovestring-tugger and heartfelt melodic dreamweaver.

Happy Monday.

art love

"let us be grateful to people who make us happy. they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."
-marcel proust

*f & j

How Do You Mend

A broken heart?

In high school, it meant girls-only dance parties. Reassurance from our best friend, in our bathroom. As we bawled on the floor. Tears and music. Music and tears. Quieter times. Heartachey times. But it was one month at most, and any traces of pain disappeared as quickly as we changed classes. It wasn't love. But it was vulnerable, it was risky, and it was very public. And we were very private, private as ever- about relationships.

In college, it meant girls-only sleepovers. Support, hugs, and promises that we would do better. Find better. Deserved better. Late nights of drinking, dancing, and silliness to boost spirits. Encouragement to flirt. Long talks. Long walks. Tears and beers. Beers and tears. Emotional roller coaster riding together. Our friends on board, one ex-boyfriend not. An abundance of support. One empty aching heart. It wasn't love. But it was the biggest cut yet. You grow up after that. You learn how to make sure you're watching out for yourself. And then you gain your vulnerability, and your heart back...slowly...and with one false step after the next, 'til you gain your head back too.

And then you lose it again. You realize there's something better out there, something closer to the real you. And you fall, and you fall, and you fall out of touch with reality. You let yourself get swept away. It's better than anything you've ever felt before. And when it starts breaking down, it's worse than anything you're ever felt before. We get older, and it ALL gets harder. It just does. You're intertwined. You're connected. You're close enough to predict thoughts and what that person will say next. And so add that all up and you're broken. Your heart burns and aches and feels so lonely with emptiness. You're done smiling for a while. You seem more serious, you are more serious. You're sad enough to cry once a day and your stomach feels like it's rejecting you, or anything that might come it's way. You're a walking, bleeding cut trying to keep up with appearances, by bandaging up the outsides. You wonder how this sort of heartbreak ends. And for the first time you don't know if it will. And you haven't the faintest idea how, or where to begin.

The first cut is not the deepest.

*f

Chew On This.

you say: "write more I am bored"

we say: can't right now (THE F#*$ING RECESSION!!!)

oh lord.

we sigh, we slouch, we eat only bread and butter.
we stretch, we groan, we are going quite nutter.
the gas bills' due.
our rents' too f$*#ing high.
we'd like to booze and sit pretty
all day long...
under the bloomy Chicago sky...
but we can't
and we won't
not till things are taken care of.

'cause we are woebegone over job woes.
and we wrestle with pathless job fauxs'
and we need a hair change.
and a breath mint.

we've got a case of the snifflin' sneezies
and a pasty white lack of tan-ness.
(you can add 'ness' to anything)
and we're worried about the middle east.
we're worried about the warming trend.
we're worried about our grandpa
and our papa and the happiness
of all women, kids, puppies, and men.

and for those that struggle and grapple
for help and for those that need a boost
or a hug and lay in grief on the bathroom
rug. we worry we worry. and mostly we
scurry around in the minutiae of
everyday hurry.

so you see, we have littler time to write.
obviously no time to vent. or stare.
or wonder what in sweet gravy we should
do next in this atmosphere.

but we will be back, all in good time.
if our words were dollars, we'd be
pretty damn fine.
just stick with us like harold and
kumar. like snoop and dre. rob and
big. you get the picture....coming soon
our radio show: peg, frances, & pretty little skib.**

*f & j

**does anyone know anyone in radio. seriously.

Springter

can we just be very clear about something.

crystal clear. pepsi clear. beverly cleary.

WE ARE CONFUSED.

you know why, don't you.

HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW

whether it's mitten weather.

leather boot weather.

sunny with gusts up to 2000 mph.

or breezy with a side of tornadoes.

everyday lately, we go out with our cheetah

fur mittens on (FAKE) and our triple-lined

waterproof weatherproof 'skimo coat

and we come back just glistening and ready

to jump in the lake! where is the how-to

people, where is it?? or of course the 

opposite happens. we go out sans coat

when we spot the sun and lo and becold

we came back with icicles for teeth

and snow cones for boobs.  and sometimes

we wanna lay down and retire by the fire 

but we don't have a fire. just candles.

WE ARE NOT FINISHED.

because let us tell you something else 

we are confused about.

WE ARE LOOKING FOR A JOB.

but not just any job.

ONE THAT DOESN'T SUCK.

and furthermore

ONE THAT DOESN'T HAVE A BOSS

OR REQUIRE TIMELINESS

OR MAKE US FILE OR COPY THINGS.

and it's hard to find but another

thing we find is hard is find, we 

just can't

won't

refuse

to work 

in a building

that is ugly

or gray on the interior

or without windows

and it presents a problem that buildings

such as the one below literally prevent

us from ever considering a job

that may be magic flowers and pineapple

cakes and peace signs, the whole bit.

what to do! jump ship, join the navy?

teach spanglish? 

invent?

ugh!

*f

Trouble Right Here! In Second City.

Where: Roscoe's in Boystown
Why: Bachelorette Party Extravaganza for the Carebear
When: Last Saturday night
What: dancin' boozin' laughin' dancin' improv

The night was clear. Cold dark and happy. We sipped on our beers. Slipped down our shots. Bellies full of laughter and suds...we were carefree, celebratin' Carrie, and fear? No, no. We did not.

But along came a spider, a short stocky venomous type. He said "we were trouble" and to get out of sight! Fran hawed, Jude withdrew. This man bouncer (no bigger than a thimble) what this man Thumbelina saying....was it true? And as the night was coming to an end, Jude and Fran got kicked out of a gay bar, for displaying too much "tude." Fran thought "Well this is just rude! We will talk to the manager, he will be more subdued!" But the manager was rude too and more or less big and scary. So we hailed for a cab instead, went home and watched Chuck & Larry*.

*well that part is not true. but it made a nice rhyme. we think we should think the following, and then never reconsider it more (for analyzing too much can be such a snore). Isn't too much 'tude in a gay bar an oxymoron?

-f

2 Cents Thursday

art love

Make art today. Tell a story, paint a picture, copy a poem in a pretty way. We are getting so much inspiration from so many places today. (Click on image to make bigger).

*j

Oh Happy DaYY

Okay, we changed our minds. This one is way better, esp. when the kid hits a high note and Whoopie turns around in wide-eyed delight. Yea, baby.

Man, they just don't make movies like they used to. Hooo-wee, this song makes our gosh-darn day.

*

*j

Freeze Tag.

photo by our dear auntie runaround sue,
(subject: our cousin once removed: fergus)

this cold
is freezing our lips
tingling our lips
freezing our words
mid-air
and freezing our
thoughts
so that we think
perhaps
our brain is frozen
solid
and is working
much more like
an ice cold
melon would
like a little
honeydew
with a few
more cells
than much else
these days.

*f

Q of the D.

The future is called perhaps,

which is the only possible thing

to call the future. And the important

thing is not to allow that to scare you.

-Tennessee Williams

*f

Pass the Tissues, We all Got Issues.

Not so long ago, in another place in time. With totally different characters and completely different plotlines, we felt like an alien in a world of droids. We felt like a dolphin in a sea of sharks. And ugly killer whales. And poisonous eels. We felt like Daria in a world of Quinn Morgandorfers. We dressed conservatively (in theory and in comparison to). Loathed crop tops. Looked down on hair extensions. Didn't fancy drug use or the club scene. Never did, actually. And felt how a lost hippie gypsy must feel when her '72 rusty yellow Volkswagon van breaks down and she is stranded in....Vegas. On the strip. Next to a lit up blinking arrow sign ironically pointing toward the Midwest. And next to a strip club. And next to a village of tight skinned tanorexics and just so many goddam dancers that you can't help but wonder?

Kinda like starring as Balkie on "Perfect Strangers." Or Alf on "Alf." Foreign. Uncomfortable. Kinda like being thirteen all over again. But not with such a skinny bod or gigando Lipsmacker collection. And all we really wanted was your everyday basic pub pub. And men who don't shave their body hair. And people who wear sweaters and understand that Uggs are worn for warmth, and never with skirts. We didn't want to go to places called Myst or Rain or Storm or Lazer every Friday night. We wanted to go someplace.....real.

And we remember one time someone said to us "I wish I could get inside your head and see what you are thinking," in an awkward sort of fashion. Or perhaps that's just an awkward sort of statement. And we thought to ourselves we're pretty sure we're okay with you not doing that, like ever. Never ever. Never. But we nodded and smiled and moved on. And promptly, moved. Yes, relocated.

But it's a thought isn't it? Whatif we could see the thoughts in bubbles overhead, all the time? Like today, for instance, in the middle of the day we were thinking:

*What really happened to The Wallflowers?

*What ever happened to Jakob Dylan?

*As the son of Bob, didn't he feel it his duty, to make a proper name for himself? It's only reasonable. You introduce yourself as a singer...your father is an revolutionary marvel, a musical and poetic genius, a lyrical rebel and icon. They had a few catchy songs....We liked "Three Marlenas"....One, two, three Marlenas...yeah we still like it.

Okay, okay maybe that guy had reason to wonder about our spaceball thoughts. Shed yours! Jot 'em down! Let's have a laugh.

*f

Cheers, Beers & Let's Drink to Our Health

Today our bones and our windows and the streets we walked to work on are like this...

It's a green tea day. We feel calm, cool and collected, if a bit heavy-lidded. Winter is in its mid-life, hunker-down-and-freeze-its-ex-and-his-new-lover-into-the-cold-frozen-lake mindset and all we can do is not let it into our lungs and our bellies and our souls.

*

We want to sleep it all away, under the covers and beside our books and our glasses of orange juice that taste so good even when it's cold. We want to sleep through our alarm and the sun and the wooden calendar that crashed to the floor in the middle of the night and made us jump up thinking we were being invaded by rapists or thieves or both.

*

We want to sleep 'til it's over, sleep 'til it's thawed and ready for us and all the colors are bursting to show off and come play and make us stay out way too late with the smell of sunscreen in our hair and the stick of vodka lemmies on our hands.

We want desperately to will it to this...

art love, via colourlovers

*j

There's Nothing On My Horizon Except Everything.

art love

We went to Colorado. Came back a little looser, a little lighter, a little brighter, and a little more...perplexed. Because we knew when we came back, our job sitch would be changing. We'd be dealing with living in The Great Barrier Unknown Reef and swimming along with other schools of job-hunting fish. Oh fuck.

But hearing other people's stories wets our whistle. Puts a little skip in our step. Hop in our pop. Toke in our smoke. Likkkke, our friend Margot is working her way through PT school. Our friend Katy...nursing school. And a new friend we recently met...builds green houses and has the philosophy that you truly should love what you do, all the time. Afterall, you spend most of your time AT WORK. And that makes sense to us! But now we must devise a plan to find out how to do that, find a pot of gold, a neverending supply of no-calorie chocolate bunnies, a faster metabolism, Ryan Gosling, and a happy ending. Not that kind of happy ending, Chester you pervo molester.

But the story doesn't end there. Nope. We are also searching for a raspberry flavored schnazzberry wallpaper and a bucket of stars plucked down from the sky to paint our ceiling with. Just joking! Gotcha. No but seriously it didn't all end there because as we were driving back home from our ski trip, feeling warmo and reflective (as we always do after trips) we saw a cop up ahead with his lights on, flashin' red and blue.

So then we got pulled over (for going the wrong way down the highway). Just joking! Geesh you really are Gulliver's Travels guillable. No but a cop had a car pulled over and we glanced over as we drove by. And made eye contact with the man getting cuffed. And in that split second, we thought how similar it was to a sequence from 'Crash.'

Here was this guy with a look of sorrow or remorse or fear or hopelessness or dejectedness in his eye- about to see his life changed, forever. Maybe he stole that car. Maybe he had drugs in the trunk. Or a body. Or a body and drugs. Maybe he deals drugs to pay for his sick mother's doctor bills. Or maybe his sick mother killed someone (hence the body). Maybe he really was a dirty scoundral. Or maybe he was a good-hearted person who truly never had a stroke of good luck and was born into a dire situation. We know they ALL say that. We also know that DOES happen.

SO here we were, a dare-we-say-it privileged wg with several pairs of shoes, several winter coats, driving home from an ultra extravagent weekend with close friends- thinking our problems= not that big. Our life=very, very good. We'll find a job. We'll figure it out. We=lucky.

*f

Damn the Man, Damn Our Faults

art love

Sometimes we mess up and, hey, it's no big deal, mambo-mommas. Life's one big pancake and we're just trying to eat our way through. Ya win some, ya lose some, and you drop some eggs some balls some to-dos some friends some commitments some glasses along the way.

But sometimes, just sometimes, we mess up and, hey, it's a hurdle we just fell on top of, lassies. It's a simple thing we just could not complete, and does that mean we are destined for job loss and love loss and missing kitties and effed-up kiddies?

Sigh. Are we done with these years yet? When we say goodbye to this long decade, we're going to celebrate by messing up a whole bunch of stuff, and laughing in its wake.


*j

One Seussical Whirled.

when we think our problems are

big big big big bigger then most..

we think of other people,

and that helps a little.

when we are uninspired and not impressed.

not particularly enthusiased. and we happen

to see the city skyline. specially at dusk.

we think things are beautiful.

when we have good friends closeby.

and we are skiing in a snowy playground.

we think life is good.

and we love it!

*f

Dealbreakers.

dealbreaker. noun.
any issue or factor that is significant enough to terminate a negotiation, especially in business or politics.

Sometimes there is a breaking point. Literally, figuratively- whatever. Some breaking words. A broken promise. Your car breaks down. Your job becomes unbearable and you hate it (for more than five days in a row= The Rule To Know When To Quit, according to some wise friends of ours). The dealbreaker is your innate ability to tell yourself "okay kid, that's enough." It's your abililty to hang onto your last thread of self-respect. It's what happens when you experience that moment with a friend- in which your relationship is scarred forever. And maybe it ends for good. But without a doubt, it changes for good. In some ways, it's an unreliability in sharing in an unconditional relationship. It's sad. It's human. And it's a matter of some sort of equilibrium being off balance. A give and a take take take take. Recklessness. Sloppiness. Human Nature. A careless regard toward word choice. Which is quite literally one of The Only Things we can control (word choice). How powerful is that? Powerful enough to call some deals off.

What are your dealbreakers? What caused you to get there? So you uprooted and moved. Cause you couldn't be anywhere near Bobby the Plague or Brenda the Bottom Feeder anymore. So you quit your job and started selling your own furniture. Or went back to school. You got divorced. You disconnected for good. What caused it? How can we avoid it? Can we avoid it?

*f

Writer's Blank.

blank stare.
blank slate.
blank look.
blank tape.
jerri blank.
security blanket.
what the blankity blank.
blank is a band from tucson, arizona.
the blank is one of the villains in dick tracy.
everyone, take out a blank piece of paper.

remember when your teacher would say that? did you ever think ahh yes! I should grab a blank piece of paper instead of this scribbled-on-filled-up-doodly piece, that I have right here- right here in front of me. our mind has been blank lately. we think it might have something to do with the dirty puddled sky the lack of sun rays in our eyes the hazy grayscale mornings the drops of rain and tornado warnings. we just....feel muddled with cloudy winter puddles. and when we expressed this with our friend thomas jefferson of london he said:

oh its gray and cold in chicago? i feel so bad for you I HAVENT SEEN THE F##@ING SUN SINCE I'VE COME BACK FROM SPAIN!!!!!!!

and we wanted to say did you just complain about something and use Spain in the same sentence? what a sucker! but he agreed he also needs vitamin d badly. arm warmers for bike riding (because his icore is warm but appendages are cold quote unquote). and some other things but we stopped paying attention because no (Adult ADD) reason. just because.

are you all adjusting? what do you do? how do you do it? can we come with you? will you buy us a pony. ok alright for now we will make do with what we have, and that should spark things up again:

1) champagne in fridge, cork is already removed.
2) two friends, sushi, fashion, and drinks tonight.
3) books, still reading this one. Still craving this one.
4) cuddlebugging and snugglebunnying.

*f

Cookie Cocaine.

So we recently gave up sugar for the big rezzy so naturally at lunch we bought a giant sugarfree chocolate chip cookie cause it had no sugar, it was free from sugar. Do you think sugar had oppressed it previously? Did it escape The Sugar Jailhouse? Well either way, we're not sure how it escaped sugar's chokehold, that will always remain a mystery. But it did seem rather silly, even at the time.

Especially because it really did look just like the real thing. And now seems really really rather false because we feel verrrrry spiked in the blood stream and also kinda like we might just barf out a yule log and the room is a little spinny and kinda zingy.

Bottom line, we don't really want to change (see ya never, rezzo) and not so sure that the original cookie should either. Plus something odd is in sugarfree materials. We just know it we just know it!!!

Say "NO" to Sugarfree Cookies- Bleckkk,
*f

The Big Bang of Plans. 2008 Edition

art love

It's here. It's upon us. The new year and all the promises and possibilities it brings with it. It's not so much resolutions as ideas for us, little crumpets. We can swagger, we can swish, we can take on all that we want at the very same time, if we so choose, or we can sit and snuggle with our brand new book. Whatever floats our boats, senoras. Whatever blows our hair back, GI Joes. You get our drift.

So, our thoughts, in a list, which is one of our favorite things to make...

*Make a homemade photo booth. Because we saw one online and it looked really cool, and we've wanted to own (and perhaps even rent out to friends and lovers on occasion) a photo booth for about a year and one-quarter now. It's Go time, moonpies.
*Study religion. All religions. Because we did this once during our senior year of high school at our community college, and totally peaked our interest, but we were just too busy living the high school life and making lists and organizing and saying good-byes and preparing hellos for the next step.
*Finish at least half of the stories we've started. Because starting is soo much easier than finishing.
*Write more love letters. Because we only have today.


*j