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You are reading the life, times, and general musings of Jenna Tollerson. I am a web developer and consultant living in downtown Athens, Georgia, USA. [read more]
I do this every year, (or, at least, every year since 2003) and it is absolutely compulsory.
As in years past, I must preface this with a warning to not proceed if you have delicate sensibilities. I would say, though, that overall, I've been especially good this year. Read More »
Dawn today found me walking home after a second consecutive sleepless night, singing Cole Porter's “I've Got You Under My Skin” in the swinging style of the 1956 Frank Sinatra cut. At the end of my street I could see the guy who works the all-night convenience watching me, most likely puzzled at what could cause me to allow my voice to echo all over the narrow street.
I'd sacrifice anything come what might
For the sake of having you near
In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night
And repeats, repeats in my ear:
Don't you know, little fool, you never can win?
Use your mentality, wake up to reality.
But each time that I do just the thought of you
Makes me stop before I begin
'Cause I've got you under my skin.
I should have been thinking about why I would possibly allow myself to come home at dawn when I hadn't slept in over a day and needed to work, but I wasn't. I was thinking about the night that led up to the darkness. I was playing the horn saturated instrumental fill in my heart and trying my damndest not to spin on the street as if I was on a studio backlot in some mid-20th-century comedy musical.
I remember us at some late hour watching a bowling championship on ESPN, and he mentions that he loves bowling, and I some how work in that I can't stand it. I don't know exactly how but I'm not surprised that I would do such a thing.
“I guess we can't get married now.” I sadly say. Our eventual marriage has become somewhat of a running joke, and his tolerance of said joke indicates one of only two states of mind: ignorance or some other, slightly warmer, elusive thing.
“I guess not.” He hangs his head in mock disappointment. “Good job, Jenna!” He admonishes me sarcastically and I break down, despite the fact that the game purports to be only pretend.
“Well, if that was a deal breaker,” I say in a more serious tone than is strictly necessary, “I would learn to bowl.”
Each year, we at the house take an intimate look at the last 12 months, in a frighteningly frank way. This is to keep things honest, despite anything else that may have been written. This year it seems more important that ever, because we haven't been checking in as much.
As always, if you think you may be offended by cursing, graphic sexuality, talk about death, destructive relationships, or substance abuse, among other topics, turn away now. Have some kittens.
In addition, if you feel that such talk might ruin your holiday, save the read until after the new year.
And now, on with the show. Read More »
We do this every year. Frank, R-rated discussion of friends, drinking, sex, music, money, illness, politics, and many other subjects follow. If you are a sensitive, delicate flower, I suggest you go elsewhere. Particularly if you are over 50 (if you baby boomers proceed anyway, I'll bear no responsibility for possible heart attacks). Read More »
Sheila Nicholls, Fallen for You Read More »
Ryan Adams, Come Pick Me Up Read More »
I almost joined face party today, until I realized I need another internet profile like I need a hole in my head.
That is, to say, not at all.
Webmonkey—the phenomenon that shaped my early teen years, as well as the reason I have a job today—is going under.
I can't get my site to work in Firefox and it's driving me completely mad.
Despite my best efforts I was still late for work today.
I listened to I didn't understand by Elliott Smith all morning. It has no instruments and is mostly just choral and kind of mournful. I projected onto it, and it kept me from freaking out.
there's nothing here that you'll miss
I can guarantee you this is a cloud of smoke
trying to occupy space
what a fucking joke
what a fucking joke
§
Ryan Adams, Please Do Not Let Me Go Read More »
You are reading the life, times, and general musings of Jenna Tollerson. I am a web developer and consultant living in downtown Athens, Georgia, USA. [read more]
