1998 november 20

dips

i am at one of those low points in my emotional cycle where everything makes me a little sad but nothing is the cause of it. it drives me crazy; i can only imagine what gene is thinking.

in any event, like anyone, i have little tricks to try and get out of the blue funkadelics. it may take two or three shots until i hit on the right one, but i can usually find something that will ameliorate the moodiness: watching stupid television, listening to loud music, going to a museum, splurging on a box of godiva chocolates, reading the online journals of those more fucked up than i..., you get the picture.

well, the cable is out, gene is asleep so i don't want to make a loud racket with the stereo [it's a bose and trust me, racket it can make], i can't concentrate on any of the five books i have picked up nor the backlog of magazines, the online journals are just plain irritating me. oh, and it is pouring outside, giant cold raindrops just streaming from the skies.

it is a particularly bad day to try and jolt myself out of this.

never fear! claire is here!!

i just went on a scavenger hunt in the kitchen and came up with cream cheese, wheat thins and a jar of harry and david's sweet-n-hot pepper & onion relish, and you know what that spells. that spells dip.

dip is almost as good as chocolate in these instances. first you get to beat things together, and that has just got to release all sorts of pentup ickiness, then you get to eat with your fingers. i am a very big fan of eating with my fingers. any minute now i am going to be fat and happy.

and just to make sure, while i cannot be bothered dressing and heading for the museum, i will look at the museum catalogs i have collected from all over the world, will cruise some online galleries and will gaze lovingly at the bonnard below.

if this doesn't help, i am going to bed.

true blue, claire