u s e y o u r h a n d s

About a month ago, I was taking the Foster bus home and noticed a fellow passenger’s dress.

Atop her head was a Kangol hat. She clutched at Dooney & Burke purse, and over her shoulder was slung a Prada bag. She looked like hell.

She had a lumpy body and resembled a homelier Liza Minelli. And I know that she had invested hundreds of dollars (that damn D & B bag alone cost nearly $300) to try to cultivate a look, but instead of looking polished, like a fashionista, she was trying way too hard and falling far too short.

I felt so incredibly sorry for her.

I think you should make the most of what you’ve got, but imagining how pissed off you’d be if you’d spent a grand or so trying to put yourself together and still looked patched-up and strange.

I sometimes think we’re all better off phoning it in.

And yet today, I passed up free pizza. Why? “Because I’m getting married in seven months and can’t be that fat bride.”

My God, does a song have power.

I’m listening to Beck’s “Lost Cause” from Sea Change, his break-up album. I used to listen to this song while working in the basement at United, on a staticky, ancient radio that was only set to XRT.

I loved when this song would come on because it was one of the few times that I let myself admit that my life as it was sure wasn’t working. The person I lived with didn’t want me there, I hated my job and I didn’t really have any friends. And sometimes, it’s hard to admit that shit to yourself, unaided, arhythmically.

The webbity is back. I’m going to update it more. Here’s why:

1) I’m getting married this fall. Don’t worry. It won’t turn into a lamer bride blog thing.

2) I’m trying harder at life.

3) Because it’s my blog, you know? And I don’t like letting things die.

And how have you been?