Month: July 2016

SHE DON’T READ.

In attempt to get my name know down the I-5 corridor, I booked venues all over the area. Turns out that even though I’m trying to get my papered thoughts out there, I can’t read for a damn.

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I booked a reading at the Palisades Cafe in Mt. Vernon for Wednesday night, July 6. I pitched Joe, the guy who organizes the event, a short essay. He wrote back with an enthusiastic response, so I booked the reading right away.

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Naturally, I posted on Facebook like some big phony celebrity that I was preforming in Mt. Vernon. I had all these messages comin’ through:

My friend Rowan from my creative writing class tagged along. Three girls I traveled Southeast Asia with this past winter also squeezed into my car. I drove and it was sunny and we were all having a great time.

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10 minutes before we got to Mt. Vernon, I asked Maria if she could plug in the address of the venue into my phone. Maria couldn’t pull up the damn address for the life of her. She kept saying, “Hannah, it says it’s in Iowa!”

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Turns out Maria was right and we were about a three days drive away from the venue. I had a gut feeling that we were going to be late…….

So here we were all together, shoved into my little car with no chance of escaping the reality I had created. Here I am with an ant-sized following and I already need an assistant.

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The only thing I could think of was that I needed a beer.

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I asked if anyone had ever been to La Conner and most of them said no, so I swerved off the freeway and skidded over to La Conner Brewing Company.

helpus!!!

When we got to La Conner Brewing Company, I was ready for a drink. Boy, was I ready for a drink. It took about 20 minutes for the damn waitress to stop being a big sack of potatoes before she asked me if I wanted a beer. She was awful. Boy, was she awful. She was just about the most awful server I ever had. After we put in our drink orders, it took another 20 minutes to get them poured. Normally I would have said something, but I wasn’t in the mood to turn my fire on. The fact that I had booked a venue in Iowa was enough water to put that out for the night.

beer.

I ordered something vegetarian again. Mushroom pizza. I don’t know what’s getting into me lately. When I got home, I took a long, hard look in the mirror and really questioned who I was becoming.

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Harvey says I’m a closet vegetarian.

Harvey

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After the waitress finally came back with our checks, I tipped her the lowest amount I have ever tipped anybody. I didn’t feel bad about it either.

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She really was awful. She hung out by the bar most of the night. She gave us stink eye when we gave her encouraging, puppy-dog eyes.

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I wonder what she’ll do with the potatoes. Is she a masher? Roaster? Fryer? I bet she’s a masher. She seemed pretty angry anyone was even in the restaurant. I bet she went home and mashed all those potatoes together and didn’t even add butter to them. That’s how stinkin’ lazy she was.

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I wrote Joe an email apologizing for my absence and I told him if I ever become a phony hot shot or I’m ever around Mt. Vernon, Iowa, I would love to do a reading at the Palisades Cafe. Joe also told me he wondered where I was, but didn’t care too much. In the end, my inquiry caused Joe to ask a few other writers to preform their work. He told me it got the cycle spinnin’ again in the good ol’ town of Mt. Vernon, Iowa!

Until next time,

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Saturday, July 2nd.

On Saturday, Ellie and I spent three hours together but it felt like an eternity. Ellie is such an introverted extrovert—like me. We both can be social when we want to, but that usually isn’t the case. I love hanging out with her because I don’t have to pretend to be a big phony and woohoo about how great my life is even though sometimes I feel like it’s crumbling to pieces.

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I'mcomingover.

I spent $6 on a bag of peas at the farmer’s market. Yeah, I felt like a big piece of shit after that! Only rich, white people can afford that kind of crap. Farmer’s markets kind of piss me off. They’re just so goddamn expensive. I can’t help but go—that’s the really materialistic side of me. I love good, organic vegetables. It’s not like I’m a vegan or afraid of GMOs or anything. In fact I don’t really know that much about GMOs to have an honest to god conversation about it. But I think science is pretty cool and instead of being a crazy hippie about it, I actually want to know the science behind it before I release any of my bullshit opinions.

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We attempted to walk down to the port, but we only made it a few blocks past the farmer’s market before we got too stinkin’ lazy to walk any further. We sat smack dab in the middle of a bridge and ate blueberries that I had also purchased at the market. I only got peas and blueberries, for the record. I’m not that rich or anything. I told Ellie I didn’t even want to get the blueberries because I wanted to save them for my salads.I knew I didn’t have the self-control to not eat the entire pint right then and there. Turns out I don’t have self-control and I ate the entire pint. I barely shared any with Ellie.

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After that, we got pizza at Goat Mountain. They make their pizza on focaccia bread. It’s pretty good, but it’s not my absolute favorite. I don’t really have a favorite place to get pizza. To be honest, I’m not that big of a pizza connoisseur. I got the caramelized onion with arugula and I also got a slice of spicy veggie. Big eater. Ellie got the same caramelized onion and she also got a slice of sausage. I always regret it when I make vegetarian decisions. Even if I don’t particularly like sausage all that much, it really tastes good on pizza.

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We stopped by a glass shop and met this crazy lady who had a lot of energy that I didn’t know how to handle. She noticed I wasn’t wearing a bra so she attempted to begin a conversation about her pierced nipples. I didn’t really know what to say to her, so I tried to shift the conversation and offered her some of my expensive peas that I got at the market. I listened to little snippets of her story: she’s originally from Florida and loves smoking pot so she moved out west to join the cannabis industry. She started talking about her sister and when I asked questions about her, I used the feminine pronoun “she” and got chastised for it.

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It seemed like everywhere we went, there were crazies. I swear, sometimes Bellingham gets struck with a bolt of crazy and the wolves run free. There was ‘Dude on Bike’ who looked like a very normal person—he really did—but then he started having this strange conversation with himself and Ellie and I just looked at each other and didn’t know what to think. Then there was a man who ran into the pizza place where we were eating and started talking strange to all the invisible people around us. Then there was a man who was twirling around in the streets, clearly fucked up on something. We thought after those interactions that it was enough social time with the world and it was time to revert back into our own minds.

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I went back home and finished “The Catcher in the Rye” for about the bazillionth time and fell in love over and over again with Holden Caulfield. He’s such a big piece of shit, like me. It’s nice to read a book where the protagonist intuits the world in a similar fashion as I do.

Stay safe out there today!

4th of july

 

Happy Birthday, Mary (Eliza)Beth!

I am wishing my mother, Mary (Eliza)Beth a very happy double nickel! You’re probably wondering who raised this nutcase, so here’s an appreciation post for my mother.

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Mom used to tell me stories of growing up in the catholic church. Like a good catholic, Mom’s name is Mary Elizabeth which means that everyone used to call her “Mary Beth.”

My mother is not a Mary Beth.

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I think it’s safe to say that I would have serious mommy issues if my mother was an actual Mary Beth.

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Mom turns the double nickel today! I can’t believe it, she looks so good. I’m not just saying that because it’s her birthday, but she really works hard to stay happy and healthy. She’s always putting a positive spin on things and sometimes that really ticks me off because sometimes I just want her to listen to me bitch.

I don’t even know how I am my mother’s daughter. Mom gets embarrassed because I don’t have a filter on me. I just say things as I see them. She tried to teach me, she really did.

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My mother is a saint. I remember this one time when I was helping her in the garden and she left me unsupervised for a whole 10 minutes to make lunch. She told me to weed the beds, so when I saw these big, ugly weeds in the farthest bed, I went straight over to it and began digging and jumpin’ all over my shovel. Boy, those weeds were strong suckers! I must have looked crazy jumpin’ all over my shovel like that.

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Yeah, I really fucked that one up. I had destroyed over 60% of my mother’s asparagus crop that had been growing for three years in a matter of a few sweaty minutes. You know what Mom said after frantically informing me of my destruction? She told me “Thanks for being such a good helper! Now it’s time to eat those grilled cheese sandwiches.”

I asked Mom why she didn’t tear my arms off after that incident. She said “How could I? You were just trying to help.”

If you don’t think my mother is a saint after that, you must be a little delusional. I’ll never be as nice as her. If I caught my kid diggin’ up all my asparagus, I would take that shovel and knock them against the head with it.

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Happy Birthday Mom. Thank you for always attempting to teach me your kindhearted ways no matter how many times I fail. You are truly a standout woman and I am blessed to have such a rockin’ lady in my life. Here’s to you.

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