interview

An interview with my wife Mrs. Felicity Fenton. This morning Felicity wears a worn mustard yellow sweater, an olive colored scarf, a pair of snug maternity jeans and mismatched grayish athletic socks. Her hair is in disarray, her skin is dry, and she has a healing, but noticeable fever blister on her lower left lip. She sits in her studio with one lamp on while taking notice of the clucking chickens in the neighbor's yard.  FF- Weren't you supposed to have them over for dinner a while ago?

ff - The chickens? 

FF - The neighbors with the chickens.

ff - Oh. Yes. I intended on having them over. I even sent them a formal invitation via post, but something happened. 

FF - You got knocked up. Someone knocked you up. Someone named Mike knocked you up and you forgot. 

ff - Oh yes. That's what happened. But I didn't forget, I just told them we'd have to postpone dinner for a while. 

FF - And they seemed fine with that?

ff - I guess so. They were smiling when they said so. 

FF - But lots of people smile when they say things. The smile is just a cover for the genuine anger/torment they are feeling inside. 

ff - Yes, but their smiles were genuine. They had eye creases and unselfconscious gummage. 

FF - Gummage? 

ff - When you smile in a genuine manner, the gums become more prominent. Hence, gummage. 

FF - I see. 

ff - Do you?

FF - Yes. 

ff - Well good. 

FF - How are you feeling about this being the last weekend of summer?

ff - I'm okay with it. There isn't anything I can do to stop the summer from ending unless I kill myself and that's not an option or even something I'm remotely interested in thinking about right now or ever, unless of course I have a terrible terminal illness that is causing me, you, and everyone else horrendous suffering. 

FF - I suppose that is a positive way of looking at it. 

ff - Yes. I'm trying to stay positive in general about everything with the exception of corrupt politicians, war, environmental degradation, rape, and child slavery. 

FF - Those are reasonable things not to feel so positive about. 

ff - Yes, but for these particular things I have a pillow for biting. 

FF - So you chew on a pillow when you find yourself upset about corrupt politicians, war, environmental degradation, rape, and child slavery?

ff - Yes, I chew. 

FF - And when the pillow is destroyed by your teeth, do you find another?

ff - Yes, I find them easily at thrift stores. You'd be amazed how many different types of pillows there are out there for chewing. 

FF - And what was your favorite chewing pillow like?

ff - It looked like a log. And it was made out of felt. 

TBA

PICA's TBA festival has been shimmying its wonder all over Portland the last few days and will continue to do so until this coming Sunday morning. I generally have loads of energy for this annual incomparable festival of goodness, but the mammal inside of me has kept me from being quite as involved (I'm a tuckered tomato with all this extra blood rolling around) this year. I was able to see a wildly inspiring performance tonight - Zoe | Juniper's A Crack in Everything Installed, and a couple nights ago checked out the sort of entertaining but mostly forgetful Rude Mech's Method Gun. Tomorrow my friend Mr. Oswald is putting together an all-ages anything goes variety show Whoop Dee Doo, a hoot of an event that I'll surely attend.

ediquitte

From the etiquette section of Craigslist - Twin Falls, Idaho My creepy male boss says "good girl" to me when I do a good job. It's creepy and I don't like it. I feel like I'm in a Porno or something. 

If I hold double doors open for you, you don't have to say thank you twice...one for each door. Just thank me for the first door...that is enough. 2 thank you's is overkill, and why is the 2nd thank you less enthusiastic? 

I was at the park, in my car, eating a bagel. Some freak walked up to my car and began knocking on the window. I looked up at her, and she hand signaled to roll my window down. I did not. I looked at my dash to make sure my lights weren't on, looked around outside, determined everything to be okay. She wasn't in danger, and I wanted her to leave me alone. Was I rude for not rolling my window down to see what she wanted? 

Does anyone remember a poster that used to come around once in a while and suggest that people bake cakes for other people? No matter what the situation, baking a cake was the way to resolve the issue. 

I don't know the people across the street from me. As a family they have always kept to themselves. It's not an accusation, just something I noticed from their behavior. 

Recently, a death happened in the family, but I found out a week later from a journalist who visited our street. She was looking for the mother of the house and saw me working on my yard. My first impulse was to write a letter or a get a card to show them that I cared. But the news about the death was released a week earlier and I had no idea at all. Also I figure that they would want privacy at this time. However I feel that it would be callous of me to do nothing. Any suggestions? 

Is it proper etiquette to be sick and tired of hearing about September 11, 2001? 

How do I tell my new single guy neighbor upstairs, that I can hear the thumping noise when he has sex and it keeps me up? I'm the only tenant below him, so it's obvious that it will only affect me. (no anonymous note). He is having sex at least once around 10 pm and another time during the day. (I'm kind of jealous, but that is not the point). Suggestions ....please!!