i am such a geek. never before...ok, not since top gun came out in 1986, did i have even a faint inkling of patriotism, but son of a bitch if the nation's capital hasn't made me (gulp) proud to be an american? yeah, i teared up a bit at the world war II memorial. the actual declaration of independence, the honest to god constitution? how could i not be moved? actually, it was places like the treasury, agriculture, and commerce department buildings that seem important, i guess because things that ostensibly shape the laws governing my behavior are going on inside them, but whatever the reason, i love washington d.c. i also love benjamin and his lovely lady caitlin. more gracious hosts i could not possiblly imagine. benjamin thank you for the use of the digital camera and the air bed and caitlin. wait, you knew about that right?
seriously though people, go to washington d.c. go ahead and go right now.
this christmas marked the official return to my having christmas with a family. and christmas with this new family (my aunt's common-law husband's actually) reminded me greatly of family christmasses in the past. a good deal of anger, bickering, and awkward gift-receiving. the award for the most unexpected gift given goes to my aunt's boyfriend steve- a 2 million candlepower flashlight that you wield like a big handgun, with a trigger and everything. i never knew how much i needed one of those until i charged the battery and lit up the ocean beach neighborhood at three a.m.
to finish with my recap of the past few weeks, i spent a day in los angeles on the way home from san diego, and decided to go see 'the ringer', starring johnny knoxville as a pretend retard trying to win the special olympics. 'the ringer' is unequivocally the worst movie ever made. there is no doubt. quite a relief actually, knowing that i have finally seen the apex of shitty movie-making. i recommend that anyone reading this go see it, that way we can all have an idea of how bad a movie can be, even when it has one of the most promising premises imaginable.
5 comments:
BENjAMIN says........
you're welcome (dude, i thought that caitlin thing was gonna be our little secret)
I stumbled upon your blog and I found it quite revolutionary. Perhaps you may also find My Blog equally groundbreaking. I write mostly about my hum-drum life as laundromat attendant and my various experiances in the business of portable strip clubs. Please grace my blog with your worldly presence.
Chloe Dove Jan 17, 2006
Well, well.
I know you’ll have a hard time believing that I’ve stumbled and tripped into your life once again. I realize that you might have been wondering about me for this past time, since, approximately June of 2005. perhaps you’re wondering why I’ve made a resurface like a Loch Ness monster of your heart. Maybe you’ll not believe that such minute things like dates and times are important to me, but I honestly think they are the fuel that stokes my cosmic fire. That’s why I know that today is the one year anniversary of our finding one another, one year, twelve months since I saw your heart in the form of written words on this place called blogsville. I know it’s been less time since we ended things and I went my separate ways so you could find solace in a girl with more geographic and realistic appeal. But, it’s for sure been a year since I first took a metaphorical plunge by hitting the button of ‘comment’ to your beautiful and meaningful blog thing.
I guess I can say that I’ve grown up a lot in the past year or so. I can’t say wieth ease or hope or honesty or praise that I’m over you or that your betrayal of me didn’t leave a scar on my heart and soul. But, I’ve found that each day, and minute that goes by, I’m able to stretch my muscle of sadness and regret a tiny, teeny, teensy bit further. Like any good workout, I’ve had to commit daily to the exercise of letting you go, if I really wanted to get my heart back in shape. SO to speak. I’ve often been at the mall or at Chili’s and thought I saw someone that might have been you. I’ve heard voices that sounded like yours’ that haunted me into the night. I’ve read in magazines and the TV Guide reminders of our past, things that we’ve exchanged. I’ve picked up a few things I thought you might like, snacks and deodorants and a few pairs of shoes that might be your style, and it wasn’t until about a month after each purchase that I realized that you weren’t around and weren’t going to be, to claim and retrieve your gifts and see how they affected you. I coulnd’t give them up, though, so I have sort of a shrine to WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN. It’s in my closet. I take it out, from time to time, daily, to look as if into a crystal ball that works in reverse to something I think of as ‘Never,’ or ‘Not Going TO Happen,’ or ‘It’s too Late, Baby, Now, it’s Too late, Though I really did Try to Make it’.
I’ve been ok.
I’m still working at Baskins Robbins. It’s had its ups and downs, good times and bad. I’ve really grown as an employee and Scooper, and I can’t say I can’t thank you for the life experience and knowledge I gained from our relationship. I like to think that I don’t take as much b----it from people anymore, that I’m tougher and stronger and more vocal about my needs. I still go to school. Though I’m not sure if academia will free me from the throws of the real education of living in the OC. I’d like to move out soon, but for the past month, Mom’s needed me around pretty badly since Ronnie ran into a sliding glass door at a house he was painting for his job, and broke his shin.
In case you’re wondering, no, I haven’t found another love. I haven’t had the energy. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve made out with about 23 or so guys since last summer. But they didn’t mean to much to me. Except this one guy, who I was hoping I could manipulate and push around. But he said I was too weird. I think he has issues.
I went through some ‘stuff’ after all that stuff that happened with you and me. I did some reading about cutters and was pretty interested in doing some cutting on my forearms to dull the undesireable pain. But, as I listed the pros and cons of becoming a cutter, I realized that between the blood stains and scars and confusion about whether people cut to really cut or so that they can make a big deal about trying to discreetly slip into bathrooms with kitchen knives or razors, the only real pro of becoming a cutter was that Yolanda from work could get me a pretty good deal on switchblades.
What I did do, instead of becoming a cutter was to get my ear cartilidge pierced. But I won’t lie and tell you that it didn’t get badly infected and itchy. Because it did, and I had to go to the doctor who didn’t understand that I needed to keep the area pierced to purge you from my heartache. He made Mom make me take it out.
So then I thought I’d get a lower back tattoo of one of those cow head skulls with vacant eyes or maybe a flower patch or at least, some butterfly or dolphin on my ankle. But I don’t’ really want to get AIDS from the tattoo guy.
I thought I’d lose some weight to make myself sexier and better. I looked into a product I’d heard a lot about, Fen Phen, but found out they don’t make it anymore. I tried a soup diet but mom stopped buying me the ingredients and I ended up eating a lot of pretzels with Dijon mustard. I’m not really sure about my body and what it wants to be.
So, no, I haven’t really had a good outlet to deal with ‘All This.’ I hope one day I will. I hope I’ll know where to turn and have a base of people and support. I hope that this is just one step in a staircase of growing up, and that I can only go up from here. I don’t think taking an elevator in this case is a good idea. I think thye get stuck easier. Know what I mean?
Oh, you know, I read this article recently in a magazine called ‘Cosmopolitan’ (I think there’s a drink like that, too, but I woouldn’t really know about cranberry juice or vodka at all) about how this couple who weren’t together for a while, then, one day, the man part of the couple realized that he missed the female one, maybe because he smelled her perfume or realized that his new girlfriend wasn’t as good at oral sex as the original girl, I don’t really remember. But, the point is that he called her, after about five or so years, and thye went out to lunch, I’m not sure where, but I hope it was somewhere classy like Houston’s or Macaroni Grill at least, and, anyway, after that, they got back together again. And the great thing is, I’m not sure it’s a rule that people, should they decide to get b ack together like this one, have to wait five years before realizing their mistakes and use bravery as glue to repatch the regret, and call each other up and ask if they could try again, give it another whirl, and find for sure if THEY’RE THE ONE. I mean, you could wait, like, just one year to the day from when you met, or like, six months from when you broke up.
Well, don’t think I’m trying to get you b ack or make you more confused about how you should feel about me. Even I’m not sure about me. Hah. I just wanted you to remember and know that I remembered. The feeling of 365 days ago today, and know that things like that don’t’ go unnoticed by me, even if I’m just a sorry, confused, wannabe cutter from the OC. Because this sorry, confused, wannabe cutter is thinking of you today, the way that yesterday, millions of African Americans are thinking of their president, Mr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Did you ever notice that the word American spells I-Can at the end?
I hope you are well and maybe I hope you’re not married yet, but that maybe your’e not exactly happy. But I hope you’re at least ok.
I don’t have much else to say. I wish I had a poem or something to helpe me find my words and message, but honestly, finding energy for art and poetry is hard when you’re heart’s not in the game of life much anymore. Now I know how this one guy who comes into work a lot, who’s suffering from acute Asbesto’s-related cancer, feels: Sad. And hurt. And that a Chillin’ Mocha could really ease the pain.
Well, let me know how you’re doing and if you were affected by Huricanne Katrina or if you thought Adrien Brody was miscast in ‘King Kong.’
Your relatively restless though not really relentless returnee to regret,
Chloe Dove
PS: Do you remember me?
BENjAMIN says.......
oh JODY, JODY JODY...
you make me laugh, JODY MULGREW, you make me laugh. ;)
It's good to know that even with no new Hzablogs that at least there is Chloe Dove.
Perhaps it's better this way. Wouldn't it be great if the Hza never posted another entry, but Chloe continued to update us on her scooping and her brother and her desire to follow in the footsetps of Maggie Gyllenhall in Seceretery. I don't care if there is an 'a' somewhere in seceretery.
I keep waiting for Chloe to say "I stumbled upon your blog and found it quite incontrovertable. Perhaps you'll come check out my blog". Except that her blog is Hza's blog. Lets all go spam someone.
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