iPhony!

My father wants an iPhone. He is convinced that this magical device will solve all of our entertainment disadvantages at the farm (i.e. no cable, internet, TV). I don't what he is exactly imagining...I think the two of us crowded together on lawn chairs on the decks staring at tiny-screened episodes of Deadliest Catch. He thinks that since he was one of the original owners of a 17-pound $900 1989 bag phone, he is forever gets to cut in line to the forefront of technological purchasing.

He asked for an iPod for Father's Day, which I publically flat-out refused to get him. He even made a list of all the artists he wants on said iPod. Apparently he thinks these songs appear mythically upon desire, like blowing out your candles and having a fucking unicorn trot up to your 7th birthday party. In addition to the fact that I cannot afford an iPod myself, if I could, I require that the iPod giftee know what an mp4 is. Just one of my irrational woman-rules! My dad + iPod = Courtney spending hours uploading CDs onto her laptop and then downloading them onto his little $400 irritant. Sorry Pops, if a Sony Walkman is good enough for your daughter, then AM/FM radio is good enough for you.

But, I got to go to Soulard Farmer's Market today after job training. Apricots, green tomatoes, slick lettuce, green beans and an excellent $2 bowl of red beans and rice. Wonderful.

Must..not...write...downer...post...

I have a job. For three weeks. My bank accounts bows in adulation. He was pretty sure we were on a one-way scenic tour up shit's creek and credit card debt.

But (wa-waa!) said job does involve a nearly two-hour commute. I can and will use public transportation for part of that, but that's a long ass time hustling around. And my first attempts at scoring an apartment near civilization were thrwarted. I suppose I should be grateful however. Puts off the inevitable decision of "where do I want to be" and puts the focus back on "what radio station can I pick up from the deck while I'm playing bags?".

Enough of that happy noise

Today is much better. Whether it's because I my moods are very susceptible to distraction (they are) or because I've got good people around reminding of the bigger picture (I do), today is better. I already miss Chicago - I woke up specifically thinking of honking silver Taurus waving red, white and blue Puerto Rican flags - but it is a gorgeous time to be unemployed and living in rural Illinois. It's dry, but the early wheat is being harvested already, leaving behind perfect, lonely golden bales of hay in the fields. The corn is already chest high, and from a distance, a cool, mossy green. It waves on the fields below in patterns like TV static...like when you were a kind and pressed your nose against the glass and watched the colors move underneath your eyelashes in shallow, lingering runs.

Tomorrow we go sailing, and tonight I'm buying a baseball in the hopes of getting my dad to toss it around with me. I like the rhythm of tossing things. Maybe I'll have my moment of inspiration during one of these sessions...see a better formed path towards somewhere unfurl in my mind.

Good morning, life!

Monday morning, 11am.

I am 27.
I am unemployed.
I am sitting in my underwear reading blogs.
I am eating a ham and cheese sandwich.
I am sitting in the apartment of the guy who broke up with me at 4am at my birthday BBQ last weekend, whose futon I crashed last night because I don't own a car.
I have developed half-actualized anxiety about an upcoming apocalypse, and reading current events makes me want to drink heavily, preferably before bed.

Good crap, when did this happen?