saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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In case you ever need to know my thoughts on...
Louise on�
Literature:
My favorite poet is John Donne. Considering the type of poetry that I am prone to writing, this should come as a huuuuuuge surprise. I really can�t explain it myself.
Also, one of my favorite books is The Plague Tales by Ann Benson. I can�t pick a favorite author. Don�t even ask me to try. My brain just might explode. I don�t think anyone wants to clean that up.
Or�I could just:
Rewind: My head hurts. I think my eyeballs are going to explode.
Cin: If they do, point them at (annoying chick), okay?
Completely paraphrased, by the way.
Birth defects:
I can�t roll my tongue. This is, apparently, genetic. And a source of endless amusement for my daughter. And�well, pretty much anyone else who has the misfortune to be watching.
But let me ask you all this: why do people get so unbelievably frustrated and try everything in their power to �teach� me to roll my tongue? Is there a special, super-secret, tongue-rolling elite club I�m missing out on? Jeez�back off, people.
�You�re not trying, Louise. TRY. You can roll your tongue. I know you can. You have to WANT it.�
I�m all broken up about it, but I�m pretty sure I can carry on.
Fashion, or her complete lack of:
I never change any of my earrings. I simply can�t be bothered. Hey, at least I didn�t say that I never change my underwear.
My favorite boots still squeak. It�s like my own personal bell-on-the-cat. Squeaksqueaksqueak. Here comes Louise. Watch out.
Utterly pointless waste of cerebral energy:
I collect information about people, even people I don�t know very well, and I file it away unless I might need it later in life. Madelyn doesn�t like sweet-and-sour sauce. My 4th grade teacher loved Barbra Streisand. That guy on the 2nd floor of my building has beautiful eyes, so don�t look directly at him unless you want to fall over with unbridled desire. See what I mean?
Food:
My favorite type of food is East Indian fare. North. South. Doesn�t matter. Just lay it on me, baby. Three meals a day, every day. Deep-fried, puffed-up, whole-wheat bread for breakfast. Now that�s ideal.
Online diaries:
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Get down. Make love. That�s all I have left to say.
2:13 p.m. - 2001-10-29
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