Best lists ever

If you know me, you know I love lists. Lists make my life feel smooth and convenient. Little assembly lines. I think lists in literature and film can flow as beautifully as pearls on a string or be as shocking as finding a spoon, a dictionary, a bug and an engagement ring behind the refrigerator or as thought-provoking as thinking about their shared destinies, where they came from and how far they traveled, all little arrows shooting inevitably towards the common target of that crack between the fridge and the wall.

I love common, everyday lists, love ballpoint pens on paper, love crossing things out when they are completed. Even people who don't keep journals make lists, and these become their de facto daily records. Assuming the things they list are things to do or buy, the records quickly become obsolete. (In fact, they are made with the goal of obsolescence.)

My stepbrother once left a list on a post-it note in the bathroom. I don't recall exactly what was on the list, so just assume it was something along these lines:

1.buy this
2.do that
3.or whatever

The funny thing was, above No. 1 he had written "Go to potty" and then crossed that out, so it looked like this:

Go to potty
1.buy this
2.do that
3.or whatever

Then he left the list there, and it looked like that was the only thing he achieved that day. Finding this, I felt like an archeologist of the present. I wanted to frame it, with a little blurb explaining where I found it and my conjectures and postulations of this man's life based on the few records he left behind which I was able to unearth.

I have many of my own lists, happily on their way to fulfillment and obsolescence. (My language list, for example.)

I love the way people try to hide one certain thing in the middle of a list, like when a student at the international school where I worked in the Swiss alps had to phone her dad to request "peanutbuttertamponsandcandy."

What? Peanut butter tampons? "No. Three separate things. Peanutbuttertamponsandcandy."

Or in Anne of Green Gables when Mathew Cuthbert goes to the general store to purchase Anne a dress with puff sleeves, and tries to pass this off as normal by ordering several pounds of brown sugar, a rake (in the dead of Canadian winter) and, oh yeah, one dress with puff sleeves, please.

But I digress. Where was I? The best lists ever.

The best lists ever, or at least the best lists of recent memory:

3. The White Stripes' "Rag and Bone" (from the 2007 album Icky Thump)

Keep going, we're not tired.
Got plenty of places to go, lots of homes we ain't been to yet.
West side, southwest side, middle-east, rich house, dog house, outhouse, old folks house, house for unwed mothers, halfway homes, catacombs, twilight zones.
Looking for techniques, turntables to gramophones.
So take a last lick of your ice cream cone.
And lock up what you still want to own.

2. John Hodge, Trainspotting

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars,
compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good
health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed
interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your
friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a
three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing
game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose
rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable
home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up
brats you spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.

Choose life.

1. The 2003 film Jeux d'enfants (Love me if you dare)

Sophie was back in the game! Pure, raw, explosive pleasure! Better than drugs, better than smack! Better than a dope-coke-crack-fix-shit-shoot-sniff-ganja-marijuana-blotter-acid-ecstasy! Better than sex, head, 69, orgies, masturbation, tantrism, Kama Sutra or Thai doggy-style! Better than banana milkshakes! Better than George Lucas's trilogy, the muppets and 2001! Better than Emma Peel, Marilyn, Lara Croft and Cindy Crawford's beauty mark! Better than the B-side to Abbey Road, Jimmy Hendrix and the first man on the moon! Space Mountain, Santa Claus, Bill Gates' fortune, the Dalai Lama, Lazarus raised from the dead! Schwarzenegger's testosterone shots, Pam Anderson's lips! Woodstock, raves... Better than Sade, Rimbaud, Morrison and Castaneda! Better than freedom, better than life!

* * *

4 Walls and 1 roof

That's right, I've got a place now. No more tenting, no more sharing beds with relatives, no more floor. No more thirty-minute bike rides at 1 a.m., after work. (I might miss those though, they are great for exercise, as well as reflection.)
I have been working too much, covering every shift I can. Need to pay that rent!
The new place is cute, small and artistic and is inhabited by two other nice roommates. Private entrance, vegetable garden, close to several cafes but hidden from the street...ahhh. Pictures coming soon.
In other news, I have a post in drafts about favorite lists in literature, film and in life, but I worry it has taken a turn for the offensive. Surprisingly! Maybe I'll post it. Maybe not!

Housing heartbreak

Oh God. I did not get into the Establishment. I can't handle the rejection! I am too sensitive! Shut up and go away, everyone. Actually that's rather preemptive- I haven't even told anyone yet because I'm not quite ready.
I tried to get in touch with my sister to talk about it but she exploded her laptop and flushed her phone down the toilet so I will have to wait until we bump into each other again.
Personal snub aside, the housing situation is getting really urgent. I had stopped looking because I was putting my energy into work, school and getting into the Establishment, but I really have to get my own place. I want nothing more than a room with a bed, where I can unpack my suitcase and sleep in the same place every night. Preferably non-moldy, non-infested and reasonably held together, which would set it apart from all other places I have afforded in this pricey town.
Oh San Luis, I love you but that doesn't mean I have to like you.

Coincidences (coincidae??)

Last night I had planned to meet up with Janine, German au pair and good friend of Alena, with whom I spent loads of time in Berlin over the past year. She said some of her friends had unexpectedly come into town, and would I mind if three Swiss boys joined us? Would I mind? 
The funny thing was, I was the first one to arrive at the meeting point (Jamba Juice). Then came a gaggle of sharply dressed dudes rolling their r's and slaughtering their ch's, and I thought, I wonder if that's them. They sat down at another table and I spent about a minute hesitating to go talk to them, thinking, what if this is some other Swiss-German-speaking trio? Then Janine showed up and introduced us, and everything was all right. They said they had also been considering the possibility that I was Janine with blonde hair, since they hadn't seen her in a while.
After that silliness, we proceeded to Farmer's Market, where I hadn't been for several years. After getting a bite to eat, the boys wanted to play billiards, so in the quest to find a place to play we headed towards Downtown Brew, but were soon distracted by Bubblegum Alley, famous for its collection of chewing gum.

This disgusting deviation from SLO's pretty-perfect streets was all very engrossing to the Swiss folk. (One of them even pondered making such a wall in his own house.) Talking about something as familiar to me as Bubblegum Alley while speaking German was one of the trippiest experiences.
As it turned out, the part of Downtown Brew where you can play pool was closed, so we went to Native Lounge, which is kind of a snotty place but does have a pool table. There was a man there with an alligator named Spike who was doing a fundraiser for a wildlife conservancy foundation. The alligator was the sweetest reptile I have ever met, and didn't seem to mind us petting him or picking him up.

After that I had to run, because I was due at an Establishment Awkward Family Dinner, which I had spent the afternoon making punch with Kelly for. Dinner wasn't actually that awkward, especially once the punch began to flow, although at least one person was naked.

*    *    *

Speaking of the Establishment, I have had my interview at the house. Some of the questions I received were:

1. How do you feel about nudity?
2. Describe the last conflict you had with someone and how you resolved it sucessfully.
3. What can you contribute to the house?
4. Why should we pick you over any other applicant?
5. Why do you blog?

Tonight, votes are due by 5 p.m. and tomorrow I will know if I am 'in' or not. Not unaware of this, I have been hanging out there an obscene amount, even staying until 2 a.m. one night playing Settlers of Catan.

Oh God, I need to get in. I have invested so much time and energy and hope...if I don't get in I will be scandalized. Absolutely scandalized!

Hello, August

Wow! It's been a long time. Sorry! Ohmygoodness, how time flies when you're sleeping in a tent! I can't believe this is my first August post. In July I was all over the world and had little internet time, but I still managed to write the most posts per month I've done so far. Now I have all the internet in the world and no use for it, it seems.

News from my end?? Um...I am starting school on Monday. I'm writing a story for San Louie magazine about parents who walk their children on leashes, I miss my boyfriend like hell and I am making a general mess of my life.

I am applying to live in a cooperative called the Establishment where 19 people live, cook, party, garden and generally cohabit peacefully together. According to San Luis Obispo lore, it used to be a whorehouse, was once home to Jack Kerouac (and is referenced in The Dharma Bums) and it is...haunted.  I have an interview there next Sunday. I'll let you guys know what happens.