Octopus' Garden

Saturday, March 10, 2007


Decadent debauchery and dancing with wild abandon all night long last night to the Poker Alice Band. Because seriously. What could be better than that?

Although I'm not sure why I was so worried last weekend about having all my private thoughts (were I to have left my house in comic form) floating over my head in a hideously transparent thought bubble. Because the truth of the matter is that if I drink enough Vodka and Cranberry, I will just independently blurt it all out of my own accord. (Yes, it's sad but true. I have a problem with drinking and blurting. Truly. Chagrin-inducing, cringe-worthy blurting. Just call me Blurty McBlurty Pants.)

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I know that I've been abusing the PhotoBooth thing to death lately, but hey, I find it much more amusing than I really care to admit. (Ooh! It's a camera! In my computer!). Plus it also conveniently disguises paucities in Actual Blog Content. At any rate, here I am, looking for trouble, minutes away from embarking on last night's Debaucherous Adventures in Indiscriminate Vodka Consumption, Dancing-Dancing-Dancing, and Blurtage (Spring Break 2007 Edition):

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I'm off to cat-sit E.'s cats and give her poorly fish, White Fish, a pep talk. I really need him to hang in there for at least one more day so that he won't officially die on my watch, thereby necessitating my having to awkwardly ladle him out of the aquarium with a slotted spoon (since I can't ever seem to locate the fish net) and put him in E.'s freezer in a sandwich baggie to rest in state pending funeral services. I don't want E.'s boys to think I'm a Fish Killer! But the evidence is mounting, given that White Fish's compatriot, Yellow Fish, died on my watch last spring break. White Fish isn't looking so hot, though. He has an exceedingly troubling case of fin rot, and it seems apparent that his morale is low. Nonetheless, I can't help but feel hopeful that White Fish will continue to hang tough, because he is a most excellent fish, and a nice fish, and a hungry fish, and honestly? Can I just say that I adore White Fish? So please send good thoughts for White Fish, oh blogosphere!

It's a bright beautiful day today, and after cat-sitting and fish death-watch duties, I think I'll take a long walk down by the river and watch the ice melt. I want to store up as much cold air, birdsong, and light as I can bear to hold. Then later tonight, I'll soak in the dark in a hot hot tub with Green Tea bath fizzies, play the Wild Colonials way too loud (Angela McCluskey's raw wild honeyed throb of a voice), and see if I can't teach myself to bioluminesce.
posted by Artichoke Heart at 12:48 PM


the wild colonials - i had never heard of them before! so immediately i checked them out on itunes. actually, angela mccluskey's voice reminds me somewhat of marianne faithfull's - not as harsh and broken and cigarett-y, but angela has that same sort of rasp at times. do you like lucinda williams? her music came to mind as i listened to the wild colonials. and rickie lee jones too, for some odd reason. so you made a convert: i purchased "life as we know it" from itunes not 10 minutes ago. yay! new music! -- also, good thoughts to White Fish! and good thoughts to you, and to the river, although i've been debating lately whether or not the river needs our searching and our lostness poured into it, gently, in the form of our solitude, or if it knows everything already, running beside us as it does. yes, and late afternoon ramblings to you when other things are calling.
Blogger the.errancy, at 6:51 PM  
Fingers crossed for poor White Fish.

Don't you die on me, White Fish. Not today! Not on my watch!
Blogger Lu, at 9:51 PM  
I love the Wild Colonials' deliciously resigned-sounding 1996 album, This Can't Be Life, especially the track "Charm." An awesome tune for those "enjoy the misery" times...
Blogger Lenka, at 10:02 PM  
I shall dutifully refamiliarize myself with the Wild Colonials. Methinks I really dug them when I worked at the college radio station.

Does anything sound worse than "fin rot?" Poor lil' White Fish. It's hard to think of a depressed and tired little fish swimming around in the dark, waiting for his family to come home....

By the waaay, Mike thought I should let you know so that you have plenty of time to vacate, but today we looked at and are renting the apt below you! Did you see me poking around in the remnants of the garden?

I'll need to borrow lots o' cups of sugar, shoog.
Blogger Katy, at 10:09 PM  
Hang on just a little bit longer, White Fish!
Anonymous shelley, at 2:24 PM  
Update from E: White Fish has survived, and I promise to buy him more, different fish medicine next time I'm somewhere that I can do that. White Fish is extremely old (about 10, we think), and we are used to him, so we thank you all for your kind wishes.

Anonymous Anonymous, at 11:35 PM  

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