Retroactive blogging, III!

7-27-11:

Oh, but of course things are never that simple! Which is to say, I am still sans internet, egads, and at the mercy of a very nice girl who probably dots the “i” in her name with a heart, most likely has tasteful if unsubtle highlights, and who I have the paper trail to prove spells “through” as “thru” and fetishizes the exclamation mark with the zeal that Imelda Marcos fetishized shoes. God help me.

I realize that worse things have happened (to me, even!), even though I’m not acting like it, but boy, oh boy, is this making life unnecessarily complicated. I went to the Spider House Café with the aim of using their wireless, which bore no fruit, although the Thirsty Goat beer I drank there helped to take the edge off a bit. Yes, I’ve resorted to day-drinking; this and being a snide grammarian are evidently what I have a snowball’s chance in hell of accomplishing at the moment.

Back at the apartment complex, I availed myself of the internet available in the Business Center (yes, my apartment complex has a Business Center), where the absurdity of trying to accomplish anything today and being defeated at every turn finally caught up with me and resulted in several inappropriate laughing jags, which culminated in a platinum-haired woman who looked as if she’d been freshly starched and ironed removing her shall-we-say-exuberant child from the Business Center whilst shooting me a look as if I were a pervert. Little did she know that my outburst was not a response to his running  (and well-projected!) monologue about zombies and skinned knees but a product of being at approximately the same maturity level as him despite the twenty-five year difference in our respective ages. Sorry, the Business Center; if I could get the ever-loving internet in my apartment, you would not be subjected to my little manic fits. Actually, that’s not a bad strategy, as incentive plans go, since apparently the apartment complex powers-that-be have the ability to hasten these sorts of processes….

In other news , I am sleeping on the floor and am seriously contemplating not bothering to obtain furniture. I like the idea of walking around this empty, fancy apartment, prolonging and savoring its newness, its not-lived-in look indefinitely, the potential inherent in that, these sorts of ascetic privations perhaps a way to grapple with my insane privilege, made all the more pronounced in contrast to my recent experience of farm life and accommodations. Of course, it is easy to idealize the latter, now that I am not in the thick of dealing with the day-to-day of it. I will say that this is certainly an interesting environment in which to grapple with questions of what constitutes an authentic existence. Meanwhile, a cloud-soft sea green bath rug and two vanilla-scented tea lights in cerulean tea light holders are the sole indulgence with which I have outfitted this apartment (unless you are inclined to count two pillows—necessary after the Great Olive Oil Debacle of Twin Falls—cleaning supplies, and the five books I brought with me as indulgences).

What does this have to do with traveling? Uh, I went to the Spider House Café. Yes, so there you have it.

Addendum: I succumbed to the lure of the cheerful red paper menus of a local Chinese place dispersed throughout the mail room (deep-fried tofu tastes remarkably like…tofu) and, man, did my fortune hit the nail on the head:

Modify your thinking to handle new situations.

Duly noted, fortune cookie!