tuckova

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Interests: Alfons Mucha, Archibald Leach, big words, Bob Hicok, Brian Eno, Cat Power, Charles Bukowski, Charlotte Masaryk, cheese, clarity, dark chocolate, David Byrne, David Foster Wallace, Dorothy Parker, Douglas Adams, Edna St. Vincent Millay, E.E. Cummings, Frank O’Hara, Fred Rogers, garlic, Gaudi, Gertrude Stein, ginger, Gustav Klimt, Iva Pekarkova, Jane Austen, Jaromir Nohavica, Jeanette Winterson, Josef Skvorecky, Joseph Campbell, Joss Whedon, Just a Minute, Kate Bush, Kurt Vonnegut, laughing until it hurts, Laurie Anderson, Leonard Cohen, little kids singing, Lloyd Alexander, mandarin oranges, making lists, Margaret Atwood, Miss Manners, New Yorker, Paul Simon, performance, P.G. Wodehouse, poetry, Rebecca Solnit, Rob Brezsny, Robert Anton Wilson, Robert Creeley, salt, Salvador Dali, secrets, silence, Star Trek, Stephen Dunn, Talking Heads, Terry Gilliam, things that stain, This American Life, Tom Waits, T.S. Eliot, vegetable juice, veiled cultural references, vinegar, water, wine, W.H. Auden

you talk as if you knew me

My recent attempts to assert my own preferences have been going pretty well. I'd prefer not to eat pork, thanks; I'd prefer not to sign your silly contract for the work I'm doing for you for free; I'd prefer not to leave the house. Thanks, but no thanks. It turns out that if you're not emotionally invested in telling people no, you can get a pretty fun anthropological kick out of watching how they take it. 

I feel bad about saying no because I've spent a lot of time trying so hard to be accommodating of the inexplicable preferences of others, and I still feel like it's rude to inconvenience people when your preference is equal to theirs, but I have picked olives out of enough dishes after having them sneered at, and dammit, I get to say I don't care for brussels sprouts. Because I don't, I never have, and I have eaten enough of them to be sure. I'd prefer not to have more, thanks. Imma leave that right here on the side of my plate in a tidy pile, okay, thanks. 

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I'm still wondering why so many of the foods frequently served at parties give one bad breath. Any ideas? Hey, I'm about to talk to you really close for a while, how's my stinky cheese breath? Do you like these cocktail onions exhaled upon you? Mmm, spicy sausage with garlic on a little toothpick breath. 

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I am happy to report that the hospital that has two outstanding invoices has now paid one of them, significantly bringing down both their debt and my blood pressure. This was for work I did in June, and I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to get paid or whether I was going to have to take somebody's firstborn. Seriously, who DOES that, just doesn't pay you for what you've done? 
Fortunately, it looks like it might get concluded before the end of the year, which is good because I am tired of having Laurie Anderson's Example#22 running through my head all the time. PAY ME WHAT YOU OWE ME.  

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In my many trips to many, ever so many bars, I have formed some opinions that now seem so obvious to me that I am always a bit floored when the bar owners don't share those opinions. Stuff like… it's a good idea to have a variety of wines in stock. Two of each color, say. It's a good idea for nobody on staff to spend any length of time standing at a table chatting. It's a good idea to check the bathrooms regularly for supplies and messes. Clearly just my opinions, here. 

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Regarding the election, if I may: I, too, have voted for candidates who have lost. It is a bad feeling when you think that other people do not share your values, or at least not enough other people. It feels lonely. I didn't feel like America had somehow gone to the dogs, but I did feel like maybe it didn't want me. And you know what? I totally DID leave the country — not just because of any election, but honestly, the political climate was a factor in why I left the first time, and it was a factor in why I stayed away the second time. I did so because it made ME feel better. I don't think America gave a patootie that I did so, not least because I've continued to pay taxes. I don't know; I guess I'm saying I find the idea that leaving the country will "teach it a lesson" is pretty funny, because it won't. You leave because it makes you feel better, just like why you leave any relationship that isn't working any more. 
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