Eccentric Flower:199905/laura pamie and molly

may sixth

laura, pamie, and molly

Laura
is a face in the misty light
Footsteps
that you hear down the hall
The laugh
that floats on the summer night
That you can never quite
recall

And you see Laura
On the train that is passing through
Those eyes
how familiar they seem
She gave
her very first kiss to you
That was Laura
but she's only a dream

It's one of the strangest popular melodies ever, and when it enters my head, I know I'm doomed. I am stuck with it all day. At least. It mingles with the other things that are always echoing and bouncing around the interior of my head.

I have a noisy head. It's why I have trouble sleeping. My head keeps me awake. I can cover my ears to keep the outside noise out.

- - -

Read Pamie a fair amount today - caught up all the way back to the polyamory column. I should just get over myself and admit my Pamie hypocrisy.

Here's the story: Pamie isn't in my Nibelung list because I have a problem with her. She does improv, and like so many other improv people and comedians and such, she is always "on." Always. I never feel like I'm getting any of the real Pamie ... just a very, very good stand-up routine, one that makes you wince with familiarity as often as it makes you laugh.

Maybe that is the real Pamie. I dunno.

The thing is, though, I also find Pamie very entertaining to read! I giggled myself silly at several points in today's backlog. So I should just put her in my list for that reason and have done.

- - -

One thing Pamie talked about that set off the Infernal Rant Engine in my head is spectator sports - specifically, which sports are Real Sports and which aren't.

You may have gathered from past context that I am not a sports fan ... but I am not sure I've explained why. Until a day or two ago, I don't know if I knew why myself. But I do now.

When I said the other day that "No one gets paid to ski, for example," I got gently teased about it ... someone pointed out to me in email that there are, in fact, people who get paid to ski.

And that, right there, made me realize exactly why I don't like pro sports. I don't think someone should get paid for it.

I realize that what they do is really entertainment ... and I'm not arguing that entertainers shouldn't be paid - heavens, no! (Why, that would mean I couldn't get paid for my stories and such!)

It more signifies that I don't think of sports as having entertainment value ... and, yes, I'm being unfairly intolerant of those who do think so. To me, athletic activities are something you participate in. They are not something you watch. If I want vicarious thrills, I have other ways of getting them. With sports, I think one should sweat.

Of course, I don't play sports either, so maybe I just think the whole thing is silly and I should just drop the subject.

- - -

I got over thirty messages yesterday about weddings. I love you all and I have taken all the advice well, and please don't stop writing. However, I must also say that this topic has brought out yenta tendencies in people I never suspected of having them.

I cannot bear to write another postcard about weddings yet, though. Maybe the next one.

Or maybe the next one will be about the zodiac, for which I have a few choice words, inspired indirectly by Molly (who I'm not linking to today, because she's moving her site).

By the by, Molly, did I ever mention that's my deceased grandmother's name, and my little cousin's as well? A wild spirit, my grandmother. The family streak of weirdness comes through her.

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