when we cannot bear to be alone, it means we do not properly value the only companion we will have from birth to death--ourselves

March 26: yeasty                                                                                        (...?!)

The first beer that we tried had an overwhelmingly yeasty aftertaste, and we were glad to move on from there.

1. Has anyone ever intentionally ripped you off? Or perhaps unintentionally?
   only emotionally.
2. When was the last time that you made a quip that fell completely flat and embarrassed you?
   
   I don't remember that happening, honestly--probably because, when it happens, it's not the end of the world. I don't expect everything I say to be sparkling and perfect.
3. When you go to sleep, does it you need to be absolutely quiet or do you need a little noise (radio, TV, music or white)?
   
   I like quiet, but I can sleep with other peoples' needed-noise.
4. Do you have a memorable "ripped clothing" moment in your life? No? How about in someone else's? (Come on, you know you have something to contribute!)
   
   there was a pair of Guess jeans that I over-wore for a couple of years in college that were more holes than jeans. They fit so well otherwise, though, that I really didn't mind (or think too much about it, truly). It was "the style" then to wear boxers beneath--whether male or female--to show through the holes, so it wasn't as if I were the only one. Anyway, the holes were horizontal, directly below the back pockets, and fairly wide. 
   On the night in question, I went to a party in a really big apartment at a really big house on the corner of Main Street and Broadway: in other words, right downtown. It was the first blush of spring, probably my sophomore year, and the weather was just nice enough to have all the big windows in the place wide open. I'd come to the party with the girl who would be my roommate for most of the next two years, Christine. She knew someone who lived there (or knew someone who knew someone...in the usual manner). After we'd bought our cups and gotten our first beers, we were wandering around, getting the lay of the land. Standing behind a couch, taking stock of the living room, I was facing one direction and she was next to me facing the other. All of a sudden, she started talking to a guy who was behind me, but facing the same direction as me. He was very close to me...and then his hand...was in my pants. Not THAT way--he'd slipped his hand through the hole in the back of my jeans and was sort of resting his palm on the back of my thigh. Chris couldn't see what he was doing, because of the way he was standing, which was also leaving me unable to move from the position I was in, half-leaning against the back of the couch. It was then that she introduced me to him. "This is Rick." I used that opportunity to pivot, pull away from him, push my hand between us (as if to shake his hand) and say, "I believe we've met, but I call him 'Slimy Rick.'"
   He was Slimy Rick--to everyone I knew--from then on.
5. What's changed on your blog since its inception? ...a redo? ...a change of pace? ...or is it still business as usual?
   
   beyond the recent template update (which was probably number twenty or so?), it's undergone innumerable subtle content changes and tweaks. I regularly go back and purge last names of old friends to retroactively protect their identity--and my own--from my own loose fingers. I committed to posting a new poem each day throughout National Poetry Month a few years back, and I hope to continue that this year (though I'm woefully unprepared!). Sometimes I go through phases where I absolutely hate the idea of putting anything from my corrupt brain where it can be seen by anyone else; sometimes I can't wait to share whatever will come out when I start typing. In all, I guess it's pretty much what it always was: an egotistical jumble that I'm terribly glad to have.
6. Can you remember where you were in life ten years ago? If you could travel back in time and whisper something to yourself ten years ago, what would it be?
   
   ten years ago, I was finishing my thesis (or so), struggling with a sort of obsession (which, ironically, is staring me in the eye right now), and waiting for a sign before I did the right thing for myself and my best friend. 
   It would only take about 3 1/2 more years.
   What would I whisper? Look at the title of this post!
7. Okay, let's have it! What's the craziest, most impulsive thing you've ever done?
   
   I drove to the City, to meet a man I was in love with--for the first time.
8. If you were having a bad day what or who would you turn to for comfort?
   
   that depends, of course, on what sort of bad day it was. I might turn to a friend (Fluffy or The Cat, most likely). I might just drink a lot (yeah, it's been known to happen; so sue me). I might read, or watch movies (hmm...movies...). I might go for a winding, aimless drive; or get a massage; or take a long bath and cry a little. Or I might just deal with it, because if I made special arrangements for every bad day, I'd never get anything done.
9. According to the song White Rabbit, "one pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small". If you were offered these pills today, which pill would you take and where would it take you?
   
   I would take the pill to make me small, for sure. And one to make me stop wanting things that I cannot have.

[from The Cat, who got it here; the title quotation is by Eda LeShan]