todaytodaytoday.

TODAY I AM SEEING BOB DYLAN.
(though this was not on my 22 year old to-do list, it has been on my list since long before that.)

Bananarama!

Today I crossed something off my "22 year old to-do list"!!! I made the most perfect banana bread. Here I am with my loaf. Oh, and my glass of milk! Don't worry, I didn't eat the whole loaf tonight. Just a pinch. Bye bye, spaghetti dinner. Hello, banana bread breakfast!

Respond.

1. What is your current obsession? The OC, Season One. Guilty & about 3 years too late.

2. What is your weirdest obsession? Frank O' Hara. I spend too much time with him before bed.

3. Recall a fond childhood memory? When I was in elementary school, and when my Nana was still alive, I used to come home to a clean house two-three times a week. When I asked my mom why the house was cleaner than when we left it, she'd tell me, "a little elf came". Then, she'd call nana and thank her, over and over.

4. What’s for dinner? a tv dinner. lovez it.

5. What would you eat for your last meal? Yosake firecracker shrimp and sushi.

6. What’s the last thing you bought? Literally? a diet coke. 

7. What are you listening to right now? Don't laugh. I am listening to Daisy (from Daisy of Love) rationalize love and loss. One of the contestants just said, "Daisy, you're taking me with you, and I feel like I found the cure to cancer."

8. What do you think of the person who tagged you? Tall.

9. If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished, anywhere in the world, where would it be? Most likely somewhere busy and beautiful that I haven't even been yet. Can I bring Tuna?

10. If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? Home. Hey mom, Hey dad.

11. Which language do you want to learn? French.

12. What’s your favourite quote (for now)? "The thong is always wrong."--Daisy

13.What is your favourite colour? brown, yellow.

14. What is your favourite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe? today i am wearing a new outfit. lia, please don't say anything about how i buy too many clothes. but it is very sweet.

15. What is your dream job? pretend i just wrote a best seller. i am travelling all over the world and giving talks and signing books and flying on planes. i am not stressed, but i get to dress up and answer questions.

16.What’s your favourite magazine? Cosmo, maybe. Or the New Yorker.

17. If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on? An IPHONE.

18. Describe your personal style? Slouchy.

19. What are you going to do after this? Check the mail and drive Aly home.

20. What are your favourite films? All the Real Girls, George Washington, Me and You and Everyone We Know, Nine Lives.

21. What’s your favorite fruit? Plums.

22.What inspires you? Conversations with people who are curious enough to ask questions.

23. Your favorite books? Self Help by Lorrie Moore, The Collected Poems of Frank O' Hara, How We Are Hungry by Dave Eggers.

24. Do you collect anything? Polaroids. 

25. Any advice from bitter experience? Golddigging is usually unsuccessful. 

26. What makes you follow a blog? Lia and boredom and anticipated inspiration. 

happy birthday to me:

"If the last unicorn in the world showed up and told me that, "Tyler, you're my only hope. You're the only kind soul left in this world, I believe--you're the only one I can truly trust!" I would say, "there, there little unicorn, all is well." Then I would lead it to where I'd tell it I had delicious food and then I would kill it. Lindsey, I would murder that unicorn with my bare hands (probably strangle it b/c you know how those things can get messy) and I would cut off it's beautiful, shimmering, alabaster horn. And I would give that, Lindsey, to be with you right now. I would kill the last unicorn and give you its horn."---Tyler Sparks.

"All I know is that you're so nice. You're the nicest thing I've seen."--Kate Nash

cash out.

these old bones will soon be 22. this is what i plan to do at 22:

1. wake up earlier.

2. stay up later.

3. eat more salads and less salad dressing.

4. find the perfect popsicle.

5. force a collar on tuna "big neck" johnson. preferably a burberry collar.

6. take my vitamins.

7. fall in love with someone who is intelligent. 

8. use my brain.

9. write a bedtime story.

10. be cuter and sweeter.

11. work on my thankfulness and place less emphasis on presents.

12. grow out my hair.

13. pay attention to detail.

14. learn to cook something other than spaghetti. 

15. learn to shag dance.

16. find Lia.

17. find Cory.

18. find Bobby Otten.

19. find Tyler.

20. find Myself.

21. drink less Diet Coke and more water.

22. learn new adjectives.

23. participate.

24. remember to light a candle every time I sit down to read a book.

25. move to a city that can be described as "hustle-bustle"

26. overcome my unhealthy obsession for John Mayer and Lady Gaga.

27. develop a get-rich quick scheme.

Be Kind.

I am generally intrigued by those of you who know how to do things I don't. I think, often, I am skilled at a couple of things: remembering events, being on time and talking on the telephone. There are many sub-categories within these skills that include: maintaining friendships because I am punctual and scrap-booking because my memory is sharp.  Everything roots back to, for the most part, I'm a consistent friend but have no idea how to fill out a tax form, change a tire, or tie a tie. Perhaps this means I will be a sub-par wife. Women who know how to wash a window without streaking it are the kind of women who get scooped up first, not the ones who know how to harmonize with others at choir practice. 

Completely unrelated, or maybe related, people are leaving me for others cities and states and countries. I have a confession: When life-chapters end and people go away from me for extended periods of time, I begin to grieve. It is a death-like reaction and it settles heavy, heavy in my organs and joints. This is not because I am a sad person or a pessimist. It's because, I believe that internally, we are only able to feel 9 or 10 different ways. And, personally, death and loss feel the same inside of me. It situates like nervousness or drowsiness. That's how it feels. So, I miss you all and hope you are satisfied in your zip codes. I can't wait to resurrect you. 

Please! Go! Read! My! Column! and send me fan/hate mail. Just send it here now: lindsey.marie.johnson@gmail.com. 

Here is the link, go to page 18.  http://artsyncmag.com/wp/?p=7  

It came out today. Today is the beginning of my budding and prolific career. It is the beginning of my life of poverty. This excites me. 

ALERT THE MEDIA: I AM ALL MOVED IN.  WHO IS POPPIN' CHAMPAGNE?

I am listening to Mozart and thinking about teeth.

Last night I was knocking teeth with someone my age. Our teeth were not figuratively colliding. I heard the sounds, like a toothbrush against a porcleain sink. A very literal, mistakable sound. In fact, when I think about sounds, all of them, drums or printers or toaster ovens, I'm more than sixty percent sure that the most beautiful sound in the world is tough, tough, enamel. Knocking teeth, in the most romantic way, sounds most like an echo. It is not a dentist visit or a toothy accident, it is two people with similar intentions, only, I am usually the only one thinking of what sounds we are making and why. I think of myself as a small, young person, loose teeth dangling from my mouth like christmas lights. I think of my father, up in the attic above my head saying, "Either you pull it, or I'm going to." Then, I remember the blood and the napkins and the salt water gurgling. I had a small wooden box, only big enough for one tooth, to put underneath my pillow. It was a box that was replaced with quarters or dollars, and later it was sold in a yard sale. I cried that day, maybe.

Sometimes, I hope when I die, people will say I am the kind of person who laughed with my teeth, and I hope they will not mean that my mouth is over-crowded. I hope they will say, "a very spacious mouth!" Or my friends will say, "If her mouth were a room full of chairs, there would be enough space for everyone to sit."

Is feline earnestness not the kind of love we desire?

On Easter morning, weeks after my mother lost Milo, a tiny, boneless-looking blonde kitten with tired eyes situated itself on our doorstep. He mewed like a newborn and rolled around in the pinestraw when we peaked out at him.
“Tricky, tricky,” my sister cooed.
“Don’t feed him,” my mother advised and poured a heap of dry cat food in a bowl for the indoor cats.
“He’s just a little ball of cotton,” my father purred. He uses this sound for the smallest animals and humans.
My sister screamed, “Cotton!” and folded her hands together as if she already loved the kitten and adored the way it moved around on the pavement.
We are cat people. Our family believes when we die, we will meet all of our old pets again in heaven and they will recognize us and rub their soft bodies on our legs and they may even speak to us. They may say, “Here you are! You look young!” or they may not speak at all. They may just love us silently.