Rube Called Quest--

Today it is raining. It is also the first day of Fall. Wait is it? Yes, I think it is. It is a day for tea drinking, dyeing my hair too dark and sitting and writing with my cat by my side. A day like this never gets old for me, no matter how many times we hear, "Oh I just love a rainy day, with a good book--yada yada"--but alas, this old line is true.
Now since you last heard my wailing cry about life---things have perked up a bit. Well, as much as life can in a world that is slowly dying. (Just kidding, that last line was for all you cynics out there)

However, I had spoken of my parents possibly going down the road to homelessness. They did not end up dancing to the tune of a Dicken's tale. They were able to stay in their home. The home that was once my home. I only hope things stay well for the degenerates, I mean, loving old pair and that I do not receive a call of crisis in another 4-6 months. This also means my precious dogs are not homeless and get to stay with the old bags, I mean parents. Since I usually worry more for the well being of animals, this part gave me an ulcer more than the thought of my once vibrant hippie parents on line at a shelter waiting for split pea.

I, myself am now residing in Staten Island. Which, well, I wouldn't exactly call it an island. It's not that cool, but I guess it is one of the boroughs and indeed it is not going anywhere. Funny, how life goes and the path it take you on. I had always vowed that out of all the boroughs, I would never live in Staten Island--even more then the Boogie Down Bronx. (By the way the Bronx is up, so I don't get it) Anyway, I'm in Staten Island. It's like a cross between a nice small town and crack alley. Everyone on the bus is toothless and muttering to themselves. No--it has beautiful homes. (That was for all you uppity Staten Islanders out there)

So, since my parents basically came in my home, caused chaos and financial hardship, I had to get out. Which is really for the best. I mean, it had been my home, but they were never going to be able to afford to move again and I didn't want to live like Charlie and the Chocolate factory forever. My Father, in his underwear like Grandpa Joe, burning hot dogs in the middle of the night, cigarette dangling in mouth, dancing with the dogs. "Don't worry Jenny, I'll pay the rent"----

So, even though I love my whack job parents, I have--as they say, felt a lot less stress. I now go to the occasional yoga class, get inspirational talks from loved ones and put a little money away. Staten Island is a temporary stay until I can check myself into a clinic. No really, hopefully find myself a nice little apt. Either with some old eccentric, or perhaps with my boyfriend. Or join a monastery, one where you can still smoke. Getting a little too old to hop around, but that white picket fence may just not be in the cards for me. I barely even say the word boyfriend anyway. I say asshole. No, but really I'm too afraid to change my relationship status on Facebook to "In a Relationship" in fear my boyfriend might find that too stifling. So, may have to paint that picket fence a shade of grey. Can't we all just buy an ice cream cones and skip down the street holding hands. A simpler life, without a status update. Perhaps just something real. I mean, really. I'm basically 41.

So, there is my update. For those who know me, they may, say, "Ahh, that sounds good." For those who don't, they may say, "What the hell is this old bag going on about?" Either way, go fuck yourself. No----enjoy your Fall. I'll warn you now, Hurricane Irene put a damper on things and there will be a shortage of pumpkins. Do your best. Slip into Uggs, drink a Chai, love your loved ones and cozy up with your animals. And do what you are supposed to do.

oh, and take Probiotics.

Love,

Jenny

Last thing--I hate my hair.