I talked to mom and dad on the phone today for about an hour, and mom once again requested that I return to blogging...but I start to write and I want to stop and go lay on the futon with my feet up on the wall, to lull in vague contemplation of the ceiling, Steve's stomach and curly, sweaty hair, the sound of the fans and cars driving by, slowly chipping away at frozen vegan mousse au chocolat. We're surrounded by IKEA boxes and new IKEA furniture. It's an ominous acronym that's entered our life, the peg and particle board chair, book shelf, and tv stand, that Steve pushed and pulled and screwed into their innocuous IKEA shapes with the veins popping out of his neck like Frankenstein. Can you imagine Frankenstein's discomfort in the perfect IKEA livingroom? Him a thing himself who refuses to stick to his thing-ness and wants to become HUMAN. At least with IKEA were in perfect control of our creations--after we force our wills upon their constituent parts, they do their job and fade into the background...
posted by Liza 12.6.05