Happy Birthday Ms. Moure

It. Was. Awesome.

Here are some birthday wishes I recieved via text, comment, message, and e-mail.

i love you and get shit faced for me.
go big. everyday. do it for her!

dear M- Happy 'u rock' day! it's pretty cold here in NY too. try to keep ur birthday suit under the trench coat this year.
[--George, who shares my birthday]

Happy 28th Birthday girl!

all the best for your birthday! Wish I could be there to celebrate with you! Hope to see you again someday soon.

Happy Birthday Darling! Hope Seattle is treating you well! XOXO

Again, Happy B-day!

Happy Birthday!

Happy birthday sweetheart.

Happy Birthday you sexy beast!
--Rob Scheppy

Some were a little late, but made up for that in hilarity.

Happy Yesterday, M!
Hope it was great...and by great, I mean doggie :)

And some were completely unexpected.

I can't help but think of you every year.
Hope 25 is everything you'd hoped it would be.

Thank you- I hope so too. I have to admit I kind of do the same thing every year too. Hope you're well.

[and you thought the illiterative initials post was cryptic, haha.]


Deck of Cards Day 9: Some notes.

You may or may not have ever seen either of my old deck of cards projects:

1. Jungle of Numbers: a slide show


2. 7 1/2 weeks in Miami

Anyway, there's a new one. I'll be done in 43 more days.

And NaNoWriMo starts in a week. Start looking forward to "Hermit Miranda", a rare breed of slutty wordsmith who's natural habitat is in front of her laptop. Best found between Nov. 1 and Jan. 1 (don't forget NYCD).

More later. Birthday week is approaching. Festivities begin Tuesday night in the G for midnight toasts. My party? Wednesday night @ The Duck:

Flyer for Mox and J-Rus awesome party.

See you there.


For my favorite person in the world.

Go Big. Everyday.

I've been thinking recently about the things for which you're willing to go big.

Then I came across this picture of my little nephew and his dad who is my best friend from high school, Ed. It suddenly became so clear.

I can't wait to meet this little guy. Oh how distance has the way of making love understandable.



"The Cardboard Foursome"

And lo, there in the valley of Georgetown, 'neath the flight path and mid the train tracks, a young maid did proclaim: "Yes! Yes! Yes!" And so it was, and so her own headcasedness brought 'round a break from said headcasedness, for there, 'neath her very nose, was one thing she sought that seemed so elusive.

[Please, no comments yet. I really, really don't want to hear about how this is out of character for me. Have you noticed my character in the last year? Plus, it's winter and I feel like more than Cake, I feel like cupcaking. --M]


It's Always Sunny

On Wed, Oct 15, 2008 at 10:37 AM, Keenan wrote:
I just looked at flights on Virgin (they always seem to be the cheapest). To get the $120+ roundtrip, we'd have to fly in Thursday morning and back Friday night- and forget about Vegas.

Subject: Re: thanksgiving
From: Lisa
Date: Wed, October 15, 2008 10:40 am
To: "Keenan"
Cc: "Miranda Moure"

Miss M,
What are you doing Thanksgiving????? Want some company?

On Wed, Oct 15, 2008 at 3:55 PM, "M" wrote:

Fuck, I fuckin' miss you guys. I'm posting this right now. It will
give you less of an opportunity to back out.

[Oh yeah, I forgot to post this, haha.]


Two boys, one singular idea of illiterative initials.

[note left on door]

Shit! I missed you guys again. I probably wont be able to stop back by again tonight [even though I did, three more times, haha] but B, I would be your best friend if you could drop my phone charger off at my work tomorrow. Thx big.

[conversation in my hallway with CC]

"Dude, I didn't mean it to happen that way." --MM

[late morning pillow talk]

"Oh my god, I haven't slept like that in...days. And days. Maybe two weeks." --MM
"Then keep here in mind if you ever need to...you know. Sleep." --CC

[today, at work]

"Hi! My god! I'm sorry, I've been in Portland." --BB
"Oh my god. Thanks for my phone charger. I didn't know you had left it and got it today. It's been days. How are you?" --MM
"Good. Oh, hi. Hi." --BB

[And then when I pulled back from a hug and my palms were involuntarily brought to his cheeks and there is me, at the end of my bar holding his face in my hands, and I realized that I don't think I had ever done that to him before, and that Etta and I have quite a lot in common even when I am concious of making the same mistakes as she. Didn't Mark and I just speak of this on Friday? Yes, it was Friday, the same day we had lunch and came up with a handful of tentative titles for this post that we're all some version of "Two ______, one ______", and we also dove into the Three Rules of Etta, that are described already in D: All of the Above. But do not confuse palm cradling of anything to fall under B) Touch Him, as it should be clear that rule #2 is much more lascivious than that. No, face cradling falls under rule #1, or A) Tell Hal He's Awesome because the whole point of rule #1 is that we can, as women, be forgiven for inordinate amounts of care when the (verbally) expressed pretext is strictly platonic. That is why, when CC found MM walking BB to his car, MM, because she had expressed platonicism (be that true or no), was granted the right via The Three Rules of Etta to throw her arms around his neck to congratulate him on a promotion. Then today I have a similar response--an overly physically affectionate "platonic" gesture, the face/palm cradling, to celebrate BB's return from Portland--but this time I am struck that I am doing it while it's happening. And then, at work, I realized the last and final rule that I'm not sure I'd let myself realize until now. Feeling affection may be happenstance, but care is willful. If you're not catching what I'm throwing here, then let me break it down some more: expressed platonicism differs from actual platonicism. I'm as serial as a chainsaw, the pillow talk I had on Sunday, and this. Okay, maybe not that, as that's clearly a joke.]


[p.s.--yes, it's true. that part about me having my phone charger back. oh, and level-of-tiredness-willing, responses to new CL ad posted tomorrow]


"Look at the sun rising over the chi-mo van."

You guys might find this funny.

BCT [that's me]--
hey :: we need to make something happen over here. do you have a day for lunch this week? wednesday would be my ideal, friday is good too. boo-yah!
--RCU [that's Mark]

I have Thursday off, but will be recuperating from a slumber party at my studio with the girls (see blog). Have to pick them up from school again @ 2:25 Wednesday and I get off at one, so that's out. I could do dinner tomorrow, or late (read: 1:30) lunch Friday. Anything? Anything?

k. i could do a late lunch friday --> if i have even a day in advance i can tell my super and he's groovy unless i have shit due (which i won't). could 1:30 really work? how about ... benogi? i think that's the name; the italinan cafe on 1st and cherry. we shall conspire.

hey i have a thing tonight; dinner won't work, but i'm completely for cereal about lunch on friday. let's do this.

Done. And Done. You pick.

cafe bengodi - 700 1st Ave (1st & cherry). 1:30 still works for you?

Perfect. See you then. I might get there at 1:35, don't be mad.

Isn't it weird to see two friends try so desperately to see each other when there was once a time when they were not friends that they would rush to see each other at the drop of a text message?

You see, this is what I was saying Sunday. It's all about the want to see each other, not the benefit of doing so.

And that is how I learned how to survive.

[title supplied by Smashley Wren]


"I'll fall asleep, and you'll fall in love."

Today at work one of my regulars, Jeff, came in.

He asked what I did over the weekend, and I said that Jesus Christ I had an awesome fucking weekend.

"Really?" he said, "What'd you do?"

Thanks to my favorite of the Myricks clan, I had completely forgotten the events of Friday night when I answered.

"Oh, dude--I hung out with my Niece."

"You spend quite a deal of time with her, don't you?" he asked, and I smiled. I talk about her at work often.

"As much as I can."


1. Sunday found Lex and I digging through a candy dish in my Sister's closet looking for her car keys. We found them. She is in Denver for another week. Sweet. We then decided that this week would be LM/MM Week '08. Awesome.

2. Hmm. What now? Beth's, of course. For Rice's last shift. I have never in my life seen Lex's eyes light up as much as they do around him--but I guess that makes sense, you know? Rice can make just about anyone feel special. I guess his powers are not void on 16 y/o's. The title of this post was supplied by him in fact, and it was said to my Niece. That's right--my Niece, not me. I almost lost it--it was one of the funniest things I've ever heard in my life. This isn't to say that I didn't get half-heartedly propositioned in advance for the night of his going away party: "We got nine days left, baby! Let's do this!"

3. Turned out once it started to get dark that my sister's headlights don't work too well, so we grabbed Noelle's car to drop Kim off at home. We found out that I-5 between Shoreline and Lynnwood is just enough time to blast Toxic on repeat 4 times.

4. I was devestatingly bored at the tail end of work today, and texted Ben to see if he'd come in with the boys and entertain me for a while. They did come by, in record time, in fact. After some chatting about last night's Family Guy and other assorted witty banter, it was time for Sean to get to School. "Miranda, we're out. I'm getting out of work around...7? I'll call you?"

Then the funniest thing came out of my mouth, and I hadn't quite realized what I had said until it was out and settled for some time and sounding as if my "divorce" from my realatives had left me with pre-arranged scheduled visits with Lex.

"You know what, I have the girls tonight."

5. I picked them up from school today. First we played the "Miranda is picking Lex up from school song", TSR. Then we played our song, No More Tears. Then we listened to Toxic on repeat 4 or 5 more times, then back to No More Tears. We let that album play for a while, and somehow because of a story about a ciggarette and a clump of Kim's hair coming out or something, we decided that the first track is now our song too: because We Can Laugh at Danger and Break All the Rules [which has also been dubbed one of our songs now], because we can Rejoice even when our hair smells like burning. If you're smelling a "This Will Not Kill Your Braincells Vol. 2", you can rest assured that we are likely doing the same. It's in the works.

6. I brought them to studio to work on a project with me. We got about half done, and ran out of smokes.

7. I have tomorrow off of LM/MM Week '08. I'm gonna sleep my ass off to prepare for the slumber party on Wednesday.

Tonight we were standing on a street corner by her highschool, and Lex made a comment about how I had changed my last name, and our plans to get matching "M" tattoos on her 18th birthday.

"You know, I'm probably more like Ran than anyone else in my family," she said, and I'll insert here that when one of my relatives refers to "Ran", that is me, "I might as well just change my name to Moure too."

It sounds nice, you know? The 18 and 29 y/o Moure's, a year and a half from now, rampaging around the country and the world, boarding trains in Belgium and driving cars in Georgia, breaking hearts, taking names, writing it down and drowning it in cheap beer and pricey bourbon. It sounds romantic in that vintage sense that doesn't involve romance. It sounds near perfect.

The only problem is that I want things for her than I didn't have. I thought I could find everything I was missing all over the globe, but here I am, in my hometown with her, she being the thing I was really missing this whole time.

This is too big a topic for tonight. Plus, I've already written extensively on this. On a side note to avid readers/texters/MySpacers/callers: Sunday night went swimmingly. Just as planned; and even through all the "wait, aren't you right handed?" jokes circulating at my/others expense right now, I held my tongue enough not to beat a dead horse, with either hand no less.



You can rely on me, honey.


I really, really miss you today.

By that I don't mean to say that I usually don't miss you, because I do. I just mean that I listened to YHF today at work and all of our time together came flooding back to me and all of the sunshine and the fresh pots of coffee that Lauren and Rob and I would make for you. I miss when I'd go out of town and you'd send me off with a card and twenty dollars like you were sending me off to summer camp and like I wasn't completely fucking grown. I miss how excited you were the day you came into my work after going to Spec's and you were so excited to pull your purchases out of your bag--some Rufus Wainwright album, Beck's Sea Change, and finally what I to this day refer to as our album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

I was just refering to it as "our album" yesterday, and found myself at a loss for words.

Remember right after New Years 2004, and Matthew was visiting me from Olympia, and Rob and him and I we're at our work although neither of us was working, and you were sipping on a giant paper cup of what was likely decaf Sumatra in the lobby? We spoke of Wilco that night too, and I remember you being amazed that my 20 y/o singer/songwriter boyfriend didn't listen to them. "What?" you were stammering, "What's wrong with you?" you asked him, and then I watched his brow furrow in that same way mine does when I'm frustrated and confused and about to get defensive. Then I laughed. Then you laughed. And then the corners of his mouth started to turn and the creases came out of his forehead and he finally laughed too.

Mom, I don't mean to cheapen all of our stuff concerning that album, but it was, along with Out of the Fierce Parade mine and Matthew's album too. Partly because of that night. Partly because I gave him the first track of that album to him for New Years CD that year to apologize for all of my indiscretions. Partly because I wrote to him that year among many, many other words about how still he made the night when we happened into the same city for a few days or a week or two--that those hours when the sun went down left us without obligation and promise, that I want to hold you in the Bible-black predawn. Oh, and this:

I do what
my baby bids me do;

acrross this side-effect of manifest destiny

I fly
to you.

I thought about this poem often this year between February and June when I spent long weeks in the city barely scraping by just so I could come see Wood for a few days or maybe a week. In all of that time I knew that it would end up being a self-fulfilling prophesy because I could only ever see for us the same end that Matthew and I shared--that I would end up back in my home town and all of our deal breakers would surface, and what seemed so perfect in the confines of a timeline would be destroyed merely by forever stretching on to the horizon. I could see it so clearly, Mom. I really could, and I couldn't bear to do it again, and whatever we managed to scrape up between the two of us in those few months was just too big for me to let it end forever. And so it came to pass that in my last trip up to see him specifically, at the end of June, I found myself gathering up all of my stuff from his little room, putting on all of my clothes and hightailing it out of his house at three in the morning. It was my last night in town, and I wasn't quite sure that I would end up at Ben Harrison's house until I was out front of his building heaped in a ball on his stoop in the middle of the night.

Karma, as it turns out, is a rancorous bitch-goddess, and when it happened to me rather than by me last night, I couldn't think of all of the reasons I had once done it myself, but could only lay still and count my misgivings like sheep until I finally fell asleep.

Mom, I want you to say something to me to make this okay, but much like the card and the twenty dollars you'd bring me at work before I would leave to Seattle to go see Matthew, it is, truth be told, unnecsesary for the exact same reason--because I'm a grown ass woman.

I guess I'm just hoping for a chance to redeem myself.

I love and miss you.

[Special thanks today to Jeff Tweedy for excerpts of I Am Trying To Break Your Heart and Jesus, etc. and to Mike Doughty for his lovely, lovely poem: My Lover Lives On the Other Coast.]


"Dear Miranda: Can I Drink That Beer?"

B: "Okay, fine. Don't ask me to go smoke."

M: "Sorry, I thought you were a grown ass man."


[p.s. "To that he responded something comically and stoically confidant that led me to believe he was indeed a full grown man." --B]

[p.p.s.--Title supplied by Jess Manley]


Chasing after stories that have already been told.


"Dude, I've been calling your cell. I didn't eveen think you'd answer here--why are you still at your desk so late?"

"What do you want?"

"Fuck, Alan--calm down. I just wanted to talk. If you're busy, I'll call you tomorrow."

"Oh, now you wanna talk? Jesus, Miranda. What the fuck. I've barely heard from you in weeks. One e-mail, a text message here or there. We were friends, Miranda. Neighbors. Lovers."

"You work for a newspaper. I was a story. Friends? Maybe--but that was kind of incidental. We had sex a small handful of times in three years. And you know what? There were tons of people who didn't get to see me at all in those last two weeks. At least I saw you. Fucked you."

"You don't have to be so callous."

"You know what, that's why I'm calling. It's not that I have to be so callous, maybe I just don't know another way to be."

"Oh shit. You're sounding reflective. That could only mean a couple of things, and since your birthday is still a little ways off, I'm gonna guess that you're calling me over a boy. A boy that is not me. Thanks, Mox."

"But that's what we do. I have always done this with you--with Nicholas and Wood and all of them. Wait, did we ever talk about Alistair?"

"In passing. Yes--but only really in reference to your title piece."

"Hmm. That's right."

"So what's up in your cakesaver, Miranda? You might as well shoot."

"You know what...maybe this isn't such a good idea. Not now. Not yet. I mean, I'm just a little confused right now, I just got off the phone with Wood and...shit. Fuck, I gotta go, he's texting me...and apparently meeting me in a half hour."







"Be careful, okay?"

"I will. Call me tomorrow."




New Today: Lists and News


Sex Practices
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Common Responses

the "nice no"


Lake. Tonight. Be there or be square. C'mon, guys! When's the last time we all went to our spot at the lake?