Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Friday, July 24, 2009

For the love of embarrassment

In case you need just a little slice of someone else's shame to brighten up your day...(Yes, I go by both "Banana" and "Babe" depending on whether I'm at work or not)
1. look at his received calls

2. Look at this picture of my boss I found in the depths of my computer's files

And there you have it!
Love, long-distance relationships, and TGIF,

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

I'mma gonna tell you a leetle secret.

thanks for the photo
I work at the office/ practice facility of the Spokane Shock Arena Football Team (But that's not the secret).
The nearest restroom is located strangely in a large room used by the sports medicine people to treat troublesome players (not the secret either. Just hang on a second!).
So there's a lot of room and a cool rubbery floor.

Here's the secret:When I get bored typing in work orders and daydreaming, I sneak into the bathroom and do ballet leaps.

My greatest fear is that someone will catch me in the act. But I think inside I also sort of think it would be fun.
...Wouldn't it?

love, banana

Monday, July 20, 2009

To Do

start a bluegrass band
learn to paint
live in a high-rise apartment that I might hang my laundry across an alleyway [take a looksie]
Find a more enduring life plan
plant my lavender seeds
dream dream dream about my future in jerusalem
Get home from work. choco banana smoothie. book. grass. shade. cuddly baby puppy.
What do you wanna do?
love and things,
banana <3

Friday, July 17, 2009

Lighthouses and Stoplights

1. I'm now a tweeter. And my twit is buhnanna

2. I write first lines and brief beginnings to novels I never finish. In a way, it’s a quirky hobby I sincerely enjoy indulging in. In another it’s inexplicably unavoidable and accompanies an odd sense of obligation.
Either way, I doubt I’ll ever be a published author, and I highly doubt I’ll ever write anything worth reading.
But what I write isn’t for anyone else. I like to think of it as a convenient way to make a daily release of some pent-up soul; little bits of the true, unknown me struggling to get out and make a lot more sense once I can analyze them on paper. I get to know myself a little better with each line I write, and, if I’m lucky, take one step nearer to understanding the wilderness of mystery that is my thoughts. A line came to me the other day while sitting at a stoplight:
There I sat, the muffled Gwen Stefani song barely audible on the radio, and my mind dazedly wandering past the crammed intersection and long line of Friday rushers at the bank to some indistinguishable oasis in the corner of my mind that oddly included a lighthouse and lonely pair of sneakers:
I wonder what they’re doing there, I thought, the faded blue
high-tops half submerged in the low tide, rocking endlessly over the rocky shore
with the rhythmic pulse of the waves. Their pathetic plight evoked wordless
images, like some distant memory from a dream just a little too far back in
consciousness to recall. But the light turned green, and off I went, with one
more vague idea I might jot down in my tattered flower notebook later if I had a
minute during work. But even though my mind continued its habitual wandering as
I followed my familiar route down pothole-ridden roads scorched with the heat of
summer and neglect of decades, the distant taste of salty spray lingered on my
tongue. And in a remote part of an unexplored, untouched portion of my brain, I
dimly agreed with myself that the dignified old lighthouse on the ridge with its
flaking white paint and rickety railing of faded red was, indeed, much more like
reality than the familiar Shell station up ahead, dutifully indicating my next

Wednesday, July 15, 2009


......miss Hawaii!!!!

Will it ever forgive me for abandoning it?
Today I particularly miss:
-yowling, mating feral catsong in the night
-hi chews
-that eating spam was okay. even encouraged.
-(somewhat) safely picking up hitchhikers and kindly being offered marijuana in return
-sunrise rituals with the ocean, the sand, my thoughts, and God
-warm rain dancing
-rainbow-speckled moonshine
-handlebar cruiser rides through laie
-climbing mountains and seeing a new, soul-taking view every few minutes
-birds and dumptrucks waking me up every morning
-aloha. aloha aloha aloha.
campfires and songs and mud and toes
and insence and water and flowers and sand and smiles and
long, satisfied, thankful breaths.
every single magical day.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

All about the boy who came to stay

Once, not too long ago, a bearded man came and slept in our book room on pink sheets and a frog pillow.
He was a good sport.

We had countless adventures.

For example, we ate a funnel cake:

We got a puppy.
We frolicked and explored and got questioned by the police and rode rollercoasters and had picnics and watched sunsets and went to a play and cooked amazing pork tacos and swam and kayaked in a magical field of lily pads while a thunder storm brewed and walked through gardens and read things and went on scenic strolls and kissed in public and napped and ate SO MUCH and and and

My family loves him.
My friends love him.
My friends' families love him.
My dog loves him.

...And I like him an awful lot.

Come back please.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Welcome to the forest, Little Prince

It's a boy! (puppy. It's a boy puppy.)
Please give a warm welcome to
(Or Huck Phin if you prefer...)
My new little darling who now shares my heart and pillow.

He brings a little diversity to the small herd of Aryan Nations lap dogs my mother keeps in the back.
(Yes, you may comment on the insanity of four little canines if you wish but I may abstain from commenting in order to uphold my family's honor)
Come play with us!! Love, romping, and middle-of-the-night nose bites,

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Oh, Victor...

"Be like the bird that,
passing on her flight awhile on boughs too slight,
feels them give way beneath her,
and yet sings, knowing that she hath wings."
-Victor Hugo I still have time this summer. Time to break out Les Miserables? unabridged?
I think so.

p.s. can I be like the bird? what sort of bird are you?

-Anna Banana

thanks for the photo

Monday, July 6, 2009

In praise of the prominent nose

Okay, so I was thinking.... why does Sara Bareilles always hide her nose?
Everyone nose (please pardon the puns) a healthy (if not hefty) schnoz is the
mark of a good set of pipes and a remarkable sex appeal.
I mean...just take a look at Barbra!
timeless, right? (With a renewable supply of bare-chested men at her
fingertips). I think it may be a proven fact that engorged olfactory nerves make
for better music-making.
Why else would it be called a horn?
But see how it's cast in shadow
And over-exposed here??I must say, I'm worried about her sneezer's esteem...
Lest we forget what happened to our good friend

You catch my whifft? (I'm killing myself here)
... It's kind of cute, you know?
I mean, look at Napoleon! He's frickin hot! (And powerful)
(....and slightly romanticized in this portrait but I'm still a loyal fan)
Would we love Owen even half as much?And
didn't Cyrano's nez make for one of the best literary/ cinematic events
of tout temps?

Need I even mention Ron Weasley?
Albus Dumbledore?
Pinnochio!? ELMO?
And besides, how cool are Elephants!?!?
 I myself am the grateful beneficiary of something of a prominent snuffer. I think maybe I
  • smell more
  • taste more
  • give better eskimo kisses
  • have a more recognizable profile
  • have a higher IQ
  • shave my legs faster
  • alphabetize more efficiently
  • attract men with accents, muscles, and silky long eye lashes quicker and longer

Let us celebrate the snoot.
dear adenoids,
here's to you. we love you.

In the majestic words of Saturday's Warrior:

"You ain't got a nose till it touches your toes,
and it grows every time that it blows."

love, music, and the plentiful proboscis,


I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.

Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.

They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.

Billy Collins

that's all, folks


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