Coconut Custard Pie

I've been feeling like a failed blogger cos I haven't updated. Why? Because in the persuit of devoting my life to pleasure and solitude, I have relinquished participating in most blog-worthy activities. Like leaving my house. For example today I wrote a letter, unpacked a box, walked to the co-op to buy milk and eggs and pears, baked a coconut custard pie, and started "The Age of Innocence". I couldn't have had a better day, but it must be a bore to read about. 

Oh! So my craigslist addiction is starting to spiral out of control. Craigslist is my trusty procrastination pal, the site I turn to when I have a paper to write, of hundreds of pages to read, or just about anything else that I SHOULD be working on. I browse the personals in a specific order: men seeking men, women seeking men, women seeking women, men seeking women, missed connection (my favorite). I am not on the prowl for some NSA (no strings attached, natch) fling or long term cyber love, rather, I am super fascinated that these people, these freaky, lonely, horny, optimistic, creative people, populate my community. Could my former high school principle be "Looking for a hot torrid love affair"? Might "Plus sized pillow princess" be that woman squeezing radishes at the co-op? Honestly, I look because I want to find someone that I know. Seriously. The Harriet the Spy that lives in my heart peruses these advertisements looking for familiar syntax. A couple of months ago I am sure that I spotted a schoolmate on the Western Mass site, describing herself as a young (insert insipid formerly cool middle aged actress here). About a week ago I spotted a girl I went to high school with in a section that I didn't expect with a subject line that I can't help but post: "CUTE FAT CHICK SEEKS SWEET GIRL TO TAKE ON THE WORLD WITH!"

 It's strange how the invention of the internet has taken previously public courtship rituals underground, but allowed people to reveal their kinks and quirks to potential mates, not to mention the whole world wide web. Recently Nicole Brydson wrote a pretty fluffy piece for the New York Observer about the difficulty of meeting mates in bars. Have we, as a society, evolved to a point of social awkwardness where we need a forum without faces, without names, without labels, to truly connect?  

My pie is ready.