Naming my Red Convertable

I'm naming my red convertable, uttering names that flick into my head as i drive to try them out on her. no name has fit yet.
I need your help dear bloggers.
This is my foxy new convertable, see my past entry "Just" for her landing in my life.
She is not a Roxanne as my girl's Sarah's red car is who we for years go out in the town with, but she is a close cousin. She is foxy, yes, but she is not so fiesty as Roxanne. she is steady. she is from 1990. she has fake fur inside. she is comfy and she is a lowrider.
I thought maybe she was a Judith, because she is conquering and means business. but i think that name is too ancient for her keenness. then I though Delilah in the same damaging manner, but then i got queezy thinking of that woman "delilah after dark" on the radio who does late night love songs and i don't want that kind of competition.
Gwen may be a possibility because there is something pure and intriguing and different abou that name, but it's a little bit too easy going of a name and simple.
Names like Danny and Stevie are tempting, boyish girl names but they are too boyish, and too eeeee in the sounds which was my old cars' utterance (Athena) so i need to move away from those kinds of vowels.

So help me out dear readers, this is a name contest. who can think up the name of my car? The winner gets a ride in my car.

The name should be a somewhat common name, American, you know nothing to ancient or unrecognizable.
here's some more hints to my car's personality.
She is both boxy and long.
She is not racey be/c she has nothing to prove.
She is sassy.
She is not clingy.
She goes where she wants.
She's got a stick.
She doesn't follow "inclinations" she just goes, as if it's already happened.
She's got a deep and strong horn really makes herself known without being too overbearing.
She's a convertable with a black top. Toyota Celica
And she's not exactly girly. but she is femme. all femme.
She is daring.
She plunges right in, She goes.
She is satisfied.
With her there's never a lost cause.
She has no alter-ego, no alias. (unlike me who has about 5)
she is convicted.
She is deliberate.

Finding it.

I found the precious piece of paper, a note that my grampa kept. The man of my Life.
The list is titled P.P.P and here is what follows:

Bicycle
Stones that gyp
Have found
Multiplication table
140 MPH
Money for drawing
Blusing
Hornets
Shakespeare
Favorite Action
Ring
Stories
Embarrassment
Church
Tea - Coffee
Driven
Ex-temp Speeches
Bowling
Baseball game
Swear
People who smoke cigs
People who eat cheese
Don't like chickens etc

so i think my grampa, who was somewhat acquard socially, but really funny also, i think he kept this note as things he had come up with to talk to my gramma with, some catchers, when they were dating. because he liked her too to think up anything brilliant while on the spot with this gorgeous sweetheart. my gramma, who was a singer on the radio, obsessed with songs like "somewhere over the rainbow." so this note is probably from the early 1920s when he was in his twenties.
The hilarious thing is that I keep notes scribbled all over anything in my purse, check books and receipts, i use all these when i get little hints of good writings.

But losing this piece of paper and then finding it reminded me that I have heritage. my awesome brilliant grampa. who made all kinds of inventions and knew every kind of rose.who was patient, and grew bamboo, and took pictures. and sometimes he just waited in the parking lot of my school for me after dropping me off till 3 oclock. who had a model T Ford when he was 18. who was the first person to take aerial photos of Midland Michigan up in his buddy Jack's plane. who whistled a lot. who taught me all about trains. who knew every street in san francisco. who took me to watch the oil ships come in the bay and we'd watch their magnificence. almost like creatures. He was still. And when i was born, he became silly. And from then on we couldn't stop. we spilled into each other. This is my Markey heritage. It is my golden coin.

So now I'm struck with the fact that i come from special people, and that i'm even special. And although the boys WILL take-off from my scene and whether this is just my bad-luck or just the default of this flipflop town, it does not matter, because i have heritage. I had a brilliant grandfather who cherished me, who was devoted to me and loved me unconditionally, who i got to be wild with, who i got to be my very fiesty me. We'd sit for hours on end in his old faded car and watch the rain, watching nothing continue to happen on my lazy suburban street except for maybe my cat Snowy come home and ignore us. he'd be telling me some story or explaining some mechanical process to me and I would fade in and out of listening. My grampa loved to watch the eventless, like the little children following their parents at the mall while we ate McDonalds and listened to the drone of the echoes in the mall.

going to job #3

i am going to job #3, there will be things that i forget. underwear, toothbrush, something. im home for not much longer. i'm having a really good evening. i ate an apple with PB and J. i called up the Bri. chatted, i im-d the D. i finally broke down and called Patrick. he is not a christian, but he is a history major. he used to be a hippy like me ..... got disillusioned quickly as i did at kresge. he is a very good guy, i think. he is smart. he's already told me he's intimidated of me, of how smart i am. (props to boy)
but here i type,
call me homeboy.

Lenny's

at the end of the night sarah and i went to Lenny's like good old times. i'm in my home town, at denny's and i feel like i'm back in high school, used to go there with the girls from my all girl school ,it was the only thing to do was a teen at 1 am. we used to walk about and talk to strangers and sometimes just sit at their tables and start talking.
we were brave and able as going to an all girl school made us feel pretty untouchable. i love denny's. (moon over my hammy!)

tonight

just had a fabulous night with my sarah girl, drove up to marin. checked out the famous sweet water bar in mill valley, we passed for the covercharge, though there was a lookalike U2 cover band. but the crowd was too marin and outdated. we went to the 2 am club. i hunkered down on the solitaire machine. then we played Ms. Packman. that was the most satisfying thing i've done in weeks.
sarah and i played some guys to pool, and sarah swept the whole table everytime, 3 solids in a row. that girl is solid.

Impossible

Scottie was an impossible kind of man. His spirit was so generous and grand. he was so happy, he loved to hung and he'd take you in with this kind of hook, as one arm was kind of bent always so when he'd grab you down for a hug, you would be down for a little bit. "oh hello molly" he'd say to me. in this way i can hear i don't know how to explain, but i remember that. he had three daughters. he was such a wild man in his life, surfing, and the lead in this rockband, women threw themselves at him, he was in law school when he OD'd. heroin. they took him off coldturkey and that is why he went under for months and had the visions that he did. he saw jesus, he always talked about when he saw jesus on the cross. "he was smiling!" he'd remind me. "he had this huge nose! his nose was huge!" he'd smile, reminding me of how jewish he was. as his visions piled up i got annoyed. how could i get annoyed? it was too much, all the kinds of beings in his dreams. he'd tell me them over and over again. i also pointed out how in his second book "into the mystic" his autobiography, that whenever people said anything to him, he would respond with the outburst "what the hell!" or "how in the hell!" i said "scottie, this doesn't sound like you, like your voice, you're always saying"what the hell this, what the hell that" and upset. can we vary the tone in your voice?" trying to make it more interesting. but he loved the dramatic outbursts of his Scottie person of his book. And i lift my hands up now and laugh at myself for having tried to put the kaputs on his scottie outbursts. yes scottie! let the upset scottie of his book be. let him have his wild man as he wants in "into his mystic"

Just

everything feels just right tonight. I skipped kickboe, my car was in the shop. I picked it up and now it is going much smoother. Today is fall, it is very much fall with winter kicking in. it makes me happy. it makes me happy when it is cloudy. I feel all myself and all contained and the sky is heavy with all kinds of depth and weight, and the sounds seem more pronounced. somehow i think b/c the sky is soggy and holds down everything more on a day like today. the world seems quieter, so now the sounds that do go by really infiltrate me and i can hear the cars passing by from the front of the house, the less busy but still busy market street. the noises, they kind of lag today with the wetness of a city with rain on the way. it's gonna burst anytime now.
soon i get to climb in my red convertable. indeed! my sister gave me her red convertable. a 1990 toyata celica--she's got that long and boxy look. she's fabulously early 90s. the best thing about my crammed life is going places, i get in her with the faux scruffy fur seats and i feel a little more endless. we re rolling now, i just learned stick the weekend i picked it up (Oct 1) in San Francisco which was wild and people drove like maniacs. but i don't think i stalled nearly as many times as yr average whoever would on their first drive considering the steep and senseless ways that San Francisco goes. on my first go i drove my sister to treasure island for her meeting with a couple, she's a wedding photographer. getting off the ramp i went from 5th gear into 2nd gear on a dramatic abrupt left turn that the ramp makes. getting on the island, the manmade island built for the world's fair in the 30s, then was a military base, now is abandoned with old military quarters and then low-income housing. driving around its vast plains i ruminated this spot that i love so. it's a lucky place for me. i was conceived there. (I'm a love-child!) and as I grow, I like that. this impossibility of me. the streets are wide and i took off around Treasure Island's racetrack as it wraps around the base, passing abandoned buildings and gaping huge aircraft stores. this island with no distinct edges, a manmade plateau that spills into the lapping water of the choppy bay. And i too spilled from side to side, gliding around in my new ride. like i could keep going. it's an impossible kind of place

scottie sequel

scottie, i wish he could return. vanished. my buddy.
he was so generous, he was so happy. all crinkled on the couch. i used to feed him salmon everynight for dinner, i'd feed him while we watched comedy central. chappelle show, Daily Show,: we'd laugh and laugh, so hard he'd almost choke on his salmon. he was pretty much blind, but he could see stuff. it was always random what he could see, stuff on the edges i think. when i put him in his bed, i'd have to sort of pull his body up to the pillow and get him in place. so I'm bend and move his frail body up to be positioned. he always went "oohh! you're so strong!" in his garbled voice. "You are strong woman! i like my women strong!" and i'd go "that cuz i'm russian!" and he'd smile this glee. "You're so strong!"

Scottie

Scottie passed, my beloved friend scottie.
Scottie! you arranged your life the way you wanted. yes Scottie, we said Ciao bella! to me b/c i was just back from Italy then, i said Ciao bello! to you.
Scottie was the paralyzed man that I worked for, I was his editor and caretaker, i'd come up to his house on west cliff and work on his book, trying to make out his words which were jarbled and gruntful, but i got your language, and i knew your facial expressions too. when i saw you in the hospital, with the trachiotome you could not talk but i knew you were laughing when you rolled your eyes up and to the left, and lifted your chin, that is your face when you laugh. and i can see your grin, your wild smile, you were the most rambunctious man, though crinkled on the couch, i emailed your buddies you've known your whole life, those same guys you were in the rocknroll band with in the early 70s, i'd email your daughters, i emailed your granddaughter for you, and you always ended her emails with "do you know how much your grandpa loves you?" or "don't ever forget how much your granddad loves you." and we all circled around you scott, we came to you like a magnet. all your attendants, your friends, your family. you were a cornerstone in this town, you grew up here. i was the hostess at your last birthday party in december, you were 52. . . .

keepin

i keep writing little posts in my head, then losing them. i go up to camp kennolyn to sleep and through the baby monitor i make sure the old lady sleeps too. no computer. no energy. today at kick boe i was so tired so tired. how does that work? molly tired, kicks 220 times and punches thrusts hook, jab, sidekcik = molly not tired and happy and jamming and kick ass.

little window

hello.
im home for 20.
work tonight 8 pm, to 8 am, work tomorrow 9.30.
vroom vroom. i have so much to tell you.