Disposable City

From the Holyland

2010-09-08T17:01:00.000-07:00

Blogging from Israel is next to impossible without reliable Internet.
Follow me on Tumblr via my BlackBerry - Im doin my best here!

http://disposablecity.tumblr.com/

Disposable City: Summer 2009

2009-07-09T05:26:00.000-07:00

Or the first half at least...

Perpetually Phased

2009-05-29T13:33:00.000-07:00

May 12, 2009

If I Were in Porn

2009-04-21T17:21:00.000-07:00

To the Left, To the Left

2009-04-11T08:18:00.000-07:00

March 12, 2009 - Grassroots Bar on St. Marks
Is it wrong that I find those arrows beyond aesthetically pleasing -
So much so that I want them tattooed on my body? Theyre just garbage
someone etched onto a bar table but theres something about them. No?

Cant Believe Its Trudy

2009-04-09T07:55:00.000-07:00

Apparently, before achieving infamy as Trudy Wiegel on Comedy Central's RENO 911, Kerri Kenney was in a 90s Alt-Rock outfit.
Enough said.
The only available track on YouTube from her band Cake Like boasts a traditionally bizarre 90s music video complete with shots of dolls clothes, electric waves atop TV wires, and an entire girl group semi-kinder whored. The song itself, however, does something slightly PJ Harvey and slightly Sonic Youth but its no wonder Kenney had to wait for fame. Her voice is unmistakably Wiegel and though she sings well enough, its hard for this generation to separate her from her television persona. I suppose when this video came out it wouldve been hard to separate her from the hoards of other similar acts - many of which were probably better, especially lyrically. For me, thats what sets 90s grunge apart from the music of other eras - the lyrics had more poesy and Cake Like doesnt seem to have achieved that. As far as my greatest 90s obsession, fashion: while I dont particularly like the look in the video, the two promo shots I could locate are looking pretty awesome. Light blue denim and black lace all around, and that, I can stand behind.

Anyway, just thought that was worth sharing/wildly amusing.
Thanks to Alex for uncovering this little gem.

Worship Worthy

2009-04-07T13:22:00.000-07:00

I honestly have no idea how I turned this blog into a style blog, but Im hoping to eventually salvage what is left of my more personal thoughts and move my fashion ideals (of which there are many and Im attempting to sort through in a coherent manner) to BADLOOKING where I will let myself go overboard with infinite posts and links and photos and whatever else. Until the new blog is really set up, I have a few things to share (some of which have been shared elsewhere but deserve more support):

1. Nina Nikicio's Oneandahalf

Another blogger - Style Bubble - gets full credit for posting about Nikicio's work yesterday. As a huge fan of simple silhouettes and the full spectrum of the gray scale, I immeditely contacted the designer, herself, asking for prices. To my surprise, some items are even as inexpensive as $19! Of course that raises the question of quality but with most designers pricing their items far above $100, ordering a few items under that feels logical (?) so Im placing my order tonight. That white dress, in particular, will be mine! Nina calls the collection Heartbreak, describing it as:

Collection 1: Heartbreak is pretty straightforward as it’s inspired by the end of one relationship and so the color is somber in black, white, and grey pallete. The tassels and attached shawls are used in the collection to represent tears and hoods are used to hide the face. The detachable shirt, blazer, cuff, and collar are used to represent the shattered feeling. We’ve all been there and it’s not pretty, but it’s very challenging to create a collection based on sadness and make it look beautiful. If there’s such a word as beautiful sadness, then this is what the collection is about.

1. Aoi Kotsuhiroi

A little over a week ago I stumbled upon some images of these pieces somewhere on the internet and seeing that Jessie over at Burn These Bones also blogged about them (I also totally stole her efforts to capture the images from Kotsuhiroi's site), I had to chime in with my own words of appreciation. Lord knows I love all things dead and dying - hence Horace and Morris - so I immediately fell for these pieces that incorporate human hair, crystals, fired porcelain in the shape of eerie skulls, all handmade. Each of these is so uniquely beautiful and mesmerizing, I only wish I were made of money so that I could make this piece my own. The craft of the hair - used almost as wire - and its sleek blackness amongst jade green stones and the slight dirtiness of the skull pieces is just unreal and truly beautiful.

3. Opening Ceremony Spring 2009
Somehow it completely escaped my knowledge that Opening Ceremony finally put up a website that I can lurk constantly - my favorite hobby. Thus, after creating this list:

Mock Neck Bodysuit
Zip-Front Cardigan
OC Bodysuit Dress
Jean Bodysuit
Pleated Pointelle Skirt
Nude Toga Tank
Waisted Knit Top
OC Cropped Bow Top
OC Beach Top

of items I am coveting, I made my way down to Canal Street - my least favorite place on this green Earth - and tried on almost everything on that list. Of course, what I came out with was yet another piece of Alexander Wang's T Collection. Ive overworn my long black racer back tank dress so I chose to get the cream version. Its safe to say I need to stop shopping.

4. Oak Editorial
The most recent Lookbook shots from Oak are really high fashion and worth sharing with yall!
Come visit me this weekend (and buy some Acne products from me so I can win a free item).

What Happens in SoHo

2009-04-03T00:19:00.000-07:00

So, I went. After six hours in class I met up with Meredith, from my trip to Israel, and Pam and the three of us walked down to TopShop from Cooper Square. South of Prince Street we kept anticipating a mob of screaming girls and a hideous mass of people but instead there was a civilized and organized line around the block. Maybe it was the time of day that allowed for only the more relaxed enthusiasts waited until after 5, but it was - all in all - a very pleasant experience. Id never gone to anything knowing beforehand that it was going to be so intense, as I had expected opening day to be, but it wasnt stressful in the least. We waited in line for maybe twenty minutes before spotting Marika and friends headed home and then running into Texas, fresh from Paris, and a friend of hers who joined us in the cue for another twenty or so minutes and then we easily made it inside. Because the outdoor waiting area was so well run, the store, itself, wasnt over-crowded or difficult to manage in the least. There was an appropriate number of shoppers at all times and not until fitting room lines was anything else a hassle.

My two purchases: denim bra & white cut-out dress. Success!
Im 100% going back for the denim body suit, as well. Regrets!
(Went back for the unitard and got a hot red bikini as well!)

I was right, however, in anticipating some kind of disappointment. TopShop is, ultimately, just a glorified H&M or Forever 21 and though the trends they are cashing in on are a bit more to-the-minute and well-made, there is minimal difference. What I can say in favor of the company over others in the same vein is that the store never felt a mess, it is not overcrowded with displays and where the items go right, they go right. Their collaboration with Preen (the best of which is that black piece hanging in the foreground of my dressing room heap) looked beautiful on the hangers and fit half amazingly (the other half looked horrendous) and there were several pieces that stole my heart. With three gift cards, each worth $5, two a gift from Pam, I spent over $100 and walked out with the two single most 90s inspired pieces in the entire store despite having tried on at least 15 other items. Im very happy with what I got in time for Spring to start and I do believe I will be visiting TopShop again - unlike H&M and Forever21, which I wrote off ages ago as every one of their pieces came apart with minimal wear. The items I already own from TopShop are of good quality and I can agree to spending minimal cash on easy-to-wear clothes that last well enough as well.

Thanks to Nicky Digital for this shot of Meredith and I holding our items.

My oufit: Ideeen biker jacket, Opening Ceremony belted top, Larsen Grey skirt, DKNY tights

Why Try to Change Me, Now

2009-04-02T21:23:00.000-07:00

Heaven knows I am a personality snob and rare do I find someone who encites true and total awe but much of my life (thirteen years, now, to be exact) have I marveled at the beauty and the essence that is Fiona Apple. Just as she released Tidal in 1996, I was maybe the only eight year old at Lilith Fair, eagerly awaiting my chance to see Apple in succession with The Cardigans (of which Nina Persson is still someone I admire, as well), Jewel, Joan Osborne, Sheryl Crow, Tracy Chapman, Sarah McLaughlan, amongst many others. Since then, she has consistently been my favorite musician and maybe even general "person". Not only is she a physical beauty and an immense talent but she has a knack for closing herself off and opening herself up at the precisest of moments. She tells the world some but never too much and she is all emotions - even angry - with a kind of grace that reminds me, however sentimentally, of the way swans take off from water. I admire her in every way without an ounce of jealousy in the form of some admirations. So, after nearly four years since releasing Extraordinary Machine and only a single track for The Nightmare Before Christmas 3D, its only fitting that she perform songs of those that Id like to assume she admires with maybe a similar fervor. Reportedly, she is releasing a covers album (perhaps similar to Cat Power's Covers Album but better because Chan Marshall, despite doing the songs she chose a certain kind of justice, did not make a "listenable" album worth hearing over and over again while Ive already listened to Apple's single track release at least a dozen times today). Anyhow, she does an incredible favor for Cy Coleman's Why Try to Change Me, Now? (originally written for Sinatra), following solidly in the footsteps of Colman and Sinatra themselves, not to mention alto sensation Beverly Kenney in 1956 and many more. Its safe to say that I cant wait for more of this to leak. More information at Stereogum.

TopShop Take Over: Tomorrow

2009-04-01T09:16:00.000-07:00

So, Manhattan's TopShop finally opens tomorrow and despite how dramatically I despise crowds - due to the constant fear that I could have a panic attack at any moment - I have been fully tricked into having to go on opening day. As Pam blogged about the other day, this adorable group of TopShop girls has been roaming the city in the Heartschallenger bus giving out free tote bags filled with Lookbooks and fliers and some of us were given gift cards with an anonymous quantity on them between $5 and $500. Problem is that these gift cards are only valid on April 2nd!

The one thing I really dont understand about TopShop is that their Lookbook boasts the most amazing pieces and adorable styling but none of the features items even exist for purchase! At least not on the website. Instead, everything on the site just looks like slightly glorified H&M and Forever 21 reissues. Granted, I have several items from the TopShop and TopMan lines that I got at Opening Ceremony over the years but Ive never been blown away. Where are all those glorious items above? Where is all the fringe and the amazing patterns and perfect pleats and washes? I suppose Ill see how it goes tomorrow, assuming I make it through the whole experience.

Finally Mine

2009-03-30T19:45:00.000-07:00

Grey Ant, Spring 08/09

After having coveted them for over a year, I made them my own.

Battle on the Homefront

2009-03-29T06:31:00.001-07:00

Typically, I try to keep my sometimes extreme opinions out of this blog because I know that I stand for things that might seem hard to swallow. This week, however, Ive been made to stand for my beliefs in a very strange and convoluted way and I cant help but want to express what Ive come to realize. Foremost, I had to face the fact that though I have gone from an awful optimistic judge of character to a wildly skeptical pessimist (though I am glad to know that I am hard to please and can easily write someone off at the first sign of malcharacter) my standards are not foolproof and the occasional bad seed can slip through and into my small bevy of friends. Shocked, appalled and greatly disappointed in someone I had higher hopes for, I had to sort out just how the list of offenses committed ranked and what I was, ultimately, going to do with the friendship. In the end, I doubt there is any way to undo the damage because someone obsessed with disrespecting, humiliating and degrading women, even in public isnt someone I want to wait and see what happens with. After all, even the most platonic male-female friendships still involve male and female components and the inherent opinions of each on the other will someday show through and I dont want to be there to have my face pushed in the dirt by someone I thought I knew.

What the scenario comes down to is the way that some people feel it is appropriate to treat other people and the way some men feel it is appropriate to treat women. Blindly accusing and blaming and name-calling never puts someone on top because while they may think they are the one humiliating the other, they are only revealing the true basis of themselves and come out looking a damn fool. Though someone can be louder in a fight, raising ones voice is just a window into outrageous insecurity and a pathetic sense of what it is to "win".

Unfortunately, the female psyche is so tightly wound around the way men treat us that we allow a good basis of how we feel about ourselves to depend on how others feel about us, and this oftentimes begins with the mother. When the mother is a figure capable of disrespect, there is an affect on both son and daughter. Both learn that women are not the worship worthy creatures that they are and son's of weak mothers learn abuse (on whatever level) and the daughters learn that abuse is okay, that this is just the way they are meant to be treated.

None of this is the way it should be. All people should learn matters and respect for one another because when a person shows disrespect they are just showing their own lack of respect for themselves - but most clearly dont see it that way. At any rate, when my friend showed the girl hes supposed to care for a clear lack of respect in touching and speaking to her inappropriately, he let in on the fact that he, himself, is wildly terrified of these things and instead of allowing himself to speak rationally and behave logically (which allows for the possibility of rejection or humiliation) he lashed out thinking that he would come out on top using his voice and an endless list of cruelties. What happened was that he rejected and humiliated himself and, in the process, lost any respect that several people had for him.

My convictions put me in a place where if a man hurts a woman out of sheer malice, he hurts me. What he may do to another he may just as easily do to me and I want no part of that. What, in this situation, feels the greatest shame is that no matter the difference in the two relationships - mine and the significant other - to this person, we are both still women. I am still a woman and so no matter how right my argument, no matter how accurately I describe and peel apart his actions and his argument to show him that the true core is that of extreme hurt and a sense of downright evil, I am still a woman and the basis of his every move seems to be that we are an inferior gender, at his disposal, to treat however he may like and suffer no consequence. Well, here is the consquence: without a vast and heartfelt apology, he will be without a friend - his only friend besides the foolish girl that gave him this complex to begin with.

My Old Life

2009-03-27T12:11:00.001-07:00

Three years ago is catching up to me in the form of the first amazing piece to come out of American Apparel in ages. Thanks to Is Mental for the heads up. Dont get me wrong, Im not in denial that AA provides a solid and dependable place to find basics but my life and my wardrobe have moved far past basics since I was an employee at the Broadway store even before the company went public. The sheer thing is really happening for summer and in response Ive upped the ante on shredding shirts. I just completed my first fully shredded item and it looks fantastic and hangs really flatteringly (on my curvy frame, at least) and I cant wait to wear it to work tomorrow. Im going to start taking requests and selling the efforts of my nimble fingers.

Thanks to Lisa M. at Oak for the iPhone photos.

New For Spring

2009-03-27T11:39:00.000-07:00

My life has been busier than ever and my health has thus been deteriorating, causing painful mornings and an impossibility to get out of bed right at 9:10 when my alarm asks me to. That doesnt mean, however, that I havent been spending money. Not having the time to physical enter stores is actually far more dangerous because it means Im shopping online without the consequence of handing my credit card over a counter and watching the cashier swipe away my hard earned money. As a result, I have purchased a handful of incredible vintage ethnic pieces to add to my jewelry collection - a hinged bone chestpiece from Australia, a silver chain-mail spiked necklace, a brass and ebony choker from India, carved red and black cinnabar bangles from Greece, and a silver ring from Tibet - as well as a vast variety of vintage and natural beads and materials to begin my own necklace "line". Pictures will go up of all my jewel finds as soon as I acquire a working camera that isnt a part of either my computer or my phone. I also purchased three pairs of shoes in one week. When asked to describe my Spring style in three words (for the Oak Facebook) it was easy, "The 90s, Unironically." If you read this blog, you know Im not kidding and its no passing thing the way I love that fateful era.

This week has been nonstop with the end of Spring break, my return to NYC from my brief haitus to Baltimore, the return to classes and work as well as a new friend in town visiting from San Francisco. With a guest around it gave me the motivation necessary to go out a bit more and I even spent an entire day in Greenpoint to go to Mary Meyer's studio and try on some of the amazing things one of Brooklyn's biggest up-and-coming designers is offering for Spring (that arent already available at Oak.) I left with the Necklace Boat Dress and the Maze Crop Top while Daniah got the Diamond Hunter Biggie. All in all, the most pleasant and special shopping experience Ive had. I met Mary the day before when she hosted a weekend at 5-in-1 here in Williamsburg where I drank a tiny beer with her and got a forest green circle scarf by Covet that I honestly have yet to take off.

Please stop over at the new blog that we at Oak's Williamsburg location have just begun to let our lovely public in on what were talking about over here, whats moving like crazy, what were seeing on shoppers that stands out and whatever else were up to. Follow us:

OAK williamsburg

Hair Club for Fall

2009-03-24T21:37:00.000-07:00

Hair for Marc Jacobs Fall 2009

Shreddy Krueger

2009-03-08T16:45:00.000-07:00

+ Shredded my first t-shirt today and it only took six hours, resulting in blisters. From this to this. Im so proud.
Im going to do a few more and then were going to put them on sale at Oak and see what happens. $165-$180.

+ Scott Matthew came into the store today and I helped him pick out shirts. Hes coming back tomorrow.
- Series Finale of The L Word tonight - Im going to miss those girls so much. This better be good.
+ Twice in one day shoppers mentioned having found my/this blog. I have no idea how to take that.
I dont think I actually understand blogs or how to get people to look at them or how to get people to
follow them or link them or check them at all. This is less for me now so hopefully some of that happens.
+/- Splurged on these.

The Perfect Shape

2009-03-04T19:02:00.000-08:00

Jasper Conran Fall 2009

Also: In response to High Snobette's Would You Neon?
Army Surplus Beanie, Mike & Chris Oversized Sweater, Publicka Batwing Top, Kaylee Tankus Pleated Pant, LD Tuttle Boots

Creating Creative Creations

2009-03-02T14:09:00.000-08:00

Brittany and I made our second trip over to the Garment District somewhat recently and spent the remainder of the day getting crafty with our new purchases. Brittany made an insane headdress and I could only muster up a multi-feather hairpiece. Given any downtime since then Ive put myself to work brainstorming and ended up making the awesome necklace and two other hairpieces, seen above. The quality of the photos doesnt show just how much work went into any of it but every feather is wrapped in thread, the top of the necklace is braided suede, and I oxidized the chain myself. Mostly, Im proud of myself and can only imagine these will get more and more awesome with practice. Plus, Im ordering some vintage beads and metal decorations to make even more elaborate pieces.

In getting back in the crafts business (in high school I made personalized scarves that did really well and despite being the topic of most gossip during that time, a ton of people bought them) I guess it ought to consider making an Etsy account. The one thing thats kind of disheartening about it is that my own opinion of Etsy is very mixed. Sure, a lot of really talented people use it at a venue of sales but it also validates a lot of crap projects. Just because one can technically put a price on something doesnt mean theres any skill behind it. At any fate, I searched "feather" on Etsy and looked through all 800odd pages of results to find the best shops for feather jewelry and I do believe my work would fare well because theres nothing like it available and my prices would be far more reasonable.

Fleathers: Though I found this shop by searching "feathers", the items I like the most have nothing to do with that outcome. Im huge fan of animal symbolism and here you can find some really beautiful gold and silver animal rings. Oak carries several wolf and dog heads and skulls and Opening Ceremony has a huge variety of $400+ gold and silver animal head rings but here, on Etsy, similar items are offered up at half the price. The double rings (like the Beast Master) have got to be my favorite but I really do like every design and thats a rare thing to say.

Gia: This shop offers some really exquisite Earthy designs that show a really incredible talent for the manipulation of fabrics and materials. While the chainlink necklaces are a popular design at the moment, there are also a lot of unique pieces of neckwear in this little shop. Each one is different but they all have a sort of seaness that feels fresh and different but is still totally wearable. This one is my favorite just because Im not the best at crazy necklace wearing but it could even be an especially beautiful scarf.

Natasha Khan: Now I have no idea whether or not this is the Natasha Khan I hope and pray it is, but if this is really the Bat For Lashes frontwoman, I think I may be a little disappointed. The pieces are standard but they come at good prices and are clearly personalized and well-made. I do, however, love this necklace because based on its default photo, the detailing looks like it would be huge when it reality its very small and delicate. Not to mention intricate and quite amazing looking - definitely a stand out.

Yellow Field: Obviously my search brought up a variety of things, including these hats, but I do really love them. Taking Depression Era styles more literally to create something new rather than just trite vintage ensembles is both refreshing and quite unique. The hats have their own sort of finger wave to them and thats what makes them timeless but also completely modern. Its hard to pick a favorite but I think that I, personally, would get a good amount of wear out of this hat were it in a more neutral color because it has such a precise and elegant design. Yellow Field's hats could also be worn dressed up and thats a hard task for any hat to handle.

Custom By Levy: Custom By Levy was definitely the most literal result to my "feathers" search in offering this very beautiful (yet incredible overpriced) feather necklace. The shops other options are bland but I do like this design a lot. It isnt, however, terribly unique and though I feel bad blowing Levy's cover, the materials used to make such a piece might cost $15 and the effort isnt incredible. The hardest part to it all is setting the feathers. Regardless, I do appreciate the work.

Embellish Designs: Feathers are a really "now" item to utilize and I dont expect the trend to stay in Urban Outfitters for too much longer (but what trend does?) and so it was nice to see an Etsy shop that used the influence to make really mature, classic pieces that could stand the test of time. Beyond having an even better take on the feather necklace than Levy's store, Embellish features the Serpent Bangle and Ring without getting too literal and, my favorite use of the feather, an incredibly unique pair of earrings. Nature inspired work isnt uncommon but Embellish made the viewing experience quite refreshing.

Loved to Death: Part of the personal appeal of the feather trend is that I just love taxidermy and dead critters so I immediately took to Loved to Death's Etsy store. Im not at all impressed by the use of feathers in these items but there are so many incredible things up for sale. My favorite piece of jewelry being this rabbits foot turned chicken claw necklace, but beyond just body ornaments, there are tons of dead things made quite gracefully for purchase, all with a Victorian overtone.

Tinctory: Im not even sure how this came up in my search and the pieces arent spectacular but theres a craftmanship to be appreciated in Tinctory's rings and necklaces. The best of these and the only I could ever see myself wearing is the Rosemary necklace, but the stitching on every piece is very well done and I can imagine it was all worked by hand and such precision is very difficult to accomplish by hand - my work is crazy-looking and thats why I always hide my stitching.

Norwegian Wood: Another series of more literal feather items, Norwegian Wood has also taken a closer look at the popular theme of fringe, not only in jewelry but in clothing. Where this shop really stands out is in its selection of skirts, my favorite being this piece that also taps into Spring's nude trend. Not only that but Norwegian Wood makes caged skirts which are huge in the avant garde community so, beyond feathers, there is a great innovation and attention to whats on demand in this final store.

Shades Of

2009-03-02T12:04:00.000-08:00

Last week at Oak we got in three measly pairs of Chronicles of Never's Spring sunglasses - all of which are gone by now - nevertheless, they are a really great combination of the avant garde and the classic when it comes to shades. Considering how well they sold Im hoping that well get another shipment or that the warehouse or maybe Bond Street has an extra pair or two so that I can get my hands on them (bottom row). There's also a pretty big selection of Retro Superfuture sunglasses that come in classic wayfarer shapes as well as flattop and for non-crazy prices that rival even Ray Bans because, lets face it, nice sunglasses are all over $100 but anything under $200 maintains recession style possibility. The constant struggle to indulge in the geometrics of the crazy modern high fashion wave and avoid purchasing anything that will quickly become far-too-much and outdated, both these brands offer a lot this spring without breaking the bank.

Taking A Turn

2009-03-02T07:57:00.000-08:00

Clearly, Ive lost my knack for being overindulgent in the expression of every minute detail of my personal and emotional life and so, I think Im going to change the theme of this blog and base my blogging more on reactions and reviews to tangible things that other people care about because...this is public, isnt it? At first I thought Id make all prior entires "private" but it turns out I have no idea how to make that happen and then I thought about deleting them but I know Id never do that, and so Im just going to turn on an axis. Mind you, it wasnt the anti-semitic threats that scared me away, but my own lack of interest in doing what Ive always done: oversharing.

Awhile ago I praised Chloe Sevigny for her pubic hair (rather than a lack thereof) but besides how good she looks in the nude my most current thoughts on her have been more along the lines of when can I finally get the Spring 2009 Opening Ceremony Collection?! because I really must see more of this up close. It doesnt look as good as her first collection because that was entirely 90s and as Ive also mentioned before, Im completely obsessed with the 90s in the least ironic way (and will be sporting LD Tuttle's Dreamer platform come mid-March, once the weather permits). This spring, however, Ive decided to introduce more color and Sevigny's Hammer Pants could certainly aid in the end to that means. They also might be utterly ridiculous but I cant knock em til Ive tried em. Mostly I want every pair of this line's shoes. I never got a pair of the past seasons' Chloe shoes despite yearning for them heavily (though I did recently snag the camel colored Opening Ceremony wedge boot that Ive been aching for all year for 1/5th the store price and might follow them up with a black pair shortly). At any rate, I must wait impatiently for news of her collection's arrival to the store.

In other style news, after a very extended shopping hiatus and a great plentiful bank account savings, Ive recently reentered the fashion world with the purchase of not only my Opening Ceremony boots but also a South Western cropped jacket and a bounty of vintage jewelry for spring (etched and chainlink chokers, bone carvings, Middle Eastern rings, and more to come) that I cant wait to wear. Not only that but Ive also rekindled my love (and skill) for crafts and have made several feather necklaces and headpieces which, if all goes well and people continue to respond to them, I will probably have for sale at some point in the near future. I learned to oxidize chain and everything so that each piece is entirely handmade but for the chainlink itself. (Also, the growing and cultivating of the feathers was done entirely by birds.)

Hopefully Ill continue to have so much to say on more than just myself and maybe - just maybe - Disposable City will thrive again.

Obsession/Addiction

2009-01-31T15:21:00.000-08:00

I have done some serious blog-slacking as of late, mostly because I was out of the country and lessly because I have grown dramatically weary of the internet. As a result, it went greatly unnoticed that, after having been tagged by the 66Sick Girls, Pam Liou tagged me in listing my obsessions and addictions via blog. Im going to miss things and end up making a big deal out of other random notes but, I suppose, as a member of the internet society, it is my duty to fulfill the wishes of those I find most entertaining. With that, I begin:

1. Obsession: Israel
This is kind of a given, considering my recent trip and full intention to move there within the next year or two, but this is also an overarching obsession that encompasses other things such as: beautiful men with little concern for fashion or trends, a rekindled love of smoking hookah, the semi-aggresive Israeli accent, the freshest air Ive had the pleasure to breath in ages, places to go hiking within miles of a busy city, stray cats that are oddly well-groomed, did I mention the beautiful men? Yeah. Beautiful men. Those are merely the material reasons as to why I love the holyland but my more vague, melodramatic rantings on Israel can be found elsewhere.

UPDATE: After having updated about my trip to Israel, I received a rather violent comment in response from someone who clearly doesnt share my feelings for the country. In all honesty, its kind of scary to know that this person lives in New York and spent a very long time looking at this blog and navigating to nearly every link Ive ever posted, but I the only option is to block their IP and just leave it alone. I mean, at least the threat, though intense, was well written. As someone who judges based on writing quality, its good to know I attract literate violence.

This is now the the third in memorable antisemitic remarks/attacks made on me. The first was when I was 16. I was hanging out with a friend near the Inner Harbor in Baltimore and someone walked by and growled "Kike" at me. The boy I was with pulled a knife on the guy and told him off. The second was when I was in San Francisco and I was talking to a guy wearing a kefiah at a bar. I asked him if he knew the significance and he said he did and rather than have a conversation about it, he turned to his friend and shouted, "Too bad shes a fucking Jew" and walked away. Now this.

2. Addiction: Tattoos
While overseas, I got my first tattoo - a hamsa, the hand of god, behind my left ear - and now I think almost constantly about that sweet, sweet pain. For years Ive mentally accumulated a list of different things Id want on my arms but, at the same time, I dont know how many of those things Id really want on my body forever. The hamsa is perfect and very special to me, especially because I got it done in Tel Aviv, but I still want more.

3. Obsession: The 90s
I talk about this all the time and its becoming increasingly obvious in just looking at my wardrobe. Simple silhouettes, lots of black and neutrals, that specific kind of high-waisted...not to mention the music. Maybe its because my computer's harddrive is full and I cant really aquire any new music without erasing old stuff that has driven me to listen mainly to the music I grew up on (The Cardigans, Toadies, Silverchair, Garbage, Butthole Surfers, etc) but no, there is absolutely no irony behind the fact that I really love Jimmie's Chicken Shack.

4. Addiction: Anais Nin
I dont know. I cant seem to finish this list. My obsessions and addictions are distracting me...

Back to the Sea

2009-01-19T09:34:00.000-08:00

The past two weeks, Ive been in Israel. Now I am back and, as all things come full circle, its like none of it ever happened. Starting and ending with my bags packed - the same bags at the opposite end of the same fate - in my apartment, and Im already scared that I may forget the two weeks that Im almost positive are the best consecutive days of my life. I left nothing behind and came back to nothing. Its like I shipped off, only to come back to a daunting sameness that cannot help but remind me of itself constantly, while all of the molecules and atoms and synapses of my being have been rearranged and so the distance grows. It occurs to me that the distance isnt everything else but simply myself, a permenant length at which I keep myself from everything and so I have returned but I remain far away, in a matter of speaking.

There is a vast impossibility in even contemplating taking on the task of explaining the many differences between American and Israeli culture, but it seems to come down to distractions and danger. When every person, every average civilian, is living with the same singular risk and the consistent knowlege of possible doom, there is a calm that comes, an ability to ignore what hardly matters and instead exist more generously. Thousands of young Israelis have no choice other than the join the IDF but their purpose is a tangible one - one that they can see out their own windows, one that they sleep beside at night and this is the foundation of a far different adult world than the one available in the United States. The war isnt over any seas, it isnt out of sight and out of mind, it isnt a favor for anyone else, instead every fight is for their neighbors, their friends, their families, and everything about their way of life. People exist next to people and towns exist next to desert and cities exist next to mountains, absolutely nothing at all, and at the same time there is a greater sense of "everything" and even the air in Israel seems to know that it is fighting for something. Thus, the distractions of Western civilization exist but in a way that seems far less tangible and far less important. Cell phones and TV dont dictate every aspect of life, though they are a part of it, and theres an insurmountable purity in this notion of a more independent human life. I cant expect anyone to simply take my word for it, but the facts are facts despite what American media might have to say on the contrary, and Israel is doing only the bare minimum to protect itself from constant persecution and the neverending quest in cutting out the land that was rightfully given after WWII. It takes looking past CNN or FOX and really finding the truth the get to know the root of the issue and the details that make Israeli conflicts what they are, to get to know that the bombing in Gaza is only finding civilians because rockets are being launched from family backyards and school playgrounds, to discover that Israel is the only warring nation that allows a three hour cease-fire every day to bring aid to enemy families that are in the line of fire just because its the right thing to do when their own "nation" is using them as a shield. But this is how it has been since the beginning of time and if time, itself, has taught us anything its that nothing ever really changes, and so we will exist forever - and we will exist, is the bottom line.

So much happened in the past two weeks, some of it tangible and some still working its way through my brain in attempts to become coherent thoughts. Some I feel right now - hiking in foreign nature for hours almost every day, walking over three miles from the Wailing Wall back to the Kibbutz on Shabbat, losing ten pounds thanks to better food and exercize, getting my first tattoo in Tel Aviv, falling in a kind of strange series of loves, being so wrong in so many judgments of both people and places and being able to say I was an asshole, being able to apologize, and truly feeling sorry for my misconceptions and ultimately not having written off some of the most amazing people Ive ever met, but the list goes on from there - and others I am still awaiting the arrival of, but I know they will come, and when they do I will be ready because I am more ready now for anything than Ive ever been.

Some City and The City

2008-12-30T11:36:00.000-08:00

Chantal and I wearing necklaces by Pam Liou, but my hair is not black and my eyes are not blue. Chantal's are, though. This picture is weird.

I forgot about the having of encouraging, inspiring friends. I forgot about the making of things and the admiring of those that make things I could never make, myself. I didnt lose it, I forgot it, and I am remembering it now. My mother is e-mailing me recipes for sea bass and salmon and cod and vegetable dishes that go well as appetizers so that I can cook New Year's Eve dinner. Recently I have: gone to a Holiday Party, drank mulled wine in South Williamsburg, worked on Christmas, seen The Curious Case of Benjamin Button on opening day, worked five days in a row, told Ian Curtis to hurry up and kill himself, took a nap on a friend and missed out on "quality time". I went bowling and bowled a 42 while mothering a drunken British boy and accepting confessions from some long lost someone or another who "felt like he owed me something" and simultaneously harboring some other unspeakable emotions. Now I want to start a bowling league. I feel good right this second like I could just suddenly try to do something that I have never done before and be very good at it and like Im very good at the things I already know how to do. This will fade, very soon most likely, but its a fresh feeling coming out of all the big nothing I have felt lately. There is nothing to say about nothing at all, but there is everything to be said about a something-nothing. My brain is doing strange things from doing too much no drugs at all.
+ 20 is already far longer than 19 and 20 still has five more months to grow.
+ Less than a week until I leave for Israel where I may or may not be staying with Yonatan for a few nights. Yonatan is in this incredible band.
+ Capucine is magic and is going to save the planet, I promise. If I watch these videos every hour, every day, I will become a better person.
+ I dont know why half of this is in bullets.

& because everyone is doing it...here are my opinions on Laguna Beach/The Hills spin-off The City:
Regardless of the degree to which Whitney Port's new leading lady show may be just as silly, it is already proving far greater than its predecessors ever were. Im not going to discuss the fact that "downtown" in The City is not downtown at all, its just less uptown than uptown, and Im not going to address the great unreality of this reality show for making it seem like big hunky dudes are just waiting to sweep you off your feet when you come for a quick visit from wherever and then date you immediately when you move here. For me, the distinction is not made by the fact that the plotline is far better or that her friends are more attractive and infinitely more interesting and likeable but it is for the exact opposite reason that Jess pointed out about Whitney, herself. For those that are familiar with The Hills' vapid focal females, there is the ever-boring and dateless Lauren Conrad who, while not so terrible is also just not so interesting and because her job and her education are publicly contrived solely for the show, it is hard to take her seriously at all. Heidi is Lauren's old best friend who fell for the worlds biggest douche bag and instead of throwing it out after use, she decided to date it and get fake tits and a new nose for it and fake-marry it in Mexico and make her mother cry over it and maybe real-marry it sometime soon. Arguing ensued, there were some rumors, and now, apparently, there are Lauren and Heidi teams - though there isnt anyone on Heidis, as is a repeating plot point of the show. Lastly, there is Audrina. Looking at her upsidedown face (seriously, her eyes and mouth are upsidedown) says it all, she is just as mentally blank as she looks and I guess the past season she fell for some semi-hot but entirely unbarable idiot of a man named Justin-Bobby who epitomizes everything anyones parents ever warned their daughter about boys. He fools around, he lies, he cant give a straight answer, but hes kind of dreamy and thus very tricky. Anyhow, it would seem that Whitney has immediately discovered her very own long-haired, stubble-faced Justin-Bobby clone in New York City, but there is a very important difference to note amongst the two situations. First of all, Jay has a very negative influence in Adam, his uber-bro roommate that apparently cheats on his insanely stunning girlfriend while shes out of town, and it would seem that the editing of The City is attempting to offset the way a guy can be good and still be swayed otherwise. Also, Jay totally showed up for Olivia's rooftop dinner when he realized that he had been wrong in declining Whitney's invitation. But the main point I want to make is this: Whitney handles herself in a completely different way than any of the morons that came before her on MTV's reality circuit. Upon hearing the rumor that Jay went home and, presumably, fucked some other girl, she didnt yell, she didnt cry, she took it in, thanked the bearer of this news but also made it known that shes not naive and is not going to really trust anyone just yet, neither Jay nor this gossiper. Then, she calmly arrives home and seeks rational advice from her friend Erin and, all on her own, devises the sane and safe plan to meet him for a drink and address the rumor before getting upset all over town. She does just that and its exactly what girls should do. She remained rational and poised while choosing the most appropriate and logical plan of action without going nuts and making a fool of herself and giving the world a reason to deem her undeserving of her life and the good in it. Im okay with Whitney as the leader of a fake plotline because I think, at least, shes setting a good example for girls not in LA or NYC as to how to behave "glamorously" because she has at least some semblance of balance and grace. On The Hills she was the only cast member who actually held the job she worked in the show and she always seemed sound of mind when nodding along to Lauren's nonsense but its nice to see that she might actually be somewhat put together, or at least capable of seeming so onscreen. Of course shes not the new "Carrie Bradshaw", Vanessa, I think one unrealistically annoying SJP character was enough, but Whitney is totally likable and I never like anyone.

Status

2008-12-24T14:37:00.000-08:00

I am depressed but I am not unhappy.
Happy Holidays.

Less and Less, Still

2008-12-20T22:01:00.000-08:00

I guess I meant to post this somewhat recently but never properly edited my thoughts and so it makes little sense and neither my ideas nor my ideals are fleshed out nearly as much as they need to be, but it was intended for this blog about two weeks ago so, here it is, some thoughts on advertising and my ever growing obsession with the 90s:

I was recently traveling through the internet and, through a mutual friend of two, came across a blog belonging to Cat Kim, a fellow New Yorker. She expressed the idea "that design and marketing is the art of the 21st century, the art of public conversation, the use image and text to speak to the world, to change consciousness." I kind of definitely agree with this. Lately, Ive been giving a lot of thought to whether we are living in a Modernist or Post-Modernist age. Most people would like to disagree with me when I say this but it seems as though there are very few truly original ideas left to be had. Avante garde is the only genre left offering creative minds the room to try things that have not been done, and even those achievements are not widely accepted. Instead, color pallets have become grossly bright, fashion combines the worst elements of 60s, 70s, and 80s fashion to adorn Seventeen magazine, and ultimately youth, in neon capri pants, tacky prints, and poorly cut tops (layered!) that evoke all but class or elegance or anything at all visually positive. Im constantly longing for the return of the 90s - maybe why I go for guys that were teenagers in the hayday of my favorite fashions and musical movements - and thanks to this blog, Ive come to have a few other realizations about the 90s. Everything that is attempted in marketing and visual advertising seems to stem from what was being done ten and twenty years ago and, while I like to see pop culture bringing back some of my personal preferences, they are being done in ways that I find mildly vulgar and irritating, as far as color schemes and the utilization of technologies, especially photoshop. Anyway, I dont think I have any useful insight to offer, just my opinion that we should bring back the 90s and it should be acceptable that I wish I were Brenda Walsh.

Andrew Blake's erotic photography (also know as porn) really speaks to me, aesthetically. Even though its still flawed, its not as repulsively flash-bulbed as most pornography and definitely features the 90s aesethic that I hold so near my heart.

Otherwise, I work. I work and I think about work. I bought myself a gray dress and a travel backpack and have otherwise saved my earnings. I am happy alone. I do not go out very much and do not wish it any other way. I have - I hope - only one year (or two semesters) left at NYU before I am a real person and I have no direction, though I am doing well enough. Andrew Bowser ate a sandwich in my apartment. Addie left for Chicago before she leaves for Florence. Sam wont be around until New Years. Im a horrible person for feeling okay with little else. Steven bought me Freaks and Geeks on DVD and Id already gone through the whole series almost twice before Undeclared arrived and Im more than halfway through that as well. I should possibly seek help for my growing affections for Seth Rogen but I wont, despite the very certain bizarre way I feel when he kisses the chick from Election or Busy Phillips. These nostalgic DVDs are the closest thing I have to any real relationship right now and I dont care, at least Im spending time with the people I love. Theres no forcing anything, anymore. Im saying "no" a lot and it kind of feels like Im saying "no" to this blog, too. I wish it looked different, its aesthetic bothers me and so I have a hard time updating.

Open Ended

2008-12-07T18:14:00.000-08:00

The best work, as decided by me, of NYU Steinhardt's Fine Arts Majors for Fall 2008, featuring three pairs of legs by Addie Rose Price.

Motivationally Speaking

2008-12-04T18:00:00.000-08:00

+ This is something interesting to read.
+ Nearly 3,000 year old pot was recently found in a Chinese tomb. Worth roughly $8,000.
+ Britney Spears' video for Womanizer is 100% a modern take on Eliza Haywood's 18th century Fantomina - the tale of a woman who adopts disguises to continually seduce the same man while he is none the wiser - but I doubt anyone in the Britney camp has ever heard of this work. Still, a great coincidence.
- Apparently the Puritans of Salem werent the only ones on a witch hunt - now a Nigerian man is claiming to have killed over one hundred "child-witches". The country is suddenly fearful of their youths being witches and demon-possessed and no action had been taken, until now, against those violently reacting.
+ Gramstand, a tea bar at 214 Avenue A that used to employee a friend of mine, is closing shortly and so, Adam Schatz of Zombieville and about a dozen bands, is hosting a party this Saturday night from 9-12 in the basement. BYOB and the like. A presumably good time at a reasonable hour.
+ NYU Open Studios is this Friday night at the Barney Building. This is the end of semester event where all the best Steinhardt fine art majors - namely Addie - have a work on display for the public to come and see. Last year's Open Studios found me socializing with two heroin-dazed young men so...anything is possible!
+ Ordered a grey crushed velvet dress with an exposed zipper down the back for no particular reason. Maybe Ill wear it next weekend when Steven is in town to visit or maybe Ill wear it in New Years Eve when Steven's roommate's old band, The New Flesh, plays a reunion show in the city.
+ Britney: For the Record was a very well done docudrama. She seems so very sad in a really hopeful way, exemplified rather perfectly by the cinematography and symbolism of MTVs effort. Theres no denying it: I saw Britney in concert twice in middle school, one concert of which was the first time she was exposed as a lip-syncher, but I never really loved her until now. I just want to kidnap her, force her to be normal, and smoke weed with Addie and I.
+ Some of the first exerpts of Mein Kampf ever published were, inronically, in a magazine with a photo of a gypsy bride on the cover. The photo was taken by Denise Bellon, my favorite photographer as of today, overthrowing Cindy Sherman from the covetted position in my brain.
- The end of this semester marks only two more semesters, the equivalent of one more years, left in my NYU career. Technically speaking, maybe, this means that I will be a senior come 2009. Whatever it means, I am trying my hardest to do well but finals and final projects have really snuck up on me this time and having returned from a very relaxing Thanksgiving, all of this is rather dread-inducing. Hopefully, I will pull together my last two tests and my last two papers without exploding or imploding or having a mental breakdown. One more week and Ill be done and then I have a visit to look forward to and unwind with.

Hoaky Holidays

2008-12-02T00:52:00.000-08:00

Last Monday night, at a company meeting, all of us Oak employees got our hair and makeup done for a holiday photoshoot by Jono (Objective Perspective). My hair and makeup were both incredible - a fishtail braid and extreme teasing pulled entirely to the right, alongside distinct 70s eyebrows and neutral tones - but neither are exemplified in this shot of me draped in Mary Meyer that made it on the site. Regardless, Happy Holidays!

Film Review No. 2

2008-11-30T09:10:00.000-08:00

The Mother of Invention
Directed by and starring Andrew Bowser
Written and directed by Joseph M. Petrick

One of my oldest and closest friends, Laurie Mae, recently sent me a bunch of links to the trailers of this film, The Mother of Invention, that she did the sound tech for. She knew Id love the solo videos of the films star, Andrew Bowser, and after cry-laughing to his Thank You Famous People video for about an hour, I watched the available trailers to the movie. I was immediately curious and, because of the mutual connection, I e-friended Andrew Bowser and we began a correspondence. Ultimately, he sent Addie and I an advanced copy of the film in hopes that not only would we give feedback but that Addie might paint the promotional poster.

The DVD came in the mail last Friday and the next day, Addie, Katelyn, Brittany and I sat down to watch. Before even the ten minute mark, we knew we loved this movie. The four of us didnt stop laughing the entire time. Where many comedies waste their most quote-worthy moments in the trailers, The Mother of Intention is consistently funny, far beyond what we had already seen. While we were excited to see the clips we were already familiar with, there were countless hilarious moments in between. But this movie has something else, as well. Its simultaneously Napolean Dynamite ironically awkward, Tim & Eric shockingly creepy, and Juno indie hit. Bowser and Petrick are hoping to see it into Sundance and I have the greatest faith that The Mother of Invention could become something enormous out of something relatively small. There is a unique freshness to the way so many different elements of style and genre have come together to create this majestic work. The ultimate message is poignant and beautifully done and though there are one or two scenes made a little too tender with the use of music, it doesnt assume its audience cant figure anything out on its own. Thus, when the movie ended - no matter how much we wished it to go on forever - there was so much to talk about.

The Mother of Invention is a mockumentary about Vincent Dooly, played by Andrew Bowser, an aspiring inventor, and the many semi-absurd but oddly realistic people in his life. Bowser is unreal in this role - unreal in an utterly indescribably perfect way - mostly because we all know this character: Dooly is the kid in every school who just doesnt know his boundaries after having been outcast for so long. He is endearing but scary in moments because his world is not that of the normal human being. Rather than sadly outcast, his type goes a little nuts in his own world. Dooly works alongside an even more awkward friend, Gunter - "One time Vincent asked me to help him, so I helped him. Another time, Vincent asked me to help him, so I helped him..." - and together they create the most unlikely, yet usefully unsuccessful inventions.

Dooly's greatest rival, Martin Wooderson, is played by Jimmi Simpson who is recognizable from Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and despite his great success as an inventor, Dooly and the audience seem to be the only ones capable of seeing the folly in making every single household appliance voice activated. In this revelation, the viewer is able to connect to the seemingly ununderstandable Vincent Dooly. Vincent's mentor, Junky Joe (whose real name is Anton Pupkin despite Dooly's nickname) is played by the always incredible Kevin Corrigan, famous for his role as Uncle Eddie in Grounded for Life and, most recently, one of the henchmen in Pineapple Express. The greatest success of this movie is the different inter-character relationships and the Vincent-Anton connection was by far my favorite. Their exchanges were believable and dead on, a semi-maniacal 20something and his eternally consistent voice of reason. The greatness of the casting, however, doesnt stop there. Mark Boone Junior, as Vincent's father, as well as Dee Wallace, as Vincent's mother, are perfectly deadpan, almost tear-inducing. But where I was really able to connect with this film, on a personal level, was through Ruby Wendell's Jenny Balsam, the diner waitress of Dooly's affection. Despite his several outbursts in her name, Jenny still recognizes the harmlessness behind Dooly's instability. In elementary school, I remember being seated next to Lee Clendenin, very much the Vincent Dooly outcast character of real life. Lee ate glue, threw worms at girls, wore solely ankle-tight sweatpants, and said endlessly creepy things but no matter how I knew that everyone else hated this kid, I found him somewhat amusing. I was the only girl invited to his Discovery Zone Birthday Party and I went. I dont know what ever happened to him but I never held the bizarre things he did against him. What the Lee Clendenins and Vincent Doolys of the world go to prove is that when the rest of the world has already decided that they hate you there's nowhere else to go but crazy.

Where I gave away bits and pieces of my previously reviewed films, I wouldnt dare expose any of The Mother of Invention because I 100% want everyone to go see it and the twists and turns of this film are just so perfect that to give them away would be a crime. What I will say, however, is that Im really excited about where this could go because, not in a long time, have I watched something and not wanted to change a single thing. It couldnt end any other way and even with a second viewing, the few moments I questioned the first time around seemed exactly right and I only fell even more in love with every character. Youre not meant to love Vincent, simply appreciate the way that even the oddest of us affect everyone around in a profound and simple manner. A must see.

Thanksgetting

2008-11-29T22:03:00.000-08:00

This was already weeks ago and this morning feels even further away. I have more and more to think about it and its best that I say as little as possible. Last night, and it feels like last year, some drunk kid tore off his shirt to arm wrestle him over the bar and lost miserably. Then, slurring all his words, he asked how long Id been "hanging out with Steve" to which I replied "I dont know but it took him two years" and thats all I could think to say because I like that fact and I can feel good inside of it and its all any random person needs to know about us: it took him two years but whatever he was doing, it seems to have worked. I had more fun in Baltimore, serving dollar beers to crust punks and stereotypes and shamelessly kissing my co-bartender, than I have had in New York City in a long time. I liked insisting that he go watch his friends band, that I would cover the bar without him so he could hang out and I dont even mind that I had to chase him downstairs before he passed out forever. Some kid threw up inside of his hoodie to avoid projectile vomiting all over one of the roommates girlfriends, there was a guy with a comedically demonic voice who was apparently married with a child and, yet, at a house show on a Friday night, and there was a lifting of pressure and then it was gone altogether and I didnt have to think too much and god knows, thats the most relieving thing of all.

I had two Thanksgiving dinners but the second was better because even though I liked the stuffing at the first, my cousin's husband's brother almost choked to death before his father gave him the Heimlich and was the night's hero. I spent about two hours with the same cousin's new baby Payton Ryan napping on my chest and that was possibly the most relaxing thing ever. While Aidan, her two year old, is hilarious and adorable, Payton is quiet and I think we bonded while he used my boobs for pillows. I watched the entire season of True Blood, Steven took me to the inner harbor, the aquarium, and Hooters on Friday before the party and I got to see Julie twice. It was almost an entirely successful trip to Baltimore. But Im back now, specifically to go to work tomorrow, after a solid six hours of (attempted) travel in which my bus never showed up, I waited over and hour with a few other people and then hauled myself over to the Grayhound station to take a more reliable means of transportation. Somehow we got to NYC in three hours and I slept most of the way. Wish me luck waking up.

How I Became Paranoid

2008-11-22T23:40:00.000-08:00

I dont know what is happening to me but its something about suddenly having purpose and longing and, ultimately, a direction. One minute Im infinitely happy and the next I am unspeakably miserable. Not depressed miserable, though, aggrevated negative irritated angry miserable. Someone that I consider a friend said something like, "You hate everyone but you try to have fun," but I think mostly I hate everyone and so I drink so that I kind of hate myself a little bit or at least enough to have fun until I become more aware of myself, and then someone I would never want to be friends with said something like, "Smiiile! Yurlooking soounhappie!" and then I hate everyone again and then I flee. The truth is, Im always trying to have a good time and, usually, I do but, some nights, and days even, I just cant bear my options. I have a sneaking notion that the problem isnt anything other than myself and my standards and that, if I were to change those, Id have a great time in these situations, but I also know, for a fact, that Im never going to change my standards, nor do I really want to. Screaming and shoving people out of the way for attention just doesnt work for me and there are only so many utterly predictable conversations I can have with strangers that make me feel one hundred years old. I try it for a bit and then I become infuriated and wholly unpleasant to be around and, honestly, its not fair to Sam to whom I usually overly vocalize my misery. Im trying so hard to get it but I just dont. Regardless, Ive been going out quite a lot but despite the way Ive been taking advantage of New York City these past few weeks, I am unusually excited to go back to Baltimore this weekend and see this certain person. He will be meeting my parents and I will be meeting all of his friends. Its been three years but finally someone seems to distract me as much as I distract them.
(Note: That picture is several weeks old. I am not crying, I am hiding.)

+ Thursday - Oak store meeting, accidentally got wasted, Brooklyn with the co-workers, couldnt play pool, ate free popcorn and pizza, smoked at a weird apartment, walked home with my eyes closed, didnt hate everything
+ Friday - worked all day, dinner with Katelyn and Jonny, Brittany came over, Trash Bar with Katelyn, Brittany and Jonny, met up with SB, Sarina, Catherine, Josh and Alex, hated everything, got drunk in 90 seconds, didnt sing karaoke, fed an old friend tater tots, sleepover with Katelyn, didnt hate everything
+ Saturday - stayed home all day with Katelyn, Addie, and Brittany, didnt hate everything, smoked much weed, watched The Mother of Invention (incredible), napped, skimmed Passion of the Christ (awesomely gory, horrible otherwise), went to a house party, tried to dance, went home, hated everything

The Black Egg of Death

2008-11-20T10:52:00.000-08:00

I was just about to make myself from scrambled eggs. I had cracked open the first egg but the second, when I dumped its contents into the pan, had a solid black yolk and literally smelled like I had dumped hundreds of rotting corpses onto my stove. Needless to say, I shrieked and maybe cursed a bit, but evidence was necessary but in getting these photos, I almost vomited, gagging all the way to flushing the contents of what was supposed to be my lunch.

The most horrible experience possible and not only that, but its a bad omen and now Im afraid to leave my apartment, for fear something fatal might happen to me in the aftermath of this black egg. I have been Googling this occurrence and a similar situation happened in the making of pancakes, sort of equally shaking someone else. The comments section of that tale may have just furthered my trauma. I contemplated trying to scramble the remaining two eggs of the batch but I cant even imagine putting anything egg-like in or around my mouth. My father refuses to eat eggs because of the smell and I worry I have just been turned off forever as well, despite having loved eggs until this very day. Next week when Im home Im going to have to ask about him about whether or not he had a similar experience. I, for one, dont know Ill ever be the same.

Less Empty, No Time

2008-11-17T23:32:00.000-08:00

+ I work now.
+ I am eating healthier.
+ I am very busy but not exhausted.
+ I feel incredibly productive, even when drunk.
- I have disappearing and then reappearing pink eye.
+ Someone likes me and tells me so even when Im being bitchy on purpose and wont just admit it in return - just to test him, because Im like that - but a lot of the time I do say it back and I like it.
+ Tonight I wrote ten pages in two and a half hours on Kenneth Anger's utilization of scopophilia (pleasure in looking), voyeurism (pleasure in what is seen), and their opposites in The Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome and how the editing, costuming (focusing on the use of male drag), and performances of the piece make it a "Futurist Marvelous" work of cinema in accordance to the theories of Laura Mulvey, Judith Butler, and Filippo Tommaso Marinetti.

Im so tired of people misunderstanding, misrepresenting, and misinterpreting the pentagram. The pentagram is only an evil, pagan symbol if it is being used as such. Though I have little problem with the Wiccan use, it has, unfortunately, caused the sign to lose much of its original, deeply inter-religious meaning in modern times. The pentagram was once, however, an important sign for most religions and thus, most people. The earliest pentagrams were rough diagrams scratched into stone age caves, believed to have some spiritual significance. In the civilizations that followed, pentagrams marked directions in Sumerian texts and represented the five visible planets. Later, it was the sign of both the planet and the goddess Venus. According to Pythagoras, the five points of the pentagram each represent one of the five elements that make up man: fire, water, air, earth, and psyche; the Pythagoreans held the pentacle sacred to Hygeia, the Goddess of healing. Eventually this interpretation lead the pentagram to represent a rose, a symbol of femininity. Early Christians wore it as an emblem and later, the pentacle was important to many doctrines of esoteric Medieval and Renaissance belief systems: alchemy, Kabbalah, and ceremonial magic. Learn more.

Theres a good chance that some of these statements have jynxed me. Cross your fingers. Knock on wood.

Brownie Hangover

2008-11-14T10:09:00.000-08:00

Last night was the gallery opening for Alessandra Exposito, the woman that Addie interned for earlier this year. Her collection, entitled My First Love at Mixed Greens in Chelsea. After watching her make countless paper clay flowers months ago, it was really awesome to finally see the outcome of all the hard work I heard about. In all honesty, Ive never seen such a successful opening. There was a huge crowd coming in and out and rather than gather mid-gallery, the patrons were looking at and discussing the work in admiration. Not since my mothers own meticulous calligraphy have I seen such perfect hand-done script. All the names on the skulls were painted freehand by Exposito and I know how incredibly hard that is to achieve without messing up. Plus, I mean, I love animal bones and the like, especially horses and skulls, so of course I loved the work but it really seemed like everyone else did as well. Exposito works largely with the cranium bone, even the tiny ones of chickens, and the common thread throughout her work is both adorable and intriguing and Im kind of excited to see what else she does over time.

Exposito also invited us to the afterparty at her friends loft, conveniently named "Steed" in the horse theme that even the beer, Rolling Rock, coincided with. The apartment itself was the best decorated place Ive ever seen, magnificent art all over the walls, and a whole hidden hallway working as a library, floor to ceiling books. It was heaven. We were the first to arrive but moments later, dozens more people showed up, including the mothers doppelganger, and the two gentlemen who owned the apartment were very welcoming, offering up beer, wine, cheese and crackers, bread and butter, salad, two kinds of lasagna, and treats. Eventually, we ran into some...special brownies. Im an overzealous crazy person so, I literally gobbled down one and a half in a matter of seconds. "Theyre strong" I had been warned but I might be something of a stoner and I didnt believe it. I told the host that we were best friends about a dozen times and might have blown some kisses when I was offered delicious greenery, beautifully displayed in special containers made of wood and metal. Well, by the time it came to leave for home Id also smoked two bowls and couldnt stop twirling my umbrella around in the rain. We walked to the wrong subway and finally caught a cab. Id tried to make about ten million other plans but ultimately went home to spend some time with the recently more allusive with Alex (not Exposito). We watched Always Sunny and the 1988 classic, Big with Tom Hanks and the woman who plays Celia on Weeds! There was also some talking, but I was full-on brownie-ing by that time and couldnt quite figure out what to do with my body, ultimately shoving myself deep into the corner of the couch, as usual. The greens that I, myself, have possession of right now seemed, at first, to be the worst possible supply I could ever have come into: lazy, sleepy, starving, quiet, and stupid. Then it occurred to me to use it to help me sleep, considering how much trouble, lately, I have doing that without Benadryl or some other aid. Needless to say, my slumber the past two nights have been comparable to death, but now, this morning, Im still enjoying the affects of those brownies, and I even have a few left over, tinfoiled, for later.

My Bird/Best Friend

2008-11-11T08:40:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday Josh and I were killing time post-lunch in Cooper Square on a day when there were mysteriously no homeless people but many many pigeons fighting over a vast sprinkling of bread crumbs. This bird was by far the largest of the group, its wings stuck at rest at his sides rather than crossed over his back, virtually neckless and missing out on the feast. I shared my Rice Krispy Treat with him, even nudging a few more physically capable pigeons away from him so that none could steal his snack, and he stood next to me for awhile. Actually he sat because he had a bum leg, visually crippled, and I fed him and took these pictures. I really liked that pigeon.

It took almost three years but Julie, my best friend from high school, finally came to visit both myself and New York City, arriving on Thursday night. So began the busiest weekend of my life. Since she and my mom are close and my father went to Vegas for a friends Birthday, my mother also came up for Friday and Saturday, which may or may not have been a good or bad decision. Friday night Julie and I went to Joshs place with Sam and then Library with Janie. Friday we woke up incredibly early to spend six hours walking nonstop about the city and shopping with my mother, success at Pixie Market and Opening Ceremony. Mom briefly lost of her phone, freaked out, kept freaking out, Julie and I located it, she stopped freaking out and then acted embarassed and said "Dont tell your father." The three of us met up with Addie, Alex, and Sam to go to Nobu for dinner. Three bottles of wine and my mom was drunk then back to Dhanis where I made a sign that read "I Wanna Barack and Roll All Night, and Party Every Day" while my mom tried not to fall asleep, then to Ruff Club so my mom and Julie could get an official nightlife photo, dance, and meet some of my other friends. My mother managed to make friends with the bouncer and the door guy in a matter of adorable drunken seconds. We all sang "Aint No Mountain High Enough" at the top of our lungs before mom went home, Julie and I went back to the party at Dhanis. Mason, Jason, Honor, Cassidy and a boy whose name might be Volcan were entertaining. Jason gave Addie and I kisses on the cheeks and apparently got out of hand after Julie and I left. Came home around 3:30 with Smart Puffs and forced my mom to wake up and watch South Park. Woke up early again and spent about six hours at the MoMA, had an in depth conversation about Van Gogh with my mother who agreed that the way he paints people takes away from his work which is why Starry Nights is a favorite - no people - watched the entirety of Nan Goldin's photo slideshow despite the moans of my mother and Julie, my mother and I annoyed Julie with our constant banter and then explained that thats just how we get along, rather than bottling shit up and having enormous fights we have three lines arguments almost constantly throughout the day, stopped bugging Julie a little bit over MoMA Cafe food. It had stopped raining, cabbed home through Times Square. Julie and I rested, my mother wandered around my neighborhood after asking "Is it safe?" and then she caught her train. Julie and I had dinner at Sams with Addie and Alex Fitzgerald, the other Alex arrived at Sams, we went to Brittany and Kristens and became very drunk on a roof, went to Brooklyn, Julie acted responsible and I got drunk and semi-angry, said "Fuck you!" a lot and maybe pouted for a few minutes. Sam and I had a heart to heart on the stairwell and apparently missed some Seinfeld impersonations back at the party. 4am Veselka without Fitzgerald and Addie because he wanted McDonalds and she went home with Zack. Crawled home. Slept til 1. Julie and I went to a flea market - she got records, I got chairs, finally - then we got our nails done and then got stoned and watched Madagascar 2 and Forgetting Sarah Marshall, both good but the former was better, ate lots of food, went to Crooked Tree for dinner with Sam, came back home, smoked more, ate way more despite having just eaten crepes, did girlie slumber party stuff like playing with each others hair, watched I Love Lucy and passed out. Woke up early again yesterday morning to sleepmake us eggs before Julie's train and then said goodbye until Thanksgiving. All in all, a great success of a weekend, but now I am behind on certain things, ahead on others, and not exactly right where I want to be.

Yes, We Did

2008-11-04T20:14:00.000-08:00

Id be lying if I claimed to be patriotic. I am thankful to have been born in a nation so founded upon freedom but when the majority of my maturing years have been under the rule of a man determined to rip those foundations from beneath the feet of my generation, its hard to be optimistic about a land built upon slowly fading promises. For awhile now Ive even been planning my escape. Ive also greatly kept my mouth shut when it came to this election because someone else was always saying it better, but I finally have a point to make. When Bush won the past two elections, securing his place as the leader of this country for eight distressing years, my only reaction was disappointment in the confirmation that, as I had suspected, over half of this country is made up of backwards thinking, closed minded morons that deserved such a poorly suited, utterly moronic, painfully vapid, stunningly useless man as their President. As I have mentioned before, my hatred for Bush is countered by a great pitiful love of those that make the rest of us look like rocket scientists. Idiots may be fun to watch to a certain degree, squirming uncomfortably in positions of power, but they are not suited for the White House. Though I was disappointed, I was never shocked, because I did believe that that was the truth, that over fifty percent of this nation would have been undeserving and unappreciative of a greater man, or even woman, after having had Clinton turn everything U.S.A. into gold and then having the audacity to then persecute him for something unrelated to his political power. (Dont you dare get me wrong, being an unfaithful husband is a pitiful and disgusting fate for any marriage, but lacking the power to control his cock had nothing to do with his ability to control the country.) I do, however, also believe that there is a reason for most things that happen in this world. Without Bush to destroy everything we Americans were able to say we were proud of, we would never have been able to look past Clintons marital infidelities and eventually pray for another leader like him to take over in January 2009, and without Bush we would not be able to truly appreciate the amazing chance our nation is being given in the dawning of the next four years with Barack Obama. Bush began his eight year reign of terror with manipulations, deceit, and lies. Barack is doing the exact opposite. He has won by a landslide, McCain wasnt even close, Barack killed it. Not only that but he truly stands for a kind of change that is palpable. It is in his voice, it is in his words, it is even in the fact that he is an ethnically diverse man with an untraditional background, a black man raised by a single white mother, representing a new norm, a new reality, one that rings truer to a new majority. Make no mistake, America is not going to right itself simply because Obama is not George Bush or John McCain, and these next four years are going to be long and hard for Barack Obama. Perhaps we are all still undeserving but be damn sure that this is proof that more than one of us has learned from our mistakes and that we will at least do better to appreciate the vast and innumerable possibilities for the future of the United States of America.

The Virgin Strikes Back

2008-11-02T18:28:00.000-08:00

I woke up sometime last week to these sixty-odd instant messages, sent between 8:30am and 10:30am from a screen name I had never seen or heard from before. Needless to say, I racked my brain as to who it could be and I kind of immediately thought, "Zachary German!" because I have more than openly pondered his existence via Ellen Frances' Blog and I suppose that if one young man were to randomly read my blog and have something to say, it might be him. Plus, I was told that hes a rather vocal young man and may not have a problem being semi-insane via the internet. At first, I saved the screen name as "Mystery Reader" and then when it reappeared online later, I discovered that it was in fact that The Virgin that I met, harassed, and mentioned many months ago. Im pretty sure his name was Keith and so now, he is saved as "Keith Virgin." At any rate, the messages received were so unusual in the stream-of-consciousness realm that I had to share, especially since they, at one point or another, pertain to this blog. The concept of "The Gash" is rather accurate, considering the fact that I really dont address very much of whats going on in my life because a lot of it is extremely inappropriate to blatantly put online for all the world to see. I write mild updates and share things like these instant messages that can be read and enjoyed by all without incriminating myself or offending anyone, so: Yes. There is a gash, and now there is also a series of semi-maniacal, semi-hilarious, semi-intelligable notes to me for all to read, laugh at, and enjoy.

Halloween Halloweed

2008-11-02T14:30:00.000-08:00

October 31st is my favorite day of the year, by far, and we take the implications of Halloween very seriously in these parts. Its in my blood, even my parents and their friends go all out. Both Addie and I are vehement believers in the necessary use of blood and guts in our costumes - Halloween was meant to be scary, after all, not just slutty - and so we plan, dress, and latex accordingly. In 2006 were a zombie and a vampire. In 2007 we were The Black Dahlia and Helen Jewett. This year we were Sarah Palin and her Trophy Wolf (shot three times from a helicopter.) All in all, what couldve been a failure due to poor delayed evening planning ended up being an extraordinarily good time. I did Lisa's hair and makeup to be a Blond Dahlia with finger waves and then Addie, Sam, and Alex all came over to do a bit of drinking. Addie turned Alex into a skeleton and Sam was the embodiment of "Die Yuppie Scum!", incredibly realistically so. We all went to a decent house party for a bit before the tenants announced that the cops had been called and then Addie, Alex and I went to Rubulad, despite having stayed away for over a year. Lots of Absinthe, lollipops, lots of weed, posing for photos with strangers, lots of people named Joe, including Joe Biden, seats traded for cigarettes, old friends and their girlfriends dressed as Trolls, a boy on Ecstasy enjoying the feel of our stockinged legs, and buttered popcorn at 5am to avoid the hangover. Halloween 2008 might have been the best of three, thus far. This holiday season I celebrated almost every day, watching Saw V, House of 1000 Corpses, Mother of Tears, The Exorcist, Children of the Corn, The Craft, Hellraiser, Inside, The Dentist, and a few other forgotten titles. I already cant wait until next year.

Solo Wolf and a Timeline

Brilliant Blood n' Guts

2008-10-27T12:08:00.000-07:00

+ My Big Sister is a brilliant genius. I could go on for days about all the things I learned from her - to like Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, and Silverchair; to dress like a pirate every chance I get; to sleep only on the fluffiest of beds; etc - and I could go on and on about the great, indestructible, beautiful person that she is, but I think this video project says enough about her lovliness. The first edition of the Mimerina series was done on the Bay Bridge but the cops stopped her for apparently disturbing the peace. This one kind of pokes fun at that while keeping her from getting arrested:

Ashley Lauren Saks Presents: A Day in the Life of a Mimerina

+ I cant recall the exact explanation for what my brain does while I am sleeping but I have either and overactive or an underactive R.E.M. cycle that leads to constant, lucid dreaming. I sleep very lightly and as soon as I finally fall asleep I begin dreaming, and each time I wake up to brush my teeth or wash my face I have a new dream upon falling back to sleep. These dreams are incredibly vivid and I can remember most of them upon waking. Oftentimes I require several minutes to shake myself from them and if I am not permitted these minutes, I feel foggy for most of the day, having been roused prematurely from some intense plot. These dreams are never normal going-to-class-naked, teeth-falling-out dreams, they are convoluted and go from place to place with complete plot developments. Last nights dream was this:

I lived with my mother in some strange apartment that I partially recognized as my own in the East Village but was far larger and was down some kind of hall. The apartment itself was decorated like a movie or a TV show might decorate the apartment of an artsy mother and daughter and my room was somehow big enough for two huge TVs, a Queen sized bed, a leather couch, a weights machine, and an enormous mirrored wall. At the start of the dream, my mother was packing to go on some kind of vacation and it was realized that I was pregnant, but not showing, and she was nervous to leave me alone. We had planned, however, a going away party in which several local dirtball guys showed up and playing Guitar Hero with me in my room. It was a whole different game and I know that, while dreaming, I knew the songs but I cant remember them now. We tried to play nonetheless but I only had one controller because I had apparently stolen the whole system from Brittany and Kristen, who have Rockband in real life, and decided they wanted to buy a whole new game and gave me the old one. After awhile, my mother said goodbye and left, making me promise to keep her updated on my pregnancy that she was actually very excited about, assuming this may have been intended to take place a few years in the future. The random guys took me out for a drink and then I went home by myself, admired my room, and went to sleep. Upon waking, in my dream, I discovered that I was in labor and all by myself pushed out the baby in about five minutes. I wrapped it up, put it in a bassinet and then left it there while I went to go pick up a friend's dog that I was meant to babysit. With the dog, a black pug, I went to the restaurant Po that is actually incredibly tiny and in Greenwich Village but, in my dream, was enormous with many different seating areas and in Midtown. Upon arriving, I sat at a table with the dog and several other people, apparently my Dream Friends and the waiter cooed at the dog before letting it run around the restaurant. I then tried to find the dog but the carpet was black and I couldnt see him and I was picking up dozens of other dogs that were either not the right breed or wearing a collar that this dog wasnt and I ran out after panicking that Id lost my friends dog. One dog had on some kind of an elfin cape. (At this point, there was some kind of murder plot involving and elevator, but I cant recall how or why it happened or anything other than the fact that it was much like Mission Impossible) Then I met up with Alex, the only person besides my mother that I know in real life and in this dream, and we tried to go back to Po. We went to a self-order station and ordered a slice of Lime Jello Pie. This automated arm reached out, found the cake, cut us a piece, put it on a plate and then sent it to the seating area where we could wait for it. When we got there, the very enormous waitress wouldnt allow us to sit and so we had to perch near on this extravagant quilted chair for awhile. I suddenly remembered that Id given birth to a baby that morning and that I hadnt told my mother, and I told Alex that he would simply have to take the baby and be its father. We still hadnt been seated by the time I woke up.

Not my most interesting dream by any stretch of the imagination, but I had my computer by my side as soon as I woke up and typed it out. Ill try to do this more often, because sometimes they are even greater than this.

Sluttiest Life Ever

2008-10-26T19:34:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of things that I do not know and that I do not understand but there are just as many things that I do. Almost two months ago I made the choice to separate myself from something that was, at one point, working but becoming unhealthy, from someone I thought about loving more than once. Because I am a young female in New York City I am constantly burdened, along with many other women, with the reminder that my odds of ending up alone are astronomical, and I felt a great deal of pride in myself for having made this decision regardless of this looming possibility. This was perhaps the first time I made what seems like a very adult decision, and in doing this I realized, again for the first time, that Ive done a lot of learning from a lot of mistakes and I had broken the cycle. I didnt ignore the decline in the situation, I didnt fool myself into thinking we could work through it, I didnt go back again and again, I simply said my piece and backed away, gracefully and with my dignity in tact and a sound mind. When this person chose to reappear, I was curious to see if the feelings that were once exciting and strong would return, like maybe I wasnt so wise after all and that perhaps Id do the "young" thing and try to rekindle something, as if people can change. I was, however, semi-disappointed that not only did those feelings remain dormant but I was and am actually over it. Im over so many things and its like in my twentieth year Ive suddenly become an adult with real goals and real aspirations and a real consideration for my future. I talk about it. When I close my eyes, I see it. This person and I met up on a corner and walked back to my place and he expected that the only thing that had changed was that I had added a pentagram to my floor and he said it wasnt "endearing" the way I was shutting him out, turning away from him, no longer enticed. But how do you explain to someone that you have completely outgrown them and that all the things you once said, you no longer mean? (Natasha Khan wonders here.) This week I accidentally made a lot of decisions and had a lot of decisions made for me that, a year or two or three ago, I would have felt good about, laughed off, maybe bragged about, and that I now feel foolish for and wish I had not allowed. Now there are wants at stake, at risk, when I am hasty and too frugal with myself, aspirations and people to let down and fuck up. It feels sad and scary but sure to know how serious I am about the things I am working for as of late.

This doesnt mean that I am no longer the same debaucherous lunatic that Ive always been, just a more grounded, focused, useful lunatic. I havent had much to say to the internet recently, I guess, because Ive suddenly had/found more things to do. Responsibilities. Obligations. Structure. Ive been going out - to movies, to bars, to shows, to Happy Hour with actual working people, to Boogie Nights themed parties that required hours of preparation only to guzzle vodka and tequila, get sweaty, get rained on, take care of an equally drunk friend, drive home, "lose" my keys, dump the contents of my purse in the street, discover that said friend is missing, call my super, knock furiously on my neighbors door, "find" my keys, and then black out - four nights a week for awhile now and Im really satisfied in this new productive version of my old ways that I had once traded in for a kind of catatonic laziness and bitterness that only ever feels right in the summer time. Its autumn now and Ive even been wearing socks.

That is my right arm. These are good people on a good-bad night last weekend.

I Have a 1970s Porn Doppelganger

2008-10-14T20:41:00.001-07:00

Either that or I did some really excellent porn in the 70s. I mentioned a few weeks ago having gone to see 42nd Street Pete's Night of Perverted Pleasure where the feature film was Dear Pam, a 1976 film starring John Hughes. Mostly, however, this film was starring a woman wearing my face, which is both amazing and disturbing. Never have I ever seen anyone so identical to myself and possibly the most shocking and perverted thing about the night was that it was literally as if everyone in the theater were watching me have sex and give really determined blow-jobs with a man's tie hilariously tied around my head. Needless to say, I was stoned and this Beverly Bovy woman - clearly an alias - had stolen my face and my dream body and was doing porn with it! She looked like she knew what she was doing and she was doing it in a bath, one of my favorite places to be regardless of the activity inside the bath. Anyhow, it took Bart coming to visit to teach me how to unfilter my Google image searches before I could find this series of screenshots. As my metaphysical brother, Barts stomach turned when he saw that he may as well have been looking at a photograph of me, naked in the bath, a man cupping my breast, and so it is proven. Here is what I would have looked like in the 70s, doing porn.

NOTE: For those of you that have repeatedly called me a homebody
or "lazy", I went out four nights in a row, two weeks in a row.
Wednesday: Annex, The Johnsons, Lit with SB and Cat / Shiver with Sarina, Library, Annex, Lit with SB and Cat
Thursday: Beck @ the United Palace Theater with Alex / Rockband at Brittany and Kristen's with Addie and people
Friday: Mallory's BDay Party, Library, Lit with Alex, Cat and Sarina / Houman's party, Ruff Club with Addie, Lauren, Sam, Etc.
Saturday: Home Sweet Home for Ellen Frances' Wet Space Blanket, Library with Alex / Brooklyn, Antwan's with Alex, Addie, Etc.

Weekend (Music) Update

2008-10-11T09:26:00.000-07:00

Several musical news items that evoked an emotion/reaction from me:
+ Eric Wareheim of the beloved Tim and Eric Great Show Awesome Job! has been directing music videos as of late, and until yesterday I was feeling very optimistic about this - the Ben Folds video was hilarious (Ill never get enough of Tim and Eric dressed as women), The Bird and the Bee video before that is actually rather adorably creepy in the best way possible. I dont know why but I have a really adverse reaction to the existence of MGMT. Maybe its because I worked for their A&R people at Columbia Records for awhile and realized how intensely they are duping everyone around them into thinking they are totally original. (No one knew that they ripped off the entire plot of their Time to Pretend video from Holy Mountain, I had to tell them and then when I brought the movie in, no one even wanted to watch it for proof) Maybe its because I heard the phrase "When we found them they were just two kids on acid playing songs off an iPod," about 2835729385729 times. I dont know. But the fact that they used their major label budget to hire Eric to direct their video for The Youth but irritates me and also makes me proud of Eric. Its definitely a more "appropriate" video. Its not creepy, its just kinda weird and cutesy - no old dudes, just kids - and rather Sparkle Nation. It did, however, force me to confront a lot of fears and uncomfortabilities, also jealousies that these two dudes who are on tour with Beck also managed to get my favorite man, Eric Wareheim, to direct their video. Immediately after viewing, however, I watched his new video for Flying Lotus' song Parisian Goldfish and felt much much better about the future of Eric Wareheim directed videos. This video is so completely NSFW but in the greatest way. I will say no more, you can decide for yourself, the Flying Lotus video is only behind that link though.

The Bird and the Bee - Polite Dance Song

Ben Folds - You Dont Know Me

MGMT - The Youth

+ At 3am this morning I stumbled home and somehow stumbled upon the new Britney Spears video. Ive had a hard time differentiating love and irritation with her these past few years - for instance, I love that she shaved her head but it irritated me that she didnt just show it off and deal with it, instead she tried to cover it up with shitty wigs and extentions - but since that adorable VMA commercial with Russel Brand my feelings for her have grown and developed into full love. She looks great, better than ever in my opinion, and she seems to have a sweet and humble sense of humor about went on with her. Honestly, shes followed some greats, Fiona Apple and Cat Power and women of the like, in the path of a necessary fame-induced breakdown. At any rate, I was so damn delighted by this video that I sent Sam a ridiculous drunk text about wanting to give Britney a kiss and I meant it. Im so proud of her. Not only is she still churning out catchy popsongs but she can suddenly dress herself! and speak coherently! and look hot! and look pretty! and make a cohesive video! and dance! and sing into a vocoder! Watch the video, theres something really new and charming about her, a smarter and more aware look in her eye and its like Im in love. I suddenly understand so many things about the masses.

+ Despite the fact that I have little faith in the modern arts - what with photoshop turning every Dick, Tom and Harry with a camera and a set of working fingers into a Photographer - I am still capable of sheer delight every now and again. That is genuine reaction I experienced in seeing that Julien Dore and the beautiful First Lady of France, Carla Bruni Sarkozy performed a duet of the increasingly irritating Anyone Else But You by the Moldly Peaches on a French TV show. I used to love that song in high school but just as Garden State destroyed many things, Juno has successfully ripped the charm from what used to be a lovely little ditty, and until now I havent been interested in hearing it. Sung more delicately than ever by two such lovely European voices, however, Anyone Else But You took on a whole new tone. I love Dore's own work and the hint of his accent through the English is tremendously enjoyable, moreover Sarkozy: not only does she have a beautiful voice but is endless beautiful, physically, she moves and sings and expresses herself in the most seductive way. Even when singing about "turds" she is sexy and coy and I simply cannot complain about how magically French these two made this song.

Seeing this performance reminds me of why I am so obsessed with early 20th century French writing - specifically Anais Nin, almost all of whose countless works I now own - for there is something in their voices and in their manners that ooze sensuality in a way that maintains tact and poise and pride, unlike the countless American voices that produce straight smut for the masses. I suppose, for me, Sarkozy, proves that this aesthetic is still alive today, in some ways, for even the French feminine ideal is one of a more elegant sexiness that pulls you across the room in a gown rather than naked, drunk, and blond in a hot tub. I guess Im just glad to see that, secondhand, that these more admirable ideals are still alive overseas, the breathtaking wife of French President Nicolas Sarkozy innocently turning our overdone overplayed nonsense into something worthwhile again. I cant ignore the fact that this lucky man has impeccable taste, Carla seems like everything a man could wish for.

+ Theres some kind of DVD being made of all different submissions created all over the world of dance sequences made for film rather than stage, called Dance for Camera. Theyre not musicals or anything just dance clips and I watched a bunch of them and determined my two favorite. The first is part of a four-part series but this is definitely the best of the four - feel free to Youtube the rest because they are all really interesting. The second is very abstract and very bizarre and rather unnerving but a really intense way to mix sound with movement in both a literal and interpretive way.
Queens for a Day - Part 1

Motion Control

Beck Yes!

2008-10-10T09:54:00.000-07:00

Alex got last minute tickets for us to see Beck last night at the United Palace Theater way uptown. This was my fourth time seeing Beck but United Palace is by far the
most incredible venue in which Ive seen him - or ever been to, for that matter - and Im a big fan of his shows as a unit so I did my best to document the ever-changing scenery.
CLICK HERE to read a more cohesive summary of the experience and to see the entire collection of full-scale photos.

Sarah on Sarah

2008-10-06T04:00:00.000-07:00

I love Sarah Palin in almost the exact same way that I love George W. Bush. Neither one has a single clue what they are doing but somehow got shoved into the White House spotlight and is just doing their best to wink their way through to the end. Im willing to bet that Bush has asked, more than once this week, if he can just go home now, I mean its only anuther munth er so. I honestly feel sorry for the guy. For eight years hes made a continual ass of himself and allowed the lunatics around him make horrible decisions in his name solely because he was never fit to be more than Daddy's Little Boy, much less the President of the United States of America. Though Palin hasnt had the chance to do any real damage, thus the reason I can also hate Bush, I currently have nothing but amicable feelings for Palin as she continuously provides SNL and the world with something quaint and adorable to fawn over, kind of like a slow kitten! Though each party likes to stick to the idea that their contender always wins the debates, there is no possible way that a human being with functioning senses could have watched the Vice Presidential Debate on Thursday night and truly felt she was the victor. She was, however, just as delightful as ever. My favorite part has got to be when she pretty much outright asked Biden to stop proving her wrong, but thats her charm, I suppose, unabashed idiocy being passed off as calm "Of the People"ness. While Biden knew the answer to every single question he was being asked and was simply pulling the facts and the right words straight from his brain, Palin had to read her responses, which werent actual responses or answers of any kind, directly from her notes. Aside from the fact that she really had no idea what she was talking about or how a debate works, she consistantly overused the term "Maverick", and may have also winked a few times. Adorable!

On a more serious note, however, Im actually terrified at the prospect of Sarah Palin making it into the White House for feminist reasons. Though I am still sorting out my own feminist views - mostly I think women should behave like men to promote equality and the death of sexist ideals, hence my undying love for Hilary Clinton - I know for certain that Palin only works, in the sense of function and employment, for the Republican Party because she is the quintessential submissive domesticated female, willing to do what is necessary for the men around her, that she deems superior to herself, to succeed. There is not a doubt in my mind that someone, somewhere sat down with her and said "We need to appeal to a different demographic, and we are going to use you as a pawn" and she said "Okey dokey!" While I respect a woman's right to live a traditional life, she shouldnt use that to manipulate a country into fucking itself over for four more years. We're not supposed to be able to relate to our President, thats the point, theyre the ones fit to run the country, not us Joe Six-Packs! As Palin proves, again and again, she hasnt a single clue what McCain even stands for, she just knows she stands behind him, just like a good woman oughta, and this is why Republicans love her. She may as well be wearing a bonnet and churning butter. I do give her legitimate credit for having the guts to put herself on the chopping block because she does seem like a perfectly nice and lovely woman and despite our drastically different political views, I dont think they make her some kind of evil. That doesnt mean, however, that just because shes a woman, other women should vote for her and/or her party. The most glaring reason being that she simply doesnt believe in womens rights. As I said, there is nothing wrong with tradition but it does impede on the growth of our society and a vote for McCain/Palin is a vote for an enormous societal step backwards. Any woman considering this plan of action officially relinques the right to ever consider herself a feminist, she can never claim disappointment when a man doesnt call or back or give her the job or respect her at all because, simply put, Palin is not trying to better women in any way. In fact, she wants to make it harder for us to claim our bodies and our brains as our own and sure, its great that shes pretty, but theres a reason that most political ladies arent hotties: attractive girls usually settle on something easier than politics, something with less of a rejection rate, as an occupation but a brilliant mind in a less satisfying package will go the extra mile, push a little harder, and get recognition for her mind. Any and all are welcome to negate that but its the unfortunate truth in most situations. So, leave Palin in Alaska, shes doing just fine up there with her bizarre family and pregnant teen daughter (the Juno reference in there is just too hilariously coincidentally blatant), so leave her there to hunt n' stuff! Having her in the White House is not and will never be a wise decision - for anyone.

In case you need additional convincing:
Obama: Columbia University - B.A. political science, specialization in international relations
Harvard University Law - Juris Doctor Magna CumLaude (graduated with a 4.0)
Biden: University of Delaware - B.A. history and political science
Syracuse University College of Law - Juris Doctor
vs.
McCain: United States Naval Academy - Class rank of 894 out of 899
Palin: Hawaii Pacific University - 1 semester
North Idaho College - 2 semesters General Study
University of Idaho - 2 semesters journalism
Matanuska-Susitna College - 1 semester
University of Idaho - 3 semesters - B.A. in journalism

My two great loves pose together - dead creatures and Sarah Palin!
Theres no denying it, she gets credit for being kind of awesomely Alaskan.
(Cross-posted on College OTR, well see how this employment goes.)

Infinite House of What?

2008-10-05T12:50:00.000-07:00

Friday, October 3, 2008, Addie Rose and I woke up early to continue the witch hunt. We met at Astor Place, looking increasingly goth, I bought a double shot of espresso but Addie forgot her wallet so we walked back down the Bowery and got on the Bleeker 6 train instead. Some 45 or so minutes later we were on 116th. A man told us "You ladies are looking very pretty today," which was perhaps the most genuine, kind catcall possible so we actually said "Thank you." Two blocks and we arrived at House of Candles. We had been warned that the employees would possibly be rude to us, thinking we were tourists, but eventually they helped us with different herbs and salts and were very friendly. After over an hour we settled on: Addie, four candles, bath salts, Come to Me bath soaps, a black crystal, a bag of dried lemon-y herbs, a horseshoe, and a case of Aztec voodoo supplies; Myself, two candles, a white feather fan, Azul Plateado bath soap, fresh Good Luck bath herbs, and a red hand. On the walk back to the train we stopped in a $1-$3-$5 store where one can acquire not only infinite birthday supplies, feminine douche products, self-cut oriental rugs, but also my very favorite kind of cheese curl, The UTZ, any of which for under $10. Addie and I only bought the cheese curls, but its good to know where to get those other things. We also stopped in a discount liquor store run by a nice Jewish man and bought a bottle of Dominican rum before getting on the train. The few hours in between the uptown journey and going out at night are most importantly notable because I boiled my herbs with milk and honey, which is supposed to bring Good Luck, and I think Addie and I have come to the conclusion that they did, in fact. (I also watched 90210 but I do that every weekday from 5-7pm so...not to notable.) Sam, the busiest boy in the world, came over for the first time in weeks, and once Addie arrived we began drinking. The rum we bought happened to be rather delicious, considering the reduced prices in Harlem allowed that we could afford something of a higher quality. It was called Brugal and came with this yellow string net over it. Eventually we took its remains to Josh, Dhani, and Stiven's apartment and, as per usual, Addie and I got loud and then Addie stepped in about two inches of water and I got tobacco in my mouth and I also got antsy so we left to meet up with Catherine and Amanda at Library Bar, where Im pretty sure Im now officially a regular. Addie and I befriended a group of guys and continued to sheepishly steal their drinks for probably an hour. Catherine played videogames with one of them and Amanda snuggled with the guy she brought and it was great to see the two sides of my lady friends united harmoniously. (This retelling is getting rather lengthy.) Josh and Sam stopped by because the club they wanted to get into was next door and was hosting a private party apparently but they didnt like Library - too many straight dudes - so they went back to Joshs. Addie, Catherine, Amanda, Amanda's boy, and I went to Double Down. Addie and I harassed some sailors. Catherine and Amanda and Amanda's boy wanted to go to Brooklyn so Addie and I said "Goodbye" and, instead, reconnected with Sam and went to Ruff Club. I have no idea what time it could have possibly been at this time but we literally just relocated several times and danced on all three levels of Annex before I started texting the boys from last Friday nights debauchery and planned to meet up with them. Addie and I had a goodbye dance with Sam, Josh, Nina, Nina's boyfriend and whoever else magically showed up as Addie and I were leaving, we gave out hugs, we got in a cab, we went home, we smoked, we put on Danzig, and my buzzer went off. The rest of the night is completely inappropriate to blog about but it will forever change the face of our friendship. Around 6am when Addie and I were finally alone in my apartment again, we loudly discussed the evening through a wall - she on my couch and me in my bed, both mostly naked - and then, just before passing out, we said The Prayer:

Sweet friend, We pray that nothing terrible will happen to each other, for now or for eternity. I love you. But not as a man loves a woman but as a dear man friend. All the best. Amen.
-Tim & Eric

Yesterday, in a far more lowkey way, Alex and I saw Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. We'd been kind of excited for it ever since we watched the filming over a year ago but mostly it was really unrealistic and kind of bad at times, though easily "cute" overall. The drunk girl was easily the best part and I wouldnt recommend seeing it in theaters to anyone, its just not worth it. "Im tired of movies just trying to cash in on indie rock and the iPod," said Alex as we left the theater and, obviously, thats true. As much as I hate Juno, at least the plot was cohesive, whereas there were moments in Nick and Norah that just didnt make sense. Norah was completely unlikable at times and theres no possible way on this green Earth that Nick and his horrific ex, Tris, were ever involved. Just because a movie tells its audience something doesnt mean it doesnt also have to be at least somewhat feasible. Oh well. It was still entertaining so Ill live but it just wasnt the great, adorable flick I was hoping for. Other than that, my Saturday was comprised of trying not to be hungover and taking an evening nap with Alex before making us a kind of adorable spaghetti dinner and watching Saturday Night Life and now, here I am, almost 1pm on a Sunday, naked in bed, yet again.

I Cant Sleep to This

2008-10-02T09:41:00.001-07:00

There have been countless photos taken of the NYC skyline and maybe Im bias after so many years but I particularly enjoy this 2008 NYC shot by the beloved Julian Gilbert, its an image for the times.
+ The only real thing I did last weekend was go to 42nd St. Pete's Night of Perverted Pleasure at Pioneer Theater Friday night with Sarina and Catherine. We've slowly begun taking over that place and all the employees recognize us - probably as the girls that arrive stoned out of their minds and just completely embarrass themselves - and it didnt hurt to run into Baby Sinead outside. We may have been a little loud, I may have incoherently mentioned My Film Debut into a microphone, Catherine may have won a shower compatible vibrator, I really cant be sure of any of it. Then we ran off to Library, another place it seems we have begun to take over, talked to almost everyone there, ran into Brittany and Casey, picked up some dudes, went back to my apartment and semi-trashed the place while Sarina slept like an angel on my couch. I dont know. I cant explain any of that night.
+ At some point Addie and I were walking around post-rain and came across this broken church pew with a really simple cross cut-out on the end and though we attempted to kick off the end and break off part of the actual bench part, we couldnt and so we had to leave it. It was still there several days later, however, and Addie carried it into the NYU Art building and theyre letting her store it in the basement so she can use it in a project at some point this year. (Yes, everything is still sacrilegious and witch themed.)
+ I have obsessive compulsive disorder. When I was little it manifested itself in ways worthy of MTV's True Life - I couldnt sleep if my comforter was off-center, I developed irrational theories about my parents attempting to abandon me by my tenth birthday, I organized bugs and became upset when they wriggled out of place - but without medication I have become a really rather well adjusted adult. I do, however, notice the way my OCD affects my iTunes 25 Most Played count. For instance, I create these playlists called Sleepytime Remixes that I put on to fall asleep to and when theyre played 25 times or so I make a new playlist of fresh songs. Having done this for many months, I find I am now running out of songs that truly lull me to sleep and so I find my newest mix to be rather unsatisfactory but Im so afraid of having my Top 25 Most Played list consist only of Boards of Canada and Final Fantasy that I do not allow myself to just put on what sends me to dreams. Its weird and its bugging me that the last list I made worked so well that I let a lot of it climb to the top of the charts. I probably need to invest in new trance-y stuff to go to bed with. (Last night, after writing and drafting that paragraph I made my bed for the first time in ages and actually slept seven straight hours and so Im pretty sure Im going to keep my bed kempt from now on. I havent slept through more than four hours in so long.)
+ I jinxed myself last Wednesday by gloating to my Creative Non-Fiction teacher about having outsmarted my annual Fall/Winter illness this year. I did not, in fact, avoid a cold, I instead have acquired a new strain of it that goes beyond a runny nose and now involves a constant cough and a tremendously sore throat so that I cannot speak and want to punch my mother for calling so many times a day. Tonight I drank an entire tea kettle of scalding hot Green Tea and seared my tongue so not only can I not stop peeing but everything I put in my mouth tastes like rubber and feels like sandpaper (Im waiting for some kind of genital reference about that statement.)
+ Some of my friends are very talented artists, as are some people that I do not know. For instance, Addie Rose Price, my beloved ex-roommate of two years who has a very nice rack painted this image of dead bunnies that I likened today to Ryohei Hase's rabbit image, only to discover that Hase's work is done entirely in photoshop and this was more than a little disheartening, though I still admire the aesthetic. Katelyn Roof also posted the short films that she came over and showed me last Friday. I really enjoy Katelyn's vision and am proud to have been a part of it more than once. Its just so sexy and simultaneously rough around the edges, just like Katelyn herself!
+ Kristen is adopting this adorable tuxedo-wearing kitten and I cannot wait to have a pet nearby to cuddle with on occasion. Im already over there all the time playing Rockband and now Brittany and K are never going to be able to get rid of me. History shows that pets and animals in general are mysteriously attracted to my father and I. Its especially funny when dogs try to jump all over my dads lap and snuggle up to him because hes a big manly man and gets kind of awkward about the affection but they never give up!
+ Perhaps its sick and twisted but I really enjoy calling people out for being imbeciles via blog comment. I did it here and I did it here and both times people got really bent out of shape trying to defend their own nonsense and even other people's nonsense and I am probably a complete asshole for it but I just love watching slow-thinkers squirm in trying to justify themselves in misinformation or embarrassing imitation. Im also completely egotistical and sadistic and its no wonder so many people hate me.

Film Review No. 1

2008-09-29T18:24:00.001-07:00

Choke
Directed and written by Clark Gregg

The first thing I need to make clear, before I say anything about Choke is that, though I greatly enjoy and admire his stories and his gruesome imagination, I truly despise Chuck Palahniuk's writing. I have read every last one of his works through Rant and I cringe through every page of blatant forced "literary technique" amidst what could have been a great, simple storytelling voice. Beyond that, I think the man is something of a perverse genius and I can respect that. I suppose my problem with Palahniuk is the opposite of the problem I previously expressed having with Sloane Crosley - shes a skilled writer with no creative thought and he is a fantastic creative thinker lacking in writing skills.

Anyhow, rather than attempt a night of drinking in yet another day of misty NYC weather, Alex and I went to see Choke this past Saturday evening. As I just said, I have read Palahniuk's version of the tale and so I was somewhat eager to see it adapted to the big screen - the way I think all of Palahiuk's work would be most affective. Clark Gregg seemed like a weird choice as the director, especially since this was his first try at it, but overall I think he did a rather good job. Its a compelling story, in and of itself, so it would have been hard to really fuck it up, but the directorial aspect despite a choppiness in the beginning of the film, went well. What was slightly off was Gregg's writing, however, that strayed far from the disappointing prose of then novel in places and stuck too close to it in others. Where Gregg allowed himself to get creative - in the use of both Nico and Ursula - I think he did a rather good job of creating the connections in dialogue and action that Palahniuk struggles with. But in scenes like Victor's first attempt at sex with Dr. Marshall or the zoo flashback, Palahniuk's poor character exchanges seeped too deep into the scripting and felt just as forced and unnatural to the characters on screen as it did on paper. Not to mention, Gregg's dialogue is rarely funny, though it is clear where he means it to be. What did work, comedically, were a lot of the situations and so this doesnt really take away from the film too much but it is apparent and slightly awkward for, us, the audience to feel where we were meant to be laughing at certain line, but just werent.

My biggest confusion, though, was Anjelica Huston's performance. At times she was incredible as ever, emotional and riveting and who would expect less? She is a timeless actress with many great roles under her belt. One of my favorites, even. But, and Id like to blame this on the writing, in other moments she wasnt even remotely believable as a psychotic, erratic, senile old woman. For one thing, she looks impeccable throughout the entire movie. I guess I dont know too many loony old ladies but the ones I do know dont have flawless hair, pinned back and kempt, and they arent nearly this witty or lovable. As I mentioned before, the biggest fault in the film is the zoo scene. The whole thing is presented completely ridiculously - and not in the kind of "ridiculous" that was being attempted - and Huston's dialogue is atrociously written and delivered. I wouldve rather not had that bit in the movie at all, thats how much it detracted, affecting my viewing experience even days in the future, just a sour taste in my mouth.

That isnt to say that most of the other characters werent great. Sam Rockwell never disappoints and played the lead of Victor without even so much as a glimpse of breaking character. I loved to hate him in The Green Mile and hes only continued to prove himself between 1999 and now. Plus, he cleans up spectacularly in his personal life. Kelly Macdonald, who I loved in No Country For Old Men played a similar role in both films - that of a docile but semi-intelligible girl of mediocre angelic looks that keeps some reckless male protagonist grounded to reality - continued to delight with her unique voice and looks. But the person I was looking most forward to seeing on screen was Brad William Henke, who won my heart as the lonely but honorable neighbor in Me and You and Everyone We Know. He really is a great actor. Perhaps he plays one role over and over, but I love him for it. Hes just so simultaneously adorable and pathetic and heart-wrenching that I do believe it was his performance that stole the show. Alongside Gillian Jacobs as his stripper girlfriend, I enjoyed their plot the most throughout Choke. When he stands up to Victor for her, man, I liked him a lot.

Overall, I wouldnt say Choke was great, but it was certainly entertaining and worth the $12 or so bucks I had to shell out to see it immediately in New York City. I wouldve done a few things differently but that casting was impeccable and I must applaud Gregg for his first work of directorial art. Im just curious as to what Chuck, himself, thinks of it...after all, Gregg does wrap up the ending in a nice little "Happy Ending" package, complete with a Mile High Club ribbon.

Alex Gets a Haircut

2008-09-28T12:24:00.001-07:00

Evolving Obsessions

2008-09-24T00:05:00.000-07:00

My obsession with Nathan Explosions is only ever growing - Ive even caught myself thinking of him during intimate moments, wondering what Id look like as a cartoon, and warping my fantasy accordingly. I do think, however, Ive found the proper way to manage my rather unsettling crush on an animated man and that is to crush on his creator and his voice, Brendon Small. Id contemplated this before and though I already knew he had a great sense of humor, it wasnt until these past two days that he became a real prospect for celebrity crushing. About six or eight months ago, Brad Walsh had a photo party complete with gift bags, and in those gift bags there was an April or so issue of the now dismembered Playgirl. For some reason I never really looked at any of the stuff in the bag and threw it in the back of my closet until a few nights ago when I fished out the demo CDs for a friend, who didnt want them anyway, and tossed the Playgirl in my bathroom. Needless to say, Ive been reading it - yes, reading it, because pictures of lubed up dicks really isnt my thing, at all - and thus stumbled upon an interview with Brendon, complete with semi-nudes depicting him as both attractive and hilarious, not to mention metal as ever. Anyway, I found him on myspace and added him, ya know, just to see, and he claims to want to meet "college co-eds" and Hey! Guess What! Im a college co-ed! My tits arent on my ass, as he also requests to encounter, but theyre on my chest and I guess thats as good as anywhere.

In other metal updates, I finally found the perfect pair of combat boots after almost two years of searching. Assembly sells identical shoes for over $200 and I got mine for under $25, so Id say I made the right choice in waiting (Moms advice always pays off, literally.) Im not sure theyre even flattering with my stumpy legs and huge ass but they have a really amusing affect on my stride and attitude so I dont think I even care. Every step I take feels endlessly epic, like Im just completely obliterating everything in my path, whatever is beneath my foot just crushed into the ground, senselessly slaughtered - babies, puppies, small adults and the like. I walk with complete confidence in every stomp I take with these boots on - in fact, I may even march - and I dont think Ive had even a single cat-call in the past few days. The looks continue but I am now mildly scary and so most perverts keep their mouths shut, that is, all but the gutter punks on St. Marks who are even more avid in their admirable comments. Im into that, though, so I dont mind. The boots also add to my increasingly 90s-esque wardrobe. Ever since Alex and I started watching the original 90210 on the Soap Network every weekday from 5-7, Ive had epiphany after epiphany about how superior the 90s were to modern times. In fact, every decade was superior to anything post-'99 and I cant stand any nonsense these days. Popular fashion and music are mostly dispicable and I hate to think that my generation is going to be remembered for brightly colored tank tops over other brightly colored tops with flairs and cheap boots, but the 90s speak to me specifically. Even 90s porn and romance scenes (which I have had the pleasure of viewing thanks to my Showtime On Demand subscribtion) allude to a time of a more precise dramatic passion, full of caressing and melodramatic lines, which seems like a much better way to "get in the mood". I havent even been paying attention to new music, which is very unlike me, since my 90210 obsession began and I dont really seem to care. I just want to listen to Jimmie's Chicken Shack in freedom. Even Alex, the King of All Things 90s, makes fun of me for that. I just want is black black black and floral prints. Grunge. Maybe more dudes with pompadours, not even the rockabilly kind but the Dylan McKay kind. I recently even contemplated trying the kinderwhore thing after discussing it with Alex, but thats not for me, I couldnt pull that off, so instead Im just going to stick to my boots and my 90s media obsession, for now. Well see how hideous I get by the end of the year.

Weird Shit at a Wedding

2008-09-22T07:56:00.000-07:00

There are no words to properly convey my experience this past weekend, visiting "home" for my cousin's wedding. All I can offer up - and I do it because I must because it was an insane experience - is the story itself and the eventual epiphanies is lead to. I will do this as fast as possible, for your sake, but its going to be a process for me to work out and put into coherent words on screen.

The Story:
Arrive home Thursday night, have a bad feeling about the whole thing, my parents do not like the dress I am wearing, I go to bed early, run around all day Friday, feel pending doom, Friday night meltdown in a moment of severe insecurity, go to the rehearsal dinner anyway, hardly anyone speaks to me other than Aidan, my cousin Michelles two year old son and her husband James, mostly I sit alone and hardly eat, cant believe Im related to any of these self-absorbed imbeciles - my mother and father included - Julie comes over and we talk it out and because she is my other brain she gets whats going on but I end up completely unresolved and in a state of extreme disappointed in the "family" hand Ive been dealt, woke up in a shitty mood on Saturday but was excited to meet up with everyone and get my hair done, wore Old Navy flipflops as a subtle attempt to "fit in", no one talked to me so I sat alone and read a magazine, the hairdresser couldnt accomplish a finger wave, I paid $75 dollars for something I couldve done at home for free, drove Amy and Mallory to the mall with me to get my makeup done, actually had a conversation for the first time in two days, had to wait around in the mall for a second day in a row, felt myself giving the evil eye to passersby, called my mom who came to meet up with me despite my protests, she called the hair place despite my protests, I got them to refund some of the money I paid for almost nothing and felt a little better being a little less broke, after panicking over having nothing to wear to Sunday brunch my mom bought my a little cardigan, still in a heinous mood and I immediately underestimate the girl who is scheduled to do my makeup, she does a pretty good job that requires minimal tweaking at home and picks out the perfect shade of dark purple lipstick for me, I go home, get dressed and I feel a lot better, nothing is perfect but the look is so classically "Vixen" that Im cheered up by what I am pulling off, we go to take family photos, Im paler and scarier than anyone else, I like it, everyone makes superficial comments, asks me to smile, likes my hair, I grin and bear it, we go to the wedding hall and wait around, I havent eaten all day, I drink champagne and loosen up, my tiny identical twin cousins Sophie and JoBeth take a liking to me after seven years and want to sit with me during the ceremony and eventually on either side of me for dinner, Amy and Mallory turn out to be interesting and worth extensive conversation after a few years having not seen them, Josh and Mat - the family's other outcasts for less "ALT" and more "HICK" reasons - actually talk to me and Josh shows me photos of his new baby which they named Ava, one of my favorite names, and I realize that I like them even though I have been programmed not to for so long, Josh's baby mama, Nadia, even gets him to dance, he and I share a few understanding glances and I feel better about this weirder part of my family, they all ask about New York, Josh's girlfriend is really interesting and smart, her mother is the lead forensics professor at University of Baltimore which I think is amazing, we are drunk and talk about murders, Mats girlfriend is funny, everyone is drunk, I dance with my mom and dad to appease them and Im being nicer than usual after some Gin & Tonic and two Apple Martinis on top of about six glasses of champagne, I do a shot or two with the bridal party and my mom, James is screaming for my dad "UNCLE HARRY!" because my dad is his hero, this is extremely funny to me considering my father is nowhere in sight and definitely doesnt do shots, Mallory and I discover a mutual "Black Sheep" experience on either side of the very normal Lauren and Michelle equilibrium, we are drunk and this feels very exciting, we do shots with the bride - our cousin Laurens - preppy friends, I call them Clark and Kent, we both think this is funny, they dont care that she is 17, they are douche bags but mildly entertaining, we go to dance with all the drunk ex-sorority girls and they suddenly love us despite having ignored us for two days, Lauren has the same reaction to our dancing and drags us around, my mom is dancing, Im too drug to be embarrassed by her moves anymore so I just go along with it, Mallory and I go for another shot with Clark and Kent, Mallory turns and says "Do you smoke weed?" and I think my face lit up "I have a blunt in my bag" and we walk way out in the parking lot between two white storage things and smoke, we get very high, I have been leaning on one of the storage things, my black dress has white stuff on the ass, we laugh hysterically and stumble around in the street, we go meet up with my dad who is standing in front of the building, no one notices that we are stoned, we go sit down and my mom comes up - "What were you guys doing in the parking lot? "Nothing!" "What were you really doing?" "Smoking weed!" - she just smiles said she doesnt approve and then takes us to dance but not before getting us cake and saying "I bet you want this", Mallory and I scream the words to every song, all the drunk ex-sorority girls love us even more despite having shunned us since the whole affair began, pregnant Michelle is still dancing and I tell her that the baby (who is no longer inside her belly but actually born as of this morning) is already awesome for having so much energy and being such a good dancer, I cannot stop smiling, my mom sits with me for at least five minutes as I laughed like a hysterical stark raving lunatic for no reason, I hug everyone, my mom is suddenly not-so-annoying and mostly really fun for being so exciting and energetic and endlessly enthusiastic, also for not caring that I was high, Mallory wanted to smoke more with Clark and Kent, I said "No Way" because I didnt like them, I danced with James who had drunkenly told me the new babies name in sworn secrecy, my dad hadnt even fallen asleep yet and was still dancing, he and James bonded some more in bad white guy dance moves, my aunt and uncle were drunk and still totally in love and I hugged them at least ten times, as were my parents, the last people left dancing were my mother, my aunt, my two cousins and me - the original fivesome - and then I had about thirty epiphanies.

The Epiphanies:
1. Stoned me loves and is loved by my family. Once I was high, everyone actions were perfect and charming and entertaining. My mom, who usually irritates me in her intense constant over-enthusiasm which comes off as tremendous sentimentalism, was endlessly fun and had great ideas about what to do and where to sit and when to dance, and even her kind-of-lame sense of humor was funny and the puns had me cracking up. My dad was oblivious but was so happy I was smiling that he was willing to dance and have fun with my mom and I. Even my cousin, who is living a NYC life completely opposite of mine, was perfect. The realization was that my family, though painful to be around when sober, enacted the exact situation and group of people that every time Im stoned I prey to find. Everyone was the right amount themselves and I was so purely happy that it was really rather magical.
2. My mother is an old stoner. All these years I thought she was just insane but really, shes just a ex-stoner who grew up and continued to act excited-stoned permanently. My mother doesnt have a relationship with any but one of her three sisters and I have never met her mother so, needless to say, she has latched onto my fathers side of the family rather intensely. As I have mentioned before, my mother is very energetic and can get irritating at times because she doesnt know when to stop, but in reality she does exactly what I do: whatever the fuck she wants because it makes her happy without worrying that other people think shes weird. She is weird but shes her insanity is clearer to me now, why else would she be so cool about me getting high at a family function?
3. Michelle and James are going to be just like my mother and father. James might literally worship my father - they have the same job, similar lives, and the same sense of humor. His own father was at the wedding and all James wanted to do was take a shot with my dad. Michelle is more accidentally emulating my mother than James is my father, but still, married to a guy like my dad, eventually shell be a little goofy with someone loving her unconditionally like that. Its what happens when you can be yourself.
4. Despite the view from outside, my family is extremely close in a weird way. I think that when each of us goes home at night we think that were sort of distant from one another but once I was high and stopped trying to think negatively it seemed that everyone was doing something so similar to each other - even me - that it is impossible to say we arent close, were just too like-minded. I always worry that my mom is actually the greatest outsider because shes just so eccentric and might annoy the rest of her family in her excitement but she totally doesnt, at least not any more than the rest of us annoy each other. All the girls were dancing and I saw that we were all kind of annoying and constantly excited but we were having the best time and thats what counts.
5. The best people are the people who like me regardless of whether I am stoned or not. I have a few friends who find me delightful either way, transcending the gap in my brain, but most of my friends are either friends I smoke with or friends I dont. My mother as well as my best friend Julie both managed to join the ranks of the smaller, more exclusive group of people who love me either way. In return, I love them both no matter what state of mind Im in. After picking me up Julie and I went back to my house where I tried to verbalize all of these insane epiphanies and Im pretty sure Ive never been so expressively mad in front of someone and she still enjoyed my company. Not to mention I loved her ever the more, for she was just as funny and sweet and perfectly Julie as ever, even in a state of mind where I pick up on peoples inauthenticities. I told her all of this, too, and she actually understood what I was saying though shes only ever smoked once, and it was with me.
6. I cant type this one on the internet but its a biggie and I cant stop thinking about it.

Witchy Women

2008-09-18T20:36:00.000-07:00

My thoughts are no longer cohesive and this worries me. Maybe its the weed, maybe its my surroundings, maybe its my ever-changing instability amid my smokey environment, but Im getting sick of it. I want one person to consistently give a shit about who and where and what I am, because that will never change, and so Ive decided to sort of give up. I did it last Saturday night as I walked some twenty blocks home from a party I didnt need or want to be at after getting into an argument with a friend who was nagging me for being such a homebody. All I wanted to do this weekend was extend the way I felt on Thursday night, like something exciting could happen and I really wanted to put a pentagram on my floor but it didnt happen (until Tuesday night) and I guess thats the way my life has been lately, something grand that isnt happening.

But here are some things:
+ Hung the three Good Luck Sheep that Addie made "to change the surroundings" in my window to see if it would affect our weekend, but it didnt. Im beginning to suspect that, though lovely to look at, my life first had an adverse reaction and is now immune to whatever powers or charms they are supposed to have. Addie has been faring well from them, however, and I love the way they look, adding to the intense creepiness of my decor.

+ One morning, Jonny and I compared old photos and stories of ridiculous vests that we own and adore, though keep rather hidden. Though mine were probably far funnier, I thought his vest and the photos he took of it were worth plastering online mostly because its pretty manly and makes him look rather buff and dreamy, despite reality. Kidding.

+ A boy from my math class found me online, didnt tell me he was from my math class, came with me to a mutual friends Birthday Party, told me he knew me from math class, did hours of math homework with me, made Addie and I pancakes.
+ Was blogged about in a way that was meant to gain sympathy after having opened up to a best friend, contemplated how mad I was, decided the answer was "very disappointed", yet again, made this apparent, the person didnt care, still "very disappointed."
+ Learned that, apparently, "Ryan Manning" is not actually Ryan Manning despite the phone call I once had with him and a lot of weird hours spent online talking to him before he deemed me some kind of evil and blocked me. He has an Arlington, VA area code...who is he? Creeped out.
+ Sarina and I saved our appetites all of Tuesday so that we could gorge ourselves on some Odessa diner food. We ordered a plate of pickles and french fries, she got a sandwich and I, as eager as a child, ordered chocolate chip pancakes. Eating that night was a truly religious experience. The pancakes were the perfect hybrid between cake, cookie, and bread...just delicious. Not to mention the hilarious waiter who was talking to us in the most bizarre fashion, warranted, we were hiiiiiigh, and hardly hiding it. Towards the end of the meal a man walked in wearing brown corduroy overalls, no shirt underneath, and a comedicly enormous mustard yellow tie. He ordered some kind of smoothie and left. A great experience considering Ive had two rather unpleasant Odessa adventures.

+ I said Id do it, and I did it: I put a pentagram on my floor. It took almost a week but it finally rests, in all of its heathen glory, just beneath Horace, in what I imagine is slowly becoming some kind of vortex of evil. One night something insane is going to happen and I can only pray that someone else is present when it does so that Im not the only one totally traumatized. It would seem that I am becoming a witch - Addie and I are purchasing our copies of The Satanic Bible soon - but Im not...yet. Soon enough though.

+ As a youth I was only permitted to watch a very strange selection of television shows. We didnt have any kind of interesting cable package, just the basic channels, but I was still limited. My parents would let me hang around while they watched Melrose Place or Seinfeld, both rather inappropriately out of my league, as well as 90210 and Friends, which I understood and still remember. But I wasnt permitted many cartoons, even The Simpsons and Rugrats were strictly limited. Needless to say, I saw very little Ren & Stimpy, though I dont recall any rules against it, but what I do remember was finding it incredibly shocking and disturbing to my little brain. So, while Im not surprised that I hadnt seen this clip, even now my jaw is on the floor over its vile hilariousness:

+ My accidental bull-feminism has been repeatedly brought up, much to the dismay of my male friends and acquaintances, and so to continue on my rampage of loving womens bodies - as well as, perhaps, showcase my concept of intense beauty - I want to announce my ceaseless awe of Dita Von Teese. Here she is lacquered in a metallic silver coating, but not before giving those of us not chiseled from marble a glimpse at some seriously perfect tits. Then, someone sent me this to try and shut me up about feminism but Im not having it, despite the fact that it is a rather accurate article.
+ I, too, hated Juno but I dont hate Diablo Cody's response to people like me hating Juno. In fact, actual Diablo Cody, seperate from the film, might be a cool gal.
+ This is a delightful pairing. Im glad she is so sexy and he is so cute, despite her intense height and his lack thereof.
+ Thats me, Im Anonymous, and I did say that...though I cant quite recall if that actually happened.
+ Felt indifferent for a prolonged period of time.

I still feel indifferent but its becoming a negative indifference. I dont think I trust anyone. Both my back and my jaw are sore and Im not sure how to fix either of those things. Then I think, "Is anything worth fixing?" because like...if its broken, isnt there a reason its broken? Perhaps, because it didnt work to begin with? Then I think, "Thinking Sucks."

Stuff Addie Taped Me Doing

2008-09-16T18:11:00.000-07:00

Over the past two years, Addie has had several video projects of which I have been the star:
1. The first of these is called Skins according to the YouTube information but it is unofficially
called BodyButts because thats what this started out as - we filmed all the places on our bodies that
also look like butts. I especially enjoy the muic Addie chose to put to this - Bjork and Vincent Gallo
seamlessly melded together.

2. These next three clips are all from one whole short film that was made using the very terrifying
and realistic mask that Addie made in a Special Effects Makeup course. I wandered, blind and freezing,
around Thompkins Square wearing this mask without eye holes, and made friends with quite a few
birds, trashcans, and homeless people that day. Though meant to be creepy, this video, apparently,
warranted laughs at its debut because everyone knew it was just me, my hands as pale as little white
gloves.

Sawnick Vishun

2008-09-13T23:50:00.000-07:00

The past few days are kind of a blur in my brain, just some funny colors and a collaging of people and a lot of weed smoked. All of this sort of came to a culmination tonight when Addie and I, in a moment clear of the haze, spontaneously bought tickets to see Sonic Vision and somehow trekked to the Museum of Natural History in what was one of the best decisions ever made. Both the ride there and back were really intense, complete with teenaged jokesters and a guy maybe taking pictures of our tits with a crotch-level camera. Once we were there, however, it became apparent what an excellent choice we had made so suddenly. Before the show started, we got to wander the museum while it was empty, just staring at these intensely electronic exhibits, imagining future-people bustling around in white jumpsuits, pressing all the neon buttons. The show itself is something impossible to put into words. One minute its a visual rollercoaster, the next there are thousands of eyes blinking down upon the audience. Regardless of the mentality a person has upon entering the Planetarium, Sonic Vision is an incredible show and will alter the state of mind with or without drugs and I would recommend it to any and all.

I wish I knew the kinds of brilliant scientific artists that sit around and first visualize and then put things like this into form. Its such an incredible talent to have and use a mind like that, just full of colors and the ability to create with that mind. Even when Im writing - no, not blogging - I question when I am complete and were I even to be able to do anything on such an enormous scale, I dont know how Id let it go out to dozens upon dozens of people every weekend. To conceptualize something into reality, taking into consideration the bend and arch of the Planetarium as well as the motion of images over those curves, is a really epic and admirable skill. As an incredible perfectionist - my lack of motivation is really just a disinterest in suffering disappointments - there were moments that I didnt enjoy but I could still watch and understand what someone else would love of those visuals, and though I would have loved a darker, eerier version of the whole thing, nothing else to this standard exists and so I have only good things to vocalize about it. When the ultimatum is watching beautiful flashes of light to Radiohead and Smashing Pumpkins, theres really nothing to complain about. I wish to know more "nerds."

The clips in the trailer dont do it justice:

I dont know what this is but its also cool:

The Good Kind

2008-09-10T19:03:00.000-07:00

Despite my recent decision to get a waxing for the first time in about two years - and regretting it immediately - I
am huge fan of the bush. Obviously there is a certain level of maintenance necessary but there is nothing I sexier than
a woman who is proud of her natural body, the way it was meant to be. Chloe Sevigny really never disappoints.

Friday, September 12, 2008 - 1:03pm:
Its been a few days and Id forgotten to elaborate on this topic, which was my original intention, so Im going to try to do it now:
I guess the main point to be made about the justice of bushes is that its just not fair, plain and simple, that men can literally do nothing but keep themselves clean and women dont complain - at least the women with good sense who share in my appreciation for all the things about manliness and choice genes that body hair says. For some reason, despite the way nature would have it, women are asked to shave, pluck, and tear out almost all of our body hair - save that on our heads, which must be in impeccable, perfect condition at all times. Whats wrong with looking like a woman? The 70s had it all right. Im not going to argue the shaving of armpits, its so simple and so easy and armpit hair isnt terribly attractive so, sure, Ill go along with that, but its cruel for men to seem disgusted or perturbed when our legs have stubble. Its a bit more time consuming to be shaving every day and sometimes we just dont expect them to get attention when they do, if its bugs you, stop touching them. The real issue here, however, is the pubic region, the best region. What I didnt mention about two weeks ago was that I got a bikini wax, no wait, it was a Brazilian, and mostly it just didnt stop stinging for a week and now I am 99% bare down there and I miss my bush! Waxing down the runway is fine but that upper region, the area that can be seen in a nude, standing position, needs some hair. I do not appreciate looking like a gigantic infant with mysterious huge titties. I want to look like a woman and pubes do just that to the physique, its all part of the feminine aesthetic. Not to mention, women get waxed solely to appease men, but who really wants to be fucking a guy who prefers them to look like a toddler? That mindset is one that worries me enough not to get waxed simply to avoid sleeping with closet pedophiles and perverts. Mostly, though, I just cant wait to rejoin the ranks of women who are proud of the way their bodies are intended to be. I suppose that goes into a whole other discussion about changing our bodies but for now I just want to say that we ought to be way prouder and way more confident in having pubes! Women arent supposed to have super hairless crotches and just because Playboy lost sight of what a beautiful woman looks like naked doesnt mean we should wax our shit into weird tiny trimmed down patches. Its creepy and unnatural.

BDSM vs. The Ego

2008-09-09T11:45:00.000-07:00

I suppose that, after such a mellow weekend, I was due for a night to make up for it, and the Oak Bond Age Party was more than sufficient. Marika woke me up early to go check out the collection and I ended up with a brand new dress and a beautiful necklace to wear to the party being held for those very items. It was held at The Eagle, a men's leather bar, so I even got to pick up some literature on my way out. Lord knows I love deviant news. Marika and I walked in with her boss, who owns First Among Equals and quickly downed several vials of Belvedere Vodka before I took my crop out of my bag. I wasnt sure how serious people would be taking the night's theme but I brought it along and boy, was I glad that I did. What a conversation starter that thing was. It also got me into a little bit of trouble, spanking strangers and all, but it was all in good fun and even the shy Complex Geometries designer managed a smile over it. Somehow, none of the night is lost to my memory but there is no doubt that I got a little kooky, once again harassing poor Crotchville, who may or may not be in love with me by my own definition. None of this matters, actually, but what is interesting is how insanely nice Jamaal's new apartment is. He met up with us at Darkroom, bought me some drinks and then we went to his place to eat Cheetos, play with Dunny's, and watch some channel that was literally just a calm beach scene for an hour. I got home around 5am, wrote the worlds most hilarious Myspace bulletin - somehow typo free - and crashed while thinking about Nathan Explosions and the metal guy who I had earlier fallen in love with in passing on the street.

As I said, this past weekend was kept rather low-key and I somehow completely missed Yonatan Gat's NYC visit. His band Monotonix - an epic Israeli punk/jungle/psych act, whose shows come complete with crowd-surfing in bass drums and bare-asses - was in town for some Sold Out shows with Silver Jews. He put me on the list for the Sunday show but by the time he let me know I was already half asleep and only had fifteen minutes to pull myself together before they took the stage and I just didnt make it. Despite our best efforts, we never got to hang out and now I have to wait until October to see him. Last night, in the depths of my drunkeness, I sent him some really bummed out texts while laying bed. "I blew it, Yonatan!"

Something else I woke up to discover was a nice anonymous comment on my Reena Spaulings book review trying to undermine my intelligence and then, ultimately, an attempt to call me some fun names. The funny thing is, that: a. I know who the person is, despite their cowardice & b. in taking the time to repeatedly refresh my comments page, awaiting my response, isnt the message being sent that I am, in fact, more important than this person? Clearly if, from several states away, my commenting on books and posting silly bulletins bothers this person so much, I must have some incredible power over them that, in its existence and declaration, proves that I am, indeed, important, certainly attention-worthy, and maybe deserve to be wildly conceited, though I am not. Ive already declared my self-confidence, but I dont think Im some kind of egomaniac, though this person would like to think so. I guess in comparison, though, I am greatly superior: I am several years younger, not living with my parents, getting an education, not drowning my every insecurity in drugs, and mostly flourishing. I guess it must be a bummer to have to sit behind a screen 24 hours a day watching others do so much with themselves, perhaps this life would drive people to embarrass themselves in attempts at exertion on miniscule nonsense blogs via comment, but I wouldnt really know, for that has never been me. Keep in mind: If youre the one trying to harass someone via internet, you are always the loser.

This morning, as I fought off a hangover, I somehow stumbled upon this YouTube gem. Someone made this song, 90% composed of sounds from Alice in Wonderland, and then this video to go along with it. Not only is the song surprisingly pretty, but also very soothing. Its actually not that surprising because Alice in Wonderland is a film full of lovely sounds and snippets of noise, but its still really interesting to both see and hear. Like the Big Ass Manatee version of Return of the Mack, which I played for Jamaal last night, the affect this song has on my brain, along with the visuals, is one that I really enjoy. I get kind of sucked in, my mind goes blank and I think I might even briefly hallucinate. I like when this happens. Obviously.

Book Review No. 2

2008-09-05T09:26:00.000-07:00

Reena Spaulings
by The Bernadette Corporation

I hate to admit how long it took me to finish Reena Spaulings - two months - but with reading Nadja in the midst of it, not to mention the end of summer uselessness that demanded my full and undivided attention, I couldnt help but allow for it to take something of a back burner. That is not to say, however, that I did not completely and utterly enjoy this book, written by the Reena Spaulings Fine Art Collaborative at the Bernadette Corporation. Despite the research Ive attempted to do, it has proven incredibly difficult to even develop a list of names as far as contributors, editors, or even main writers are concerned. One thing is undeniably clear, though: the whole thing has a dense Bret Easton Ellis feel - dropping NYC nightlife names including Vincent Gallo, The Strokes, Karl Lagerfeld, A-Rod, and dozens of others amongst clubs and cocaine, everything constantly swirling with invented compound words and emotions that any New York reader cant help but wish they had created themselves. The back of the book says it all, exactly what almost any New Yorker might write to this fair town:

Dear New York,
Heres your novel. If I could have held myself together longer I would have. I wanted to. I feel like I prostituted myself for you. I went all the way with a lot of people and for what? It was our time, I guess. Everybody was fucking everybody. I dont blame you for anything that happened, not do I particularly give you credit for it. I fell apart somewhere around the time the war began...was that the idea? If so, fuck you, loads of love, loads of novel, and its been real. Meanwhile the buildings are still changing all the time and youre thinking that the city isnt what it used to be. Well it never was. I do love you.
-Reena

The story opens from the perspective of Reena's co-workers at the Met, where an enormous collective voice ponders the life of this quiet girl standing guard. Dozens upon dozens of possibilities and rumors are tossed around, ultimately deciding upon no single path for Reena. Instead, the reader is introduced to her, firsthand, via the next chapter and from there, tossed from her personal life to her public life to her private life to her social life to her love life to her sexual life to her professional life and even into the lives and minds of her closest and most distant friends. She goes from museum worker to model to actress, gaining and losing weight, gaining and losing friends, gaining and losing lovers and life and experience throughout.

As both a writer and a fan of well-written sex writing - in this case, Im not going to call it erotica - my favorite sequences are all those involving her lovers, all of whom I feel Ive met or at least slept with myself. In a chapter entitled Communism, Reena recounts several past and present loves. One in all black on the beach, one hilariously foreign, but the one both Reena and the reader love the most is Garson, hook-nosed and "pissing literature". Eventually Reena buys a boat with a lump sum she makes from modeling and while she and Garson are on the boat, pirates take over and the thing sinks, leaving Garson out to sea, but until then, their love is strangely city-authentic. While reading through the two of them together, I couldnt help but feel lonely and exposed and there is nothing I enjoy more than when a book torments me in all the right ways. Even without love, the sex outlined in Reena Spaulings is simultaneously crude and honest, dodging the critical bullet of consequence when the prudish person becomes grossed out. The section entitled Orgasm to Orgasm reads through like a fun one-night-stand: "Reach down to make sure something really happened and even check your fingertips to make sure, or just to see...lie there and smile together in a cloud of smells...Ignore the pain in your pinned down arm. Ignore the time. You say nice things as you admire this or that out loud, or celebrate the act of celebrating the other by repeating yourself or adding things to things, parts to parts, sigh to sigh. Run out of things to say, then sing "Okie From Muskogee" but in the style of Napalm Death," and I cant help but want that to happen to me. I want to sing "Okie From Muskogee" in the style of Napalm Death and have someone want to fuck me for it!

Maybe the point is that I am Reena or that we all are, all of us here in NYC, even the boys. We are all constantly trying to outdo one another, succeeding and then falling to our deaths in personal earthquakes and tornados - though Reena Spaulings makes those natural disasters more literal - and then running away, doing drugs, sleeping with strangers, only to eventually return to the city to crawl to the top yet again before falling. We are obsessed with a glamour that doesnt exist and so we struggle to find it, catch perhaps a single glimpse of it and then lose it and our minds all at once. Perhaps the most enjoyable factor to this book was that, if something, some set of words, did not peak my interest or have me captivated, those parts were easily skip-able, easy to pick back up in the future. The story isnt about the story but instead it is about thoughts and the way of being. No moment in the past was ever really brought up in the future and so the story moved through the minds of its characters rather than the bodies.

There is much to say about Reena Spaulings, especially in terms of relevance but I do not want to spoil what I feel is a great piece of collaborative literature, certainly one of the best group-works Ive ever read and one I hope to someday have the experience of emulating with friends or fellow writer-geniuses. Where I warned heavily against I Was Told There'd Be Cake I advocate for Reena Spaulings. If you feel you are a New Yorker and you have the ability to read, Id suggest putting the two together.

Its Politics and Shame

2008-09-03T21:43:00.000-07:00

I really cannot stand Perez Hilton, and I usually wouldnt admit

to reading his uselessness but for the first time looking through

his site, I have to say that I am glad to have stumbled upon this.

Finally, something written without a sneering idiotic remark that

actually contains both humor and some rather useful information.

B4ck 2 Sk00l & 0th3r S7uff

2008-09-02T20:39:00.000-07:00

- Day One of third year and still, not a single guy in a single class that Id sleep with, much less even be friends with. Not to mention Im pretty sure Im one of two native English speakers in one of my advanced English Courses and the other is taught by a man who will someday be on an episode of Tim & Eric in one of those noseless dating ads in which every guy has some hilarious penile situation to discuss and/or petite feet. Ive got two more chances to turn things around so Im praying for someone at least mildly stimulating in my Creative Non-Fiction course, ya know, so that the erotica I write wont just be jerk-off material for goobers.

+ Tonight was also the first meeting of The General Order of the Serious Bookclub for Reading, the bookclub I spent all summer recruiting, planning, and eagerly waiting for. We read Andre Breton's Nadja and though a lot of people had a really hard time with it - both reading and comprehending - I really enjoyed it and thought I did a damn good job leading discussion. It was the first time a lot of the members met and things picked up nicely by the end of the night so I anticipate that the club will do just fine in the flourish department.

+ None of that, however, trumps the fact that Jonathan took me to see Lou Reed tonight but Lou Reed ended up just fucking live-jamming with MIKE PATTON AND JOHN ZORN! If youre reading this, I suppose it depends how far back youve looked but Mike Patton is one of my creepy insane-o crushes and seeing him do whatever it is he does (something between metal-rap, beatboxing, and screaming) was really intensely awesome. Not to mention, Macaulay and Kieran Culkin were both there and Keiran and I shared a brief smile over our Red Stripes. Moving stuff.

Mike Patton in Fantomas

Just to give you an idea of how truly random and what little sense it
made, if any, for him to be performing with Lou Reed and John Zorn.

[Edit] Also:

- I dont think I was excited for the right reasons

- Im not sure I have very good friends and I want to start telling them this

I want to say, "You are not a very good friend," and make these people feel

sad for having treated me so poorly for two-plus years so that they change

- I am going to miss him and I just hope he admires the writing he inspired

that I sent him, not because I am brave but because he deserves something

beautiful and I imagine him feeling almost nothing compared to the heartache

he already carries with him but just enough of something so he bows his head

and feels he was glad to have had me care and perhaps remember me fondly

so that when we see one another around the neighborhood our gaze will meet

and something of a smile, something mostly made of understanding might

creep up and over our faces and my eyes will look like they are going to cry but

I will mostly be glad to have ever known such a beautiful, sad person and felt

what it is like to feel as someone, to feel such a beauty and such a sadness

- The night is affecting me and I have to wake up unusually early-early

\M/

2008-08-31T08:48:00.000-07:00

Everywhere I go I just bring this sense of mayhem, it seems. Its in the back of my brain just waiting to scream, "DO SOMETHING!" Im not satisfied unless Im getting hurt and, obviously, its taking a toll because now its not just skinned knees or busted knuckles or bruises but Im getting into emotionally perilous situations, too. More and more often my guard comes down too quick or not at all and never in the right situations. What I mean to say is that Im just going to give in and become an insane metalhead.

For the second time this month, or so, I fell off a table at a party. This time was a little less my fault than the first one but warranted a similar reaction of cheers and excitement. Addie and I were sitting on a table and when Josh hopped on, literally, the whole thing collapsed under us. Addie's ass somehow even made an enormous dent in the wood tabletop as we came crashing to the ground. I cant really remember where in the night that happened but there was also some making out with strangers and hiding from the cops and getting walked in on, all of which lead to a very disorienting morning.

The night before last was also pretty weird, commencing my return into the world of windmill kicks and moshpits. Mostly because I dragged Addie along with Alex, Jonathan, and I to see a friends band, Tropic of Nelson, play with reunited 90s act, Portraits of Past. Death by Audio is an absurdly tiny, horrendously laid out venue in which, to get outside, you have to push through to the front of the crowd or just suffer in this hot back room where the single bathroom is. Anyway, things got hectic and I was dressed completely inappropriately for a hardcore show, in a nice dress and shoes, so Addie and I left before Portraits was over and lurked at Savalas for a few minutes to wait for everyone else to pile out into the world and join us. Even saw Jonny twice in one night before he sped away on his motorcycle.

All I want to do right now is watch Metalocalypse reruns and imagine my life as Nathan Explosions' one true love. I cant figure out if actually doing this would cheer me up or bum me out even more in the realization that Explosions isnt actually real, no matter how badly I want him to be. Hes just...the perfect man. Seriously. An enormous, terrifying, possibly Native American, Metal King. Though I am constantly expressing interest in a vast variety of male "types", I really wish Nathan were real. I have never felt as let down as I do when I watch that show and have to face the fact that I will never meet him and he will never pick me up, throw me over one of his massive shoulders and hop on some ironclad horse and do horrible, awful things to me in a castle somewhere in Norway...or something. Hes like a metal version of my father and its really shitty that the world deny me of my needs and even go so far as to mock them and torment me in the creation of such a hunky, majestic cartoon man. Apparently the show isnt as popular as it should be/id like it to be so that more people got my references to it, but its probably the best thing on modern TV, and that is the final word brought to you by the Ultimate Arbiter of Taste.

Some Nights Steal Days

2008-08-27T16:50:00.001-07:00

I've been paying for last night all day today and I think I finally dont want to puke or pluck my eyes out or cry.
I tormented a nice fellow last night for a bit. Two, actually. One of whom received/delivered a spanking, too.

  +Addie is back in NYC today and in just one hour we are going to get mega-stoned on my couch and cuddle.
   DOS BEBES IN THE BED.
  + Marika is probably moving from Queens to about four blocks from me, thus making life ever-so convenient.
  + Sam returns tomorrow, so the famiree will shortly be entirely united and Im curious how life will be out of sync.

+ Classes and the first General Order of the Serious Book Club For Reading meeting all take place next Tuesday.
SEE YOU NEXT TUESDAY.

+ &CO. is coming along nicely, the collection continues to grow, and Im psyched to see where it goes!

"Home" vs. home

2008-08-25T10:20:00.000-07:00

"Home": Where I was born and raised and lived most of my life.
home: Where I live now and feel momentarily content but will not live as long as I lived at "Home"
Home: Where I will some day settle down and actually feel entirely satisfied without doubt.

I spent the past week in Baltimore, minimally online and trying to relax, which is hard when I have two people - my parents - almost constantly doing their best to stress me out. I assume that this is not their intention, but it is the outcome. They literally walk around just spouting out lists of things I need to do. My personal method to maintaining my madness is just not to think about things until the moment comes in which I am doing them. This way, my brain is allowed to wander freely and without anxiety attacks for the majority of every day. For an hour or so, here or there, I buckle down and get business done, but otherwise I am relatively carefree. This is not the way my mother works. She prefers to have a constant To Do list running through her mind and this simply drives me insane. My father thinks that her way is the only way to be productive and so, I am frequently deemed lazy, which is somewhat true but does not take into account the very different lives that we each live. Every time I set foot on Maryland soil I am prepared for a stream of battles and disagreements as to what constitutes "success" and this time was no different. Thats as far as I feel like getting into it because, ultimately, more was resolved than usual and the usual argument that takes place on the car ride to my means of transportation away from my homestate didnt actually occur this time around. Instead, my parents and I happily listened to Classic Rock Radio, for which I will always fondly remember my youth, and got along just fine. It was one of the nicer trips "home", but going back always reminds me of several strange facts:

a. I am terrified of anything other than city life. Despite the way Law & Order and CSI would have me thinking that a rapist awaits me at every corner, I take comfort in knowing that at least my attacker will probably be seen and that the chances of a creepy, entered-through-a-basement-window pervert psychopath is probably not hiding in my two room apartment waiting to hack me into little bits because there are about five people within a twenty foot radius and the screaming and commotion would have to rouse someone. In the outskirts of Baltimore, where everyone feels safe and cozy, the possible murders are infinite and endless and probably no one would find my slaughtered family and I for at least a few days, in our house up on a hill. Every time I get into my car at night I check the backseat for knife-wielding murderers and I dont even like walking, in the dark, from my car to the garage because there are bushes, perfect for hiding.

b. I really dont like driving. Though I dont mind driving straight for a long time and I love being the passenger and I love long car rides as the passenger, having to drive somewhere, park, get out, do whatever, get back in the car, drive somewhere, park, get out, etc. is so frustratingly monotonous that I suddenly feel endlessly fond of the subway system, of which I am frequently complaining. Today, in commemoration Im even going to take the L to the PATH and the PATH to Hoboken and not whine about it, just to prove my appreciation of not having to drive and wait in traffic and be terrified of what morons may be around and ready to obliterate me into a steel box with wheels.

c. The gym in my town is, apparently, perpetually hosting a high school reunion, at all times, morning, noon, and night. Every time I set foot in that place I saw at least nine or ten kids that I graduated with - not to mention a menagerie of Otherclassmen - all of whom look and act exactly the same. Its bizarre to think how little their lives changed while they hardly even recognize me and when they do they can barely muster a wave or a smirk in my direction. Not that Id want them to come talk to me, but I cant help but be curious as to what they think my life has come to. I certainly dont think much of theirs, at the gym by their parents' house every day, attempting to pump minimal iron.

d. Every gas station in a several mile radius of my parents' home seems to have employed a large population of the kids a few grades below me. Its like a bad movie the way these eighteen and nineteen year olds have blossomed - so to speak - from the puny little freshman I remember them to be, into full-blown, beer-bellied, chain-smoking, pimple-faced Gas Station Attendants. Mostly, in all honesty, its very sad, but also very surreal. A peek into the attached convenience store and there are at least four or five, all wearing the same hideous yellow and blue required shirts, aching for their next smoke break by the garbagecan outside.

e. I would have lost my goddamn mind if I had stayed in Maryland like 85% of my graduating class. As someone who is seemingly unabashedly, spending heaps of her parents money to live and be educated in NYC, I do frequently wonder what would have happened had I accepted the scholarship I was offered to the art school of the University of Maryland College Park and just suffered through the ultra-"college" experience. The truth is, UMDCP would have mutated my somewhat alternativeness into someone that Im so glad not to be. Being "misunderstood" by the campus populous as someone slightly "different"and "alternative" would have launched me into full rebeldom and left me tattooed and pierced in attempts to justify my lack of friends. Instead, I live here and have somewhat normaled up and I have evolved into someone that I love, instead. Whew!

f. Despite the distance between us and the fact that in two years she still hasnt come to NYC to visit me, Julie Roby is still, by far, one of my best friends. If youve ever watched Sex & the City with me, youve probably heard of her because I coo and fawn over the Charlotte character because Julie is literally that person, and Charlotte is the only one that I love unconditionally (the reason being that I dont see even a glimpse of myself in her and thus, avoid having to face my annoying demons or whatever). Julie and I have virtually nothing in common other than our morals and a sense of what is right and wrong in the world and this has created probably the best friendship that Ive ever had. Our ideals in life are similar but there is no competition between us and so we are able to give unbiased reactions and affections to one another through whatever comes our way. This is really corny, but its true and needed to be said.

Having left behind the black hair and dark eye makeup and shitty attitude towards everything Maryland, I can officially say that I like going home. I like seeing grass fields for miles and having only four substantial options as to where I ought to eat lunch. I enjoy going to the gym with my father and seeing kids from my high school who remind me that Ive come a long way, in the right direction, and that even though they still know nothing about me, it doesnt matter because I dont really live there anymore, Im just visiting, and I get to eventually come back to my place of permanent residence where my friends and neighbors actually have a clue who I am, what I stand for, and what it means to be "successful" in the actual real world beyond a crappy college campus.

All Those Times I Said

2008-08-19T22:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I inexplicably really really like things. For instance, the Big Ass Manatee remix of Return of the Mack. Other than dreaming of hearing this song while swimming in the ocean, I dont think Ive been doing too much thinking lately - despite my mothers greatest efforts to stress me out. Its weird to be both so different and so similar to a person. I mean both my mother and father, really. Im like a hybrid Deborah-Harry (no, not the singer of Blondie, those are my parents names) and Thank God for that, Id hate to be just like one of them; either too stubborn or too emotional or too loud or too absent-minded or too prone to midday naps. Instead, Im just somewhere in between. Anyway, I really like this song. I think most people think its kind of a 90s joke-y song but for some reason I find it maybe a little moving, especially with the neon manatee/black man visuals. Like, this is what people should do. When someone lies to you, say "Whatever" and resume life as a playa. Thanks to Alicia Vasquez for posting it a few days ago and bringing it to my attention - by far the best of B.A.M.s work.

Tomorrow...or...today (?) I am going to hose down some grass,
put on a bathing suit and lay in the wet grass. I need skin color.

Buenvenidos a Brooklyn

2008-08-16T08:41:00.000-07:00

FRIDAY, AUGUST 15TH GOES DOWN IN

HISTORY AS THE NIGHT THAT DID NOT

DISAPPOINT & WENT 100% ACCORDING

TO THE PLAN LAID OUT BEFORE IT

A few weeks ago when we saw the Saturday Night Shock Show, they premiered the trailer to this new Nazi Grindhouse-esque flick - Blitzkrieg: Escape From Stalag 69. Id been eagerly awaiting its opening night ever since because there is nothing quite like watching the stunning woman sitting next to you, fully clothed, run through the woods naked and covered in blood on an enormous screen. Needless to say, Sarina and I were the only two young chicks at the showing and we got a lot of attention from the cast and crew who were all there for a Q&A session and to watch their film debut. We definitely need to make better friends with this insane scene and get supporting roles in their next film for sure. All in all, it was somewhat disappointing because the trailer really did show all the best parts and there was way too much overdone useless dialogue, but I had a great time anyway. Everyone was very cool and entertaining and though we couldnt stay for the post-show discussion, Sarina and I left shouting, "You have great tits!" into the audience. I think we left a lasting impression.

I keep trying to write out the epicness of last night in real story-telling fashion but its just not happening, there are no words great enough to truly express the success and glory and magic of the night Sarina and I had, nothing short of a pegacorn performance amongst rainbows and vikings will properly depict the evening, so this list will have to do:
+ Drank whiskey post-film at Library - after some beer and Sparks in the theater
+ Cabbed to Bushwick to meet up with SB at a party that actually ruled
+ Somehow, within a matter of moments, we were smoked out by a kid who was rapping
+ Drank about 10 free beers, may or may not have smashed a can against my skull
+ Danced on a table with Sarina and SB - said, "One of us is going to fall!"
+ Fell off said table into a pool of beer, somehow didnt get hurt, everyone cheered
+ Released the HBIC within and booty danced like my life depended on it - photos were taken
+ Sarina and I developed a following of hipster admirers from Miami - some making out
+ Walked to the corner store and bought Cheese Balls which were eaten with pride
+ Made more friends, something of a scene erupted as we were trying to leave at 4am
+ Cabbed to Veselka, laughed triumphantly over chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese
+ Took showers, high-fived, maybe chest bumped, and then finally went to sleep
+ Somehow woke up at 11:30, both of us totally fine and coherent and alive

The most important thing to note about my night is that I fell off a table. It was really kind of a very narrow bench-table hybrid and as soon as Sarina, SB, and I got on top of it I kept saying that someone was gonna fall so, naturally, it was me. But the thing thats crazy is that there were dozens of beer bottles and cans and corners and edges and another table near by but somehow I floated down totally unscathed into maybe a centimeter of beer and it didnt even feel scary. It was just a nice peaceful trip to the ground, like angels and butterflies and the hands of God, himself, were guiding me to the ground safely. I crashed to the floor and couldnt stop laughing. The entire party turned and just started screaming in delight and awe at the fact that not only had someone toppled off the table - certainly an amusing spectacle at a house party - but that person wasnt crying or having a fit or something. I do, in fact, have a very high pain tolerance and Id had quite a bit to drink, so maybe someone else in another mindset would not have enjoyed it quite so much but I think it may be one of my favorite Lifestyle Moments, as Bart calls them. Just pure unadulterated stupidity at its very finest.

I have no idea how tonight is going to end up, but it has a tough act to follow.

I Was a High School Gang-Banger

2008-08-13T22:03:00.001-07:00

Holy Hell! If i hear one more person brag about how cool they are for doing tons of blow and passing out in the street or how much cock they sucked in high school, someone is going to get hurt. Ive made more than my fair share of bad decisions and stupid mistakes but I will never brag about them. If it comes up, I have no problem sharing a brief story but, mark my words, I am never ever telling those stories out of self-admiration. Throughout high school I was a non-stop topic of discussion for everyone from jocks to nerds and even teachers - all speculating on my weekend plans and what weird older drug dealers I must be fucking and the coke I must do off of strangers dicks as if, at sixteen, I was an outrageous whore. Part of it was probably my fault for letting certain true facts be known and for never letting myself get up-in-arms enough to outright deny the rumors - this reaction always seemed to fuel the gossip fire - but, let me tell you, its not fun to be constantly eyeballed and ridiculed for shit that isnt true. Yet, there was never anything I could do because people assumed that beyond the tip of the iceberg that I had allowed to become public there was some massive secret life that I was leading. I guess the rumors werent even far from accurate in their basis but they were never really the actual truth, just gossip and lies. I even, at one point, figured out who was starting and then spreading a lot of the bullshit and when confronted she said "I just told people what I thought you would say!" So...she thought I would say that I fucked random Baltimore hardcore dudes? and she thought I would say that Im a big big slut? How does that even make sense? To this day, she will deny it but that was an actual response that can never be taken back. The bottom line is this: quit fucking spreading shit about yourself and then being surprised and confused and appalled when everyone thinks/assumes/seems to know youre a drug addicted lunatic. Thats your fault and your problem and mostly, talking about how you want to, say...lick the underside of someone balls and/or fuck so-and-so and/or do cocaine off of an erect penis is never going to make a tasteful impression. Never. If thats the facade you want to present, then go for it, but dont you dare act confused or shocked or upset when it blows its fucking load in your face.

In case you havent noticed, a lot of things make me bizarrely angry and this is probably a situation I should seek guidance or meditation or acupuncture for but mostly I think I just need to come to terms with the fact that people are going to disappoint in their wrongful self-impression and its probably not okay to react the way I do. I cant help it, but when someone crosses the line into one off the teeming list Pet Peeves that I have (i.e. pretending to know things about a topic one actually knows nothing about, blatantly lying, bragging about subjective skills, etc. etc.) I become condescending and mocking and I roll my eyes, make a stink face, and cut a motherfucker down. The worst part is that Im beginning to enjoy it.

To feed my ego, furthermore, Marika and I are starting a zine called & CO. Ive been trying to put this together for awhile so it feels good to have finally found a VP to my P. The concept for the entire thing is really just to showcase what art by the up-and-coming NYC Generation deserves to be showcased and silence whatever critics are trying to say that we are a breed without taste and class and just put together something both classic and new. "Sexy and dark" are the two words I keep using to describe it but itll be much more than that. People wont have to be nightlife superstars or wild party-ers to be involved, just talented and intelligent and worth paying attention to. To submit work or learn more, email us at:
andcompaNYC@gmail.com

Supposedly Human

2008-08-09T10:13:00.000-07:00

One person can only withstand so much and after years of outrageous fuck-up and fuck-overs, I have most certainly hardened, mentally. I always expect the worst and so, when I am let down I suffer for only mere moments before remembering that I knew this would happen, thus saving myself the "Im such a fucking fool" mentality. I still cant figure out whether this has made me more or less forgiving but it certainly aides in my ridding myself of people I just cant depend on sooner rather than later. Regardless, these people can still shock and appall me when they so choose. My reactions are no longer those of normal people, however, and instead of actual emotions I just laugh at the fact that so many people just lack common sense and integrity and respect for others and a lot of other adjectives. Truthfully, its no ones fault but my own that all kinds of BS has happened to me with friends and family since I can remember because Im the one that gets myself in situations and chooses to involve myself with certain people, so I am not trying to victimize myself, but these involvements have left me with an outlook that most cannot relate to. For the sake of keeping certain things in my private life, I really am not sure what my point is, at all. I think Im generally okay in life, just lacking prolonged excitement. Everything seems too momentary so Im trying to change that for myself.

+ If Bernie Mac, a celebrity with heaps of cash can die from pneumonia, is there hope for the rest of us?

(Seriously? First Bernie Mac and now Isaac Hayes? What the fuck is God thinking? The world needs Chef!)

+ Lured Brittany away from a sinus infection with another whole day of Rock Band, Sparks, and Enchanted.

+ Heathers, the bar in the East Village, has what may be a portrait of Sam Z. hanging behind the bar.

+ Sam Z. is away and Addie isnt back yet so Im planning a trip to MD so I never have to face my own displacement.

+ Domme Next Door sorted out a conversation Ive attempted about BDSM vs self-pain, and rather well.

+ I returned this previously SOLD OUT striped t-dress to Pixie Market yesterday so you should shop there.

+ Katherine, who I hadnt seen since her yearlong stay in Europe, had great success while shopping with me in LES.

+ Katherine and I realized that we wish we were boys because wed be comfortable, stylish boys - so we dress the part, anyway.

+ Went to an Upright Citizens Brigade improv night starring Rob Riggle and Ed Helms whilst stoned - a great decision.

+ Alex, Kate, and I spent $2 on jukebox choices that never played, so Ive been listening to Silly Girl via YouTube.

Silly Girl by The Descendents - Live:

In the early years of high school this song was my song and several
boyfriends used it to refer to me, one even performed it for me. I think
he was on guitar and his friend sang but it was still quite memorable.

Be Chubby, Have Curly Hair, Get Laid

2008-08-06T00:01:00.000-07:00

Heres to hoping that Seth Rogen Googles himself on a daily basis to check for every moment of update in his name and decides to look at my blog and have an mind-blowing and life-altering realization that it is me that he loves, simply from taking a glimpse at my profile photo and reading my whiny little posts. If you are reading this, Seth Rogen, I think its really important that you know the stoned, sloppy blowjob I long to give to you - Im talking hours. Anything Ive ever turned down or said "no" to with other dudes, I will say "yes" to with you. Itll be disgusting, spit and sweat everywhere, seriously, Im totally into it. Josh Peck and John C. Reilly may also apply...or if you look like one of them and are also majestically hilarious, you can get at me.

I saw the midnight showing of Pineapple Express tonight with Jess Star and Im somewhat easy to please in the comedy department, as long as its kinda gross potty humor, but this movie had me genuinely grinning from start to finish. Like, I was truly happy while I watched the movie, feeling great about myself and life. I even laughed out loud too many times to count. I was scolded for revealing minor details of The Dark Knight without forewarning so Ill leave this without any giveaways but I will say this: Never have I been so depressed to realize that I didnt know the characters of a movie in real life. Addie and I really need to find two super chill dudes, who crack us up and also make us horny, to smoke with, because I really feel like Im not pushing my stoner lifestyle to its full potential and times-a-wasting! There is no denying that I get glued to the couch whence stoned and so I need some really epic people to share my living room space with. Where do laid back people exist anymore, is a question that arises in my mind - Im pretty sure theyre all famous and probably not as cool as they seem in movies as characters that are not actually their real-life-selves but instead, scripted. Seth Rogen, however, I refuse to question the coolness of. Josh Peck and John C. Reilly are probably even cooler than their film roles because Im pretty sure more weed is involved and thus, way more snacks and naptimes and moments where I may or may not have a single clue as to where I am or how I got there, even when that place is my own bed. I heard once that Josh Peck got lost on a red carpet and I mean, come on...Dr. Steve Brule, enough said on the matter. Right here I stopped writing for a moment and completely forgot where that was going but I really just wanted to make it known how much I enjoyed Pineapple Express. Finally another quotable movie! It was about damn time, dudes.

Mostly I want Seth Rogen and Josh Peck and John C. Reilly to see this and want to engage in some kind of sexual deviancy with me because guys, I really love you all. I think youd think Im delightfully perverse and kinda super hot and youd totally get along with my dad when I bring you home for Passover dinner - which will be deliciously cooked by my adorable Jewish mother - plus, Im a total freak so thats a perk, too! If you guys want to fight over who gets to take me up on my offer, you can, but just know that Im fully into some kind of three-way trade-off...Call Me!

Note: Apparently Rogen and DeFranco are both staying at the Bowery Hotel where a friend of mine works so...the plan is to smoke myself into oblivion and go knock on his door...or just take a nap outside so that when he goes to leave hell see/smell me, reeking of weed, and decide to make me his new best friend and/or wife.

Baby, Come Back

2008-08-03T09:10:00.000-07:00

Instead of bitching about my constant bewilderment as to the actions and rationales of others, I will say that I miss Addie Rose Price very much. It is rare in the world to find a friend where a sort of mutual perspective on right and wrong exists and thus, minimal nonsense is pulled. We lived together for two years and the ratio of Time Spent Together:Altercations is shockingly minimal and so, it is fair to say that some kind of cosmic alignment occurred and the moons and the stars and the sun brought us together in Big Titty Heaven...or something. None but Addie will ever understand the importance of excessively gory horror films, serial killer documentaries, pop-punk singalongs, jibba jabbas, 34D bras, or pugdogs. Im also pretty sure that if, in the middle of the night, my toilet were to suddenly be overflowing, she would wake me up and we would fix it together while laughing instead of quietly mopping it up with my clothes and sneaking out, leaving me to find a flooded bathroom when I woke up an hour or so later. I mean, Im no fortune teller but Im pretty sure it wouldnt go down so moronically, but thats just a hunch.

On August 27th, we shall reunite...I need my Partner In Crime back in action.

Lady Boners For Everyone!

2008-08-02T16:49:00.000-07:00

I am a rare breed of girl that loves themselves in what is often perceived as somewhat narcissistic. The truth is, I just know Im a good person and I do right by my friends and I stand up for what I believe and I genuinely enjoy my interests and have no doubt in my mind that I know who I am. I have long since felt the need to fake anything or put up a front of something/someone Im not and though I dont always love myself, I always admire myself and I think that says a lot. I consider myself extremely lucky to have this kind of confidence but it does make me somewhat cocky in my sureness in myself and I often find many girls inferior in their whining and self-deprecating and insecurity. That is not to say, however, that I dont have female role models or rather, girl crushes. These, for me at least, tend to be people whose lives I sort of envy and hope to someday emulate in my own. My standards are strict and unwavering and though I am a complete Judge You On Your Morals and Attitude kind of girl, the distance between myself and these ladies allows for their awesomeness to stand, flawless. I even recently kind of admitted to Ellen Frances, via her blog, that I am really always in awe of her. We run in similar social circles, though she is older and more successful and potentially wiser that I, but somehow we have never met - probably for the best since she probably wouldnt like me because when Im intimidated I think I tend to just get loud and exert myself doubly. It doesnt hurt that her coolness and style and talent seems effortless. She may also be well-read and educated and maybe even eloquent but, as I said, weve never met so I will just continue to imagine that she is those things!

Also, I think I might like Lykke Li in the same way. She just seems cool and holy hell if I were to have any musical skill I would wish it to be hers. Her music videos are some of the best released in these harsh times of lame cars and LA bitches wiggling around in bikinis scorching our eyes via MTV and even Fuse, lately. Even when shes singing in the Black Cab Sessions she sounds amazing, and it doesnt hurt that shes adorable and stylish and cool cool cool. Julian even got to shoot her for Nylon, which is how I heard of her, and that photo, as casual as it is, just look at her. She radiates Cooler Than Thou. Her video for Breaking It Up just came out, so watch these - theyre all lovely - and marvel at her.

Im Good, Im Gone

Little Bit

Breaking It Up

Im not positive if I really like anyone else in those ways, except maybe Fiona Apple and Dita Von Teese, but theyre in completely different aspects of Earthlings that remains unattainable to me. Ive never been one to admire people unrealistically, they have to live in something of a similar realm of the world as I do so that emulation doesnt mean bending and breaking our of whats natural, just into new comfort zones...Ill let yall know if I think of any additions.

Birthday Overload and Some Surprises

2008-07-31T08:14:00.000-07:00

+ Tuesday night was my best friend Sam Z.s birthday, and to make sure it topped every other birthday ever, I organized a somewhat elaborate surprise dinner for him at Essex. The preparations were difficult but it was pulled off: I told him that he was only going to dinner with Josh and I but, instead, when he arrived there were about ten more of his closest friends there waiting - Josh, Alex, Jonathan, Luvina, Luvina's Boyfriend, Jess, Nina, Dhani, Marissa, and Kate. The days before the actual dinner, I did a lot of death-threatening when it came to people a. bailing b. being invited last-minute & c. saying they would be late - to which I replied "No. You Wont." - but everyone who actually came showed up on time, and mattered the most, making my job of "stalling" in LES rather easy, even though I walked us the wrong direction, which would have been a good tactic were it not completely unintentional. Whats really strange, however, is how many of my friends birthdays are this week. Today is Emily and Julias birthdays and tomorrow, August 1st, is Lisa, Sarina, Kati, and Rosemarys birthdays. Even a girl on The Price Is Right is celebrating her 26th birthday! Peoples parents mustve seriously gotten busy in Novembers throughout the mid and late 80s. HAPPY B-DAY EVERYONE!

+ Wednesday, Brittany and I went uptown to the Garment District and I bought a ton of feathery trimmings and made headbands. Id been meaning to do that for awhile and it was quite the success. In high school I did a lot of sewing and made money selling scarves and pillows online and Ive gotten back into it this week, making both Sam and Jared sewn cards and a cloud pillow for Sam for his birthday. Well see if people like the headbands and maybe Ill make some more to sell but Im not sure yet.

+ Today Brittany and I are continuing the Rockband career I created yesterday, Bonerjammin', so that we can beat the game and unlock all the bonus songs. Its a brave goal but I think that with an entire day and enough beer, we can make it happen.

Also, my male equivalent, Joshua Clements of the Bay Area, who happens to be a really amazing artist did this sketch of me and PhotoBoothed it across the country.

Meet Hank: The Montauk Monster

2008-07-29T09:50:00.000-07:00

The other day, this beautiful gem of a creature washed ashore on Montauk. First Gawker broke the news and then even Fox got involved, but when I saw him, I immediately fell in love. Freaky, creepy shit is my weakness and Hank, as I have since named him, is now my boyfriend. Apparently, Hank is some kind of "normal animal" - a dog or a raccoon or some other four-legged creature - just eroded by the harsh conditions of sea travel or something, but that doesnt change my love for him. What could be more bizarre than a decrepit critter with what looks like a beak, hands bound together with some black rope, possibly even giving the finger. Look at him! Hes so fucked up! Its amazing. You can tell I really think so because I said so, to Sam, in a creepy perverted way, as per usual. Unreal. HANK. FOREVER.

It Was The Joker Killed Heath Ledger

2008-07-27T20:43:00.000-07:00

Over a year ago when I first heard that there was a Dark Knight movie being made, I could hardly contain myself because Im a secret comic book nerd, mostly in regards to Frank Miller - and yes, this was true even before 300. We all witnessed the piling up of scene stills and cellphone shot trailers but when it became apparent that the film was not, in fact, based on the graphic novel, none were more disappointed than I. Regardless, my excitement remained and though I promised myself and the world that I was waiting to see it in a less-packed theater in IMAX, I gave in and saw it, in all my hometown glory, at the AMC Theater in Columbia, Maryland - and even nine days after its release the theater was still sold out. After my discovery about its unrelatedness to the beloved comic, I had decided not to do any research or read any spoilers, thus, going into the theater without any preconceived notions or clues to the plot other than, "IT'S AWESOME!!!" Now, having seen it, I fully fucking concur.

Though I will never understand the casting of Maggie Gyllenhaal - hers were the only moments of mediocre acting - as anything but the quirky indie love interest, she didnt ruin the movie for me the way, say, Alexis Bledel ruined Sin City or Katie Holmes ruined everything shes ever been in. Theres no denying that I not only totally called the fact that she was going to die before the movie even came out, but I was completely unmoved by her blowing up. Mostly I couldnt stop thinking about how awkward it mustve been that first day on set: Hey, remember that time you pretended to have anal with my baby brother? Me too! At any rate, I got over it and even only briefly focused on the mislogic of an enormous Super Criminal giving up the chance to explode an entire boatfull of innocent civilians, thats how enraptured I was. Christian Bale is the ultimate playboy and even when hes scarred or sleazy or murdering New Yorkers in American Psycho, he gets all the ladies wet. He's handsome and charming and looks like he tastes like honey, even with that near-lisp. Aaron Eckhart got a little Heart-Throbby in there, too, seeking vengeance for the death of his lady. Even with half that handsome face burned to smithereens, he was swoon-worthy.

Of course, however, my main focus and what really had my jaw on the floor was Heath Ledger's performance as The Joker. I havent really searched for too many reviews or reactions to the film, other than Rotten Tomatoes whopping 95% review, and so Im not sure how many other people responded to him in the way I did, but I now have a new found sadness in regards to Ledgers death. Of course its horrible that a young man should die so unexpectedly in any situation but mostly, I regret that Ill never be able to have terrifying clown sex with the one we call The Joker. With every scene, every line delivered in that nasal looming voice, every time that swollen tongue rolled over those yellow teeth, every time he ran those long fingernails through slimy green hair, my stomach would turn over and I really just wanted The Joker. Ledger was a physically beautiful man, in life, and I cant speak for his personality but even that seemed cool. Plus, I love being disturbed so I suppose its only the most natural and basic of all my favorite things rolled into one - sexy and scary - but Im also aware that its hilarious how badly I want to bone The Joker. Specifically, I enjoyed the nurse outfit so that even brings up issues of homosexuality and cross-dressing that I, apparently, have been ignoring for awhile. Homicidal maniac clowns with facial scars in nurse costumes...The Joker Fetish. Beyond my perversion, his performance is impeccable and its a shame that he had to die right when we were being treated to his acting genius. Let me be the first to say (though Im probably not), Ledger outdid Jack Nicholson by a long shot. Like many other people, I cant help but blame him for his own death; after all, he mixed all those prescriptions on his own and so only so much pity can be alloted to the situation, but no doubt in my mind that taking on that role is what killed the poor boy. Months and months spent playing fully crazy is enough to make any man at least half crazy himself.

Im getting a little sick of superhero movies and the poor job Hollywood is doing in keeping things classic and beautiful as well as modern - using technology and effects in a tasteful manner is apparently a really daunting task - but The Dark Knight killed it. Every other Batman movie can just call it quits right now because it really blew my mind and Im a pretty fucking tough audience to please, especially considering my premature disappointment as far as using the name of the comic book and not even basing it off Miller's work goes. I feel my life is more complete now that I can pursue The Joker Fetish...and the movie was beyond awesome and radical and cool and a ton of other adjectives as well. Everything else that comes out this year in the realm of action, dark comedy, and superheroes can save their time and energy because, as we all know, The Oscar goes to...

Shorty Right There is the Shit

2008-07-25T19:33:00.001-07:00

There are certain people in my life that I should give up on but because I am sometimes a sucker, I cant seem to manage to ever fully do. Actually, there are only two of these people that I can really pinpoint. There is a potential third, but mostly two. The situations of which I speak of are nearly identical. They are both male. They are both intelligent people that I enjoy speaking with, and there is also something of a physical connection felt in both situations - only one of which has ever been acted upon. Yet, the same thing recurs each and every single time I attempt to see these two people: elaborate plans are made and the person never shows up. Luckily my cynicism only allowed for me to feel hurt once or twice in each case because by the second time I was smart enough to realize that this is not going to chance, no matter how much I wish it would. Each has recited the same apologies and drunken confessions of regret and adoration but neither will ever take their sorrows beyond the internet and actually live out the lunches and dinners and dates that they promise to make up for lost time and fuck-ups. One, when confronted shrugs "It is what it is" repeatedly until he is blue in the face with casual sadness and the other praises my good name and profusely recites his "Sorry"s but is not actually interested in changing his behavior. Both resurface weeks later, aching to see me but never appearing. The character flaws, deeper than just a flakiness, that this nonstop habit outlines with precision are innumerable - self-involvement, forgetfulness, disconcern with the lives of others and their general happiness and interests. Yet, for one reason or another, I wait and though Im not holding my breath, I cant seem to close the door on either one entirely. I put up with very little bullshit from others but, for some reason, this strange habit gets me aching ever so slightly in a strange place of my gut and I cant let go.

Im Not Careful With Myself

2008-07-23T10:04:00.000-07:00

BRUISES:I waited too long to take photos of these because theyve already started yellowing, but they are really great bruises.

I got them on that roof party in Brooklyn where, to get to the party, one had to go up some stairs, through a window, down some stairs, through a fence, onto one roof, then up onto some smashed vents and onto a three-foot pipe and, with as much strength as could be mustered, one had to toss themselves onto the roof from balancing on the pipe. I was wearing trousers and the roof had a two inch edge and so it destroyed my thighs. I dont even know where those other knee injuries are from. Probably the aftermath of flailing around.

The longest running of my gay boyfriends, Nick, was in NYC this week for the first time in maybe a year. He moved to London to study fashion after we graduated high school and since then visits have been few and the entire Atlantic between, but its always good to know that, no matter how much time has passed, he and I are compatible, simple as that. In fact, hes one of the few people that I really look at and think: I could learn something from him. Even when his other lifelong friends were busy fucking him over and next-to-telling him to stay at my place for his last night of his five day stay after a seven month hiatus, he remained composed and calm. He sat beside me on the couch having been treated like dirt and I was twenty times more riled up than he was. Ultimately, this is the most admirable thing Ive witnessed in a long time, being able to withstand the flaws of friends. "Do you think theyll ever apologize?" I asked. "Probably not. But at some point theyll feel stupid and get in touch and itll be over." I marveled at his poise and self-control...and then we smoked a ton of weed, ordered a ton of pizza, and made nonsense crafts. Bonding accomplished.

The Normal Guy

2008-07-20T08:41:00.000-07:00

+ Sam, Kyle and I got bagels, Sam monologued as a black woman
+ Kyle and I went to Siren, were aggrevated by the heat and the sleeping nighttime music during the day
+ Kyle's roommate picked us up on Coney Island and drove us back to the city
+ Sam, Josh, Dhani, Marissa, the MD Boys, and I pregamed at my place to the Skatterbrain! Summer Mix
+ Left for Nina's roof party, accumulated random Uzbekistanian girls
+ Cops were around so we went to a different party where we all hurt ourselves climbing all over rooftops
+ Went to Nina's, was loud, met people, hung out with Antwan, Cassidy, Honor, and Mel mostly
+ Denounced the habit of crying during blow jobs, made a boy named Tyler laugh very hard
+ Went home and somehow five dudes slept all over my living room

In the love lives of girls like myself, who dont glamorize or taint simple hook-ups and hang-outs with high hopes or unrealistic ideals of relationships or whatever, there is always one elusive breed of boy that drives me apeshit bonkers: The Normal Guy - traditionally cute, somewhat young, predictable. I am far from a normal girl. Im not lean or built for athletics (other than those in the bedroom) , I dont dress out of a teen magazine and I dont circle boys coyly at parties, preening for attention. Instead Im curvy and confident and have no problem hanging with the boys as one of the boys. So these Normal Guys find me either insane or intimidating or insanely intimidating. Its something Ive always had to face, that because I was more interested in hanging out with guys I lost my ability to act completely feminine around them.

Ultimately, this is not something that truly causes problems because I like guys that want to hang out and drink a beer and talk about anything other than what we have in common!!! I like those guys to be somewhat out of their minds, unconcerned with most pop culture, physically enormous and strong, and hard to get in a certain way - mysterious and dark and brooding but a man's man, and smart. In respects to these guys, I am totally coherent because Ive learned to figure out their quirks and I understand a lot of their motives and ins and outs, and this is the type I want in a real way. But still, Normal Guys have a strange affect on my brain and when I find one I think is cute or charming, I lose all sturdy footing. Its incredibly rare, but it happens and its never a pretty sight. I send overly forward messages and inevitably get loud-drunk and end up pissed at some ever present group of Normal Girls who are batting their eyelashes in an obvious way that repulses me in its predictability. Something about the normalcy of the interactions between average ordinary people drives me up the fucking wall and I get jealous and irrational and deliriously determined to get my way. I join a conversation and get snarky and mean until I humiliate these girls away. Its strange and its mean but its true. Eventually I will win, I always do, and lure him away, but the outcome is always the same and its never satisfying and by morning Im disenchanted and confused as to why I cared at all.

Normal Guys have frequent performance issues and lack any physical maturity or the moves to make anything memorable happen. It becomes apparent early on that hes in over his head with me. Im built like a woman, I have certain enviable skills, and I am not too timid or self-conscious to completely show off these attributes. The whole ordeal flops and Im remember myself and have no other option than to roll my eyes and walk away. Still, its strange and amusing to kind of watch myself go through this routine when it arises. The psychoanalysis is simple: Because Normal Guys actually want something so different from myself and thus show only minimal nervous interest, I become obsessed with proving that I can get what I want from them, like I can generally get what I want from other kinds of boys and men. This is an attempt to prove myself mostly only to myself, but in the end its just a funny story to tell about some random night here or there. It reminds me why I seek out semi-weirdos who never cease to shock and astound me.

What Are the Odds

2008-07-17T10:30:00.001-07:00

??????
Its boring to think that the "key to happiness" is really just keeping my fucking mouth shut and having as few emotions as possible. Were I more even-tempered and less demanding in the realms of reliability and respect and loyalty, Id probably get along in the world much better but, instead, I expect only the best of social manners from the people I have around me and when that is compromised I have no problem making it known. I look at certain relationships and I cant quite figure out how they thrive when the people they are comprised of are such disrespectful imbeciles. Perhaps its the fact that I refuse to waste my time with people that only hang around for their own gain or maybe Im a heinous bossy bitch, but either way, it just doesnt make much sense to me. That being said, I completely envy it on some level or another. I wish I could just grin and bear it when it comes to bad friends and mistreatments, because clearly this works. Theres no knowing what goes on behind certain closed doors but some people, evidently, are just really good at maintaining this neutral attitude at all costs.

It isnt boring, however, to go from the laziest possible person to a sufficiently busy young woman. Im making a lot of changes in my life and Im really taking control of things - this is a pun but only I know it - and doing my best to simultaneously fuck up my life and create some entertainment for myself. I have this unidentifiable emotion in the general direction of these decisions Im making; something between anxiety, excitement, terror, and confusion. Mostly confusion. This has created a series of very busy days for me and so, today, I refuse to do anything about anything. Even being hungry and tired is getting little to no attention.

+ Another lovely, wonderful night out with SB
+ Goth Night @ Home Sweet Home to see SBs friend from RI and a Birthday Boy
+ Ogled the lions head mounted behind the bar for about an hour and a half
+ A party @ Arlo and Esmes, twice somehow, complete with Julian, Jyan, Daryl, and Sarah
+ Library Bar to see The Father (raising questions) and drink whiskey
+ Bagels at 3am to Adult Swim, like a Jewish Dream to SB and I

+ Surgery-ed my toe this morning after a series of outrageous blisters

I Am The Moon

2008-07-15T15:46:00.000-07:00

Having our tarot cards read made me a little bit nervous. The first time I had my cards read, I was told that I would someday elope, which has yet to come true, another time it remained rather vague and ambiguous, and the third time I was too stoned and though I tried to take notes, the whole thing was just out of my realm of comprehension and I ended up confused and laughing. This time around, however, I was sound of mind. Ultimately it was determined, over and over, through every single card, that I am extremely intuitive and that I have the ability to see true motives and incentives both emotionally and rationally on equal planes, but in an extreme light. If you know me, you know this is true. Im very cynical and do not trust people and though this comes off as an unrelentingly negative perspective, Im usually right. I can tell when people are being false and because I can detect this, I am overtly judgmental and critical. This, according to the cards, is something that I need to let go of a little bit, so that I can allow my intuitions to flow into creativity and enthusiasm, and perhaps be a happier person...? This is a fair conclusion, I think. Though I am lucky enough to be wildly secure in myself, perhaps even conceited, I am not always happy. I remain generally unimpressed by people because Im more than aware that most people just arent good people. People, according to the tarot, recognize that I am jaded and think that my life has made me bitter and mean, which is true. I cant help if someone gives me bad feelings, but I can do a better job of remaining unaffected by these feelings and moving in a different direction altogether. It can be attested to that the reading was mostly accurate - it even brought up my insane dream cycle in reference to my intuition and possible psychic abilities - and so I am going to take the advice I was given, I suppose it really comes down to that. I may even purchase a pack, a scary pack with a more negative outlook on life, the way I like it.

Nature is Nicer

2008-07-14T08:04:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I did everything in my power to simply disappear from the world as I know it - meaning no internet, next-to-no cellular use, and television used only to watch a movie. Sam and I trekked with The Uncles to Connecticut for a few of the most relaxing days Ive had in awhile, and thats saying a lot since I have no responsibilities and spend all my time aimlessly hanging out in different locations. I missed to comforts of nature and how scared I get when Im secluded like that. Somehow being lazy doesnt feel so lazy where there are dozens of different rooms to do it in and even more windows to look out of. Sam and I would read in one room and then nap in another and then move to the kitchen and he would do a crossword and I would write for a bit, all with different views of different trees. All that moving gives the illusion of purpose, which I havent had in a long time.

+Friday: Sam and I met up at 8:45 in the morning to drive to Westchester with Derek, spent the day
at Jerry Seinfeld's sisters house (NOTE: bragging), had our tarot read, swam in the pool, went out to CT
+Saturday: Slept in, went back to Jerry Seinfeld's sisters house for a pool party, drank at least
3 daiquiris each, went swimming, drove to another party, drank Pasticce and wine, acted adult, back to CT
+Sunday: Hung around the CT house, watched The Uncles garden in amazement, drove around
town to buy Japanese Beetle traps and random things at antique stores, napped with Sam, train-ed home
But now I am back into what I guess is called normal life and I refuse to accept this anymore, so tomorrow I am taking the first step in either completely destroying my future or continuing to make the most interesting decisions possible. Im nervous and excited to see what comes of my life. Im pretty sure Im not cut out for most average activities and I cant help but worry about where I will end up. All I want to do is gaze out a window, preferably out into a scene of lake and trees, and write for hours on end but that is wildly unrealistic. But at least I have to option to go away for a weekend and pretty much do exactly that. Spending time around actual adults who are not worn out or bitter or overly mature - pronounced mah-tour - kind of puts things into perspective on how, after so many years, things can only get better. There are people who remain interesting and have successful relationships with intelligent, worthwhile people, and these people lead useful, romantic, inspiring lives. Eventually I, too, will have known a group of people for dozens of years and our "remember when..."s will be years back rather than a week or two ago. Its lovely to be young but its also good to know that it may not be so awful to grow older, as long as I dont sacrifice happiness, at any cost.

NOTE: I tried to read more of I Was Told There'd Be Cake with a better attitude, but to no avail. I still dislike it, the stories are still incredibly dull, and I dont believe I will actually ever finish it. With every page Id look up and announce to Sam how miserable it was making me.

Book Review No. 1

2008-07-10T08:31:00.000-07:00

I Was Told There'd Be Cake

by Sloane Crosley

So, I suppose it is unorthodox and downright unfair to review a book before I've even read it in its entirety but the thought of finishing this book is weighing over me like a black cloud of doom. I bring it everywhere hoping that Ill be bored enough to pick it up and read a section or two but even looking at my shoes seems more interesting. I dont care that it is getting rave reviews, enough so that it was being sold in an NYU bookstore, I Was Told Thered Be Cake is simply putting me to sleep. So far I've been forced to hear about Sloane's seemingly quirky and adorable habit of getting boyfriends to purchase toy ponies for her, Sloane's horribly lax Jewish family, Sloane's gruff boss, and maybe one or two other topics that went in one eyeball and out the other. I realize that the point of these stories is to talk about ordinary life for one girl in an extraordinary way, but these subjects have only occurred to me as trite; just glorifying nuances that many people experience doesnt cut it if those nuances arent somehow more interesting than the readers own. In the summer camp story, for instance, Crosley even dared to use the cliche of how much the girls in her bunk were like a "family", simply further bringing to my attention the fact that my own summer camp experience may have been more interesting to write about. No, I didnt subtly become a Christian after six summers spent at Camp Louise, which was her ultimate point in Christmas in July, but I do have better stories and thus, this bored me. Not to mention the fact that, as a Jew, I was somewhat insulted by her family's counterproductive celebration of their religion. Having a Christmas tree in a "Jewish" home at holiday time only says one thing: Jews for Jesus, and those fuckers be bonkers.

There is no denying that Crosley is a really talented writer, technically. For what she is writing about and for what she has written, she has done a great job and her writing flows easily from point to point, much like essays should. Actually, exactly like essays should: perfectly calculated, edited down so that every flourish is painfully precise, with clear use of a thesaurus. But this is where these pieces of writing become droopy and dull. There are no literary flourishes that distinguish her writing from Sedaris and Vowell, the people that Jonathan Letham compares her to on the cover. She can form a very proper sentence and even add a little wit in there to make her readers smile but that only goes so far to mask the fact that shes a very ordinary thinker. She seems like a perfectly nice, hard working, charming, intelligent college graduate but the life and times of people like that are not often the most interesting to hear about, and I dont think I really even trust her to come up with fictional stories that stray far from her real life experiences. They are, without a doubt, a very easy read if you arent a critical asshole like myself, but I am what I am and in the middle of every story I find myself just wanting to skip to the next one in hopes that it would better keep my attention. I am still a serious reader, however, and so I stuck with each one but there was never the climax that I was waiting for and my emotions never boiled over except during The Ursula Cookie when I became annoyed at how timid and mousey Sloane's own character became in the face of a difficult boss. I just kept waiting for her to get fired and dumped all at once. Had that happened, maybe I would have thought it a better tale to tell, but nope, Crosley resigns eventually and thats that. She even somehow dragged September 11 into the mix, just to give it a little historical volition. "It was Wednesday morning, not 'the day after 9/11.' Devastated by ill-equiped to show it, we were all in a kind of limbo and we didnt know it yet," she writes, but I really dont see the point. She puts this in there as if, because she resigned the day after 9/11, her resignation was more important and should make us well up with emotion or something. It didnt.

Alas, I will ultimately force myself to finish this book and if my mind is changed somewhere between Fuck You, Columbus and Fever Faker, Ill be sure to write a disclaimer and an apology, but so far I am bored and offended, in more ways than one. Just reading the titles feels obnoxious and destined for at least an hour and a half of swatting flies on a Connecticut beach with this thing.

Epic Dreaming Bullshit

2008-07-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

Despite feeling incredibly useless this summer, now that classes are over and I am unemployed and a complete waste of life and space, every day and night has turned into a worthwhile story, and I keep having to recount these occurrences, for fear of ever forgetting them. What I should also mention is the fact that my dreams have not gotten any less insane. Ive seen a doctor about the frequency and vividity of my dreams, but ultimately Ive just had to learn to sleep through it and take a moment to gather myself upon waking. For a few weeks I only had disturbing and discontenting adventure dreams about Earth invasions, futuristic battles, and being chased, but now I have dreams where the entire dream is supposed to be "the next day" and so waking up involves a lot of gathering myself and remembering its not real.

The Reality:

I returned home at some point this morning entirely covered in a film of dirt and sweat, my feet and calves were solid brown and it was wedged under my fingernails and in my hair. There is really no logical way to explain how this happened because I dont believe that any of us intended on having the strange epic adventure that we did when we went to McCarren Park to watch Wet Hot American Summer, but this shit just happens. Alex C., SB, Brit and I originally met up with Sarina, Catherine, Fran, and Alex P. just to watch the movie but that was too simple. Michael Showalter, Paul Rudd, and Joe Lo Truglio presented the film with a hilarious little skit/banter, and that definitely made the whole thing worthwhile, because Catherine and I had already definitely watched 85% of Wet Hot on Monday, for the thousandth time. The concrete killed my ass the whole time but Sarina and Catherine started it by inviting Paul Rudd to smoke with them and then running away, but once that idea arose, it was on. After the movie we wandered around Brooklyn, trying to find the Williamsburg Cafe, but they had changed management in the past week and the place had gone from a cafe to a restaurant but since we were the only people there, the waiters and chef made a deal to just give us whatever was in the midst of being prepared in the kitchen for half off, plus a bottle of wine, plus about twenty loaves of bread. About eight of us ate gourmet salads and fish and bread for $42. SB and I were the only two not to draw unicorns with our phone numbers on them for these poor waiters (one whom shared a homestate with me). I recognized the other as maybe an ex-club goer. Stuffed and back on the street we had a brief scare over something moving and whispering in the bushes, but we made our way back to McCarren and somehow I ran into an old co-worker from my American Apparel stint almost two years ago and I invited he and his roommate to bring their vegan hot wings and sit with us to smoke and drink a little. Ex-AA boys are out of their mind with douchiness and this one was no exception, but it was entertaining, I suppose, until he got hands-y with every one of us, almost including the two Alexs, had they gotten close enough. His roommate and Fran made some astrological connection and somehow discussed marriage and kids, having just met. They even looked just alike and after the BKers left, hippie roommate man disclosed all the reasons why Fran is the one for him or something. He grounds her and she takes him out of his shell? Or something? I cant remember, I was too busy being a cynical bitch. Good for them, those crazy kids!

The Dream:

So my dream last night, depicted as today, involved a lot of panicked running through parking lots and into old friends and new friends. I was apparently visiting Sam someplace, which doesnt really make any sense at all because we are from the same town and we live five blocks from each other in Manhattan, but nonetheless, I was trying to catch a plane "home" and kept missing it because we were at some intense drug den kind of party where everyone I know was lying all over each other, completely out of their minds. This part of the dream was in complete Drug Trip mode with blurred visuals and swirling colors and took place in a dark room. The Williamsburg Cafe waiters were in a heap together just grunting, Ryan Manning was angry at me for being too energetic and wanting to talk to everyone and my San Francisco boys were there. Probably because I talked to Josh about not discussing other romances with one another right before going to sleep last night, I dreamt about drama with him. I think he kissed a girl on a street corner within my view and I got a little upset and threw a fit of some kind. But I was in such a hurry that I was pulled away from the conflict and Sam and I were frantically trying to gather my things (for some reason I had a lot of boxes to travel with) so that I could catch my plane at about 5am and when we were driving it looked like we were Ocean City on Coastal Highway, but then we had to turn around because I hadnt said goodbye to his family, who were all sitting around one room, at 5am, talking and waiting for my goodbye. Josh was with Sams family and they were all crying and then I woke up.

My brain is completely out of control and I am not positive if this is a good or bad thing. Living alone has allowed all of my thoughts to triple in speed but quadruple in clarity and I know my emotions all too well, so much so that I feel completely sane, completely in control, and completely unrealistically realistic and rational, and this is making me mean.