cranky

Today, I let (am letting, but trying not to) something bother me more than it should. More than I would have expected it to. It somehow has gained the weight of meaning it does not merit. This I'm sure, is symbolic of something bothering me underneath, but I can't put my finger on what. What ever it is, I want it out. Gone. Done.


Listening to Ani's "Living In Clip" and cutting some rich yuppies wedding seems a bit mis-matched. But it's suiting my mood.


"and across the kitchen table
i fired several rounds,
but you were still sitting here
when the smoke cleared.
and you came crawling back
to say that you wanna
make good in the end

and oh, oh,
let me count the ways
that i abhore you,

........
.......

and you were never very kind,
and you let me way down every time
but oh, oh, oh what can i say..."



"i'm not trying to give my life meaning
by demeaning you
and i would like to state for the record
i did everything that i could do
i'm not saying that i'm a saint
i just don't want to live that way
no, i will never be a saint
but i will always say

squint your eyes and look closer
i'm not between you and your ambition
i am a poster girl with no poster
i am thirty-two flavors and then some
and i'm beyond your peripheral vision
so you might want to turn your head
cause someday you might find you're starving
and eating all of the words you said"

going back to the start

"running in circles, chasing our tails, coming back as we are"
-Coldplay, 'the scientist'


Mixed in with my many vanilla vodka and coke's last night were splashes of the past. My friend had the experience I'm both dreading and waiting to just get over with in my own life - the inevitable ex-encounter. His seemed to go relatively smoothly though, way more smoothly than I know mine will, considering that my ex is a psychotic little time bomb. And in the midst of that encounter, our already strange little trio was bombarded by another blast from the past during a rushed-because-of-the-cold cigarette break. Out of nowhere, V (old, long lost college friend) pops up w/a little blonde sidekick and her best fake "professional" persona, complete with an unnaturally deeper voice and her Christie's business cards. After 2minutes of superficial bs, she pops into a cab and we pop back inside to thaw out. It's so strange to run into someone you used to know well, and have them not act like themselves. Like the truer version of themselves that you know they still have, but it just didn't match w/her purse or her sidekick, so she left it home for the night. I'd like to catch up with the V i used to know, and with a few other long lost kids from 4A. (And one from 3A, who's number I need to get from you Annie, when you read this tomorrow at work, will you i.m. it to me?).

Finished the night off watching the sunrise on the phone with a friend and hearing words I wished I'd heard 3 years ago. But maybe, in hindsight, it's better that they were discussed now, and not then. They have a very different impact now. And I think it's better this way.

drunk at 4:44am

"I'm looking for attention
Not another question
Should you stay or should you go?
Well, if you don't have the answer
Why you still standin' here?"

flamming grasshoper

My favorite piece of gossip for the day is from the flamminggrasshoper.com:

"Reporters, friends, countrymen: we have this on hearsay. Don't know if it's an urban legend, but here it is... Whispers inside the Beltway say the WaPo is sitting on the story that not only was Cheney drunk when he shot his pal (in the face), but that everyone involved waited so long to report the incident because they needed time to hussle Cheney's mistress back into hiding."


too bad they can't prove it....asshole....

Cigarettes and a sore throat

I hate being home sick. I hate wasting a day off sitting in my apartment feeling shitty, knowing that when spring comes I'll wish I still had this day to play hookey in the park, but instead, i'm spending it watching the ever fascinating sport of "Curling" at the Olympics and for once, wishing I was at work. What I hate the most though, is no matter how sick I am, I still can not stop smoking. My throat is killing me, those little gland things on the side feel like they're about to blow up and float away, and still, every now and then, I need a cigarette and that need overwhelms the fact that my already not so happy throat doesn't need any more damage right now....Somehow, it's worth the few minutes of extra throat scratching to get that all consuming kick of nicotine that my body/brain has become so accustomed to. Sometimes it's scary how addicted to these things I am....

Ten Ways Dick Cheney Can Kill You

Hahaha

Life is a highway...

...and I wanna ride it all night long.


I am, for the first time in too long, happy. Not that I've been miserable for the past year and a half, but this is the first time in that long that I've felt this pure sense of happiness with out the previsoulsyeverpresent cloud of doom and anxiety hanging over my shoulder. I am getting the hang of this "letting go" thing and the cloud has dissipated as I excise the toxins of my poisonous relationship.

Things are looking up all around. I have the most amazing friends in the world, and I've been meeting some very cool new people too. AND I found out yesterday that my best friend, old roommate and platonic life partner, is in her words "coming home! sort of..." well, she'll be here for a week in May and I'll take what I can get at this point because I miss her like crazy, especially now. It's not quite the same getting drunk, dressed and hitting the town w/o her and our old pre-party dance parties in the apartment.

This three day weekend is kicking ass already, and I'm only a day in. Not even spending this afternoon working on psycho Naomi Judd's show can spoil my mood now.


"...if you're going my way, I wanna drive it all night long..."

my day with the mta

I think I spent more time on the train today than I did sleeping last night. First from Union Square down to Wall Street for work. Then from Wall Street all the way up to 106 and Park to drop off "emergency DVDs" (emergency my ass...) at the studio, where I politely declined to stay and watch the rest of the show. Watching that woman for hours on end while I log and digitize the footage is enough for me. Then from 106 and Park back down to Union Square, do a quick job of straightening up my apartment, which was mostly comprised of emptying the ash tray, smoking more cigarettes, making piles just to sort through them later, and then taking out the garbage on my way back to - that's right - the subway. Back up to 86th street, where I apparently blew out my right headphone...nice...got my hour of mental sorting for the week, and then back down to Union Square.

All of the extra subway time today did give me time to get reacquainted with some old favorites on my ipod. Like this one:

"Yeah, the night's not over
You're not trying hard enough,
Our lives are changing lanes
You ran me off the road,
The wait is over
I'm now taking over,
You're no longer laughing
I'm not drowning fast enough."
-The Strokes, "Repilia"

This is also a kick ass video. It's simple, but shot and cut well. And it's all close ups. I love close ups. It's a very cool video.

Valentines in the overhead compartment

Valentines Day seems to be the perfect time to feel the weight of whatever baggage you're dragging around with you.

I was lucky enough to enter adulthood with just a small carry on of my own, but the past year and a half added a 747's worth of suitcases to my one. Suitcases that I didn't pack, that didn't belong to me, that weren't a part of what I signed up for when I booked the flight. All this luggage weighed down the plane to the point where it could no longer fly. As it began it's nose dive back to earth, I tried to throw out some of the extra baggage, but the plane continued to plummet and I had no choice but to save myself. Somewhere in the confusion of the crash, all of the luggage got jumbled around and I ended up with a few more bags that didn't belong to me. I'm not sure what to do with them. How to get rid of them. I can't find the lost and found, and I don't want to run into their original owner there anyway. So I just try to forget that they're there. Out of sight, out of mind. But they make their presence known at unlikely and inopportune moments, bumping into the backs of my knees, throwing off my balance, tripping me up. And every time I try to get on another flight, I get caught up in customs for all this extra shit that doesn't even belong to me. I'm tired of letting it weigh me down. I'm not even looking to take a long distance vacation right now, but a few little day trips would be nice and I can't even get on a bus with this shit.

This is the inherent problem with having a traveling partner. Inevitably, at the end of the trip, when you're both packing back up, some of your stuff gets mixed in with theirs, and some of theirs with yours. You lose some things that you need, your favorite blue shirt, your toothpaste, your Nora Jones cd(i'm still really pissed about that one)...and you gain items that you don't want, that will just make your next journey more difficult, like their tangled mess of costume jewelry that sets off every metal detector you get near and their vibrator that goes off in your suitcase causing customs to pull you aside thinking you're trying to carry a time bomb onto the plane, and all the while you're trying to explain to them that no, you broke up with the time bomb, she just left some of her shit behind, and you'd actually be thrilled if they took it off your hands for you.

I guess the key is to accept the fact that you've been saddled with someone else's shit, and that now it's up to you to take responsibility for it, and for getting rid of it. You have to dive right into the pile of suitcases, and dig through until you've found every last item, right down to the backs of her earrings, that doesn't belong to you. See and sift and sort and throw away til you're left with just yourself and your own shit. And the next time around, choose a traveling partner with these words from Rent in mind "I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine".

And to make this post even longer...

A Valentine for the one who used to be the one.
For the one who doesn't see her own baggage.
For the one who doesn't comprehend 'fuck off'.
For the one who 2 months later,
still won't accept that I mean it this time.
No, really baby, just fuck off.

"The early cars
Already are
Drawing deep breaths past my door
And last night's phrases
Sick with lack of basis
Are still writhing on my floor

And it doesn't seem fair
That your wicked words should work
In holding me down
No, it doesn't seem right
To take information
Given at close range
For the gag
And the bind
And the ammunition round

Conversation once colored by esteem
Became dialogue as a diagram of a play for blood
Took a vacation, my palate got clean
Now I could taste your agenda
While you're spitting your cud

And it doesn't make sense
I should fall for the kingcraft of a meritless crown
No, it doesn't seem right
To take information
Given at close range
For the gag
And the bind
And the ammunition round

This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I can't stop falling out

This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I can't stop falling out
I miss that stupid ache

What is this posture
I have to stare at
That's what he said when I'm sittin' up straight
Change the name of the game 'cause he lost
And he knew he was wrong but he knew it too late
But I'm not being fair
'Cause I chose to listen to that filthy mouth
But I'd like to choose right
Take all the things that I've said that he stole
Put 'em in a sack
Swing 'em over my shoulder
Turn on my heels
Step out of this sight
Try to live in a lovelier life

This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I cant stop falling out

This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact i cant stop falling out
I miss that stupid ache"
-Fiona Apple

can you say rebound?

i'm taking a mental vacation. so here are some sexy song lyrics to keep you entertianed:

"I know that you'e down by the way you're watching me
you take my words away and I can hardly speak
there's just room for two in my fantasy
so baby lose your crew and come away with me

I like what you say by the way you rock your shoes
and the way you wear your smile got me really digging you
all this bump and grind makes everyone a freak
so baby lose your crew and run away with me

turn down the lights and light up the party
I got the ride and you got the naughty
leave your boys with my girls tonight
come home with me, asap
turn down the lights and light up the party
I got the time and you got the body
leave your boys with my girls tonight
come home with me, asap

gotta getch yah out of my mind
gotta getch yah out of my head
gotta getch yah into my life
gotta getch yah in my bed"


in honor of valentine's day and my hormones, whare are your top 3 sexy songs? i'll get the list rolling:

Janet's "Rope Burn", D'Angelo's "Feel Like Making Love", and Portishead's "Roads", or anything off of Dummy for that matter.

a.p.

"The death of someone we know always reminds us that we are still alive - perhaps for some purpose which we ought to re-examine."
~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960


"Live to the point of tears."
-Albert Camus

random 4 and a half

Hung over. At work. Always fun for a Sunday afternoon. And I don't know if was hanging out w/a bunch of gay boys last night or if it's the hang over talking, but for some reason I'm really into George Michael today..."All we have to see, is that I don't belong to you, and you don't belong to me, freedom, you've gotta give for what you take"...brilliant. Last night was much fun, chatting w/Matty about everything past, present and future. In the process of moving he found this sheet of paper, from spring break freshman year, on which we had kept track of the random funny quotes that came out of our mouths in various forms of intoxication. (Most of these, are from the one and only night I did a "real" drug) A few of my favorites:

"Do you ever just walk around with one contact in?" -Me, high as a kite

"I'm getting in the shower. We're all getting in the shower." -Me (we did not all get in the shower btw...)

"I'm a fucked up psycho ostrich" - Sean (aka Seanie O'Hara - and random side note on Sean, this is all so weird...keep in mind I haven't talked to this kid in like 4 years....I thought I saw someone that looked like him yesterday morning, then Matty found these quotes from our spring break when we were all still good friends, and then on the way home, I actually saw Sean. We walked passed each other, and he either didn't see me, or pretended he didn't, and I was too drunk and surprised to actually see him, after talking about him and about not seeing him for 4 years, that I just continued to stumble on my way)

"Linking arms and doing drugs" - Sean

"The secret song dance!" - Matty and V (and I think that they may have actually been doing the dance at that point)

"You're the sausage" - Matt

"No one can take on the Fantastic Four [us, at that time] in go karts" - Sean

"Women go out and get jobs and forget how to close the fucking fridge" - Matt

"Drinking makes me feel all sexual. I like feeling sexual." - Me (apparently, six years later, I still feel this way...)


There are a million other things I feel like writing about, but my thoughts are all jumbled and falling into each other today. Other than having to work so much, it was a great weekend, which hopefully I can squeeze a few more hours out of if I can get out of here [my office] soon.

Trouble is calling my name...

I had to postpone my trip to see Laurs this weekend because they needed me to work. So, as everyone around me is wrapping up their week and getting ready to go home, I'm gearing myself up for another 6hrs or so of work tonight, and a days worth of work back at the office tomorrow. Great. Today has been so crazy and stressful that I now have all this pent up energy...this energy that's been building all week....and all I really want to do right now is go out, get drunk and find a little trouble...I want mixed drinks, good beats and skin - someone else's, on mine. Yeah...it's been a long week. When everyone leaves I'm turning up the radio and counting down til tomorrow night, when I can finally get out and find my own little piece of fun and trouble....



" My body's talking to me
It says,'Time for danger'

It says 'I wanna commit a crime
Wanna be the cause of a fight
Wanna put on a tight skirt and flirt
With a stranger'

I've had a knack from way back
At breaking the rules once I learn the
Games.....

Let's go out tonight
Have to go out tonight
You're sweet
Wanna hit the street?
Wanna wail at the moon like a cat in
Heat?
Just take me out tonight"
-Rent

bedtime stories

I just spent the last half an hour laughing my ass off as Melis and I re-discovered and re-read an X-rated version of "Goldylocks" that I made up for her one morning 2 years ago. While the story in it's entire version is for our eyes only, here's a sample:

"in the meantime, a few neighborhoods away....a 20yr old girl named moldylocks (she was in the process of treating her yeast infection) had just gotten out of the drug rehab she had checked herself into to get over her nasty crack habit and was looking for a place to stay, but no one wanted an ex-crack addict to stay with them so she wandered from house to house until she came upon the goats cottage....[a little later on in the story]....when she got to the guest room she found a strange trunk on the floor next to a locked door. her curiosity got the better of her and she slowly lifted the lid and peeked inside. her eyes opened wide and she forgot all about the fact that she was trespassing, settled herself in on the floor and sorted through the contents of the trunk..." you can use your own imagination from there. Apparently I was sexually frustrated when I wrote this amusing little story to make my friend laugh....It's nice to know I spent 4 years getting a college degree to write pornographic fairytales. Melis and I have decided we could use a little immature amusement in our lives again, and have given each other new writing assignments for the weekend: I'm adapting "Rapunzel" and she's taking (perhaps literally...) "Cinderella".


I'm to turning homemade silly storybook porn for stress relief. Can you tell how badly I need a vacation? (and perhaps a rebound...)