ok, so, break starts...

...now. Not sure for how long.

They say, in order to appreciate something, you have to let it slip from your fingers. "They" also say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Both remain unproven.

i really wanted to post...

about the shitty mood i was in today. but i figure, it'll pass **crossing fingers that it's PMS.** I haven't felt honest enough on my blog lately. I haven't felt like enough of anything--(there's some honesty). Maybe that's why I want to cancel it. It's not helping my happiness. In fact, re-reading some of my past thoughts...well, it's sad. I'm sulking more than i am laughing. The new year really needs to show me something...anything, a new direction, a flicker of THIS IS YOUR PATH.

P.S. I really appreciate your "don't cancel your blog" comments (i love you guys). I don't think I'll cancel. well, not yet. Although, I'm considering a possible name/subject matter change. For now, perhaps a break? Hmmm.

bitter cold and disappointment.

today was one of those days. you know the kind where you have to double-wrap your scarf around your face, wear multiple layers under your coat, and would rather just let your cell phone ring than take off your gloves to answer it. yep, bitter bitter cold today. typing from my warm bedroom right now, i feel lucky to have a roof, albeit a small one, over my head.

now on to the disappointment. so, i kinda love coffee, and rachel invited me to a coffee cupping at Joe--think wine tasting, but only with coffee. So, of course i took her up on her offer--i'd never turn down FREE coffee. Now i'll rundown what this cupping consists of:
- a long lecture-style explanation of coffee aroma, flavor, body, after-taste, yadda yadda yadda
- a sniffing of the grounds, then a sniffing of the grounds after adding hot water, then a sniffing of the grounds and water while stirring with a spoon.
- Then after 15 or so people have sniffed the hell out of these 4 different blends of coffee, can you guess what comes next?
- A tasting of these same coffees that have been sniffed. And not separate cups for each of us--nope, we all had to slurp from the same group of mugs.
- Rachel and I stared at the mugs, then at eachother, then at the mugs, and voted unanimously against the tasting portion of the cupping, or shall we call it the "swap spit and germs with a dozen or so strangers." Oh well. So much for free coffee.

p.s. today, a tiny thought popped into my head. CANCEL YOUR BLOG. I have fully thought it through, so needless to say, I have to weigh out the pros and cons. To be honest, I think I'm a bit bored of reading my out-loud thoughts.

polka-dot pals drank belgian beer...

...in a crimson bar.

danced at persian office party in a stark white loft
blue strobe lights, naked brown baby.

found discarded bag of toy cars
purple pimp car, cherry Jag, busted black-and-white limo.

met two rosy lovers at black pub
called Redhead.

happy birthday, baby.

happy birthday, baby. i love you so...**humming 16 Candles**

Today my Hannah turns...well, I'll leave her age out of this. Anyway, she turns a year older! yay!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNAH--do something fun, do something adventurous, and for god's sake, don't sulk and mope about your age. xo!

And here's a photo of another Hannah. Meet artist, feminist, and narcissist Hannah Wilke--in her birthday suit :-)

i need to get cable...

...for two reasons:

1) On Feb. 17, 2009, my roomie and I will have to get a DTV converter box.

2) The junk on network tv considerably outweighs the quality stuff. i.e. The World Music Awards have to be the lamest music awards show ever. They should rename the show, "We'll Give Awards To Whoever Shows Up to our Sucky Awards Show." And can someone tell me if that's beyonce's real hair? It looks natural--and besides, are weaves even popular anymore? Are they still called weaves? I'm so out of the loop. Anyway, she's still annoying as hell to me, and i'm soooo not okay with her portraying the great Etta, but call me shallow--I kinda like the hair.

p.s. this may be the only time i ever mention football or any other sport in my blogging. Plaxico means "Peaceful"--and not "Dumb Ass" like you may have thought. And, I've been wondering about this too.

i really need to...

...get off my ass and wash/style my hair. Ugh...it's almost 10pm, and flat-ironing will take me into the wee hours...so...I wish hats were acceptable dress code at my job.

tonight, i did not cry in therapy (that's a 1st in almost three months!)...I got teary, but no tears fell. And I'm thankful that I found my bottle of naproxen and my heating pad. And finally, tonight--on the subway--I wrote my prose-ish essay (i refuse to call it a poem) that i'm submitting to a friend's literary web-azine. Still needs some cleaning up...but all and all, very good first draft. PROGRESS--whether on a cushiony couch, on the pages of a tiny moleskine, or inside a pill bottle (yes, i said it)--feels pretty damn good.

love is...

dumb. And what's in the water in Long Island??

good things really shouldn't have to end.

but they do. and by good things, I'm of course talking about the very long, lovely thanksgiving weekend. it's over...I'm home, back in NY...rainy, cold, gray NY. But, not to worry, the thankful residue has yet to wear off. I'm thankful, post thanksgiving thankful, for Michael Jackson--songs like Beat It and Never Can Say Goodbye made today's 2-hour gridlock so much more enjoyable (yes, i said "enjoyable)"). And I'm thankful that I've inherited a teensy cooking gene. I somehow dug into the culinary lobe of my brain and concocted a pretty decent mac n' cheese casserole, and candied mashed yams. go me! I'm also thankful that the mumbai attacks are over...though saddened by so many lost lives. i'm thankful, that i wrote my novel's outline and "finished" an entire chapter. And while it's true that it's not quite what I dreamed it would be, i filled some pages with a part of me, and with some work, it can only get better.

p.s. i am also thankful that some fairly-awesome person introduced me to THIS BALLAD. (you can check out the video here--it takes a long time to load--10 minutes or so--but it's worth it...i promise.)

kind of blue.

a lovely last night of laughter and liquor with shamona led to a pretty dreadful morning for moi. but, even in my feeble state, i forced myself to walk over to the morrison hotel to see the new miles davis photo exhibit. i really don't need to say it was alluring...miles wasn't classically handsome, but he was terribly photogenic. but we're talking 1960s Miles. 70s Miles was a bit frightening--the disco years were not kind to him. so, let's just focus on the 60s. he frequently had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and rarely smiled...or so say the photos. but i suppose jazz isn't the smiling kind of music. 1962, Photo by Don Hunstein

p.s. a little trivia: Miles had a small part in the movie Scrooged. He was a street musician.

p.p.s. on a completely separate note, do not see this movie. most disturbing film i've seen this year.

ooohs and ahhhs.

this is exciting, though I haven't ice-skated in over 4 years, and I was never that good anyway. to be perfectly honest, i was pretty bad.

i don't like poetry, but this woman's blog inspires the crap out of me.

and i really want this late poet's book, Scrambled Eggs & Whiskey. This weekend, the plan is to find this book...and stalwartly continue to dislike poetry. Here's a little something by Carruth that I like....

Sonnet #10

You rose from our embrace and the small light spread
like an aureole around you. The long parabola
of neck and shoulder, flank and thigh I saw
permute itself through unfolding and unlimited
minuteness in the movement of your tall tread,
the spine-root swaying, the Picasso-like éclat
of scissoring slender legs. I knew some law
of Being was at work. At one time I had said
that love bestows such values, and so it does,
but the old man in his canto was right and wise:
ubi amor ibi ocullus est.
Always I wanted to give and in wanting was
the poet. A man now, aging, I know the best
of love is not to bestow, but to recognize.

letting go...

...is a feat among a perpetual list of feats I've found so much easier to pull off as a child than as an adult. In my child's mind, not knowing the true value of what I was letting go of seemed to help with the divorce. In my adult mind...it's a constant battle of heart and head. Growing up is hard. *sigh*

Today, my head won over my heart.

I'm saying goodbye to something beautiful. Something that has both brought me unmatched joy, and has borne the weight of my baggage for several months. But as of late has begun to cause me more than a little pain.

BACK PAIN! arrgh.

Alas, I could no longer bear it. So, farewell my fabulous, maple-colored (and odored), one-of-a-kind bag. May your re-thrifting lead you to the arm of one that can love you even greater than I.

p.s. there's a doe and buck mating outside my window. well, it's more like a game of cat and mouse. (same thing I suppose.) she's hiding beneath a tree, and he's waiting patiently for her to come around.

snow!

just a couple flurries for only 5 minutes. but really beautiful.

...and speaking of snow, i love this... p.s. ...and speaking of crazy, i love this too. Three out of 4 white supremacists are pro-Obama--and some say he's "not Black enough.".

a dog named ginger.

quick, unremarkable story.

last night, angelica and i are walking home from a dinner of pork, beans, steak enchiladas (truly the anti-date, just-go-straight-to-sleep-after-eating dinner), when we spot a sweet little pooch, like this one, seemingly lost--pacing up and down the sidewalk. Can dogs pace? Perhaps it was more like "wagging up and down the sidewalk," anyway, leash around her neck--but no one on the other end of it.

Angelica and I are both immediately smitten with the precious furball...and worry that, if left there all on her own in Chinatown, she might get "abducted" (no comment). Angelica grabs the leash--and we set out to either walk up and down the street ISO the mom/dad, or take her home for the night. Before we can cook up a hasty practical plan, we hear a woman screaming, "Ginger! Ginger!" This is both symbolic and ironic. Symbolic, because I've been wanting a dog--and for that reason--have signed up to be a volunteer dog-walker--and this is quite possibly a black-and-white sign that I'm ready for my very own pup. maybe. And ironic because, well, if you know me, you'll know why. So, I'm happy to report Ginger is safe and sound--or at least she was when we returned her to her mom.

ughh...she was such a cutie pie! you know those little caramel chewy candies with the white sugary middles? that's what Ginger reminds me off. So, in honor of Ginger...I give you, one of my favorite comic clips...

two things i know for certain:

i'm breathing
i love you

i love you
i'm breathing

i've been thinking...

...perhaps I'll leave this great city. Dig my heels in somewhere. Really, more like, plant them.

i know, i've got some 'splaining to do, but i'm still thinking. Thinking so hard I cannot sleep. And so far, this feels like the right direction. My gut says "go." My head says "plan." (i'm annoyed with my head...I want it to quiet down for once...)

miriam...

...makeba. a beautiful voice, a beautiful soul. r.i.p.

i do not want to worry...

...about whether or not i am loved. i just want to love things and leave good things behind. and i don't want to talk about it.

today, i made your shirt
a mop.
and now my kitchen floor
is clean.

today's 2 learnings:
1) a pedgie
2) the process of removing a pedgie is one of my least favorite sights

So, i was at one of those outdoor thrift markets the other day, on Houston...though judging by the prices, not sure it should be called "thrift." So many good things though...vintage loveliness all around. And there among all the loveliness were two dildos. "Ugh. Who wants a pre-loved plastic penis?" says me. Maybe if it were gently used. I don't know...maybe it's good mantle art. But then again, most girls/guys are "using" a pre-loved phallis anyway, aren't we?

p.s. ever wonder what life would be life if you could always laugh all day long at yourself and at the world? i recommend seeing Happy-Go-Lucky. And another recommendation... "Naked Confessions" by Richard Prince. Prince's "Canal Zone" exhibit opened yesterday at the Gargosian Gallery, and runs through December 20.

silly little ethical quagmire.

first off...OBAMA! I had to take a few days to take it all in.

today when rachel and I went on our "it's-3-o'clock-and-i'm-dying-are-you?" coffee break, we snuck a peak inside the holiday coat drive box in the building lobby. Don't ask me what led me to peak inside...possibly just sheer curiosity or maybe comic relief--I figured I'd see lots of shoulder-padded London-Foggish oversized trenches in cobalt blues and dingy khaki. But no. instead i see a cute little well-made coffee brown leather jacket...in a size SMALL, no less. oh why oh why did i look?

at first, i thought, "that jacket's mine." followed by, "but no, it's for the poor." and again, "what poor new yorker needs a tiny leather jacket...it's not even warm!" but, alas, I couldn't do it. i'm obsessed with keeping my karma in good-standing..besides part of me thinks it's stealing--even if it's just from an over-sized box...although, another part of me thinks, "i'm poor, and my life deserves a free jacket." so i asked my friend chris...what should i do...he's pretty wise, and i think ethical for the most part...he's a finance editor...so that at least makes him more level-headed than me. he told me it's okay. "take it, but just swap it for a jacket you have at home that you don't like." I dunno...I don't really have any jackets or coats that I don't like. Ugh...woe is me. Perhaps this is one of those life-tests. Or maybe i'll call Randy Cohen. OR...I'll rationalize it the way I rationalize most things in my life...if it's meant to be, it'll be.

p.s. tomorrow i get my flu shot! yes. i'm excited. i get excited over anything that temporarily quiets my hypochondriacal tendencies. For more on the what-when-how-why of flu shots, see my smart friend Daniel's blog.

i did it.

...I did my little part to change the world. and I did not cry. In fact, this is my "I VOTED FOR BARACK OBAMA" face. p.s. now i'm off to get coffee...

i cannot contain myself.

and so i won't. tomorrow, the world will change. i'm so overwhelmed with emotion today...I really can hardly work. I might cry, but maybe I'll save that for tomorrow. Get excited people...for the last day of Bush, and the first day of Obama.

i was supposed to buy a broom today.

my apt really needs a good sweeping. But instead i lazed the morning away (yay for an extra hour) watching Degrassi. and Skyped about life/love/writing/babies/therapy/ny/london with hannah for a bit. then i went to see this in central park. but the line was too, too long...so I watched some of the ING NYC Marathoners cross the finish line...including a guy who took off his prosthetic legs right before the last 2 or 3 feet..and walked across the line on his hands (in a hand stand, no less. whew. crazy new yorkers).

Oh, but on the way, I stumbled upon a pile of discarded 1980s heels...all in a size 7 and a half. Is it Christmas already? My birthday? But then, I got them home, and tried them on and only one pair fit, and not the pair I liked. And I realized, they're all pretty ugly anyway. So, I think I'll find a more-suitable home for them...(thrift shop?)

it's nanowrimo.

national novel writing month...that's 175 pages, 50,000 words in one month. That's 5.8 pages, 1,666 words per day...and you should have started yesterday!

purr. meow.

Halloween is a big deal in NYC...and just a bit overwhelming. People are everywhere, draped in bloody gore and cleopatra makeup--or sometimes just a loin cloth--and you constantly have to doubletake to figure out if they're in costume or just their every-day freak-o-nature garb. You get my drift. Best costume of the night would have to be the home-made robots--you had to be there. Runners up include Bjork (in swan dress), the bee and the flower (they were a couple..awww), and the American Werewolf in Paris (an almost-perfect likeness).

Me on the other hand...I'm quite boring when it comes to dressing up. Every year I say "I'm gonna do something COOL...and every year, I'm either "a better version of myself" or a cat. so, here I am. ...i'm a cat. meow, purr. of course, i forgot to take pics before the party, and this was taken at about 2am...after a little too much catnip. So, I suppose I'm an alley cat. A forlorn, goth, alley cat. Smudged as it may be, I really think I could get used to the black lipstick... p.s. oooh, i forgot to plug Black Opal eye liner pencil in Licorice. It's seriously black! good stuff, and so much cheaper than that name-brand stuff. go buy it and report back.

watch...

...HIM (not sure that videos will play unless you have flash..boooo). c'est manifique. I saw an amaaaazing performance last night, and this guy was one of the dancers that made me regret not taking those ballet lessons in 1st grade.

p.s. happy halloween. More on that...and my sorta-kinda costume...later.

soooo, i got new hair.

hair-over-the-eye hair. very veronica lake. i figured i should take pics while it's salon-fresh, because there's no way i can re-create this. p.s. the day i woke up, ...and was no longer in love with my ex-boyfriend was the greatest, sunniest, brightest, most satisfying day...almost ever. you didn't know me back then...that dumping pre-dates my blog. i was a mess. if i had blogged, it would have been un-readable. unbearable. an overflowing barrage of rain, and sadness and gloom....a diary of mope-ery. but on the day my best friend asked, "do you still miss him?" and i said "no," without a doubt and without explanation...ahhhhhhhh. i cannot express. i even questioned whether i had ever really been in love with him. thought, maybe i just enjoyed the chase, or the sex. Oh, but then i got sad. To think, "maybe I never loved" him would have meant I had never loved. That possibly I did not have the expanse to love....or that I do not know what it means to love. Oh well...there's still time, right?

more from outsiders ny...

...since i obviously cannot get enough. And can I just say, that barack seems to be the muse of every modern artist, more so than any other political figure of this time or past (I wonder. Don't quote me, I didn't factcheck this.) This is a piece by David Choe that i'd love to own...if only because it reflects its own light--even when the room is dark. oh the symbolism!

tonight i had beers on an empty stomach.

followed by the most delicious cuban ham and cheese sandwich known to man. seriously. i devoured it like an animal--dripping pieces of it all down the front of me and on my Lola & Emily canvas bag. yum. yum. and yum.

but right after the beers, and right before the sandwich, i went to the closing of this street-art exhibit from London...Outsiders NY. An eerie, dirty, fascinating collection of photos, sketches, watercolors, scupltures and collages. Filthy-fun stuff..really...I looked deeply into a collaged portrait of President Bush, and found dozens of dicks. Some of which were stuffed in someone's mouth. And this one below, by absurdist sculptor Mark Jenkins made me think, "what the heck's he saying here?" My literal interpretation = Grover was a bum--and maybe he was, but still--he made the children laugh.

i have a broken heart.

...and I think I have for most of my life. I thought possibly saying it out loud would make me feel OK about it. But so far, nothing.

p.s. Maybe I'll come back later and re-read this, and who knows.

ray charles sang me to work today.

steve martin made me laugh out loud...and it was a lovely ride.

i spied a teenage eccentric on the train, we'll call her rainbow brite. yellow hair swimming all around her headphones, fuschia skirt, black tights, red shoes, blue jacket, pink backpack. Her eyes didn't move--they stayed planted on the couple cuddled up and asleep on the seat next to me. i was mesmorized by her, and she was mesmorized by them. the couple jumped up at 34th, and left an ink pen behind on the seat, which rainbow brite quickly picked up, and dropped into her purse...like she desperately needed to hold onto a piece of them. I wonder...

Must be so comfortable to be completely nuts and unaware of it...or aware and OK with it. Even in my quest to be well, I can see the beauty in that.

p.s. My little homage to rainbow brite...my ultra yellow sweater...you can't see from this pic, but it's seriously blinding--the color of a hi-lighter.

this is not good news...

...and just when i was sorta-kinda contemplating moving in next year. Well, not that I've earned it yet...but anyway, there's another dream extinguished.

On a related note, I did not know Arthur Miller and Bukowski lived there...and of course Hendrix. Click here for the fascinating laundry list of other past and current residents.

p.s. On a completely seperate note, I like this..

i wish i'd never become happy...

...then perhaps being comfortable with my sadness wouldn't be this backwards, uphill battle.

i'm posting this gray art because it's from a new exhibit I want to see...it opens this week in chelsea. She looks like she's suffocating, doesn't she? But all the while examining her life and peacefully allowing it to happen. The Heirloom, from Danny Hobart's "If I Should Die Before I Wake."

how the washing machine ruined a perfectly good thing.

i tried to steal one of your t-shirts. just to hold onto your scent, and maybe wear it to bed. but you'd just done your laundry, and each of your 60 or so tees were folded and smelling like nothing and no one. a hint of Tide. i know i have other things to remind me of you,*sigh* oh well. no one smells like you though. i think it's a mix of frankincense, and your own b.o...but the good kind. u know the kind that makes me plant my face deep in your chest and kiss the lobe of your ear. fuck Tide!

p.s. i know i've been away from my lil blog, but i'm present, just thinking of how i will write out some of my thoughts, and it isn't coming so easily..though my mind is full. Heavy even. I don't get it. on a surprisingly high note, I feel brave, and focused. Perhaps i just will spill some of that bravery and focus onto papier-mache world. soon, i think.

a little bit of patience...

...and a very hot curling iron go a long way. every girl should be equipped with both. tonight, while packing for a weekend trip to dc to celebrate a dear friend's birthday, i paused for a moment to shake the dust off my conair instant heat. When i was in high school, some silly boy teased that I had "home-made curls," since I couldn't afford to go the salon. I think he cared more than I did though...I sort of liked my home-made curls--and so i let his taunts roll off my back. cute memory.

I figured I'd snap a few shots of my throwback, home-made curls. I'm channeling Kay from the Godfather. Kinda sad they'll be flattened and lop-sided by tomorrow. oh well.

i got my laptop back.

yes, this deserves it's own YAY post. The only thing is, the post has to be short, since i left my charger at work. But i've got stuff to say, I promise. So...until tomorrow...

oh, gosh, well this is more like it...

...a lil something to take my mind off my nutty-crazy banter. Will you look at what I got from Etoilee8 (btw E, I found Opening Cerermony, but have yet to go in.) Anyway thanks hun--I needed something to wipe away the dramatical-ness that has been my day!

1. Link back to the person who tagged you
2. Mention the rules on your blog
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking to them
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged bloggers blogs letting them know they've been tagged
6. You can now display this charming dalek image i created when tagged!

Here i go....MY QUIRKS (sheesh, where to start?!)

1. I'm addicted...ADDICTED to chap stick. I can't go to sleep at night w/o having a tube of chapstick on my nightstand. To loose my lip balm would send me over the edge. Tell me I'm not alone...

2. I love fried chicken and it's one of my gourmet specialties. But I will not eat it without honey drizzled on top. A perfectly good wing-and-thigh is dead to me if there's no honey in the house.

3. I'm a city-girl to the point of snobbery. I secretly, ignorantly think all people who live 50 miles outside of a major city are cheating themselves out of great food, culture, arts, and shopping. I know, I'm an idiot. or am i?

4. My purse often doubles as an emergency overnight/come-what-may feed bag. In addition to the normal purse necessities, I carry antiperspirant (tho i cannot spell it), a pocket knife, at least one band-aid, snacks of some sort (b/c you never know), my notebook, face cream, a vitamin or two, and vick's vapor rub (don't ask).

5. I'm obsessed with bulldogs. And my reasons are the obvious ones...b/c they're fat, awkward, top-heavy, sloppy, and appear to fart constantly. A co-worker said to me "If you chose guys the same way you choose dogs, I'd be perfect for you."

6. I have hair on my toes. We're not talking Frodo Baggins hair...just a couple strands. And I shave it, so you'd never know unless you read this blog. Okay, Asabi, Lex, Janelle, RedHotMama, Ariel, and Peas. Let's hear it!

all i need right now is a hard cry.

and to not let whatever's getting to me remain pinned up and eating up my insides. (ugh...saying "your insides" makes me think of the word "innards" which makes me think of chitterlings, which makes me gag.)

Today, I feel like I am losing my mind. Not in the 911-check-me-into-the-looney-bin sense, but in the "I need a walk outside to scream" sense. The world feels so very heavy on me today, and though the day is a beautiful one and for-gods-sake it's friday, I feel overwhelmingly pissed off--at nothing in particular. Can I handle it all alone? Can I handle it all alone? Please let this be PMS! Today, I was hearing "No man is an island..." on repeat. Something with no particular meaning to me, and a pullout phrase from this book I'm dying to finish and move-on from. Reading it caused something to subconsciously trigger a bit of half-sadness/half-shame in me. I just want to cry...a good cry...until my eyes are red and my head is clear.

********
10 minutes later

I cried...or at least, I allowed tears to form even if they out-and-out refused to roll down my face. And I'm eating the most delicioso pumpkin soup. And what's next?? Chocolate pudding. Almost all better...

during the weekend that just passed...

...a funny boy and I were crossing the Manhattan bridge on the D train around mid-day. When we hit the middle of the bridge, I nudged him "Hey, come here and look. Look at the waterfall!" And I pointed to one of the NYC Waterfall installments on the East River. I was a little disappointed that he only got to see the one on the river that kinda reminds me of an industrial, metal structure with water churning through it...not really what I think of when I think of waterfalls. So I said to him, "I wish you could see them at night. The light shines through and they're really lovely at night." nice eh? p.s. approx 9 more business days...and counting...

baby's sick.

blogging will be really light for the next 7-10 business days. oy. that's how long it's gonna take the Apple techs to fix my laptop. Seems I've blown a fuse--though I'm sure there's a more technical diagnosis that i'm not tech-savvy enough to articulate. Basically, my laptop has chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, but I'm simply calling it a cough. why? cuz it makes me feel better.

During said fuse-blowing, there was a spark--and I think there's something in the fine print about this representing a safety hazard, sooooooo...I get my baby repaired for FREE! **big smile** No I do not have Apple Care, and yes I think it's a blatant waste of cash.

It occurred to me that, since my blog is my default home-page, the Apple Guys are reading this right now. "Apple Guys, I mean *cough cough* Apple Geniuses, I love you, please return my baby soon!"

As I sat at the counter yesterday waiting for my-own-personal-Genius to return with good news, I remarked to myself, "7-10 days is a lifetime for a writer." One of the other Genii overheard it and seemed unfazed...but it's true. What am I supposed to do without my laptop for a week and half. I mean, forget writing for a sec, what about email? facebook? ebay? perez hilton? And does Monday--Columbus Day--count as a business day? Now I'm even more furious that we get a day off in this thief's "honor."

Oh, but wait.

Then, it dawned on me that, aside from my blog, none of "the book" is on my laptop. It's all in my notebook, save for the 90 percent that's still in my head. Thank god for notebooks, u know. They may get misplaced, or left behind on the subway, or coffee stained, and the ink could even wash away in the rain, but that would all be my own doing. On the other hand, notebooks will never crash, freeze, mysteriously delete your files, nor blow fuses.

p.s. for all you chai tea lovers, I think i've discovered something great. Note: I am NOT a tea drinker, but this stuff is yummy! It's replaced my morning cup of coffee 2 days out of 3 this week...and of course, it's from Roasting Plant!

forced break.

well, maybe. my laptop is being temperamental. but i hope to be back to blogging by the end of this week. cross ur fingers for me. xo!

i love this.

the 80s-centric, barely-there dance costumes, the too-hard, hip-popping dance-moves, the simple message pressed into an over-produced, saxophone-heavy song. and the vocals...pure perfection :-P If you ask me, the guy in the first 2 seconds of the clip stole the show. I want more of him! watch it now damnit.

i don't know where...

...our insecurities come from. maybe from our mothers or our fathers, or from boys on the playground in 6th grade chasing you just to remind you that you are flat-chested and you have a unibrow. Or maybe we're born with them...maybe it's our girlfriends who remind of of them, or our boyfriends. Maybe it's the world around us, in front of us, and on top of us. I don't know...I've always thought I inherited mine...likely from my mother. I used to HATE my nose, and was terribly insecure about it...and it didn't help when someone told me "your nose takes away from your face. Maybe later in life you should consider getting a nose job." Who would tell a child that, right? ugh.

I think in college, a guy friend told me "you have nice eyes. You always look like there's a lot going on behind them." lol. he was right...too much going on sometimes...ha! But just like that, you know, my nose insecurity slipped into the background, because I had these "thinking eyes." And I'd paint them and mascara them, maybe a little too much sometimes. As I've gotten older, I've learned to play up what I love about me, my heart, my brain--and oh, my legs ain't so bad...and think less about this nose, likely a gift from my father. Tho, I still loathe my big man hands....I have him to thank for those as well. :-) they're only good for hand jobs and opening the mayo jar. lol.

i have nothing...

...new to contribute to my blog except...I met her! And yes, she IS as lovely as she appears to be on her blog. We giggled over yummy plantanos, sweet potato fries, and shrimp...and oh, we had salad too! Then we headed over to see my friend Kevonne's awesome band perform. We shared capris (yes, I'm still smoking. oy.), and discovered a new beer together--Blue Point's Toasted Lager. It really was as if she was an old friend that I hadn't seen in some years...though, it was our first date. I've never been keen on internet dating, but internet friending...i'm all about it!

p.s. today, our yoga instructor thought we were advanced enough to give THIS little pose a try. And try I did. Several times. But alas, I wasn't ready. I nailed the hands part, but fear that i'd fall on my face wouldn't allow my legs extend. I'm about to get down on my bedroom floor and try again. I will not let koundinyasana defeat me.

he deserves another day...

...on my little ol' blog. And because i love a man who says "why go out for a hamburger when you have steak at home." :-)

paul.

i nabbed this pic from another blog... i couldn't help it. joanne and paul seem perfectly matched...and paul, just look at him. those eyes! r.i.p.

i believe in real, ache-for-me love.

in spite of my past flops and mistakes in the field. the kind that sometimes make you feel just a little bit unstable. And i always look for little honest-to-goodness, geniune displays of it. Tonight, on my way to Whole Foods for Amy's soup (yum-o!)--to feed my untimely cold/bug/flu--I was walking behind an old Chinese couple...maybe in their 60s, both a bit shriveled and teeny tiny. The hubby (or boyfriend), wrapped his arm about his honey, and then grabbed her bottom...and held his hand their for several seconds. I giggled like a 6th grader--it was damn near pornographic, but cute as hell! And it just felt REAL and right to me...I'm sure it felt right to him too :-P

happy weekend folks!

i'm not gonna talk about therapy here.

can you imagine? reading this blog and hearing about my psychoanalysis everyday? ugh. no way. but since it was day one, it's fitting to say something about it. so i'll just say--i'm going back next week. and i think that's a positive sign. i'm ready to go through this...i wasn't for a long time, i put it off for many years, but now i'm really really ready to get on with having a wonderful, full life :-)

When i was a child, i'd dig through the jellybeans, picking out the black ones and tossing them out. well, that's what doc is gonna help me do...toss out all those black jellybeans. and fix me. i want her to fix me, or help me fix myself. sounds ideal and unreasonable, and maybe impossible...but that's what i want. fixed does not mean perfect, fixed means you take something old, and broken, and you put a little glue, a little polish, some soap and water--and you make it stronger, cleaner, you make it last longer, you make it better. that's what i want.

my brand new, old bag.

so i wanted a rugged, somewhat masculine bag to carry and bang around...like this one (from the Sartorialist). I found this gorgeous, pre-loved saddle bag (below) at a brooklyn thrift store this past weekend. I love it! I saddle-soaped it, but even without treating the leather, it's perfectly worn and broken in. One of the reasons I prefer used/old/vintage stuff--somebody's already done all the work for me.
:-)

it's a perfect fit!smell the leathaaa!insideoutside p.s. on a more serious note...i was watching the news this morning, and there's a lot of talk about Virginia and it's red-state leanings. oy. *sigh* I pray my home state wakes up and votes for the change our country needs.

kitty in the window.

last night, while walking to dinner with my good friend Pak--we saw a kitten in a pet shop window. All alone. Shit in the corner. Upon seeing us peering in at him, he started to jump and play with his bedding, behaving a lot like a wind-up puppy. I felt really a sense of emptiness walking way from him. Even if it was only my perception, he seemed to want to please us...and to say, "Look at me. I'd be a great pet. Please pick me and get me out of this dreadful, lonely glass container." *sigh*

Anyway, thanks to the zealous kitty-in-the-window, I started another chapter of "the book." I live for long walks.

i wanna be a lesbian...

...on a harley. well, not really. just sort of. this morning in front of Roasting Plant, these two masculine black women, talking in front of their motorcycles, made lesbianism seem so cool. Or maybe they were just cool, in general. They rambled about brain and perception and some other inaudible stuff, but all I could do was stare and think "Are they a couple? If so, is the big one the "dude?" Is that ignorant of me? If I were a lesbian, I'd want to be Ellen Degeneres...or married to her...

So, I introduced Roasting Plant to Rachel this weekend, and now she's smitten as well. When I went in today for my cup, the cashier guy said "You can't stay away, huh?" I agreed, and told him and the cashier girl that I'm a convert, after suffering the dreadful service at Orchard 88. Then the cashier girl says, "Yeah, did you read that blog where someone said the employees at Orchard 88 don't seem to really want to be there?" (or something like that) I nodded, though I hadn't read it, and said that I agreed and if I read it, I'll post a comment on it. She said, "Sounds like you wrote that blog." I said "Nope, I didn't." But it turns out I actually did..write the blog in question. funny.

p.s. today is the last day of summer...and sometime soon, i'll have to retire my lovely st. marks straw hat until next year. Makes me a bit sad. farewell, my lovely, rain-or-shine, st. marks straw hat.

oh my....coffee!

eureka (sort of). so there's this stuff i discovered today. manna from heaven, i'd like to call it (note: i'm not religious, which makes this statement all-the-more powerful i think). You've heard me go on and on and on many times about my lust for caffeine, well today i skipped Orchard 88. I'm beginning to think the hipsters there aren't sure they actually feel like working on most days, and it's started to annoy me. I'll revisit them on the weekends for a panini or something, when I'm not already 15 minutes late for work.

Today, I headed across the street to Roasting Plant. Their gimmick is that they roast your coffee--cup-by-cup, right there in front of you. And above you, there's a clear tube, that extracts beans from these dozen or so canisters, and then transports it into this brewing machine--and out comes your very own fresh cup of caffeinated goodness (if i didn't paint a visual for you, see pic below). The process takes likely the same amount of time as it would for the Orchard 88 folks to acknowledge i'm standing there waiting at the counter--and it's entertaining! Think something you'd see at Willy Wonka's house. So, the guy hands me my cup of coffee, and i'm worried now that it's gonna be too strong or brime-like. but nope. It's yummy, and doesn't leave you with that sticky, bitter after-taste. Obviously, if i'm writing this--the coffee was worth at least a couple hundred words. Another perk--as I'm pouring in my half-n-half, to my left there are at least 8 variations of sugar--all in these easy-to-pour ikea glass urns. There's cinnamon sugar, maple sugar, splenda (yay), regular, raw, agave liquid, and I can't recall the other 2. (dear funny-boy: When you were here, I regret that you settled for Starbucks, when you could have had the wonderfullness that is Roasting Plant.)

Okay enough. I say all this to end with--possibly, maybe I derived a teensy bit of inspiration (and happiness) from my coffee cup. I sat on the subway today, whipped out my pen and notebook--and wrote all the way from 14th St. to 103rd St. (on the local track, btw)--balancing my notebook on my purse, pen in right hand, coffee in my left, sleeping-leaning-on-me woman to my right, and broad-shouldered-dickhead-with-arms-akimbo to my left. And that's SOMETHING. Perhaps passion, perhaps inspiration.

I'm having a good morning. Hope you are.

p.s. yesterday i was browsing the web for writing boot camps and i came across this--"The secret to writing is...writing." I like it a lot.

i want to write...

but for two days: NOTHING. it's painful. I frequently blame it on my 9-to-5...sapping 90 percent of my energy, time, and creativity. but perhaps i'm making excuses. or, maybe i could use some inspiration--visual stimulation...and since it's not finding me, I vow to get out and find it. In fact, I likely won't post again until I find it.

just because, here's a pic of my neighborhood. tonight, i stood on Orchard, between Broome and Grand (my new favorite block), and cried against the lamp-post...it held me up. i don't know why i like to cry in public. perhaps b/c there's more room out there to let go of all that baggage...and of course, no one asks you "why?" The dog from the store next to Still came over, and rested his head under my hand. he did, he really did! I want to think the little bugger sensed my grim mood and came over to comfort me...but the truth is, he likely smelled my slice of pizza and thought he'd sniff his way into a pepperoni or two. p.s. i have therapy next week. i'm really really really scared, but i'm really really really ready. it feels so far away.