im livin in the future so your present is my past

had a pretty great night with my axman last night. tried a new restaurant near my apartment, hit the only punk rock bar north of 28th street, ran around barefoot in the dark in riverside park with Dog, and wrapped up the night with red wine and live jazz. not bad, not bad at all.
ive decided to spend the next few years of my life studying and ultimately teaching yoga.

one last thing before i get to work on my final paper for femtexts - you didnt even put a fight. a man stands up, but you just let go, and that makes you a coward.

robert and gilli

i met, through spws former (first?) manager while in boston for their show, the most extraordinary woman named gilli. shes married to a man who works at bose (they have the most incredible sound system in their house) but in the 70s was very serious with robert plant. to this day and with her husbands blessing, she and robert spend two weeks together in mexico every december.

ginger ale and saltines

i take suboxone, which is a partial opiate antagonist. i dont really know what that means, but ive been taking it for a few months now bc it cuts opiate cravings and also if you take an opiate within 72 hours of taking suboxone you'll go into withdrawal immediately, so its a deterrent i guess. anyway it comes in 2mg sublingual films, of which i take about four or five a day.
i ran out on tuesday and by wednesday evening i had gone into pretty full withdrawal. luckily i was in very good hands throughout my misery until i could get in to see my doc. he wrote a script but bc suboxone is such an obscure drug not many pharmacies have it on hand. my pharmacy had to order it, so my withdrawal will stretch into tomorrow.
it feels like my entire body was shrink-wrapped and then someone put ice cubes btwn my skin and the plastic wrap that are just melting and sliding down my body. its a hell i thought i was free from when i quit banging dope, but apparently not.
misery misery misery.
it fucking hurts.
im on an all-saltine-and-ginger-ale diet until my body comes back from the dead.

baby for sale.

this is my favorite myth about junkies, and i think i speak for all junkies when i say this:
we do not want your babies.
i do not want to steal your baby. 'baby' is NOT an accepted form of currency - at least it wasnt at MY dealers house.
could you imagine?? "uh, hey man, i need a bun but i dont have any cash... i did steal this baby though, so can you just be cool??"
"be cool?! what the fuck am i gonna do with a baby?!"
-end scene-

im afraid ive stopped making sense

my minds going too fast, its been going like this for about a month now, and im afraid ive completely stopped making sense.
its all i can do to shut my mind up long enough to sleep, let alone try to talk to people. this is why you havent seem me in awhile.
(look, watch the breakdown in real time, there she goes)
i have entire conversations completely out of context. i can see your raised eyebrows - but you must know you dont have to do that, right? you must know. whose standard are you measuring me against? has it made you happy? does that ability to judge make you happy? you look so small and i want to help you see that youre bigger. you can be bigger. anybody can.
id better move to the woods before i get locked up again. i cant take any more time institution-time.

oh bondage, up yours!

poly styrene died last night.

in completely unrelated news, i watched the bill hicks documentary last night with my axman (while poly styrene was dying of cancer).
if a person dies in any proximity to me, i ought to notice that. it should cause some kind of ripple in the collective unconscious, or if you think thats bullshit, if someone dies within a few feet of me i should feel the loss of magnetism or SOMEthing. Maybe this is something i only think about because i live in such extreme proximity to hundreds of thousands of complete strangers. At any given time there have to be about 20 people within a 30 foot radius of where ever i am - every room im in is surrounded by rooms on all sides, including above and below. there are two nursing homes and a rehab just on my block - each with several hundred patients i will never know, whose stories ill never ever hear or imagine or be able to understand. thousands of people ill never be able to relate to, bearing their own crosses directly in front of me, and i never ever interact with them in any way. if humanity truly is any kind of fraternity, if any unity or common truth exists between us as a species, i ought to feel something when these people living entire lives not 30 feet away from me die.

anyway, im starting to think im not actually depressed as much as im constantly discovering deeper and deeper truths about life and reacting to them appropriately.

"a cheap hotel where i can meet / the past and pay it off / and keep it sweet...."

thats from a libertines song.
i met the past recently. djcrizz was in town. im increasingly afraid that it really is the past and not, as i once hoped, the future as well. theres always hope though (shut the fuck up, kafka).
anyway, easter was beautiful. tiger and nelson and i stayed in the park all day. nelson stepped on my calvin and hobbes.



also, i rented this book from butler, and this note was left by a previous reader.

i hope (s)he also reads this blog, though i realize that unless i wrote it and dont remember that that is unlikely, because i'd like to let her/him know that physical love is violent. it has to be.

, and the unbearable lightness of being

this book was on an optional reading list for a class and i read it today with the intention of writing my final paper about it, but now that im nearly finished i think ill have to pick another book instead. this one is just very annoying. even beyond the constant soul-crushing mysogeny, its the way he constantly hits me over the head with his motifs that strikes me as patronizing. so now its almost 4am and ive wasted the last 24 hours reading this book. lame.

also, my roommates and i used to try to guess what the guy who lives upstairs was doing by the noises he made. we concluded that he must be a writer with a crack problem who rearranges his furniture when he gets writers' block. i wonder what the girl who lives in the apartment below mine thinks is going on up here right now. nelson just woke me up because he was running in his sleep and his legs are so long that they hang off the bed, so he was essentially kicking the floor.

dear girl downstairs,
that noise you heard at 4 oclock this morning was my great dane having a nightmare. sorry.
-alex

pandora radio

"hm, ive never tried pandora before and i need a soundtrack for this moment; ill try it out."
open pandora to find that i apparently have used pandora before

pulling a thoreau

desperately trying to remember some deep breathing exercises.
i swear to god, i am going to live in the woods.
the society of other people has become intolerable.

long live the queen

i thought about posting the youtube clip of our holy mother falling down in atlanta, but now that i know that readers of this blog are unlikely to grasp the metaphor ive decided its beyond the point. and a little too mean for me.
speaking of you, my dear reader, i hope youre well. i really do, much as id like to grab you by the collar and ask you what the fuck it is you think youre doing.

edie sedgewick's birthday was a few days ago.

its all the same record, playing on repeat.

hey, creepy creep,

stop creeping.

NY love notes

how many declarations of Undying Love
are shoved
into pockets, sent spinning through the wash,
to wash up
on the shores of our sidewalks?
better to seal Love
made in a bathroom with
lipstick on the wall.

ani difranco, not a pretty girl

my mom in california just sent me this picture of my brothers in their easter outfits. can you believe how beautiful my family is?? i hope my kids are boys too.
there are many days that i open this blog fully intending to list all the reasons i no longer speak to my roommate. today is one of those days when i have to remind myself what my mama taught me: no one can control my feelings but me. her choice to live in negativity is not my choice.
nelson woke me up very early today and refused to go back to sleep, so we were in central park by 7:30.
im thinking about dropping out of school. i just dont think its for me, at least, columbia isnt. i dont have any desire to compete, or even prove myself. i enjoy the lectures and the reading, and even the discussions, but theres this element to academic success, this sense of wanting to prove youve been paying attention and swallowed the professors values as well as the course material that i just cant be bothered to work up. i know leaving columbia is essentially throwing away not only the culmination of 14 years of top-quality education but a suite of unimaginable opportunities, but i just cant value it enough to do it well right now. maybe i will return to my education, but i wont be in this environment when i do it.
so what to do instead?
im thinking strip for a few months, then road trip with the dog until i figure out whats next.

smog, knock knock

im reading timequake by vonnegut.
i think my understanding of the basic human condition is lacking something. I can't think of a single event throughout history that, when i heard about it, didnt make me think "well, why didnt they just move?"
i mean, why didnt they just move? surely, no matter how bad things get, one has the option of simply turning around and walking in the opposite direction. odds are you'll find someone sympathetic enough to help you get on your feet somewhere else. is that naive? i dont think so. and even if it is, id rather die walking away from bullshit than because of it (bullshit could refer to anything from the spanish inquisition, the holocaust, the rwandan genocide, the native american genocide, being a woman almost anywhere before 19... lets say 75, etc). i am one hundred percent convinced that where theres a will, theres a way.
maybe thats why i have so much trouble seeing consequences. it'll never be that bad, and if it is, exeunt all players from the stage

nirvana, in utero

sunrise at my parents house.


got back to the city last night.
the roommate saga continues. or, is resolved? i'm not actually sure.

you know how old people always talk about how the death of western civilization will be caused by people our age completely abandoning grammar and spelling bc we grew up 'texting' (or worse: 'sexting' )? i think they dont realize that when we actually learned to type we were too little for our fingers to reach all the punctuation keys on the side, so now when we need to type quickly we drop them again.
Isnt it cute how old people think western civilization isnt dead yet? doesn't that make you wanna squeeze their cheeks and say 'its ok gwanma' in baby-talk?

anyway, my parents are the shit. seriously, my dads a fucking superhero for driving me and Dog back and forth to ohio. for the first time in a very long time we actually spent time together, lots of consecutive hours, and didnt end up screaming at each other in a fancy restaurant. that is not hyperbole. deadass.


thats another pic from the funeral. little me and my grandparents.


saw kelsey for a few minutes, and she will be staying with me may 4-8, which i couldnt be happier about. shes so fucking cool. her story is too unbelievable to try to explain here, but im sure if you buy me a drink ill tell you all about it.





nelson loves ohio. he stayed with my parents for two weeks before he moved here to the city with me. unfortunately i didnt get any pics of him running around. but that top one is him in the car, and the bottom one is him and me sleeping on the couch.

also, because my dr seems to be performing an ongoing experiment while writing my prescriptions, my body has started doing weird shit. for example, i cant eat. cant do it. ill go for days and not even notice until i cant stop puking and i have no idea why. so, obviously, after everything ive put him through, my dad gets freaked out when he sees me puke an hour straight. therefore, i experienced the most surreal marijuana-purchase (not most surreal drug deal though) of my life.


ps if you see this book, read it.



it has pages like this.

back in ohio

i came back to ohio today. well, my dad picked nelson and me up last night and we drove most of the night and this morning to get here. I showered and fed the dog then went with my family to my grandfather's funeral. My mom's brother has been staying with my parents for the past two weeks to be near my grandpa and yesterday his wife and son came to town (they live in germany). So with them and my parents i went out to the funeral home. my mom's other little brother died about two years ago, and he had an open casket wake. after that, my whole family was so spooked they re-wrote their wills to not be shown to anyone after they die. So grandpa was cremated, and his urn was there, but mostly the room was covered in family pictures and pictures from grandpa's life. i got one of him getting into his fucking FIGHTER JET. the other pic is of adorable five y/o me with teddy bear buttons on my sweater.
while at this funeral i got dumped via text message by a boy i wasnt even dating.
that's not the plot of a shitty 90's romcom.
that actually happened to me today.
eventually the funeral reception ended and i got to come home. i ran around with the dogs for awhile - my parents' dogs look so tiny now that im used to dogs being nelson-sized.
now im sitting at my parents kitchen table with them and my uncle, aunt, and cousin from germany. theyre busting out the patron, so it looks like margarita time.
updates to follow.

my grandpa's obituary

Dr. Howard A. Nollenberger, died on April 10, 2011, at Hospice of Northwest Ohio (Toledo), surrounded by his family. Born on February 15, 1930, in Stony Ridge, Ohio, to Carl and Viola Nollenberger. He graduated from Pemberville High School in 1948. Howard attended Ohio State University and upon graduation in 1952 he joined the U.S. Air Force where he fulfilled his childhood dream of becoming a fighter pilot and combat flight instructor. After military service he served as a U.S. Parole Officer in Denver, Colorado, at the foothills of his beloved Rocky Mountains. He later moved back to North West Ohio and joined the University of Toledo, earning his Masters and Doctorate degrees and rising to Professor Emeritus. Howard was a proud and loving husband, father and grandfather and he adored his wife of 42 years, his children, and grandchildren. In his retirement he enjoyed traveling, fishing and golf. Howard was preceded in death by his parents, sister, Kay, infant brother, Elwood Glen and step-son, Larry Szabo. Surviving are his wife, Millie; children and grandchildren, Skip (Gunda) Nollenberger and Jeremiah, Leslie (John) Reisner and Alex, daughter-in-law, Bonnie Szabo, Corey and Marissa and sister, Jane (Dale) Grove. The family will receive visitors on Thursday at the Sujkowski Funeral Home of Rossford, 830 Lime City Rd., from 4 PM to 7 PM. Burial will be private. Many thanks go to the St. Luke associates as well as Hospice of Northwest Ohio, (Toledo) for their warm and loving care in his final days. Also, special thanks to family, friends and neighbors for cards, visits and concern over the past six weeks. Online condolences may be shared with the family by visiting our website at: http://www.sujkowskirossford.com.

i think my mood controls the weather.

i saw this flag on 108th street this morning, and it summed up my mood pretty well.

i noticed nelson limping when we went out for our walk this morning, so we went to the vet (if you're a local dog owner, we went to Riverside Animal Hospital and they were very sweet to him) and spent the morning there. His leg is fine, but he was treated for an eye infection. it was pretty scary.

he and i are driving back to OH tonight for grandpa's funeral. i just threw all my black clothes in a suitcase and all my laundry in a garbage bag.

i'm dark lately. i finally communicated my unhappiness with the current incarnation of the relationship between me and one of my closest friends last night and i think it helped. it seems like it made a difference. now if i can just solve my roommate problem, ill be able to get some real work done.

also, i found this site on gawker (http://yes.thatcan.be/my/next/tweet/) that analyzes your twitter account and predicts your next tweet. my result was "not ideal." that's at least a little funny.

the title of today's piece is "alexandra in repose"

My mom lost both her parents in the last three weeks, but we're only having one funeral. not because they loved each other so much that they insisted to be buried together, but because one was a man of integrity and the other was a fucking junkie her whole life.

Will my children mourn me? Will people fly from around the country for my funeral, or will everyone just shrug and admit quietly that it's a relief?

i dreamt about needles again last night.

short fiction, two

"So, what did you think? Would you see it again?"

"Hm?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you."

"Oh I just asked if you'd see the show again."

"Oh umm.... What do you mean?"

"What do you - the show? The one we just saw?"

"Yes..."

"Would you see it again?"

"Like, a second time? Or do you mean if i could get the time back - like if i could go back in time knowing wha-"

"Oh Jesus Christ. It was just a question."

"Yes, ok? Sure, I would see it again either way. Yes. I would. Yes. Ok? Yes."

"Ok."

"Yeah, I just needed a second, but yes. Yes, ok? Ok?? Yes."

"Fine. Just drop it."

"I really liked it, ok? So, I guess, yes. I would. Yes."

"Stop."

"Yes. YES. Ok?? I would. Yes."

RIP don hill

I went to Don Hill's funeral and reception (afterparty?) last night. The service was beautiful, but it was strange to see the pillars of new york nightlife and the rock n roll scene in an enormous catholic cathedral. none of us burst into flames, though we all laughed at a joke about altar boys that i'm sure the priest didn't funny.

The reception after was at the bar, and it was the least depressing funeral-related activity i've ever witnessed. it did feel more like an afterparty - no one could truly mourn, because no part of don's life warranted grief. Everyone just traded stories and said "well, he lived the dream. he lived exactly how he wanted to."

I should mention that Don Hill's had a special significance to me. My first weekend in New York, my freshman year, I convinced my friends to trek down from the UWS to go to the Bowie Ball. we got allllll dolled up, strapped on impossibly tall shoes, smeared make up all over our faces, and braved the longest ride on the one train imaginable. We hobbled all the way over to the club only to discover that IDs are sometimes scanned. Our brand new matching california fakes all failed, and the bouncer handed them back to us, shook his head, and said "this isn't a kid's party. Go home." So from then on, partying at Don Hills has been this symbol of having arrived, of being a part of something. a night spent there became a more significant event than a night spent at any other club.

So, thank you Don, for all the nights you saw me sneaking into your club through a five-foot mountain of trash (i started going there at 18) and didn't say a word because you thought it was funny. Thank you for the free drinks, for all the sex i've had in your men's room, coat check, and the band room in your basement - and thanks for kicking out those creepy guys the first night i gogo-ed on your bar.

rockNroll never dies.

Justin, CWhitts, and Eddy at the RatedX Warhol party at Don Hills, June 08

Nov 1 08 me and Don - i was so starstruck. im sure he thought i was a huge nerd. i have no idea who the girl on the right is. she hopped in at the last second.

Oct 27, 08 - I don't even remember this. I think Joce and I went because we hadn't gone out in too long (probably 4 or 5 days).

Justin at RatedX at Don Hill's, the night i snuck in unsuccessfully and was chased down and physically thrown into the street by a very large bouncer

Dan and me in the Don Hills back room, a few nights after new years 09.

Semi Precious Weapons show summer before last, where they debuted "break her in half," an ode to my drug problem.

Johnny and me at the funeral reception last night. How many funeral receptions have you attended that featured an open tequila bar?

remember this?

this was a great show.

i recommend a mantra

calm down, children of the internet. take a deep breath. we're all going to get through this. try to think of a calming phrase, then repeat it to yourself. everything is ok.

good pictures

This is a picture of me in a man's bed the summer before last. In addition to being a close personal friend for the past couple years, V takes good pictures. his latest blog update really knocked me out. its definitely worth looking at, and can be accessed through his main site.

enjoy:

http://vincentskeltis.com/

killing me

i retired from nightlife because it was killing me. my value system was making me less happy every day, as if my depression needed any help. i pursued the priorities of that lifestyle relentlessly, and i hated myself for it. I didnt know what was driving me to push dirty hypodermics into my arm - i didnt know how i felt about anything. i'm not implying this will happen to anyone else in nightlife; plenty of people are strong enough, secure enough in their identities to survive.

But it literally killed me. i've been declared dead by EMTs twice, and three or four other times by people near me (who helpfully and reliably dropped me in the nearest bathtub and hoped for the best).

I believe that a major lifestyle shift toward stability will bring a congruent shift in my self-worth. eventually. i fought my ass off for a YEAR to get back into school, i swore off going out, and i set up a routine of studying, sleeping, writing, reading, and going to class. that routine has been my entire life this semester, but my grades are hardly better than they were when i stayed out til dawn every night of the week. I'm hitting my head against the same brick wall with the same lack of result, so now it seems that college is killing me too.

i don't know what i want. maybe that's what's really killing me.