cloak and dagger, baby
tooth and nail
tooth and nail
Sunday, May 29, 2011
hanging, outside
pictures of black petunias, nelson, my parents' property. lakes, naps, texted conversations, a barbecue, and dusk.
cloak and dagger, baby
tooth and nail
tooth and nail
cloak and dagger, baby
tooth and nail
tooth and nail
Saturday, May 28, 2011
i have heard the mermaids singing, each to each
ohio with dog for the long weekend. fantastic. he loves it, hasnt stopped running laps through the fields since we got here. my mom and i spent the day doing girl stuff - gynecologist, shopping for the summer look (wood nymph), mani/pedi. everything looks top-notch.
i havent been writing the past few days, mostly because ive been either sleeping or working i guess. i dont like it though. itll come back, im sure.
i havent been writing the past few days, mostly because ive been either sleeping or working i guess. i dont like it though. itll come back, im sure.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
i have seen the moment of my greatness flicker
there hasnt been much to say lately.
i like to think that life is all moments of greatness, that it is composed only of great decisions and great actions. it isnt, though, is it? the great decisions and great actions account for only moments, separated by long and longer stretches of empty, mindless time. waiting. drifting on momentum, coasting so slowly you dont see that youre stopping, until the next moment to decide and to act arrives. in this way we steer our lives, not as we go, but by aiming and shooting ourselves forward, in spurts of greatness. we spend most of our time not steering at all, just living out the decisions we made in those moments that mattered. we drift like sliding on ice, in a complete surrender to our own forward motion even as we slow down.
ha! jeez, can you tell what ive been reading??
i spent much of my day in a wig, which is a bizarre experience. i even had my value measured by my ability to wear a thong in heels and spin around, which is an experience i recommend to everyone. thats not a joke. do it. its an incomparable thing.
i also spent my day asking my self just how far im going to take this, and exactly what "this" is. how far will i push it, and what am i looking for?
i like to think that life is all moments of greatness, that it is composed only of great decisions and great actions. it isnt, though, is it? the great decisions and great actions account for only moments, separated by long and longer stretches of empty, mindless time. waiting. drifting on momentum, coasting so slowly you dont see that youre stopping, until the next moment to decide and to act arrives. in this way we steer our lives, not as we go, but by aiming and shooting ourselves forward, in spurts of greatness. we spend most of our time not steering at all, just living out the decisions we made in those moments that mattered. we drift like sliding on ice, in a complete surrender to our own forward motion even as we slow down.
ha! jeez, can you tell what ive been reading??
i spent much of my day in a wig, which is a bizarre experience. i even had my value measured by my ability to wear a thong in heels and spin around, which is an experience i recommend to everyone. thats not a joke. do it. its an incomparable thing.
i also spent my day asking my self just how far im going to take this, and exactly what "this" is. how far will i push it, and what am i looking for?
Saturday, May 21, 2011
playing house
i just re-watched the video i posted earlier in the month called "pretty" and i cried and cried.
it was cathartic.
ive been fucking low lately and idk why. im spending too much time inside bc nelsons afraid to go out. to get him to walk i have to coax him off the stoop for about half an hour and even then hell only go around the block. it fucking breaks my heart. i have to work harder and get him the fuck out of here as soon as i can. its really killing me. that plus some other shit, columbia graduation has come and gone and suddenly my friends have a piece of paper i most likely will never have and im afraid that will haunt me. but ive always preferred to be at a disadvantage. i have always fought uphill battles.
i hung with an old friend the other night. it feels like we've been friends longer than four years because weve been through about forty years of bullshit together. i trust him with my life, but not just because he's saved it several times. hes Good. he has a soul, and i see it, and i value that in a person. anyway, hey tig. look, i wrote about you!
ive been missing my other bff desperately. we never talk any more, and im not sure how it happened. we were both too busy and then time built up and now its too hard to bridge the separation between us.
i guess thats what growing up is.
its time we get honest with girls. girls thinking they can be models has been fucking huge for the perv community and i need to say something.
youre 23, 5'3 and 115 pounds. you were close, but you missed it. youre too old, too short, and too fat. im sorry that this is the reality of your situation, but its time to go back to school and get that hotel management degree. stop agreeing to "photo shoots" in hotel rooms. its just an excuse for some dude to watch you writhe on the floor in your underwear.
it was cathartic.
ive been fucking low lately and idk why. im spending too much time inside bc nelsons afraid to go out. to get him to walk i have to coax him off the stoop for about half an hour and even then hell only go around the block. it fucking breaks my heart. i have to work harder and get him the fuck out of here as soon as i can. its really killing me. that plus some other shit, columbia graduation has come and gone and suddenly my friends have a piece of paper i most likely will never have and im afraid that will haunt me. but ive always preferred to be at a disadvantage. i have always fought uphill battles.
i hung with an old friend the other night. it feels like we've been friends longer than four years because weve been through about forty years of bullshit together. i trust him with my life, but not just because he's saved it several times. hes Good. he has a soul, and i see it, and i value that in a person. anyway, hey tig. look, i wrote about you!
ive been missing my other bff desperately. we never talk any more, and im not sure how it happened. we were both too busy and then time built up and now its too hard to bridge the separation between us.
i guess thats what growing up is.
its time we get honest with girls. girls thinking they can be models has been fucking huge for the perv community and i need to say something.
youre 23, 5'3 and 115 pounds. you were close, but you missed it. youre too old, too short, and too fat. im sorry that this is the reality of your situation, but its time to go back to school and get that hotel management degree. stop agreeing to "photo shoots" in hotel rooms. its just an excuse for some dude to watch you writhe on the floor in your underwear.
Friday, May 20, 2011
a parade of homes
when i was in the fourth and fifth grades, my father would drive out past the ring of suburbs circling toledo after mass on sunday, instead of taking us all home, once or twice a month. our destination: a Parade of Homes. my memories of these afternoons have merged into one foggy event, clouded over with that particular slanting gold of afternoon sunlight, that begins with me chirping from the backseat of the family car.
"dad! wrong turn!"
"no honey, we're making a stop on our way home today."
"oh no... "
and the car navigates turns onto increasingly unfamiliar and empty streets, despite my prayers to every saint i could remember from religion class to intercede on my behalf, possess Dad, and drive this car back home. after an eternity we turn off some country road into a Subdivision; we roll past a huge chunk of marble with a huge brass plaque saying something like "Waterford," "Stone Ridge," or "Tiffany Lakes," and drive a road that wanders in lazy curves and loops through manicured lawns according to the plan of some architect/landscape designer. Dad parks in front of one of the massive empty Homes and we walk on the sidewalk to the driveway, up the driveway, then up another sidewalk from the driveway to the house. the hedges between this sidewalk and the Three-Car Garage are as tall as i am, but they give way to a beautiful garden at the front of the house.
i climb the steps of the All-Brick Front Patio and enter the house. the sunlight drips like a golden, irridescent mucus down the Beige Walls and the Stainless Steel appliances, pooling on the Italian Marble Countertops and the strip of heavy floor-protecting plastic that leads from room to room. in memory this viscous sunlight impedes progress along the narrow plastic path, making me stay longer in each room that my attention span at this age should allow for the viewing of arranged furniture simulating life in empty Homes.
i push through the gelatinous combination of sunlight and projected nostalgia, down the long hallway dividing the Entertaining Area of the house (the Dining Room large enough for an 18 foot table, the Living Room with the Two-Story Ceiling, the Entry Foyer with the Salvaged-Oak Front Door and the Hardwood Floor) from the Living Area (the Family Room with Floor-to-Ceiling windows looking onto a Square-Acre Backyard, and a man-made lake surrounded by the Square-Acre Backyards and Homes of the neighbors) and and into the Kitchen. a group of women in their sunday clothes are gathered around the Kitchen Island with the Italian Marble Countertop, watching the Realtor demonstrate the Adjustable Faucet on the Stainless Steel Double-Basin Sink. my mother is among them. she smiles at me and i wander through more Open Floor Plan rooms to the Back Stairway near the Three-Car Garage (not the Grand Stairway in the Entry Foyer).
i walk the row of empty bedrooms upstairs, each with its own incentives beyond private space. one has Bay Windows with Extra-Deep Window Seats, another boasts a 9x9 Sq Ft Walk-in Closet; each has its own Full Bathroom, each represents a brand new life of Upper-Middle Class suburban affluence.
We will pick one of these houses, based on factors far beyond my understanding, and we will fill it with our things and in this way we will know success. we will sit at the Kitchen Island and eat our food off Authentic Italian Marble. Mom will cook in one of the two Stainless Steel Ovens - maybe she will use both to prepare each meal. Dad will work in the dedicated Office with its Stained-Oak Panelling and he will make more money, and we will buy more things, and our things will pile up around us in one of these Homes in one of these Gated Communities. my friends' parents will learn the correct code to type into the security box that opens the gate so that my friends can visit me in this fortress.
we will sit in our Square-Acre Backyard and look at the man-made lake, and wave at the neighbors in their own Square-Acre Backyards, but we will not approach them. we will like to sit there, and sometimes we will turn around to look at our Home, and imagine all of our things safely stored inside, and we will be happy.
"dad! wrong turn!"
"no honey, we're making a stop on our way home today."
"oh no... "
and the car navigates turns onto increasingly unfamiliar and empty streets, despite my prayers to every saint i could remember from religion class to intercede on my behalf, possess Dad, and drive this car back home. after an eternity we turn off some country road into a Subdivision; we roll past a huge chunk of marble with a huge brass plaque saying something like "Waterford," "Stone Ridge," or "Tiffany Lakes," and drive a road that wanders in lazy curves and loops through manicured lawns according to the plan of some architect/landscape designer. Dad parks in front of one of the massive empty Homes and we walk on the sidewalk to the driveway, up the driveway, then up another sidewalk from the driveway to the house. the hedges between this sidewalk and the Three-Car Garage are as tall as i am, but they give way to a beautiful garden at the front of the house.
i climb the steps of the All-Brick Front Patio and enter the house. the sunlight drips like a golden, irridescent mucus down the Beige Walls and the Stainless Steel appliances, pooling on the Italian Marble Countertops and the strip of heavy floor-protecting plastic that leads from room to room. in memory this viscous sunlight impedes progress along the narrow plastic path, making me stay longer in each room that my attention span at this age should allow for the viewing of arranged furniture simulating life in empty Homes.
i push through the gelatinous combination of sunlight and projected nostalgia, down the long hallway dividing the Entertaining Area of the house (the Dining Room large enough for an 18 foot table, the Living Room with the Two-Story Ceiling, the Entry Foyer with the Salvaged-Oak Front Door and the Hardwood Floor) from the Living Area (the Family Room with Floor-to-Ceiling windows looking onto a Square-Acre Backyard, and a man-made lake surrounded by the Square-Acre Backyards and Homes of the neighbors) and and into the Kitchen. a group of women in their sunday clothes are gathered around the Kitchen Island with the Italian Marble Countertop, watching the Realtor demonstrate the Adjustable Faucet on the Stainless Steel Double-Basin Sink. my mother is among them. she smiles at me and i wander through more Open Floor Plan rooms to the Back Stairway near the Three-Car Garage (not the Grand Stairway in the Entry Foyer).
i walk the row of empty bedrooms upstairs, each with its own incentives beyond private space. one has Bay Windows with Extra-Deep Window Seats, another boasts a 9x9 Sq Ft Walk-in Closet; each has its own Full Bathroom, each represents a brand new life of Upper-Middle Class suburban affluence.
We will pick one of these houses, based on factors far beyond my understanding, and we will fill it with our things and in this way we will know success. we will sit at the Kitchen Island and eat our food off Authentic Italian Marble. Mom will cook in one of the two Stainless Steel Ovens - maybe she will use both to prepare each meal. Dad will work in the dedicated Office with its Stained-Oak Panelling and he will make more money, and we will buy more things, and our things will pile up around us in one of these Homes in one of these Gated Communities. my friends' parents will learn the correct code to type into the security box that opens the gate so that my friends can visit me in this fortress.
we will sit in our Square-Acre Backyard and look at the man-made lake, and wave at the neighbors in their own Square-Acre Backyards, but we will not approach them. we will like to sit there, and sometimes we will turn around to look at our Home, and imagine all of our things safely stored inside, and we will be happy.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
"his vision of her ... kept widening its rings in his mind,"
i just read that line in a story called bluebeard in ireland by john updike.
thoughts do that, dont they? they tend to echo, ripple through time, to be considered for days and experimented upon in dreams.
anyway.
pearls show night before last was a lot of fun. i brought some bottles with me bc i like to take care of my man, but security stopped mr jim beam at the door - they checked both my whiskey and my veuve. the crowd was there for the headliner but the pearls won them, and thats always fun to see. after, johnny and marty and i ran some ninja shit and got the booze out of the security office and into the dressing room. if you ever need to sneak booze any where, i recommend those two. theyre dedicated and stealthy - mostly bc they always wear black. actually, no, theyre not stealthy at all, but they can be when the prize is whiskey.
oh, i heard scott weiland was at the same theatre that night, but im pretty sure i would recognize scott weiland if i saw him, and i didnt see anybody there who looked or sounded like the guy from stp.
spent all of yesterday in bed with my axman listening to the rain. there are beautiful pictures but im not going to share them with you. theyre Mine. you know that lou reed song that goes "its such a perfect day / im glad i spent it with you"? i had it stuck in my head the whole day. i know lou would hate that ive attached sentimentality to that song, and im sorry lou, but i am only human. i strive toward your standard of authenticity but i write on a google blog, im a sell-out like everybody else.
ive been getting some shit about this blog lately. again. lately. its all the fuckin same.
anyway, its coming back around to the question of why i tell the stories i tell, and whether theyre my stories at all.
in one sense this is a record of what i do, something i need personally because my memory of my own immediate history tends to be extremely inaccurate, if not completely missing.
but why publish that?
cynically, because a compelling blog is the key to a book deal. maybe my ego needs the constant feedback, maybe this is the only way i can say the things im too pussy to actually say, maybe i get off on the aggressive vulnerability of sharing secrets.
what i cannot stomach is that thought that im allowing myself to be used by the gaga-obsessed (those are two words that mean the same thing) for "access."
i cant tell you this enough:
i do not have access.
if thats what youre here for im embarrassed for both of us.
that show on wednesday precluded my trip to new orleans with my man, so we're now planning an upstate escape. except it keeps getting pushed back. sad face.
but the sun is coming out, and i just bought all this stuff to groom nelson. i was going to do it in the country but central park will do for today. and ill get to work again tonight, so thats good. check out this bone i got him. i cant figure out what animal it came from - the package said mammoth but im betting cow or horse.
sinking and sinking and sinking...
thoughts do that, dont they? they tend to echo, ripple through time, to be considered for days and experimented upon in dreams.
anyway.
pearls show night before last was a lot of fun. i brought some bottles with me bc i like to take care of my man, but security stopped mr jim beam at the door - they checked both my whiskey and my veuve. the crowd was there for the headliner but the pearls won them, and thats always fun to see. after, johnny and marty and i ran some ninja shit and got the booze out of the security office and into the dressing room. if you ever need to sneak booze any where, i recommend those two. theyre dedicated and stealthy - mostly bc they always wear black. actually, no, theyre not stealthy at all, but they can be when the prize is whiskey.
oh, i heard scott weiland was at the same theatre that night, but im pretty sure i would recognize scott weiland if i saw him, and i didnt see anybody there who looked or sounded like the guy from stp.
spent all of yesterday in bed with my axman listening to the rain. there are beautiful pictures but im not going to share them with you. theyre Mine. you know that lou reed song that goes "its such a perfect day / im glad i spent it with you"? i had it stuck in my head the whole day. i know lou would hate that ive attached sentimentality to that song, and im sorry lou, but i am only human. i strive toward your standard of authenticity but i write on a google blog, im a sell-out like everybody else.
ive been getting some shit about this blog lately. again. lately. its all the fuckin same.
anyway, its coming back around to the question of why i tell the stories i tell, and whether theyre my stories at all.
in one sense this is a record of what i do, something i need personally because my memory of my own immediate history tends to be extremely inaccurate, if not completely missing.
but why publish that?
cynically, because a compelling blog is the key to a book deal. maybe my ego needs the constant feedback, maybe this is the only way i can say the things im too pussy to actually say, maybe i get off on the aggressive vulnerability of sharing secrets.
what i cannot stomach is that thought that im allowing myself to be used by the gaga-obsessed (those are two words that mean the same thing) for "access."
i cant tell you this enough:
i do not have access.
if thats what youre here for im embarrassed for both of us.
that show on wednesday precluded my trip to new orleans with my man, so we're now planning an upstate escape. except it keeps getting pushed back. sad face.
but the sun is coming out, and i just bought all this stuff to groom nelson. i was going to do it in the country but central park will do for today. and ill get to work again tonight, so thats good. check out this bone i got him. i cant figure out what animal it came from - the package said mammoth but im betting cow or horse.
sinking and sinking and sinking...
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
a new gumball machine
i stayed up inexplicably late last night, reading and, um, "having some me time". so i woke up around noon and noticed a sore throat and runny nose - hello, head-cold. great.
so i started my day with a solid ass-fuck courtesy of orbitz and delta airlines, then walked the dog for awhile. he ran around with another local dane and they played and had a great time.
on the way home i needed to hit a bodega for chicken soup and peanut butter, which is what i use to get nelson to take his meds. i tied him to this huge gumball machine outside the bodega on the corner, and when i turned to walk inside nelson tripped over his leash, causing the machine the fall over. this scared the shit out of him, so he took off running. with the gumball machine. he dragged it on 106th st from amsterdam to columbus before i caught him.
so now i have to buy the bodega a new gumball machine. i tried to pay the guy off on the spot, but he wouldnt take cash. he did take my contact info and say hell send me the receipt.
ive been awake for about three hours and have been brutally fucked thrice. i surrender, universe. im going back to bed. ill try again tomorrow.
so i started my day with a solid ass-fuck courtesy of orbitz and delta airlines, then walked the dog for awhile. he ran around with another local dane and they played and had a great time.
on the way home i needed to hit a bodega for chicken soup and peanut butter, which is what i use to get nelson to take his meds. i tied him to this huge gumball machine outside the bodega on the corner, and when i turned to walk inside nelson tripped over his leash, causing the machine the fall over. this scared the shit out of him, so he took off running. with the gumball machine. he dragged it on 106th st from amsterdam to columbus before i caught him.
so now i have to buy the bodega a new gumball machine. i tried to pay the guy off on the spot, but he wouldnt take cash. he did take my contact info and say hell send me the receipt.
ive been awake for about three hours and have been brutally fucked thrice. i surrender, universe. im going back to bed. ill try again tomorrow.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
notes
woke up to nelson at the foot of the bed. he sleeps there now so he can be in front of the fan.
on his walk he snuck up on his nemesis, Bodega Cat.
one last note on this dog. hes fuuuuuuucking huge, yet people on the street constantly ask if he eats more than i do. this picture of his food should clear that up.
ok im done talking about my dog now. that was your daily dog update.
my parents were here this weekend and it was great. we didnt yell at each other at all AND nobody cried. pretty fucking huge for us.
in other news....
i think im constitutionally incapable of healthy relationships.
i think im opposed to healthy relaionships, actually.
maybe my problem is men, generally. you dont make any goddamn sense, so im thinking about switching teams. im obviously not implying that one can choose to be a lesbian. i just think i havent explored that side of my sexuality enough to know if theres anything there, and its about time i start. i know im mostly straight, but id like to see how far lez of hetero my sexuality goes.
obama plucked the wildflowers of hope from my soul, threw them down on the gaza strip, and drove a tank over them.
also, i listened to the radio the other day. you do know everyone can tell youre singing through your nose? everyone can tell. get a voice coach; im sure whoever decided that you were the girl for that label to have on the radio this month will buy you a great one.
on his walk he snuck up on his nemesis, Bodega Cat.
one last note on this dog. hes fuuuuuuucking huge, yet people on the street constantly ask if he eats more than i do. this picture of his food should clear that up.
ok im done talking about my dog now. that was your daily dog update.
my parents were here this weekend and it was great. we didnt yell at each other at all AND nobody cried. pretty fucking huge for us.
in other news....
i think im constitutionally incapable of healthy relationships.
i think im opposed to healthy relaionships, actually.
maybe my problem is men, generally. you dont make any goddamn sense, so im thinking about switching teams. im obviously not implying that one can choose to be a lesbian. i just think i havent explored that side of my sexuality enough to know if theres anything there, and its about time i start. i know im mostly straight, but id like to see how far lez of hetero my sexuality goes.
obama plucked the wildflowers of hope from my soul, threw them down on the gaza strip, and drove a tank over them.
also, i listened to the radio the other day. you do know everyone can tell youre singing through your nose? everyone can tell. get a voice coach; im sure whoever decided that you were the girl for that label to have on the radio this month will buy you a great one.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
smiley face
just last week i felt like id burned new york down and there was nothing left for me here right now, which is one of the reasons im planning this endless road trip.
but now im in love all over again with my city.
i think ill stay til july 1 instead of june 1. i want a little more time w my man and my town.
last wednesday night - the pearls / dmc show - i got nelson a sitter for the night. he had a sleepover with his friend billie from the dog park. billie's a 6 month old staffordshire; she's about 25 lbs of solid muscle and enthusiasm. and little tiny teeth.
also, this is the coolest bike ive ever seen:
but now im in love all over again with my city.
i think ill stay til july 1 instead of june 1. i want a little more time w my man and my town.
last wednesday night - the pearls / dmc show - i got nelson a sitter for the night. he had a sleepover with his friend billie from the dog park. billie's a 6 month old staffordshire; she's about 25 lbs of solid muscle and enthusiasm. and little tiny teeth.
also, this is the coolest bike ive ever seen:
Friday, May 13, 2011
notes from the day blogger was dead
blogger has been down for like 24 hours and its killing me.
i have had so many witticisms that have gone unshared.
its your loss, really, dear reader, so you should complain to google immediately.
obviously wednesday night was fantastic. the pearls played the webster hall studio live on wxpr (? i think, sorry, bad at promoting things) and dmc came on with them - huge.
my man killed, obviously. he wrote the best song the other day.
our new orleans trip will have to be delayed, but, rock and roll, so we'll deal with it.
im thinking about taking a much more official job that would mean significantly more money, but im worried about it being too real. the trick will be to decide how much money and leave no matter what as soon as i get that amount, and NOT to spend it all as soon as i get it on cabs, shoes, bar tabs, etc.
i have had so many witticisms that have gone unshared.
its your loss, really, dear reader, so you should complain to google immediately.
obviously wednesday night was fantastic. the pearls played the webster hall studio live on wxpr (? i think, sorry, bad at promoting things) and dmc came on with them - huge.
my man killed, obviously. he wrote the best song the other day.
our new orleans trip will have to be delayed, but, rock and roll, so we'll deal with it.
im thinking about taking a much more official job that would mean significantly more money, but im worried about it being too real. the trick will be to decide how much money and leave no matter what as soon as i get that amount, and NOT to spend it all as soon as i get it on cabs, shoes, bar tabs, etc.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
another dark revelation of age
it occurred to me today while i was talking on the phone (which is something i do once every week just to keep in practice) that my death will not be newsworthy. i was banking on the "adorable, perky ohio teen and columbia student brutally killed / kidnapped / overdosed / fell into a sewer in the big city" coverage but i just realized that if i get any coverage at all it will be "twenty-something junkie stripper hit by taxi" or as an "also dead."
thats a tough wake-up call.
thats a tough wake-up call.
wtfuck is going on
i just watched the daily show on hulu, it and the colbert report are the only tv i watch, i hate television, so i watch it on hulu. (note to my parents, who im sure are reading this by now, hulu is a website on the internets.) during the last ad break - hulu has adbreaks and theyre getting longer and longer, idk if you guys are huge fucking nerds like i am and notice this shit but there are now four or even five ads crammed in these ad breaks and its like "this is the reason i dont fucking watch television," the internet is supposed to be a safe place (yes, i know im writing this on a blog completely owned by google. fuck you) where im not being brainwashed into buying and buying and buying til my eyes roll out my head and my ears start bleeding - when the fuck did they start jamming these blatant fucking 30 second spots of aneurysm-inducing - ok. anyway, so im watching the daily show, and during the third adbreak this mcdonalds ad came on that yelled at me for watching it. im not fucking kidding. this is real and i hope you have a nice bunker lined up. i know i make a little note every time i walk by one of those fallout shelter signs in manhattan - its coming sooner than you think and you better know where to run.
dear probably-reasonable people at mcdonalds.
i dont want to watch your ads. i dont want to eat your food. watching your ads will not make me eat your food, it will drive me toward radical crunchy hippy -esque action against your company.
-a
miraculously, my mind didnt explode, so i sat through that insurance spot with the overt 'wind of my soul' rip-off that makes you think a drunken cat stevens wants you to buy this insurance because they had to change three notes of the song so he cant sue them.
but then, i saw a 45 second spot for new aveeno shampoo "with lupine herbal extracts to protect your color." this is when i had to open this blog and just ask you, world, what the fuck?
seriously. wwwwwwwwhat the FUCK
we all know what that word means. you cant find a word youre not personally familiar with, assume everybody is else is as dumb as you are, slap it on some shampoo, and wait for the money to roll in. you cannot do that.
(i mean, obviously, you CAN, and plenty of people do and seem to be very successful until they read the stats on american academic achievements and a little voice in their heads chirps up and says "you did that! you did it! its your fault!" keep drinking asshole.)
you have a fundamental moral obligation to your fellow man to not pronounce lupine incorrectly and put it on a shampoo label. the word means wolf-like. unless you are putting wolf semen in that shampoo to keep my hair extra shiny - no, you know what, you have a fundamental moral obligation to your fellow man to not put wolf semen in his shampoo. i know i dont fucking need it - obviously i dont need much from my shampoo, but even when i had hair, i didnt need all that shit in there. i just picture a blundering old british scientist in bleached khakis and glasses and one of those really wide-brim hats stumbling through the rainforest with a machete, trampling through the delicate ecosystems of the undergrowth, grabbing fruits unknown to humanity and sending them back to england with a note that says
"tastes dreadful, possible use in shampoo?"
dear possibly-reasonable people at cosmetic companies,
leave the ylang-ylang where you found it! dont put it in my shampoo - nobody here needs ylang-ylang like the ecosystem you fucking destroyed to get it, so fucking put it back. you people are making me nuts
-a
dear probably-reasonable people at mcdonalds.
i dont want to watch your ads. i dont want to eat your food. watching your ads will not make me eat your food, it will drive me toward radical crunchy hippy -esque action against your company.
-a
miraculously, my mind didnt explode, so i sat through that insurance spot with the overt 'wind of my soul' rip-off that makes you think a drunken cat stevens wants you to buy this insurance because they had to change three notes of the song so he cant sue them.
but then, i saw a 45 second spot for new aveeno shampoo "with lupine herbal extracts to protect your color." this is when i had to open this blog and just ask you, world, what the fuck?
seriously. wwwwwwwwhat the FUCK
we all know what that word means. you cant find a word youre not personally familiar with, assume everybody is else is as dumb as you are, slap it on some shampoo, and wait for the money to roll in. you cannot do that.
(i mean, obviously, you CAN, and plenty of people do and seem to be very successful until they read the stats on american academic achievements and a little voice in their heads chirps up and says "you did that! you did it! its your fault!" keep drinking asshole.)
you have a fundamental moral obligation to your fellow man to not pronounce lupine incorrectly and put it on a shampoo label. the word means wolf-like. unless you are putting wolf semen in that shampoo to keep my hair extra shiny - no, you know what, you have a fundamental moral obligation to your fellow man to not put wolf semen in his shampoo. i know i dont fucking need it - obviously i dont need much from my shampoo, but even when i had hair, i didnt need all that shit in there. i just picture a blundering old british scientist in bleached khakis and glasses and one of those really wide-brim hats stumbling through the rainforest with a machete, trampling through the delicate ecosystems of the undergrowth, grabbing fruits unknown to humanity and sending them back to england with a note that says
"tastes dreadful, possible use in shampoo?"
dear possibly-reasonable people at cosmetic companies,
leave the ylang-ylang where you found it! dont put it in my shampoo - nobody here needs ylang-ylang like the ecosystem you fucking destroyed to get it, so fucking put it back. you people are making me nuts
-a
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
our own layer of hell
i just saw lupe fiasco and skylar grey's performance from the colbert report last night and it kinda blew my mind.
there it is. so i just watched that and am right now stealing his record from him. i liked it, i thought he said some valuable shit and i loved the band and i recognize that he worked his ass off making this, yet im stealing it. i even took the clip off youtube instead of colbertnation.com so i could embed it - so i could really really steal it.
there is a special layer of hell reserved for me solely because of this.
so id just like to say that im sorry, musicians, that your talent is so rarely rewarded, and im sorry for not paying for a single song in the last four years - including to hear it played live. i hope that you, collectively, will accept my backstage blowjobs instead, because i just cant be paying for your music. also, i hope you dont mind, but i grabbed some food from catering for later. xoxxx
there it is. so i just watched that and am right now stealing his record from him. i liked it, i thought he said some valuable shit and i loved the band and i recognize that he worked his ass off making this, yet im stealing it. i even took the clip off youtube instead of colbertnation.com so i could embed it - so i could really really steal it.
there is a special layer of hell reserved for me solely because of this.
so id just like to say that im sorry, musicians, that your talent is so rarely rewarded, and im sorry for not paying for a single song in the last four years - including to hear it played live. i hope that you, collectively, will accept my backstage blowjobs instead, because i just cant be paying for your music. also, i hope you dont mind, but i grabbed some food from catering for later. xoxxx
Monday, May 9, 2011
Now I don't know where I'm going / All I know is I'll hit the ground running
excuse the day off, dear reader. im a little burned-out on writing. ive been at it for several consecutive hours and i dont have many words left.
i also spent much of yesterday working out the details of my upcoming road trip. its gonna be incredible. i cant wait.
i also spent much of yesterday working out the details of my upcoming road trip. its gonna be incredible. i cant wait.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
that being said,
i was greatly encouraged by how well work went last wednesday, and i think if i really work at saving money i can leave the city by mid june. id like to head to ohio first, but go up through upstate new york and maybe see niagara falls on the way. then ill drop nelson with my parents and spend a week with anne maries family in columbus, go back up for a little more time with my parents, then go to chicago and (hopefully) pick up ali, then south - maybe aim for nashville?
ive had lucinda willaims four wheels and a gravel road stuck in my head all morning.
im also going to new orleans in about a week and a half with the new man which is super exciting. itll be nonstop fun and games.
i guess im mostly looking forward to getting out of town because of my room mate situation. i prefer to just not interact with them, which works pretty well, but kelsey was here with them for a little while i was working. they made their first impression on her by talking shit about me. like shes not gonna tell me? i never understood why people do that, but i dont understand a lot of their lives.
living with them has taught me a lot though. there are some fundamental differences between people that cannot be overcome, but theyre also only revealed by cohabitation. and ive learned how to deflect passive aggression and to not let other people control how i feel. i have a long way to go, but i am getting better.
ive had lucinda willaims four wheels and a gravel road stuck in my head all morning.
im also going to new orleans in about a week and a half with the new man which is super exciting. itll be nonstop fun and games.
i guess im mostly looking forward to getting out of town because of my room mate situation. i prefer to just not interact with them, which works pretty well, but kelsey was here with them for a little while i was working. they made their first impression on her by talking shit about me. like shes not gonna tell me? i never understood why people do that, but i dont understand a lot of their lives.
living with them has taught me a lot though. there are some fundamental differences between people that cannot be overcome, but theyre also only revealed by cohabitation. and ive learned how to deflect passive aggression and to not let other people control how i feel. i have a long way to go, but i am getting better.
an urgent note to the reader
i know some of you are reading this blog hoping for stories about my friends, and im now asking you to leave. this is not for you.
those of you here to read about me, what i do, what i think, and who i am can read on, though i cant imagine why you would. my life is specifically un-interesting. you'll mostly read about and look at pictures of my dog. the rest is just me talking through my experiences and relationships, trying to figure out what they mean. this is the other half of a conversation you will not possibly understand unless you know me more intimately than i think you do, and you certainly won't understand if you are not a significant part of my daily life.
so, yeah, this exists to let my stalker know my moods. and for complete strangers growing up in shitty places like the one where i grew up, for crazy people who cant figure out why theyre crazy, for fuckin junkies and drug addicts trying to feel things again, so they know theres more people like them out in the world, and we're out here trying to figure out it too.
those of you here to read about me, what i do, what i think, and who i am can read on, though i cant imagine why you would. my life is specifically un-interesting. you'll mostly read about and look at pictures of my dog. the rest is just me talking through my experiences and relationships, trying to figure out what they mean. this is the other half of a conversation you will not possibly understand unless you know me more intimately than i think you do, and you certainly won't understand if you are not a significant part of my daily life.
so, yeah, this exists to let my stalker know my moods. and for complete strangers growing up in shitty places like the one where i grew up, for crazy people who cant figure out why theyre crazy, for fuckin junkies and drug addicts trying to feel things again, so they know theres more people like them out in the world, and we're out here trying to figure out it too.
Friday, May 6, 2011
things get better
made twice as much money as i thought i would wednesday night, so yesterday kelsey and i went wig shopping. i bought a long blonde curly one, a rock n roll straight brown one, and a hot pink bob.
then we went to the park with the dog. we ate bento boxes, he ate a stick.
last night we went out with the guy i accidentally stood up the other day and one of kelseys friends. we went to the bar down the street, then went down to 90th for fantastic vietnamese food. after that we may have gone back to the bar? im pretty sure we stopped at a bodega because there are cigarettes here and i dont smoke. anyway, kelsey and her friend walked Dog for me so i actually to sleep in past 8 am!! she's so amazing. its nice to be reminded that real friends are actually nice to each other.
more to follow on my increasingly fascinating readership.
yes, dear reader, you are fascinating to me. particularly your motives.
then we went to the park with the dog. we ate bento boxes, he ate a stick.
last night we went out with the guy i accidentally stood up the other day and one of kelseys friends. we went to the bar down the street, then went down to 90th for fantastic vietnamese food. after that we may have gone back to the bar? im pretty sure we stopped at a bodega because there are cigarettes here and i dont smoke. anyway, kelsey and her friend walked Dog for me so i actually to sleep in past 8 am!! she's so amazing. its nice to be reminded that real friends are actually nice to each other.
more to follow on my increasingly fascinating readership.
yes, dear reader, you are fascinating to me. particularly your motives.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
guilt
i accidentally stood somebody up last night. i took a shower and got dressed and meant to just close my eyes for 20 minutes and slept until 9:30 this morning. i feel awful about it - i think this one has some integrity and im really enjoying learning about him and i stood him up for a date that's been planned for three days. also we have a trip planned in a few weeks - we'll see what happens.
ive been instructed to wear a cocktail dress tonight, as its 'date night' at the strip club. adorable.
more importantly - kelsey's coming tonight! she's the greatest and im very much looking forward to it.
also, rain + small apartment + big dog = smelly apartment
as im writing this i think im ending the best relationship ive ever had with another person. i dont know. i think itll make both of our lives better, but it sure sucks.
sometimes you know right when you wake up that the day is going to hurt all the way through.
ive been instructed to wear a cocktail dress tonight, as its 'date night' at the strip club. adorable.
more importantly - kelsey's coming tonight! she's the greatest and im very much looking forward to it.
also, rain + small apartment + big dog = smelly apartment
as im writing this i think im ending the best relationship ive ever had with another person. i dont know. i think itll make both of our lives better, but it sure sucks.
sometimes you know right when you wake up that the day is going to hurt all the way through.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
in other news
i know im s'posed to care about osama being dead, but i think killing him now was bad politics. obama couldve gotten him whenever he wanted and he shouldnt have done it now. plus, 'buried at sea' is a little mysterious - has anybody seen the body? anyway, this is more worthy of your attention than this bullshit about osama because though he's the mascot he sure as hell isn't the leader of terrorism - ANYway, this is more worthy of your attention:
i hung out with leigh and richard yesterday, which is always inspiring. its good to be around people with optimism without feeling them assessing me as a competitor. genuine and funny - i like them.
left there for a dog walk with jeremy, about whom im absolutely crazy.
tomorrow i have to present a 12 page paper i havent written yet about a topic in post-feminism. suggestions welcome.
to do well a person needs to WANT to do well. to attain success you need to work toward it. jefferson put it right at the beginning of the declaration of independence, "all men are created equal, ... they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, ... among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." Humanity is not entitled to happiness itself, he must PURSUE it. maybe man does not deserve happiness, maybe we're not capable of comprehending it - or maybe jefferson hadnt yet understood happiness and its pursuit is all he knew.
what kind of world-view is that? is this the flaw in the american dream that led my generation to abandon it? to follow this fundamental text, this pillar of the american identity, is to consent to the impossibility of happiness, but to work toward it endlessly anyway. and everyone is ok with this?
the american dream - to achieve greater success than your father had and to provide your son with greater opportunities than you had, all with the knowledge that you owe it to your predecessors to pursue happiness. so you define happiness as success because you have to. you have to merge the burden of opportunity with the responsibility of the american dream.
i have to wonder if this curse of unattainable happiness is a specifically american problem or if it extends to everyone. i refuse to believe that the constant striving without ever grasping is what's meant by the 'human condition.' if thats true i see very little purpose to life generally.
i got started on this because of school, and this paper more immediately. to succeed you have to want to succeed. the work defines the degree of success so you have to be as dedicated to the work as to the success. im not. i dont care whether i impress my professor, or score higher than my classmates, or follow the rules of research and composition to synthesize the same arguments from the same texts that have been used for decades. im not interested.
i am looking for answers, but theyre not the kind that columbia can provide. i never even wanted columbia. when i was in high school it was never going to be columbia. i was deciding between brown and georgetown for years but the night before the early decision deadline the columbia rowing coach called me and said i was in. i was so excited to have a guaranteed ivy league acceptance i took it and the whole decision was over. i never fit here though. i thought for the first two years that i didnt fit because i was a club kid and a drug addict, but now im neither and its still not right.
kelsey is coming here on wednesday!!! im so fucking excited. if i spent all my time with people as genuinely good as kelsey is i would be so fucking stable and happy. i cant come close to describing the depth of her honesty or enthusiasm, but i will say that i can count on one hand the number of people i've known in my life with true integrity, and she's one of them. she's also a fucking riot so i know we'll have a lot of fun. unfortunately i have to work wednesday and thursday night, but she wont leave until i think sunday so we'll still get a lot of time together. she just sent this picture
shes one of a very few people who like my jokes. thats all for now. i suppose i ought to write something for this class.
i hung out with leigh and richard yesterday, which is always inspiring. its good to be around people with optimism without feeling them assessing me as a competitor. genuine and funny - i like them.
left there for a dog walk with jeremy, about whom im absolutely crazy.
tomorrow i have to present a 12 page paper i havent written yet about a topic in post-feminism. suggestions welcome.
to do well a person needs to WANT to do well. to attain success you need to work toward it. jefferson put it right at the beginning of the declaration of independence, "all men are created equal, ... they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, ... among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." Humanity is not entitled to happiness itself, he must PURSUE it. maybe man does not deserve happiness, maybe we're not capable of comprehending it - or maybe jefferson hadnt yet understood happiness and its pursuit is all he knew.
what kind of world-view is that? is this the flaw in the american dream that led my generation to abandon it? to follow this fundamental text, this pillar of the american identity, is to consent to the impossibility of happiness, but to work toward it endlessly anyway. and everyone is ok with this?
the american dream - to achieve greater success than your father had and to provide your son with greater opportunities than you had, all with the knowledge that you owe it to your predecessors to pursue happiness. so you define happiness as success because you have to. you have to merge the burden of opportunity with the responsibility of the american dream.
i have to wonder if this curse of unattainable happiness is a specifically american problem or if it extends to everyone. i refuse to believe that the constant striving without ever grasping is what's meant by the 'human condition.' if thats true i see very little purpose to life generally.
i got started on this because of school, and this paper more immediately. to succeed you have to want to succeed. the work defines the degree of success so you have to be as dedicated to the work as to the success. im not. i dont care whether i impress my professor, or score higher than my classmates, or follow the rules of research and composition to synthesize the same arguments from the same texts that have been used for decades. im not interested.
i am looking for answers, but theyre not the kind that columbia can provide. i never even wanted columbia. when i was in high school it was never going to be columbia. i was deciding between brown and georgetown for years but the night before the early decision deadline the columbia rowing coach called me and said i was in. i was so excited to have a guaranteed ivy league acceptance i took it and the whole decision was over. i never fit here though. i thought for the first two years that i didnt fit because i was a club kid and a drug addict, but now im neither and its still not right.
kelsey is coming here on wednesday!!! im so fucking excited. if i spent all my time with people as genuinely good as kelsey is i would be so fucking stable and happy. i cant come close to describing the depth of her honesty or enthusiasm, but i will say that i can count on one hand the number of people i've known in my life with true integrity, and she's one of them. she's also a fucking riot so i know we'll have a lot of fun. unfortunately i have to work wednesday and thursday night, but she wont leave until i think sunday so we'll still get a lot of time together. she just sent this picture
shes one of a very few people who like my jokes. thats all for now. i suppose i ought to write something for this class.
thwarted again.
i had planned to get on this blog and write a very specific and angry open letter to a certain former lover. we never dated, but manage to break up every two weeks or so. its a treat.
anyway, i reached into my purse to take my birth control while this page was loading and found TWO half-finished packs of pills. i had two packs in here and have been taking one from each without realizing it for the past two weeks.
this revelation that ive been standing in the middle of an hormonal battleground for the past two weeks does not, in any way, impact my assessment of this mans character. im sure he actually is the worst for about a thousand different reasons. but on the off chance that my hormones have had slightly more control over me than i thought, im going to wait to list every instance of betrayal in our extended non-relationship. this is disappointing though. i do not like to be wrong, and this raises the possibility i may be. im sure im not though.
anyway, i reached into my purse to take my birth control while this page was loading and found TWO half-finished packs of pills. i had two packs in here and have been taking one from each without realizing it for the past two weeks.
this revelation that ive been standing in the middle of an hormonal battleground for the past two weeks does not, in any way, impact my assessment of this mans character. im sure he actually is the worst for about a thousand different reasons. but on the off chance that my hormones have had slightly more control over me than i thought, im going to wait to list every instance of betrayal in our extended non-relationship. this is disappointing though. i do not like to be wrong, and this raises the possibility i may be. im sure im not though.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
short fiction, three
(note: names have been removed to protect our doomed characters' dignity)
green american apparel boxer briefs with white elastic waistband, from ( )'s suitcase, ( ) hotel, los angeles california, mid-june 2010
pair of long denim pants, rolled to ankle-length and also at the waist, with a larqe square of navy and white pinstripe denim sewed with red thread to the bottom of a much larger hole in the left knee, also traced in broken red stitches. the pants are more successfully patched with the navy and white pinstripe denim at the left hip and right knee. no apparent attempt has been made to patch the growing tear in the upper right seat of the pants. they are from ( )'s extensive collection of denim pants, obtained the night i left his apartment on ( ) ave and ( ) street, above that porn store, for florida in december 2009.
green american apparel boxer briefs with white elastic waistband, from ( )'s suitcase, ( ) hotel, los angeles california, mid-june 2010.
white athletic sock.
ankle-height ribbed wool sock.
grey hanes t-shirt with the collar torn out and the front pocket partially ripped off by ( ), most likely from a night i crashed at his loft in ( ).
green hoodie, from rags-a-go-go on west 14th street in manhattan.
red beret i insisted ( ) lend to me one night as i left her apartment because i was coked off my face and it was cold outside. that must have been january or february 2011 and i havent given it back yet, though i intend to.
pair of frye brown leather ankle height motorcycle boots, size US 6.5, given to me as a christmas by parents when i was 15.
grey cotton jersey jumpsuit with tapered ankles and skinny shoulder straps, purchased with bio-mom while i was in california for spring break, we spent that whole day deciding for ourselves what we wanted and actually doing it. we were free and powerful and it made us happy. two days later i was too sad to look at her and had to go home.
pair of red canvas tom's, size US 6.5, purchased on that same day with bio-mom, mid july 2011. she'd been trying to convince me to get some for a long time and im glad i finally consented. toms donates a pair of shows for every pair purchased. it does make me sad that i never just buy poor children shoes and i basically had to be bribed to help, but its only catholics who think that the motivation behind a kindness is as important as the kind act itself.
one boy scout navy blue long sleeve button-down uniform short made for a first, or maybe second, grade boy. the patch on the left upper arm depicts the skyline of toledo ohio. found at the goodwill society on the east side of toledo ohio. toledo troop one. the sleeves are rolled to elbow length.
pair of hanes navy thermal long underwear for men, purchased at a thrift store in a ski town in mammoth national park, where i spent time during the summer of 2010 with bio-mama and that side of the family.
pair of long denim pants, rolled to ankle-length and also at the waist, with a larqe square of navy and white pinstripe denim sewed with red thread to the bottom of a much larger hole in the left knee, also traced in broken red stitches. the pants are more successfully patched with the navy and white pinstripe denim at the left hip and right knee. no apparent attempt has been made to patch the growing tear in the upper right seat of the pants. they are from ( )'s extensive collection of denim pants, obtained the night i left his apartment on ( ) ave and ( ) street, above that porn store, for florida in december 2009.
maroon long-sleeved thermal t shirt, found one morning of summer 2009 on the floor of a williamsburg loft i shared with a rotating clan of kids.
one blue flannel from a portland, oregon goodwill, purchased while i was celebrating my 21st birthday traveling with ( ).
green eisenhower jacket, another birthday gift from my parents in 2009, also from rags-a-go-go on 14th st in manhattan.
pair of frye brown leather ankle height motorcycle boots, size US 6.5, given to me as a christmas by parents when i was 15.
brown corduroy backpack that ive had since 2001. i dont remember its origin.
double-length string of authentic pearls, looped three times around my neck. they were a gift from my father for starting columbia. they arrived in the mail at the end of my first week of classes.
black silk b-cup bra from victoria's secret, my first and only real bra. my mom bought it for me to wear to "job interviews, or presentations... you have to have at least one bra, alex. please." the left strap has lost its elasticity and tends to fall, and the cups are stiff enough, and large enough, that they create an empty gap in front of my tits leaving my nipples visible to anyone tall enough to peer in.
black cotton panties with a lace waistband, ruched down the middle of the back. these panties tend to be a crowd pleaser. audiences tend to like them.
one pair of sheer black thigh-high stockings with a seam down the back and wide lace bands at the top of each to cover the strips of sticky rubber that holds them up. they're both covered in snags, runs, and holes to the point of near-disintegration.
pair of black patent leather platform louboutin stilletos, size US 6.5, a christmas / welcome-home gift from bio-mama on my first christmas with them, last year in 2010.
pair of hanes navy thermal long underwear for men, purchased at a thrift store in a ski town in mammoth national park, where i spent time summer 2010 with bio-mama and that side of the family.
pair of long denim pants, rolled to ankle-length and also at the waist, with a larqe square of navy and white pinstripe denim sewed with red thread to the bottom of a much larger hole in the left knee, also traced in broken red stitches. the pants are more successfully patched with the navy and white pinstripe denim at the left hip and right knee. no apparent attempt has been made to patch the growing tear in the upper right seat of the pants. they are from ( )'s extensive collection of denim pants, obtained the night i left his apartment on ( ) ave and ( ) street, above that porn store, for florida in december 2009.
maroon long-sleeved thermal t shirt, found one morning of summer 2009 on the floor of a williamsburg loft i shared with a rotating clan of kids.
one blue flannel from a portland, oregon goodwill, purchased while i was celebrating my 21st birthday traveling with ( ).
green eisenhower jacket, another birthday gift from my parents in 2009, also from rags-a-go-go on 14th st in manhattan.
pair of frye brown leather ankle height motorcycle boots, size US 6.5, given to me as a christmas by parents when i was 15.
brown corduroy backpack that ive had since 2001. i dont remember its origin.
one blue cotton bath towel.
one pair men's calvin klein boxer briefs, pink, with purple paisley-style designs and waistband. these belong to ( ). i borrowed them from him when went directly to his apartment from gogo dancing at st jerome's (may have been trash) one night in december 2009 because i didnt want to sleep in sequined hot pants. when he lent them to me he looked right into me and told me this pair is not only his favorite - its endowed with sentimental value. he made me swear not to keep them. dont worry, ( ), i haven't forgotten, and ill give them back. i swear.
green american apparel boxer briefs with white elastic waistband, from ( )'s suitcase, ( ) hotel, los angeles california, mid-june 2010
pair of long denim pants, rolled to ankle-length and also at the waist, with a larqe square of navy and white pinstripe denim sewed with red thread to the bottom of a much larger hole in the left knee, also traced in broken red stitches. the pants are more successfully patched with the navy and white pinstripe denim at the left hip and right knee. no apparent attempt has been made to patch the growing tear in the upper right seat of the pants. they are from ( )'s extensive collection of denim pants, obtained the night i left his apartment on ( ) ave and ( ) street, above that porn store, for florida in december 2009.
green american apparel boxer briefs with white elastic waistband, from ( )'s suitcase, ( ) hotel, los angeles california, mid-june 2010.
white athletic sock.
ankle-height ribbed wool sock.
grey hanes t-shirt with the collar torn out and the front pocket partially ripped off by ( ), most likely from a night i crashed at his loft in ( ).
green hoodie, from rags-a-go-go on west 14th street in manhattan.
red beret i insisted ( ) lend to me one night as i left her apartment because i was coked off my face and it was cold outside. that must have been january or february 2011 and i havent given it back yet, though i intend to.
pair of frye brown leather ankle height motorcycle boots, size US 6.5, given to me as a christmas by parents when i was 15.
grey cotton jersey jumpsuit with tapered ankles and skinny shoulder straps, purchased with bio-mom while i was in california for spring break, we spent that whole day deciding for ourselves what we wanted and actually doing it. we were free and powerful and it made us happy. two days later i was too sad to look at her and had to go home.
pair of red canvas tom's, size US 6.5, purchased on that same day with bio-mom, mid july 2011. she'd been trying to convince me to get some for a long time and im glad i finally consented. toms donates a pair of shows for every pair purchased. it does make me sad that i never just buy poor children shoes and i basically had to be bribed to help, but its only catholics who think that the motivation behind a kindness is as important as the kind act itself.
one boy scout navy blue long sleeve button-down uniform short made for a first, or maybe second, grade boy. the patch on the left upper arm depicts the skyline of toledo ohio. found at the goodwill society on the east side of toledo ohio. toledo troop one. the sleeves are rolled to elbow length.
pair of hanes navy thermal long underwear for men, purchased at a thrift store in a ski town in mammoth national park, where i spent time during the summer of 2010 with bio-mama and that side of the family.
pair of long denim pants, rolled to ankle-length and also at the waist, with a larqe square of navy and white pinstripe denim sewed with red thread to the bottom of a much larger hole in the left knee, also traced in broken red stitches. the pants are more successfully patched with the navy and white pinstripe denim at the left hip and right knee. no apparent attempt has been made to patch the growing tear in the upper right seat of the pants. they are from ( )'s extensive collection of denim pants, obtained the night i left his apartment on ( ) ave and ( ) street, above that porn store, for florida in december 2009.
maroon long-sleeved thermal t shirt, found one morning of summer 2009 on the floor of a williamsburg loft i shared with a rotating clan of kids.
one blue flannel from a portland, oregon goodwill, purchased while i was celebrating my 21st birthday traveling with ( ).
green eisenhower jacket, another birthday gift from my parents in 2009, also from rags-a-go-go on 14th st in manhattan.
pair of frye brown leather ankle height motorcycle boots, size US 6.5, given to me as a christmas by parents when i was 15.
brown corduroy backpack that ive had since 2001. i dont remember its origin.
double-length string of authentic pearls, looped three times around my neck. they were a gift from my father for starting columbia. they arrived in the mail at the end of my first week of classes.
black silk b-cup bra from victoria's secret, my first and only real bra. my mom bought it for me to wear to "job interviews, or presentations... you have to have at least one bra, alex. please." the left strap has lost its elasticity and tends to fall, and the cups are stiff enough, and large enough, that they create an empty gap in front of my tits leaving my nipples visible to anyone tall enough to peer in.
black cotton panties with a lace waistband, ruched down the middle of the back. these panties tend to be a crowd pleaser. audiences tend to like them.
one pair of sheer black thigh-high stockings with a seam down the back and wide lace bands at the top of each to cover the strips of sticky rubber that holds them up. they're both covered in snags, runs, and holes to the point of near-disintegration.
pair of black patent leather platform louboutin stilletos, size US 6.5, a christmas / welcome-home gift from bio-mama on my first christmas with them, last year in 2010.
pair of hanes navy thermal long underwear for men, purchased at a thrift store in a ski town in mammoth national park, where i spent time summer 2010 with bio-mama and that side of the family.
pair of long denim pants, rolled to ankle-length and also at the waist, with a larqe square of navy and white pinstripe denim sewed with red thread to the bottom of a much larger hole in the left knee, also traced in broken red stitches. the pants are more successfully patched with the navy and white pinstripe denim at the left hip and right knee. no apparent attempt has been made to patch the growing tear in the upper right seat of the pants. they are from ( )'s extensive collection of denim pants, obtained the night i left his apartment on ( ) ave and ( ) street, above that porn store, for florida in december 2009.
maroon long-sleeved thermal t shirt, found one morning of summer 2009 on the floor of a williamsburg loft i shared with a rotating clan of kids.
one blue flannel from a portland, oregon goodwill, purchased while i was celebrating my 21st birthday traveling with ( ).
green eisenhower jacket, another birthday gift from my parents in 2009, also from rags-a-go-go on 14th st in manhattan.
pair of frye brown leather ankle height motorcycle boots, size US 6.5, given to me as a christmas by parents when i was 15.
brown corduroy backpack that ive had since 2001. i dont remember its origin.
one blue cotton bath towel.
one pair men's calvin klein boxer briefs, pink, with purple paisley-style designs and waistband. these belong to ( ). i borrowed them from him when went directly to his apartment from gogo dancing at st jerome's (may have been trash) one night in december 2009 because i didnt want to sleep in sequined hot pants. when he lent them to me he looked right into me and told me this pair is not only his favorite - its endowed with sentimental value. he made me swear not to keep them. dont worry, ( ), i haven't forgotten, and ill give them back. i swear.
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