hair snaked down the fire escape.

Okay; hello.

Already there is a summer sun: begun by burning a stripe into my shoulder. Fruit stripe gum (if you smell me close).

I am starting The Bruise File. "You have files for everything."
I am aware. I bruise so easily and they come in shapes and colors and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I took a few pictures. Auto immune diseases make your body do really weird things.
It makes me very weak sometimes. I took my Humira this evening. It was a stinging jet of glaring fluid subcutaneously splaying it's dreamy fingers.

Is it strange that the longer in this life I take the subway, the more I become paranoid about it? I've been riding that piece of musclefoil for years, but my anxiety never ceases. Some strange French (he said he was) guy with a giant plank of wood decided it would be a good time to discuss the swine flu and mumble about his ten dollar watch. "Does it look cheap?" He asked me where I was born. I told him right here. He said "Brooklyn?" I told him no, because a. we were not in Brooklyn yet, we were calmly rocketing from Manhattan to Brooklyn and at any second that would be true.... and b. NO I WAS BORN ON THIS TRAIN. I had this image of myself being birthed with the helping hands of construction workers getting off work and a business suit type named Leonard.
Then I snapped back to less than rapt attention.
Then the girl in between us told him to shut up.

Late that night Ian and Fanny and Sasha and some more people and I were drinking and eating and having a great time. I was in the process of erasing all the bad goo out. Flushing my brain pudding into my mush mouth. It was great.

THEN: this morning I woke up sweating next to Fanny. I had dreamed that a man had kidnapped me an beaten me with a hairbrush. Where does this shit come from? I tried to go back into the dream and resolve it, but the damage was done. Why had I gotten into a red pick-up truck with this man who had scary teeth? A perfect stranger.

I have really enjoyed the people I know thoroughly. I have a handful and it makes a fist when I feel a bit alone or compromised. I work on flexing that hand. Bringing my toes justice. Walking it out.

I'm almost done with this Didion and ready for a swap with Shakti. Shakti is a real princess peach. I think she might say "fail" too much because it is very "win" when we stroll the streets. A positive influence, yes. Yes.

This week:
Alex shaved his head, I drank some iced chai, oh spice, spice, I shaved my legs and repaired them with cocoa butter. I climbed to the very top of my bed and blanketed my face in soft fabrics I will tuck under tomorrow. I went to the gym and used a noisy machine and wasn't that embarrassed because it's the YMCA. Someone contacted me to be a babysitter/ companion for a 13 y/o girl and a 16 y/o boy but I am not going to reply because 16 is a really hormonal age and I would be shuffling them to the beach and taking them on errands which sounds great except for a scary rogue erection or being close to the tech generation of autotuned lives. I live pretty skifree so I think it would be a bad idea.
humm. I have a new door.
I have my CR from my CR/NC
working with the kids tomorrow. i want to take them to the beach. hunt for seaglass amongst the dime bags. I'll bring my camera.
Oh<
I have recovered sufficiently enough to interact now. SUMMER SUN: Let's Burn it Down

Desperation/Consumerism

Done did it again.
MY EXPLANATIONS:

1. CAR REPAIR:
My car got hit on Westchester Ave. and Waters Place around 2:50 pm by an MTA Truck (says an eyewitness). The bumper got completely torn off and I had to wait for the cops from the 25th precinct for 3 hours. They are huge douchebags. My mom and dad actually both showed up to console me (I just bought this fucking car on my credit card- need it for work and to get to the subway). The hilarity in this is that they rarely see one another. Instead of yelling at each other, my father yelled at me and my mom fell asleep in the car listening to the radio. I'll take the compromise, thanks. So, I drove home with my back seat collapsed and my bumper sticking through to almost my shoulder. Two guys gave me business cars for their shop. One was driving a tow truck. One guy asked me "whaaa happened that thing get hit" and I told him that A DRUNKEN PIGEON LANDED ON IT AND THE LOAD WAS TOO MUCH TO BEAR. I fucking hate the Bronx, hate cops, hate having cars out of commission, hate calling my dad in times of crisis.
Estimated repair costs: Arm, Leg, Health -5.

2. Melvins:
Didn't get any merch, but I did put more on my metrocard than I should have. Tisk Tisk. GOOD NEWS: on top of seeing Dillard and Dunn play with the melvins, I'm sitting around st. marks eating the crappiest pizza known to man, when who do I see? THE BRO FROM OBITUARY. WHAT?
Estimated cost: 35 dollars, give/take. Health - 3.

3. Victoria's Secret:
Swimsuit. Bikini, actually. God only knows why I must be closest to naked when I feel closest to the sun. I'm supposedly going away this summer, but like everything else, including the huge hole in my wall and everything wrapped in plastic: "are things really going anywhere?"
Estimated Cost: 45 dollars. Health +1
Estimated Delivery Time: Mid-Week

4. Anthropologie:
Really that tank top was fucking darling, and I'll be damned if my mind lapsed from the "I'll never wash my clothes, fuck off, same black t-shirt and jeans everyday, bitch" to "seriously, isn't that the cutest thing to ever live and breathe in cotton fibers?" I'm disgusted. I'm repulsed. I've got a wee bit of cash, step off.
Estimated Cost: $40. Health +1

5. Victoria's Secret: Revenge of the Secret:
I needed a bra. Titties be going every which way like someone with wall eye. Okay, embellishment......hyperbole. There was also lingerie wash that had been discontinued and I had to buy it because I used to wash all my bras in it. I even took it cross country when I went to Cali that one time! My mother flipped a shit and started saying: "We'll only use this for special occasions!"
Deferred Cost after Wallet Massage of Companion: $6.00 Health +1

Let's go home:

6. Vans Era's.
Because I don't have two pairs already. I'm somewhat of a Vans Collector. I wear them every single day. The guy from 99x knows me (and knows I'm a window shopper if anything). Every season I kick it off by getting a pair. Last season I didn't do that. I'll wear my slip ons with wool socks into late fall. It's that bad. I used to be on sneaker forums, as well as Vans Vault, looking up all this stuff. It started with a pair of Sk8 Hi's I bought off Ebay. Now look at me! This was a pretty practical sneaker decision. White canvas with some dark red piping. Eras are more comfortable than classics. My black slip-ons are slowly biting the dust. These are versatile in look and appropriate usage for different events. Can I justify this more? Sure, when I get them, there will be photos. For the record: my favorite pair of eras are my Joel Tudor surf style neon dealies commemorating some Vans anniversary or something.
Estimated Cost: $54
Estimated Delivery Date: Monday/Tuesday

7.
My feet are fucked up.
YOGATOES.com Okay, I am a complete sucker. I've broken a lot of my toes and some haven't healed so well. I have a forming hammertoe, bunions run on the wasp side, and all my shoes hurt me except Vans. Eventually, my pinkie toe will bore a hole in the side of my shoe, and that will be all. "As with any exercise, you must be careful" the website says. I had a 15 dollar off coupon and I don't want foot surgery. I read up on these and they are preventative and corrective. Its like a jelly sleeve with teeth for your feet. Hell, I can't describe it. Just know they are somewhat ridiculous looking. Thanks goes to: The back of New York Mag, Fitness, and AM New York.
Estimated Coast: $42 (!!!! and that's with coupon)
Estimated Delivery: Late in the week.

I also bought some Hunter running shorts. I forget how much those were but I used a Barnes and Noble gift card. I need to buy a book or too, but firt things first: Car and Finals.

big faker/ six gold teeth in the hands of a giant.

humongous secrets revealed:

I am not a real redhead. Ask people of the NRHS grad class of 2003...if they remember my hair from 2000. I used to be a dark blondish/red as a child. As I grew closer to my father during my HS years I decided to go for it and take on the crazy "Hungarian hue" of his and my childhood.

People ask me this all the time and I tell them I'm a huge faker. Either that or I'm surprised they can't tell.

I'm so used to it myself that this all seems routine for me. Also I am not a liar. I've never really seen the point in lying. Even white lies. I just won't say anything. Perhaps this is another reason I feel I can not be around people who pay me compliments. I can not just say thank you and leave it, or pay one back. Gee, I like your...UGLY STOCKINGS. Hold on a second, let me talk over you and replace your inane drivel with an absolute out of the blue comment you can not respond to. Good news! I can not tell a lie. I used the wood from the tree to build a fire under us. Thank me later.

...cont.

I dye my hair in the nude because I am a messy hair dyer. This is not really sexy. (Ask my neighbors, particularly the one across from me whom I always walk around naked in front of. Pull your shades or DEAL.
Who doesn't like to cook and read in the nude?
I am always sticking out my stomach and trying to mimic a nude model that I once had at Purchase in '04 with Andy B and Joyce. He used this awesome pole to show his old man muscles, and, well, I feel like an old dude sometimes making my little sandwiches against the pale slant of light that filters into the kitchen.) So tonight is not different, except my hair dying robe, the robe I lounge in, has it's ass torn out from being a billion years old.
One day I will sit on it and dust will explode from around my ass and shoulder blades upon contact with any furniture.

(I was successful though. I am ready to graduate into my regular robe and sit down with a Klonopin and Diet Coke.)

I am soul for real though.
I am not not not not not not.
Make that into an equation.
yes, yes, yes
no, yes.
no = yes.
NO + YES = Tomorrow.