lockbox with a prybar. 2009 kickstart and freezepop.

let me.
entertain you.

i went to see gypsy with mom. my christmas gift to her (the big one anyway...she needed something tangible to open on christmas since it's just her and i now...so some sweater giving was involved). patti lupone is over-rated. she was great but i think i'm spoiled by the movie version. i wasn't fond of the way patti-lu held her notes and then warbled them into oblivion with the orchestra taking her out loudly. call me picky. pick me.

break has been tense. tense because all i can do is work those two days of pure joy with the kids im growing with. i am tense because i don't have the added tension of deadlines, rendering me into a self loathing unmotivated beast of heavy handed snooze slaps on the alarm clock. i usually look forward to this time...and it honestly hasn't been that bad. my friend visited from cali (and while i'm too broke to reciprocate the trip to his LA playground i was thrilled to chills when i saw him standing on the street in greenpoint, felt like everything was RIGHT). my other friend, the one i visited in olympia last year, came to ny and i saw her briefly. then they were gone.
and i had my savings. and i had my undershirts. and i was warm, briefly.

i bought a camera with those savings (great inspirational pressure led to this financial whirlpool) and it was a GREAT idea. i missed constant documentation with an SLR. NIKOND80.
i went to some parties (and that was fun), but i really liked going to bluestockings and seeing an awesome queer memoirist read from her book. and i really liked reconnecting with browning leaves that mulched my ears.
i got into blackadder.
mom bought me HBO (what is this luxury??? she is changing our lives in subtle TV channel additions and the plaster of my ceiling is getting caught in my hair) The TV goes when the books start brewing and being dissected under direction. resolution.


last semester did me right. i felt this good (albeit high-strung) connection to what i was doing. most of my friends from around here have graduated and have jobs or are living off trusts or working really hard so i feel like the oddball who has to juggle stress and money and smuggle smiles closed eyed in the florescence of the commute home. i loved reading at the telephone bar. i was terrified. i like being terrified in that context.

i've forgotten how to write sentences. i was writing a thank you note to a very dear cousin of mine who is a most talented women with the most fetching personality and i felt like apologizing towards the end for the horrible syntax. [but] fuckit, it was on my good stationary and i posted it post haste to get it out of sight.

i am excited to set up my writing/creative studio. i want a fainting couch (it's become an obsession). i want a book i can actually read. i've only bought books that are ten feet tall lately. i subscribed to a magazine. beginning of the year- new moleskine time. (haven't gotten to that yet...printer cartridge too) - when the first class of 09 starts i'll retire the one i have. i am proud of my journaling this year. so proud it'll be put in the lockbox with the other serious transitional pieces dating back to my first fuck, first line of coke and first kiss with a girl. had some firsts this past year. locked in with the naked photos and zines.

a "best of 2008" list would be overkill.
im feeling good and hope to meet my own deadlines this year. i want to cook more. i bruised easily this week. i will organize my computer files and papers and studio and limbs into movement and leave the cold inside my jacket when i collapse into the incandescent lightfield i've laced my room with. this is brocade. this is crochet. this is highly complicated structurally demanding networks of dependent elements making new prospects under the microscope of high hopes. this is porous bone passed around.

Hope I don't feel differently tomorrow.

The human body. Created for all of the struggle that can be felt by the gifts we were blessed with!

For a while now I have had a terrible attitude about money. I grew up on the disadvantaged side of the spectrum because of a whole lot of bad decisions my parents made. Staying together, over-estimating people skills. You get the idea. I've known work from a very young age which has it's drawbacks.
For one, you grow up resenting those with no work ethic. I may be lazy when it comes to buckling down and concentrating on details, but I've been beating up the big picture pussy with a dick the size of a bayonet [I'm very old-fashioned].
Excuse the terrible reference and slight to women. Where I'm from it becomes a part of your everyday language. Instead of erasing that, I'd thought I'd give you a peep into what commuting on the NYC Subway is like. Day in and day out.

Of course I'm aching and dying step by step and I reach my front door and the elevator is going to be out for two months and I turn the key and sigh and walk up the flights with the ole "I didn't die on the last landing, I ain't gonna die on this one" attitude.

Back to money though. It's when I'm at my most tired that I really do NOT care. Heading into this gloomy recession has hit me hard. I'm really poor in every sense of the word. At least in the sense that I can not take you out to dinner and I steal rolls from the cafeteria and I will make you a Valentine's Day card with stale markers and you will think I'm creative but really wouldn't we all like chocolates and don't you think I need a haircut and health insurance? Seriously though. I honestly think of my father coming to this country and only having a radio to occupy his home time. Or, of course, interaction with family. OR just hanging out on the corner with people before the days of invasive ring tones and clothing for dogs.

The thing is, I can fall just as deep into the gold filled rabbit hole. I like to spend money because it's such a stupid thing. I'll give you this if you give me that. In reality I don't need what you have unless it is knowledge you are imparting or the ride it takes to get me there. I have a nice watch I don't need and my ex-boyfriend actually buys me stockings and feeds me when I don't have food in my house. I can not put a price on good company or a good show versus an ankle sweller and skull crusher [I'm a fragile boned lady, ask my PediR]. I can not put a price on sidling up to someone with a cheap beer and feeling them out. If someone kicks a trash can and startles a Goddamn CAT I can not recreate the moment of 4:30 am deserted Brooklyn streets. This is my version of "money can't buy you love" or "I will not contemplate slaughtering that woman who is wearing a full length fur in april, for she is radiant in ignorance and rich in a nose broken on purpose to smell the richness of her own shit." vampires of zanzibar. sensory overload!

I always think if I can't live anymore or I lose my house or shelter, if I lose my family, if I ruin everything, I'll just go back to the dirt and make january nights smell like the butter of bare damp trees. yum.

You tend to write uplifting things at the craziest of times. fuckit.