we will find out if i have shoulders for these bricks.

we will find out if my shoulders are bricks and if i can stand up straight as a wall of hardened connective tissue.

---------
finding disguises in this shirtdress.

am i unproductive or does this book just suck?

am i going to be better than i was before all of this happened?

am i protected by my skin or by my voice?

sending these into outer space...helping to cleanse my guts of waste.

stuffs

a hot, hot summer in hell.

costco air conditioner
spandex = i don't care get over it.
fai and i eating a number one and number five at mexican corner.
fantastic rotating taps at lazy boys. mammk ave is like carnival.
i drink my favorite fuze


alex and i "take target"
alex tells me: "if you can read this, the lady has departed" - i vow to screenprint this on a tshirt for him.
alex is leaving for school soon.

i make my mother salmon burgers with avocado. she delights in my cooking.


i dream i am in love with Kyle MacLachlan and we are part of an underground tv show which is paying me 28,000 to perform a script i wrote. there is a conspiracy to sacrifice me. kyle wasn't in on it, thank god.

demi's irish dance recital is on friday.
HUGE litmag expo in soho on sunday! no excuses.

i still suck at darts. i am still reading the fountainhead.

binx.

mmm triple melts of re-run plastic
a burned hair smell underneath fresh cut nails.

it has stopped raining long enough for the sun to set
and cars to screech at its sight,
a vision of light pollution crested over their visor.

i have decided to smirk the cut shorts and curly frimps
blading under my bands and prickling my forehead.

i wait and wait and wait and want to know why
my stomach smiles like it
knows a secret spelled in the threads
inside my shirt.

there will never be a "best of"

"would it make you feel better if i sent you a picture of my dick wearing a sombrero?"

yeah shouldnt have come back.
sick of it.

eh. the coffee is better. the soymilk is divine. there was a hearty tomato soup today and some minor research on blake. they changed the color of the metrocard logo to green. it's a statement that the loving and caring mta gives a shit about the environment. ok i'll roll with it. i saw a bentley on lex today crookedly parked with a scratch on the bumper. i snickered. fuck your bentley. fuck it! i'd put that bitch on diesel roller skates and have a ball bombing a hill in neutral.


you know. there's a reason i turned to blues. "you know you wrecked my life and you are the one to blame" sounds so much better coming out the speakz with a pianer rather than a blastbeat.

i had this dream about someone i'd rather not. you know what thats like? you try and get rid of someone and they seem so far away and it might actually be possible to escape their claws.. and then you wake up and they're just about in bed next to you. i had one dream a few years ago about hiding in a bathroom stall with someone and it seemed like the lengthiest dream. i couldn't shake it for days. look i'm talking about it now.
the dream last night involved matter of the heart. i did something bad and woke up GUILTY. i felt it in my heart. like when you taste your own blood and you don't see the wound - you just think...iron. im bleeding delicious iron.

I am flying back to New York tomorrow and I'd rather not.

mourning doves.

We used to leave our air conditioners in year-round but someone took mine out this winter. I forget who it was, probably my father when he came over to visit.
Last spring, some birds constructed a next underneath it. They would howl and screech and often I would turn the AC on to scare them because at five in the morning, it could get really, really annoying.

This spring they're back. Problem for them: my air conditioner is gone and they are VERY confused. They keep returning to my sill as if to say: "no no wait wait this WAS the spot I swear."

Then about a week ago, I noticed that they weren't just those twerpy little birdies that scuttle around so regularly in brush. They were mourning doves. Their cries led me to investigation and wikipedia informed me of some interesting info.
They build in urban places, are monogamous and return to the same places to nest.
Aw!

They were preening each other. I guess she's already knocked up and needs a nest to lay in.

I've been considering writing a blog about my auto immune disease. Not many people are diagnosed with what I have at such a young age. I've been battling this since I was seven and now, sick again, I can't seem to explain to people exactly what is WRONG with me. I have health insurance now, so I plan on going to my specialist v. soon. Developments have also arisen at school. I am a student for life.

rising MTA fares and the results in service:

20-Something Party News:

It was a long week last week. I should have had a nice comfortable weekend of reading Elizabeth Bishop. Yet, as is characteristic of people who take three hour tests on a Friday night, I found myself in a metal bar in Yonkers next to the motel where that one channel of porn is free [and awesome]. What's strange about the bar ["the haunt"] is that it was very obviously a run down expansive night club. Interior includes massive disco ball and huge iron doors to separate the club from the "front club." Despite said features, there is no gin at the FIRST bar and you are better off getting the two dollar bud light anyway [somehow]. That sentence lacked sense, but I continue...
When I first stepped in there was a band on from my hometown. They were awful. They were not very metal and the breakdowns did not make me want to start shit on the football sized dancefloor. The next band had a teensy asian man on electric violin whose shredding rivaled eddie van halen's pretty woman intro. Unfortunately the vocals were overwhelmingly styled after chris cornell's. Nothing fit.

The next night was initially spent waiting for the L train. BUT IT NEVER CAME. A drunk man was loose on the tracks and they cut the power to the L and JMZ. I kept doing laps around Union Square unable to come up with an alternative plan to the otherside of the river. In a roundabout way I wound up walking to and waiting outside the U.N. Suddenly sweating swearing and soldiering because some guy with a crowbar was trying to WAKE NYC UP. I kept wishing to be somewhere else, convinced I was going to die in a grisly Law and Order style. Someone's dog was going to pee on my leg at 9am and they would call the police after saying "whats that underneath the cardboard boxes Fido, is that Gazpacho?" Luckily I was picked up and crew stockholm played stip-scrabble.


The morning after the night before, I went bowling with Little Wheeler and Axl Rose and fixed things the veganhardcore way by drinking some olde e and eating a cheeseburger not cooked to order. I even carried a small tree branch over my shoulder to gain perspective on the nature of Williamsburg. Axl picked up where I left off.
Now I'm back in the grind.

Briefly: Today was one of the hardest most patience testing days of work a young turk could hope to handle.

remix

i have friends that were born with wide
shoulders and small breasts like
dime bags of peanut butter.
they have wide hips with
rawring tummy and i've seen them
punch men on the street or
piss on the fawned tumbled cement
while guarded with wool coats.
some of these friends are nice for the sake of
being nice
and some just want whatever jam
my tongue is making
so they do not have to speak
for once.

i have friends with wide breasts
born in shoulders
dimed hips
drinking punch on the street.
woolly fawns for the sake of tongues.

Semi-Regular Event!

Burning that candle:
I made an embarassing mistake the other day. I'm not going to give you full details for fear of being arrested or simply avoided like the human plague I can sometimes be...
Let's just say that instead of taking one medication I took another. One with multiple side effects. During the day. Effects lasting from the tail end of work throughout the school eve.
I only late at night realized my mistake because as is common in my life, my body is unpredictable. Therefore things like lapses in memory, slight visual hallucinations, a mumble-stumble, etc. ARE COMPLETELY POSSIBLE. They are also things I know how to deal with, being treated like a guinea pig in my formative years for a delightful AID that sometimes made me unconcious. The joy!
This will never happen again, as I have now taken it upon my duties to personally make the labels quite discernable from one another.

Other news:
Swingin titties. Every time I'm at the YMCA I want the other ladies v. small a cup titties. I will have to learn how to be in a better mood about my own jugs. GOALS. I HAVE THEM.

20-Something Party news:
This weekend was spent at a few hotspots. I re-met some guy I had conversed with the previous week at Duff's. I saw Manson Family Picnic at Pete's Candy Store [many of my friends showed up and MFP were really bangin for a second show]. I saw David DePoris get his grove on in front of an absolutely abnoxious crowd of NYU students. They were all miserably drunk and the ratio of one dude to hot asian chick was great. Great for them. I was looking for some brothers, or at least people that looked like they hadn't fallen out of their parents wallet in spandex and cocaine covered smocks. Oh, right. I met some lovely ladies. They were on the powder tip and I was on the just got kicked out by security tip. It was fun but I'm off the crazy glitter and I needed a snooze anyhow. This GinCat likes the soft pillows these days. I'm surprised I didn't stay in all the week-end trying to re-watch twin peaks.

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.

working title.

or "return to the big screen", "post-partum woes", "beached icicles: beast tricycles"
:
"everybody hurts"

I went to my car tonight and was surprised not by the sight of it, but by what was inside. Gee wiz, it was a whole bunch of feelings!
Let me explain:

Today was one of those days that everyone has. It wasn't exactly "fuck the world." It was more of a day that turns into conflict and leaves you a little bit breathless. In my case, it meant a bit of sniffling as I took out my keys to my car with readiness to go home.
I shoved my things into the passengers seat and started her up. As soon as I did I was flooded by Q104.3's (self-proclaimed "classic rock" station) sweet melodies. I changed to power105 without registering what was on and then switched back in a powerplay that involved NOT hearing duffle-bag boy song. Truly, my subconscious was on high alert, as R.E.M's "everybody hurts" was at the crux of it's sweet gnashing. This is the way my life is. I laughed a little at the situation and then returned to my sniveling briefly. The song ended and another came on. Before I knew it I was cursing in traffic and salt stained on my dry cheekbones.
This is what happens. It's not a sign, it's just the way things are. (Insert bro statement if applicable).

The breaking point has been set high lately. I've been taking things in stride, trying to do my best, all of that inspirational shit.
It's just that when things go wrong the problems swell until the emotions are saturated. In dealing with people you have a connection with, it's often hard to be persistent with communications of unhappiness or displeasure. In my experience, whiners suck and are a helpless breed. Yes, I've got some things that I won't share with anyone, immediate family aside. I feel I shouldn't have to take on the worlds problems. One problem at a time towards the solution. Heath Ledger died dude. Amy Winehouse is hitting the crackpipe. The world is upset and I'm trying to find out the forecast for tomorrow.

But, in the event that I void myself of the truly pertinent material that does, indeed, fabricate the mysterious bridge of laced fingers or phone conversations over five minutes, I like to have a retainer and not a barrier. Bluntly: I can be blunt. Some call it a flaw, others don't even call me on it. I realize it. When emotions leak and the pipes burst and doves cry, I'm greeted [nameless] in a manner I would never think to inflict on anyone. Sometimes I have to remind or simply state that: I am not a robot. I may not show all of the inner brew ALL of the time. FINE. But then I was told,
have more spine.
That really ticks me off. Makes me tingle. Makes me cringe. Makes me turn from a "sad" tear to a tiny laugh of disbelief and disgust. Some people go to any lengths to justify their black holes and common noticeable flaws. Some even go to other "states" to realize that they can't escape the reality that claims itself in one's roots. You have to let people go and figure things out for themselves. They'll either quell that demon or wind up in the same spot and in a similar situation. Motivation. rah-rah!
It's not always about leaving or wishing to leave, or leaving your old self, OR leaving the world with the aid of socializing, booze, or crutches. We all do similar things with our ideals and notions of reality.
"This is MY club, this is MY party, MY life, the way I am."
Yeah. I can get down with that to an extent.
It's the growing up comedown. Not getting older, but shedding some skin, seeing documented metamorphisis. It's THE life. "I joined your/the party and it's been A ride". If we can't get into OUR reality, dig ourselves out of OUR joint problem or even YOUR problem and MY problem butting heads... the least we can do is recognize it and accept it. We can use it to help us in our reality and bring it into the party. [Growing up is hard to do. There are fantastic double-standards, but high living with someone else blowing wind in patchy sails leaves one in Bermuda Triangle territory. I realize I'm taking the example too far. Party boat. There I'm done].

I guess clearing out the damage isn't permanent medicine. It's our dose of reality in a generous measurement.
Chronic.les.

dry skin, rusted kneecap.

I am currently trying to kick prescription sleep medication because I don't have the money to pay for it. Maybe kick it isn't the correct word. I am an insomniac. I was diagnosed years ago. For some reason, like other functions I should come equipped with as a human, sleep was not one designed for me.

-It does NOT help that they are building houses across the street at the break of dawn when I am just closing my red rimmed eyes.

-It does NOT help that my room is next to the kitchen.

-It does NOT help that I am in finals week.


I may try over the counter medication eventually because two hours of sleep or less is not cutting it. I'm too fragile for misuse of caffeine so I'm in a walking haze persistently.
I must say late night TV is pretty good. I also come up with wacky inventions and sculptures in my delusional states. I have this idea for fountains and snowglobes. You would never believe it!

instep.

and finally what was bothering me was that i would forget to turn off the light
or double back to swallow a vitamin
or forget to take tea with me on especially cold days
where my scarf served my jacket a banquet dinner.

honestly i became obessed with the past compared to the present
and the future of money and when exactly my soles would wear thin.

i wasn't in any type of predicament but the fact that the door didn't close all the way
made me laugh and the
sound of my keys in locks made me bite my lip so hard there was blood-
really blood inside my mouth
that i would drink down with sletzer.
when my keys were at my hip or stuck under someones ass on the subway
i was alright.

my anecdotes hadnt suffered in the wrong venues
but i made the choice to accept my name
as it came from people i really loved
or do love, to this day.

when i was alone in the dark waiting to sleep i was hoping some person would come
and snuggle my hands to them,
thats what i like most...
but i awoke to construction. i think whether or not i hear it
some cement is always being poured
and men are at work.

blanking blanket

and here i write the
lion is the walrus;
paul!

things hurt. im prone to bruises and picking at my face. ive cried a lot recently because everything turned into a fucking meat puppets song interpreted through a hobos bad acid trip.
it hurts my face and my eyes.

im so tense my eye started twitching and my jaw is popping like the rock steady crew.

i miss gordy. being away from her is like knowing my favorite pen is being used by someone who translates neruda into german. im never getting that pen back. it was such a fine black thing.

im really terrible. i want to go back to new paltz and live in the cold and let the mice catch the mice catch the flour i didn't bag up properly. i stopped smoking again. i got sick and then repulsed by the additives in my body. i got repulsed by my own sallow skin and the weaker light in the bathroom. i started drinking seltzer because i ran out of diet coke. then i stopped eating meat. finally i started reading murakami again- because after so much thoreau [and such a distance between now and when norwegian wood was read] i needed to be immersed in a corny cob pipe of a dream. "do you understand?" "do you see?"

im repulsed my the material me. right now as i write this i'm in my alaska shirt. the one anyu brought back from some trip. serious pitstains so i wear it in fall/winter when i need a sweatshirt. sweating it out at the homestead! im in pat's pants from when he lived in new york. brian gave them to me. pat still asks about them. they have moose on them. when i went to california [where pat now lives] i wore them every night! also, i am wearing my favorite perfume.
perfume is great because it goes from being contained in a bottle [which may in fact be amazingly beautiful] to being wildly loose on neck breasts and wrists. i never feel bad about buying perfume. i stick with the same one for about two years. people whove known me long and have smelled me consistently tell me i have two scents. i'm okay with that. i dont know if i can ever wear the perfume he gave me again. also, i am uncertain we will ever make perfume [again].
my parents refused to send me to france to perfume school to be a nose. i wound up leading a very terrible life [just kidding, i would never kill myself over spilled anything... well maybe blood. it would have to be perfect and not premeditated]

tomorrow i go to a women's conference at hunter. i get in for-ee because i am part of an organization or something. its at hunter so thats my in[n]. i go there, you know. to learn how to sit quietly and at first be ignored by my peers, then avoid them.

boy, i sure can only handle a few good fellows at a time. i really like to be the sleeper. papow.

in other news:
my horoscope [so accurate i have to share, so scary its true, so true my life has changed and i am again homeless in my home]:

"Reaching understanding with others concerning feelings and emotional issues is a special focus for you at this time. Resist the lure of something that is obviously bad for you. You must be willing to break out of a downward spiral by accepting the inevitable. The line between the foolish and the wise has never been more clearly drawn."

what a fire sign! where's my wet blanket?
---------
-ian and will at arlenes grocery
-mxbx
-tickets to olympia
-cr portfolio
-bankxit

help. there is a bar across the street.
they have a raucous karaoke night but tonight
its JAZZ
and right now its a sax jazz rendition of smells like teen spirit.

what?
why.
gordy is trying to knock misc. things over. pill bottles and skrewdrivers.
tonight the kitchen cabinet fell OFF OF THE WALL. only one dish was broken. i wasn't here for it but wow... [too bad i brought my cat here and my landlord had to say this about fai]:
"she black and make neighborhood look bad"
and then when called a rascist:
"i have many puerto rican friends"
but not in astoria.... right?

as fai would say: "afro peruvian: TAKE A RACE CLASS"
she moved to bushwick. i have a sick history with that place including:
getting offered crack
being asked out on a date in which crack smoking would be the seduction stage
obtaining the keys to some guys apartment that i hardly knew back then and then inviting people over while he flew to texas. drinking forties and brushing roaches off me in my sleep.
kissing sabrinz on the cheek after having a stoop talk where we watched the rats mate.

oh man. Smells like teen spirit again after crazy jazzy flutter interlude.
even hitting the high notes.
woosh.


so what do i do? i dont know. keep reading walden and writing crazy short stories that get czech plusses. working and wiping yoghurt out of demz hair? no non ononono
watching HOUSE in bed with my mom while we tell tall tales about neighbors, including deceased ones.
YESSSSSSSSSSs.

summons infection.

yesterday i had to go to court for my favorite reasons: the ole pink sheet. aka nyc summons.

let it be known that i was extremely guilty of the "crime" i committed. yes, i was in a "park after dark." i was drinking but at that time i had downed it and was clean. i was the most level headed of the bunch, and proceeded to calmly persuade the officers from being douches. however, as anyone knows, they were typical cops and wrote me up anyway, making several mistakes on the summons. of the ticketed group i was the only one who showed. my friend harry took off on foot down the block, my friend danielle made way to denver, and that other kid- corey, he was a squatter whom i only met that night. supposedly his long locks were cut later the next day.
he told my friend he'd like to date her.
she said no way because he didn't have neck tattoos.

anyway.
my case was dismissed yesterday. they let me off [just like the trespassing and untimely lapse of judgment when i lit up a cigarette in front of some cops on new years '05 in the subway station].
i am quite the summons magnet.

i have a sinus infection. i am at my house for the first time in a week. obituary tickets. mountain goats tickets. klonopin.

tamborines for the lord of silk thread.

hi,
this is the owner of this blog.
hi.

today i had food at a place that i think was trying to poison me. or make me vomit in front of people. or just playing a cruel joke where the soda and ketchup and salad and chicken was filtered through five month old yoghurt and goats milk, prepared to swim rancid in my stomach. heaving like a storm that would flood Pinocchio's heart.
saladhead.

branchworms invaded the outermost finger on my left shoulder and wont let any conscience wary flutterbirds land there to whisper the good news in my ear. the downside of all of this is that i have snails with demon antennas leaving slime trails through my life. a grueling way to go down, if i were provoked for a response.

brand spanking new molskine. big one- as big as they get. leave the new paltz one behind and get started on all of this gumbo that wrestles my mind and hands. wrings my hands like washcloths and flaps them like umbrellas indoors.

i don't know what to say so i just tell you i can not see you today. maybe tomorrow as i mend with tonight, the nautical breeze will uncrust my throat and i can be honest. i thought about walking down to the water. i forgot how heavy my feet are. wear sunscreen on my lips and pass as a person who burns everywhere but the softest part of her body, heart centered in mouth.

mattress trouble.

gosh.
i wish i had some very nice wooden floors
to make sticky with spilled stuff and clean them up
feel accomplished.

wellie.
i have to go to work. gonna miss it for this month definitely.
love these children so much.

also:
coke zero cherry
itching/scratching
glass
old american cars
bootleg dvds
not bonhoeffer
barrettes. i really love barrettes.

it took me forever to get my scripts this month. the secretary at the office was completely out of her mind. she was rude for no reason. fire her, please. god DAMN. people who work in offices around union square. efk. this week-end was so great. i drank two liters of diet soda and watched the fast and the furious: tokyo drift. i guess some of my friends graduated from college. uhhhh. congrats. see you back in new york. if you are moving to LA, good luck. have fun in LA. i was watching skate videos [see: in bed all weekend scratching drinking soda with comfy blankets and gin and tonics. a good send off week-end] and i love recognizing locations from LA and SF. too glad to be in NY though. this summer is going to be weird. things happen when you least expect them too. someone fly me to olympia. someone fly me to greece. we can stay for free, promise.

i bought an irvine welsh book. i have plenty of other books to read but i guess i can not commit to those others. i've read everything Welsh has ever written. the good and the iffy.

i got into an iffy tiff with the head of the religion department. [not really a full blown tiff but she's a tough nut to crack. she left a message on my goddamn answering machine!]

proposed:
the rest of the year i'll be a little more reckless but

infinitely more organized.

inviserable.

we all stall,
make mistakes;
sink the basket when no one is looking.

sometimes we're french,
sometimes we can't pay 700 in rent for a shitty place that probably has bedbugs.


style the hair of little kids
who only seem to wear variations of pink.
----
uh.
i am scared to look at my bank account. because i have next to nothing in there and i may possibly have another school to tuitio-size. i also lost my bankcard. and my glass earring. oh yeah... i should go buy hella's there's no 666 in outer space since/for i love the album so much.

cannibal corpse is playing irving.
i'm seeing type o the next night. i'm too broke to buy a ticket right now
but trust me--- i will fucking be there.

nyctv is taking over the world. or maybe just my kingdom.