..

i have to clean like a bitch tonight and i am so not stoked about this. i['m talking top to bottom. not the swept under the rug, hide the incriminating shit that i can usually pull off.

fokkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

no, i have to clean for real.
and look like a respectable human being lives here. this is a shams and comforter and quilt on the bed with throw pillows and dust every available surface and change the bong water kind of clean.


...

my baby brother, hot friend, and not hot fun friend are going to be here first thing in the morning. driving through the night to spend the next 96 hours in a drug/alcohol induced coma in nyc.

cheers!
oh, and shake what 2004 gave you.

(be it a deadweight significant other, an std, a lame ass job- you know, whatever it is that you need to shake or just "supress the symptoms of")

close to me is so fucking good.

i was thinking about something very important and philosophical that i wanted to write about. i was in the shower. and i reminded myself not to forget what i was thinking of. but i was still cloudy. it was pre-exfoliation.
pisser.

and boys dont cry... jesus, this shit is amazing.

i still can't remember.

dear doctors office,
if you don't send my goddamn (i thought i'd given that word up) prescription asap (ie: two weeks ago when i ran out) i am going to lose my fucking mind.
and then my job.
and then my apartment.
and i'll be homeless.
and have to move into the subway (preferably under the 4,5,6- much nicer crowd you know).
and then i'll have to live with mole people.
and procreate with them.
and make mole babies that have bad teeth.
and dress them in grocery bags.
and i'll have to sell all of my worldly posessions for crack.
and i'll have no more fur coats and sky boots and ipod.
and i'll die.
not from lack of heat, running water, or food.
but because i'm a shallow, superficial, selfish asshole and i can't live without material things.

FUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK.
all because of you, dear doctor's office.
and your lack of dropping my prescription in the mail.
and why don't you have a messenger service like everyone/everything else in manhattan. i need a manservant.

beepbeep!!!

he's lost he says.
ny blues he calls them.
but why?

someone said last night: that's the funniest jesus knock knock joke i've seen in a long time.
i had no idea they were so rampant
like saturn commercials
or wireless services.

the most artificially tanned and blonded (blonded? it's the action of turning blonde- i like it better than plain blonde) girl i've ever seen is wearing a shirt that says:
50% naughty
50% nice
and still more novel: the face that it's red/green/white

have you ever noticed how belle and sebastian goes with everything?
sort of like black
or a navy blazer
there are a few exceptions. there always are.

another delay.
it's like fucking planes trains and automobiles here.
i'm stuck at reagan now.
maybe leaving in an hour?
maybe renting a car to drive the last 290374 hour leg.


..

how and why and when and where to go
how and why and when and where to follow

i've seen a lot of lame looking couples today.
he reads the sports section while cramming down french fries and a diet coke.
she reads the metro section, newsprint reflecting off the silver monogrammed ring.
flat smiles to each other.
pearl earrings
button down shirt coupled with a heteroquestionable haircut.

when people suddenly start moving (like a herd of antelope) at once in the airport it makes me anxious.
like i should be going where they're going.
not because i want to roll with these people, but because i'm nervous that i'm missing something.
how and why and when and where to follow.

now he shares his french fries with her.
they scream "MISSIONARY!"
is this the inevitable turn relationships take?
"we must fuck twice a week like clockwork. he turns off cnn. and then the lights. and then rolls over and i know it's time for our 'lovemaking' to begin."
god, i hope this never happens to me.

now he sits alone, engrossed in his paper.
she is probably masturbating in the bathroom.

she is androgynous (pearls AND hiking boots) and drives a jeep cherokee. he, sporting the relationship vagina, rocks out in a saab.
they don't drink 40s or expensive champagne.
the drink microbrews and yellowtail.
they are stable and practical with a solid group of friends that they mesh very well with.
there is something about them that i find both disgusting and refreshing.
i count on these people.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i read today that 95% of true love is finding the right person.
what's the other 5%?

i always feel sad when people are dining alone.
it never occurred to me that some people enjoy the solitude.
just as i like to be left alone to relax and think and decompress at my house, these people do the same, only in a public venue.
i wonder if anyone thinks i'm lonely. sitting at a table in the airport.
typing.
coffee in hand.
observing.

maybe not accurately. but observing,
with my own skewed perspective.

i want to get up and check my flight status, but i hate to lose this prime piece of real estate that i have staked out.

there is a certain camaraderie among these airport workers.

could fred sanford please not be working my gate? i don't know what this guy's condition is (mild autism?) but he is having all kinds of issues in communicating with the very frustrated passengers of this (now 5 hour) delayed flight.

fuck ass!

i can't believe the drama of this shit. i have now spent the last 18 hours trying to travel home. i should have been there 13 hours ago. snuggy bunny with my beautiful famille.


..

i just saw a guy with a huge square purple bruise on his forehead. i think an anvil fell on his face. like wylie coyote. only wylie coyote never had bruises. he did see stars and squiggly lines though.

there is a lady with a shelf of bangs. i wish she'd sit next to me so i could rest my coffee on them. they will never ever fall in her face, but still have that freshly pushed back look. i venture to guess that there are at least 2 cans of aquanet involved.

i have now relegated myself to listening to chronic 2001. the mutherfuckin d-r-e (dr.dre motherfucka), and the motherfuckin d-o double g. compton, long beach, englewood.

fuck i'm bored.

it would be easy to dress for work if you had to wear a bright yellow suit every day.
or i guess any type of uniform for that matter.
but it seemed much more exciting to talk about the bright yellow standardized raingear looking getups that the runway guys rock.

now i'm listening to goodie mobb. soulfood. this fucking autocorrector sucks. i just bad to type the second b in goodie mobb 932847024 times and then i just did it again. sweet.

fuck this shit- next year i'm having xmas in nyc by myself.

she is gone. i am abused. and my relief must be to loathe her.


send a cease and desist letter.


tonight.

ahh tonight. my flight home was cancelled. it's a bummer how they can just do that. thanks for coming out and paying for a car service out to the airport. but just kidding! no flight for you!

now go home!


and by the way, you have to pay for the car service to come back for your ass.


........


so i'm stuck in nyc. it seems that i only needed 4 days of good to ward of the shittiness?

i am chainsmoking in my bed.

waiting.

but not for anything.

i am going for drinks in a while with larry. who is at this moment, movingtobrooklyn. in with a very cool couple.

he:works for a german music label. electronica actually.
she: a gig working for the union of film producers.

but larry is already ready to get back into the city.


i am boring today. unoriginal.

i wore a black suit to work.

cookie cutter. contrived. trying too hard.


..............


one of the frenchies is telling people he stuck my best friend in the butt...

oh come now.

i don't really know what to make of this. should she be flattered that he would tell people such fantastic tales about this torrid romp? or insulted and pissed off that this kind of banter is what goes on there.

i just don't buy this oooooh, backdoorbandit bullshit. it's lame-o

aren't we past this by now?

and what's the big fucking deal anyway?

it's butt sex. just penetrating a different body cavity that everyone knows about and half of manhattan practices on a regular basis. he didn't invent some fabulous new earfucking concept involving 25 gazillion nerve endings instead of the mere thousands in the bum. and if it is such a big bloody deal (worth talking about) she's not the one with the dirty dick.

but who cares. it's just a little rimming.

all worked up over a little butt action.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
the best four letter word is tits.

t-i-t-s

fucking awesome.



and in that case, hooray for boobies!

welp, it's that time again.

5 days at home. behaving like a respectable, well bred young lady.



i'm a little fuzzy on the specifics...



i'm excited.


i get to see my most beautiful bean.


and take a break from this


and this

and be in love. with someone other than myself. and my friends and my lifestyle and the booze and wild times.

be smitten with the very most important people.

the ones i worship.


and

relaxxx.


it's forbidden.



sometimes it seems that way.


5 days of goodness to ward off the shittiness.

and i hate this post. it makes me want to kill myself.

"If this town’s your sinking ship
Then you know where to jump."

belle and sebastian

......

this weekend, someone told me they thought the word "cunt" was the dirtiest word in the english language.

it is dirty.

and rather piggish.

it's that time again. merry xmas.

and then new years.

i resolve to be less selfish, anxious, calculating, cynical, hypocritical, nervous, restless, shallow, sly, superficial, unpredictable, unstable, volatile

"the kitten pooped a condom today," my roommate reports.

this is unpleasant but mildly amusing news. why is the kitten eating used condoms, and who is leaving them lying around in the first place?

i have given this a great deal of thought.

the only thing i can come up with is:

what if kittens could become impregnated with human babies?

i just haven't been feeling so bloggish lately.


.

the weekend was amazing. each day/night was better than the last.


..

v.fun


...

i went to the circus too!


...

so today i got a personality profile. this is what i learned about myself:

Element: Air

Mode: Mutable

Ruler: Mercury

Color: Orange, Yellow


...

Famous Geminis:
Josephine Baker, George Bush, Jacques Cousteau, Bob Dylan, M.C. Escher, Melissa Etheridge, Anne Frank, Judy Garland, Steffi Graf, Henry Kissinger, Thomas Mann, Paul McCartney, Marilyn Monroe, Joyce Carol Oates, Isabella Rossellini, Kathleen Turner, John Wayne


..

Strengths:
Amiable, articulate, clever, communicative, curious, fickle, flexible, inconsistent, proficient, sociable, supple, versatile, vivacious

Weaknesses:
Anxious, calculating, cynical, hypocritical, nervous, restless, shallow, sly, superficial, unpredictable, unstable, volatile

Gemini is the third sign of the zodiac, the sign that is characterized by communication. Geminis are very intellectual individuals, and are forever interested in broadening their horizon – they are eternal students! Mercury, the planet of communication, rules your sign, and makes you an articulate and versatile person, K. You are outgoing and sociable, and due to your lively attitude, you are the born entertainer. Clever and ingenious, you usually get what you want with your charm and wit.


..

First of the three air signs, you are a dexterous, multifaceted, and flexible individual. As the most diverse and eloquent sign of the zodiac, you crave mental stimulation above all. Your curiosity, combined with your ability to synthesize information, makes you the messenger of knowledge and information.

As a Gemini, you rule the third house, the sector of your chart that describes how you perceive, process, and communicate facts. You are a mutable sign, responsible for keeping information flowing. You are gifted in adapting to situations and making compromises. Of all the zodiac signs, you are the peacemaker and troubleshooter who actively finds solutions to tricky situations.


...

Cancer Rising, you are a “lunar” personality. That is someone who is emotionally volatile, K, with inexplicable mood swings that seem to occur cyclically. In general, you keep a good deal of anxiety inside yourself, especially if you are in doubt about something. Even though you are sensitive, susceptible, and vulnerable on the inside, this may not be apparent because you cover yourself with a hard shell. You don’t like to make waves, and you prefer to stoically endure difficult relationships, rather than taking active steps to find a resolution. You contain a deep inner life, one full of imagination and fantasy, which explains why you are attracted to the eccentric and idiosyncratic sides of other people.

You are a nurturing and hospitable individual, and are drawn to creating a safe place in your life, which is your home and your family. You are the kind of person who goes back to reconstruct your family tree, and rummages through the attic looking for lost memories or objects of your past. You have a strong need to protect your loved ones, showering them with love and affection.



...


You are loyal in romantic relationships, K, even overly sentimental at times, and love unreservedly. The impact you have on other people is considerable. In remaining close and loyal to your true friends, you are in a unique position to connect with people, individually and in groups, in meaningful and lasting ways.



...


what do you think about that?


!

and now for that age old debate.


is it really necessary?

how fucking romantic,
must we really waltz?
drag another cliche
howling from the vaults.

tonight i crave two songs the most:

100,000 fireflies

and

how fucking romantic


why? i don't know.

i


just


do



have you ever rolled?

i'm serious. i never have. sure, i've eaten rolls. a few times, but i've never actually rolled. i've never experienced the alleged "orgasm on wheels" as it was put recently.

let's see, there was

a dud

a weird emotionally creepy spun out sort of night

a mellow time with lots of rain puddles

and another flop


hmmm. nope, there certainly wasn't any euphoria.

so since i don't feel like i've ever really done it, or done it well (is this sad? am i an old post-college has been talking about doing a janky pre-college drug?)- every time i know i'm going to i get kind of nervous.


like the first time.


the first time.


the
first
time.


for some reason those words feel very forceful.


but i'm always hoping someone will have the first time experience with me. sort of like a hand holder or just an equally as unpracticed confederate.

that anxious sensibility. only sponsored by the first time.

it's kind of like that awkward feeling i used to get when i hung out with this guy andy after we broke up. (not so much the hand holding thing, but that uncomfortable build up.) neither of us were dating anyone when we got to school in the same town and we were always friends so we would make plans to rendezvous sometimes. [as a side note: is it possible to remain amicable with someone you really love after you break up?] the planning was fun, but the actual ride over to his house was so terrible. i always felt like a hooker for hire. we'd walk in and hang out for a little bit and then it'd be like welp! time to strip down and do this.
one time we broke into his parents' house while they were out of town to hook up in their huge jacuzzi but they had turned the water heater off before they left. so, there we were- under glaring yellow vanity lights. in this enormous tub. staring at each other's naked bodies in 3 inches of ice cold water thinking please god, tell me there is more than this.

freshmen. such kids!

but i digress.

ROLLING. E. X. whatever

can someone please hold my hand?

...



tonight i heard the longest loudest sqealing of bus brakes ever. grinding discs.


i pretended it was howling wolves outside my window.

is there anything absolute?

i mean anything. in the whole wide world.


something that words like undeniable and indisputable even cannot expound.

the ultimate superlative.

what do you believe in?



unwaveringly

did anyone else watch 20/20 for Barbara Walters' most fascinating people of 2004?

is it just me, or did usher look like an ungracious chump

to be fair, i've never been a fan. but this interview was just ridiculous. laughable.



i love that word.



laughable.

does it irritate you when someone you don't like says something that makes you genuinely laugh?

genuinely
makes you
genuinely
laugh.

venerate.

i love that word too.


karl rove

most fascinating man of 2004.

huh.

he just said he feels his reputation is as an evil rasputin. it hurts my feelings to think of karl rove as a man with a debauched, and endless, sexual appetite.


carl rove vs karl rove

"carl rove" carl rove to the guillotine, rove-ing lunatic

vs

"karl rove" most famous texans, i love karl rove.com


the unintentional google manifesto.

"whisper it in his ear. nothing sounds idiotic if it's wet enough."

-blanche devereux,
the golden girls.

i keep getting really excited every time i look at my new years tickets. staring at me from those big cumbersome and unconventional printed pages.

what happened to tickets?

there is nothing nostalgic or romantic about an 8.5 x 11 sheet of Hammermill multipurpose office paper.

it's not meant for tucking in that box of tickets.

the treasure box.

overflowing with scraps of paper. so valuable. so fragrant and transporting.

your memory triggers the smells. the experience.

hints of that roll at red rocks.

how dirty and radiant with love and energy you were on that satisfied drive back from hampton, va. filthy never felt so beautiful. you were so nervous on the ride up. so poised to pluck.

and the time in '03 you saw b&s at that tiny theater in nc. and holy shit, you hope they tour again soon. your voice was so raw for days.

......
all snorted up, consumed by instant gratification. and the internet. and the capabilities of modern technology.
......


do you believe in admitting you are wrong? or maybe not wrong, but that you are not perfect?

there is something about still being at the office right now, at 10pm that makes me grouchy. and now i'm waiting for my car to come which makes me even grouchier because i feel like they should be here at light speed to take me home. especially since the reason the car is running behind is because of all of the corporate holiday parties going on.

i would love to be out running amuck, but i am at my desk, wall eyed and i think i am getting frown lines and maybe even starting to smell bad?

i was busted at work today for being one of the top10 email offenders. apparently my inbox/deleted items box was brimming with random shit, unnecessary to maintaining a successful career at the panty mercantile. i beg to differ.

handshake drugs is on. and something about working late always makes me want to get incredibly stoned. to loosen up and chill out.

ahh, to go home and smoke a big fat doob.

i have just reached an all time low. i just recruited tweed from a girl i work with.

i need to be put on house arrest.

and have my phone seized.

4am calls and scrambling home to shove all of the clothing shrapnel into the closet/ another huge pile in the corner. there are no available corners.

i sent cole to the store for more booze.

and then later didier for even more booze and cigarettes.

i literally have no soul anymore.

i'm convinced.

i don't really feel like having a moral hangover today.

there is only one thing that i would take back.

and luckily

it doesn't involve words.

or communication.

but maybe fornication.

but certainly not directly.




what am i


what have i become


how did i get here


all questions that i don't want answers to.

right
now.


denial.


hiding behind the facade of naivete?

ugh, that word is gross.


beautiful disaster by 311 just came on.

disaster.

today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two.

ha, a pretty train crash

butterfly in the wind without a ca-a-a-a-aaaare


last night some chach at sessions told me i smelled amazing and then asked me if it was GAP "Grass."

play it cool with the fragrance naming there, hotshot.

it's the new dolce and gabbana


i also guess that everyone on the UES had somewhere better to go by the time 3am rolled around.

either that or they had to put there sweater sets to bed.

so today i want to see someone i haven't seen in a long time.

and go for a walk maybe.

or a coffee.

or watch on demand at my apt over a lager.

eric clapton just came screaming out of the speakers.

the oh so familiar opening riffs of cocaine.


will i ever be able to comb out these tangles?

yesterday i was feeling like a middle distance runner but that was not appropriate. i was not lonely yesterday.

today, i am surely a middle distance runner.

maybe the only one in the whole wide world.




i need company.

or an intervention.

dissatisfied

dissatisfied

dissatisfied

dissatisfied

dissatisfied

dissatisfied


i'm a middle distance runner. but they're not dissatisfied?


fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

i got adisturbingphonecall.


my mosttogether friend


not together at all.


a
wreck


over a girl.


completetrainwreck he was.



it was transporting.
i
am
inspired
again
to be open
to that
feeling.