the end!

first off, i want to thank cadiz and syar. both of whom did much better at achieving nablopomo than myself but both of whom were sweet enough to come here and comment regularly throughout the month. cadiz, reading how much went into your wedding exhausts me, but seeing how lovely the result, i know all the hard work was worth it and the food was KICK ASS. syar, this: "Oh the pains of being your own person, of living in your own skin, of speaking in your own voice, and declaring yourself. I am, I am, I am." was so beautiful. in fact, they've all been beautiful. i don't risk visiting actual blogs while i'm at work, so i don't comment often but know that i'm reading! and enjoying!

 

it's weekends like this last one that make me remember why i'd kept this place running for so long. it's not the most exciting reason and certainly not the most literary, but if i don't write some of these things down, i fear i'll forget them. my life is too nice to leave little bits forgotten by the wayside.

 

so, y'all, i'm firmly in the feminist rage part of "i love dick" and it's making me so angry! the first half was sort of, "i am woman, watch me falter and be crazy" and then it transforms into something like, "i'm crazy because i've been oppressed by men who consistently degrade women and fail to see them as intellectual equals" but it's not ranty because she then starts ticking off artists and their critics and each little drop fills a pail, and then another pail and then another and i'm basically at the point where i'm seeing red and wanting to scream, "fuck you!" at every man i see. however painful it was to follow her earlier behavior, and witness the failure of these films which she later sort of  admits weren't any good, to put all of this on display and just OWN it. (i guess to be perfectly honest, she owns her crazy while blaming other people for it, but that's done in a way that isn't as hypocritical as it sounds.) anyway. and kraus is just reckless with herself, physically and emotionally. anorexia is the subject of enough of her writing that it's clear she likely has issues with it herself. on top of the fact that she keeps putting herself into situations in which she's battered (i.e. chasing after dick who, very early on, is clearly an asshole and then is a jerk to her face while post-coital). she lacks any sort of instinct for self-preservation.

 

i think i over-suffer from self-preservation. i take very few risks in life. this means a few things. my life is generally drama-free and even-keeled. it also lacks spontaneity. i make a fool of myself so infrequently that i'm wondering what bits of character i'm missing out on.

 

happy end of november, folks.

well, nablopomo almost over

and i admit i mostly slacked through it.

i do, however, want to take some time to write up my past weekend for posterity.

i left work early (6pm) on wednesday and met some friends for a drink while i waited for a man with a van to pick up a friend's old dresser. mine had been broken for months and none of the drawers closed properly so it was a sign from above when he casually asked if i knew anyone who'd want it.

it was cold out and i hadn't worn a warm enough jacket so i borrowed an ithaca zip hoodie to head to the bar. as i'm standing on the corner, i see a horse and carriage trotting past. those horses always break my heart because it's a rough job and they mostly don't get treated well. i'm in the middle of this thought when the man driving the cart, a full-bellied, santa claus looking man hollers, "IIIIIITHAAAACAAAAA IISSSS GOOOOOOORGEOUS" as he drives by. it makes me chuckle and then i look around to see who else heard it and see several people on the street looking at me with confusion in their eyes. i retell this story to my friends at the bar. the guy doesn't know i went to ithaca and thinks i think the man was calling me gorgeous, and not just calling out ithaca's town motto.

quick dinner and back to my friend's place where the movers showed up on time. they were lovely. chipper, funny, genuinely nice guys. i rode up in the truck with them and we talked about the city (they were both born and raised there). the driver, an older asian guy kept making jokes about being single and how they'd moved some furniture for three girls earlier and had invited himself over for thanksgiving dinner. i wondered who he was actually going to eat dinner with, hopefully loved ones. the other guy had been laid off from a job a few months ago and started moving things to make ends meet. it's a constant reminder of how lucky i am to have a job and to have so many opportunities in front of me so often. most the other movers i called were charging a two hour minimum or were quoting $125 for the job of moving a free dresser. these guy charged $50 and promised to be done in under and hour and they were. I gave them $100 even. they said i made their night. that had been my goal.

i had this cough coming on so didnt' make any real plans for the weekend, a dinner here and there. i slept in most of thursday and sat myself in front of my humidifier and made myself cups of tea and put on a face mask and really exfoliated in the shower and shaved and put a hot oil masque in my hair and bathed myself in lotion afterwards and it was really the most luxurious thing i'd done for myself in as long as i can remember. stopped at dirk's for appetizers and then over to jane and richards for thanksgiving dinner. they had 16 this year, all the usual suspects. except that one guy brought a friend who'd moved here from kurdistan, he'd been working as a translator for reuters and they arranged for him to get a us student visa, a spot at columbia journalism school, and a guaranteed full time job once he graduated. we spent a lot of time talking about the middle east, which mostly meant me being embarrassed for the one guy who thinks he knows everything and kept saying really ignorant and foolish things, even though the man was extremely smart (he was a supreme court clerk for justice brennan, one of the best justice's there ever was), it's just that maybe he's used to acting like his opinion was the word of god and maybe when you're ruminating on the middle east, we're never going to understand the nuances as someone who was raised there, whose father died fighting there, etc.

as i left the dinner, there was an available cab stopped at the light on the other side of the street. i darted across and into his car. he'd thought he had his off duty light on, as he was planning on heading home for food. i insisted on getting out immediately but he'd have none of it. it was the father of him who wouldn't let this girl out of the car to fend for herself on a thanksgiving night. his daughter had just graduated from tulane. he had been a television producer for a local news station. he got laid off about a year ago and was close to retirement age but just not secure enough financially to stop working altogether. he found a garage in queens the let their cabs for 105 a day, plus $40 in gas. we talked about where we'd been, where we lived. we talked about ithaca. i mentioned that my friends thought i was crazy for moving all the way uptown because "they all have fancy places downtown" and he laughed heartily, but at first i wasn't sure what. "oh, your accent when you say fancy! it's so great!" but it was said in the warmest, most fatherly way possible. for all the interractions i have with cabbies, this was, by far, my favorite. i felt like a better person for having met him.

friday was another day of reading and steaming. i finished my new yorkers and started in, in earnest, on i love dick. syar, you need to read this. eileen myles does the forward, if that's any indication. the hardest part about reading this has been traveling with it, as i feel like i have to hide the cover when i read it in public places. that's a lie. the hardest part is stopping myself from judging. this reads like fiction, because who is this neurotic? who is this unaware? but this is real, and it's raw and it's fascinating. and for a while i understood the fiction of dick. the projection that they were putting upon this man who has barely appeared in person in this novel as far as halfway through. it feels like a game. it feels like a game to dick too. but to kraus, it's the furthest thing. so i find myself saying, "chris! stop! you don't even know this man!" and then they meet and he says the same thing to her. dick and i are on the same page. and i want to say that it's not about him, that he's the vehicle through which a new creative side of her blossoms. but it IS about him to her, and this isn't creativity really for her, it's obsession and insecurity and falling apart at the seams. there's a satisfaction in watching her stumble to a new level of self-awareness. there's a raw honesty here that i feel in my gut. and, every time i finish another section, i feel a kind of fearlessness. something like, "chris kraus did X, which was crazy. whatever crazy thing i'm thinking of really isn't so bad." and it's things like returning to restaurant bar to chat up the hunky chef. something that i'd ordinarily be too shy to do but seems downright submissive in comparison. but most of all, this memoir is brave. it's also really satisfying to those who like to nose through other people's things. i love the references to people's comments about the manuscript that she then inserts into the manuscript ("when Y read this part, she said it wasn't true").

tertulia with colin for dinner. though they normally have 2 hour waits it was downright serene on this holiday weekend. a winter ale was deeply, subtlely sweet. this place wasn't wholly different from boqueria. it was a cozier, warmer version. the food was one notch more sophisticated, a hair more intense. it was all lovely. aziz ansari sat next to us, though without dave chang and james murphy, unfortunately.

pilates in the morning. a 1pm showing of phililp glass' satyagraha. this was an opera in sanskrit with no subtitles. occasionally a translation would be projected onto the stage. this production is amazing. it felt similiar to william kentridge's "the nose" in setting. i wouldn't be surprised if the same person designed it though i'm too lazy to look it up right now. and in this opera, nothing happens. it's "about" ghandi's time in south africa, loosely. it's about persecution, and oppression. the music is stunning and the movement is slow and the result is that i was forced, for 4 hours, to sit and contemplate injustices throughout history. this opera gives you the time and the space in which to contemplate, generally, while providing imagery that is strong and brave. you sense the "we shall overcome" in the cast of characters who carry on through their hardships. it is a brave production, a gamble that pays off.

went home, showered and did a load of laundry and then came back downtown to see a friend's brother perform at UCB. it was a competition between six teams of three. a few weren't great, a few were awesome. my friend's brother came in third place, due to a coin toss, which broke our hearts a little but they're fairly new at this so they were happy to have almost nearly moved into the next round.

pilates again on sunday with a civilized brunch at the members's dining room at the met. their islamic art wing had recently opened and we took a careful stroll through after brunch. taking in persian rugs, illuminated manuscripts, handpainted indian fabrics.

dinner at casa mono with erika, sitting in front of the hunky chef. she's moving to chicago and is checking things off her bucket list. newly engaged, her ring is the biggest i think i've ever seen. i'd be terrified to leave the house with it. grilled calamari over a salad of fennel and grapefruit, grilled razor clams with a parsley garlic oil, seared duck breast over sweet potato, goat cheese croquettes. the wine was delicious, i didn't take down the name. the chef, under a full beard, had dimples. he had a quiet confidence and started chatting with us only towards the end of our meal but there was this spark in his eyes. and so i consider heading back and trying to get a bar seat right in front of him again but the sensible part of me says things like, "that's kind of stalky." and "he has a night schedule, so inconvenient!" and "but you're not that interested in dating!"

and then i pick up "i love dick" and consider going anyway.

Pillowcases weren't dry. I'm a genius, I think. T-shirt fits perfectly.

packing

though i do consider myself something of an expert at packing for travel, this trip is already a tad knotty.

 

for a while i've been traveling to sunny/dusty/dirty spots where flip flops and shorts served me well. toss in a maxi dress, a swim suit and sarong and i'm good to go.

 

this trip. oh, i'm so annoyed already. i'll need sneakers, a sine qua non, for all the walking/climbing/hiking. gross. how bulky and annoying are sneakers? AND i'll need to be prepared for rain, so i'm bringing a poncho and maybe an umbrella (but probably not).

 

and then i'll have a few days in cosmopolitain lima and santiago where everyone will be on their teeny spiked heels and so i might as well try, slightly, to not look like a dumpy american. so i'll need to pack one dress non-cotton and pair of heels.

 

i'll be checking the weather in the days before i leave but still, thinking i'll be cutting it close.

 

(and as always, bring detergent to wash a few items as needed over the course of two weeks.)

productivity

there were a few weeks in which the amount of things i had to do was so daunting that i had something of a breakdown. no crying or sleepless nights but just a sort of low level depression where i thought about all the things i had to do while not doing any of them.

 

i had a long talk with a friend (who happens to be a nutritionist and life coach) and she told me to write everything i needed to do down on postits and put them on my bedroom wall.

 

and then a funny thing happened. i had all these bills that were due a week late (which never happens, but i physically couldn't bring myself to pay them) but when the act of writing "pay citicard bill" "pay chase bill" "pay coned" was in front of me it just thought, "oh, this is a ridiculous thing to put on a post-it" and then just paid the damn bills. all of them.

 

the physical act of listing some of these things as things i could not do, was so repulsive to me that i just did them. it's when i booked my south america trip. it's when i finally listed all my old winter clothes on ebay. it's when i scrubbed my room floor to ceiling. it's when i finally submitted all those restaurant reviews i was behind in.

 

i still have a bunch of writing to do, that i've been putting off but i met someone for new york magazine a couple days ago and she said she's always using freelancers and that i should reach out. and i have. so maybe i'll get the writing thing back afterall.

More Zach Kanin

ebay

so when i was pulling all my fall stuff out of storage i culled a lot of it and decided to throw the new/barely used stuff up on ebay.
i've had a good time with ebay in general. sell my things to nice people and am sure to always be thorough in my descriptions and even like to suggest how an item can fit into an outfit (for those that are sartorially challenged). i've sold a lot of shoes on ebay because i can't stop doing this thing where i buy shoes that are on sale in a size 6 even though i've never been a six and will never be a six. in short, i buy a lot of shoes that go unworn. these are perfect for re-selling on ebay. 

Enter: Linda Babian

This crazy bitch in AZ who sent me this message:

I'm sorry to say that these are NOT in "New without box" condition !
the linen fabric is frayed... the shoes black spots inside and outside...
hairs, dust and whatever else is inside these 'NEW' shoes...
and the soles look like they were worn more than just 'inside the house'..You are going to get your first VERY NEGATIVE feedback from
me unless you refund my money ASAP to Paypal...and then send me a
postage paid envelope to get them back to you.

and then this gem!

I just googled and found an article on you...so THAT is what's in
those shoes ? OMG....
they're going outside ! you'd better get in touch with me before 
it rains here...I'm NOT messin' around with these frickin' shoes.
Seriously, BED BUGS is what is going to go on your feedback if I don't get refunded TODAY!

if bitch read the article she'd see that the bugs were many years ago, that they were long gone before those shoes ever came into my life and HELLO, the whole point of the article was that they are no longer. so i reported her threat to ebay because she CRAZY.

so that's the thing with ebay. you can't really control who is buying your things and sometimes they may be ugly people who send ugly emails and who threaten and accuse you of terrible things. linda, i'm sorry you didn't like the shoes, and i'm even sorrier that you're a miserable person. 

however: just re-sold my leica (i upgraded to the lumix GF1) for more than half of what i bought it for which is pretty good for a 3 year old camera. you win some, you lose some. 

cartier-bresson

thoughtful and thought-provoking

 

fashion staples

this list is almost perfect.

 

garance dore's blog is something of an addiction for me. i don't remember when i first stubled upon it, but it's one of those blogs i'd never take out of my reader. sure, she lives this fabulous life, but she makes fun of herself a lot and is relatable to many whether talking about getting into yoga, weight issues, comfort v. fashion debate.

 

the most mysterious part for me is how she dates the sartorialist. i've known people who've worked with him and said he was less than pleasant. even the things she quotes him as saying to her are stuck up and borderline disrespectful. she must be used to it because his comments, instead of being rude, are portrayed as being funny or quirky.

 

anyway, she's delightful and has such such beautiful taste.

 

 

plastic money

i love this. vietnamese dong (get your giggles over with, immature person!) is also plastic with a little see-through window. so neat, also perfect for those people who wash clothes with money in their pockets by accident. or even those who wash their money on purpose because it's dirty. (are there people who do this? that would be weird, yet smart! because money is filthy).

 

when colin and i spent that week on a sailboat in turkey, we swam to this little beach bar with money shoved in our swimsuits and when we paid they hung all the bills on a line with clothespins to dry, as everyone who came to the bar had to swim to get there, for the most part.

 

have put together an itinerary for myself for south america because i'm stopping in 5 cities and have 5 hotels/hostels that i'd want to have contact info for and some have airport pickup while others don't and some i've paid a deposit, and i needed a ticket to get into machu picchu and also train tickets to get there, etc., etc., so it became, easily, too much for me to keep in my head and far too much info to keep straight in my little planner that i carry around with me.

 

the downside to this is that now i feel as if my trip has no wiggle room. it feels regimented in a way that is so unlike the way i prefer to travel. i prefer to wander aimlessly. i prefer to have days to just peek into obsure neighborhoods. but the best restaurants in lima require reservations in advance, same with santiago, so i've pinned some of that down.

 

so i'm prepared, if not a tad constrained.

Zach Kanin #1

marcel the shell

i had big plans, big, HUGE, to start posting my favorite cartoons in the new yorker by zach kanin. i love them so much i tear them out and put them up in my cube with thumbtacks. it's like a thing an old lady would do, but for zach, i do this.

 

instead: there's a new marcel the shell!!!!

 

old one here.

 

new one here. adore them both.

THIS

this.

 

(planning my trip to paris to find my own swiss lover as i type)

 

sending you over to peter's little place

drabblerousers!

 

where i have an entry today.

 

is it a copout posting an entry that's nothing but a link to another entry? (maybe.)

 

do i care? (not in the slightest.)

my shoulder is broken

i did a few bootcamp classes this week which meant i was still a little sore for pilates today (i can't even think about tomorrow).

 

i couldn't get my shoulder out of my ear. it's stuck up in this kind of knotty, rickety way that is making me feel like a crazy person.

 

got an email from the dude at Esquire for whom i do all their advertorial copy, saying that the editorial people were complimenting them on it, which never happens. but then, the client's lawyers fussed with it all and probably screwed up all my copy. i'd referenced the san diego bay of lights parade which is certainly not copyrighted! it's lawyers being lazy and overly cautious about things they just don't want to research. so i had to change the copy to talk around what it was without actually calling it what it was.

 

lawyers are the WORST.

 

Another Party...

colin just sent out an email with the title "another party..."

 

and that's kind of how it is these days. always parties happening promoting some designer or brand or magazine. always something. i never thought i'd be the person to be so blase about free booze in chic locales, but i'm sort of over it. waiting at bars, waiting in line outside until a friend can come and pull you out of line, lots of insipid people standing around looking dismissively at canape trays.

 

the ny observer is looking for a party reporter and as tempted as i am to send in something on spec, i keep thinking, "but you don't even like parties! you're over parties!"

 

i keep opening up draft documents and starting to write up one event or another and then discarding the draft.

 

other things i keep doing: listening to spanish language videos to brush up before i head south. my vocabulary stinks and i've forgotten most my tenses so my spanish is all present tense and kind of jerky. i'm getting back into the swing of speaking about things i could do or will do or am doing or asking people to do things for me (oh, hey reflexive verbs!)

 

so yeah, i'm basically getting back into the espanol and it's pretty fun! i'm excited to have two whole weeks to try it out.

tissues

i have a new roommate. lovely girl! so quiet! a student! i like all of these things!

 

and when you've lived with as many people as i have over the years you learn to let go, to a certain extent. if what a roommate is doing is annoying, but not anything that 1.) filthies the house 2.) attracts rodents/pests 3.) makes the apartment less safe or tranquil, i'm apt to just let it go. i'm never home anyways.

 

HOWEVER, this new one is doing something weird with toilet paper. in the last month she's been with us she's filled our bathroom garbage twice with rolls of toilet paper. she'll take what i'd guess is 1 foot of toilet paper and seems to roll it around  her index finger and then tosses it. if she were blowing her nose wouldn't it be all crinkled up? the little rolls look pristine. i have no idea what they're for. and if toilet paper cost more than $1 a roll, maybe i'd say something, but it doesn't. whatever she's doing isn't really an inconvenience as long as she's taking the trash out (which i think she is).

 

the mystery is literally killing me. i was telling colin and ted about it and they want me to buy rubber gloves and inspect but that seems gross and crazy. i don't want to know THAT bad.

 

i ran into our other roommate james though and even he mentioned it to me. he said, "is this just a girl thing?" and i had to confess i had no idea what was going on. so it's small consolation that he's mystified too.

Guess they don't need these signs anymore

so i already missed a day

i'm going to forgive myself because i was out of town for a wedding.

 

a wedding which was really lovely and save for the fact that my drunk-ass friends never clean up after themselves and another friend of ours brought her boyfriend, who was disrespectful and otherwise sulked around miserably all weekend because he thinks he's too cool for us, it was a great weekend.

 

there's something so satisfying in going to the wedding of a couple that you know is perfect for each other. who compliments each other in the best ways and tempers each others' faults. their videographer sat them down and had them each tell the story of how they met. he edited their stories together, with each of them interrupting the other one to correct thier version of events, and it turned into the sweetest, most perfect capsule of who they were as a couple. the constant laughter and humor that they both shared, the teasing back and forth.

 

and all our friends came out so there's nothing better than sharing that kind of love with a whole gaggle of loved ones.

 

i hate on weddings a lot. mostly the travel, the cost, the pomp and circumstance (such a waste of money!), but my inner cynic took a backseat this past weekend.

Thinking of this while at my desk...

oh, the places i have to go

it's been hard to focus lately. i've been forgetting silly things that i should be remembering. i've been getting on the wrong trains or missing my connections. for someone who claims to have control issues, i seem to be losing it.
 
i think of my grandmother, who only knows who i am on the good days. worrying about my genes, i submitted to 23andme for some genetic mapping. i'm actually less likely to get alzheimers than the average person (must be the asian part of me, thanks dad), but i'm actually missing half my map in that i don't carry my father's Y chromosome. so i'm going to have my brother spit into his test tube and send it along so i can map out my shit.
 
that place connects you to people that they know you're likely related to (however distantly, i think some of them were 5th cousins or something) but one of them lived in the midwest and had the name fetty, which my grandmothers grandparent's last name. crazy and awesome. i'm half afraid i'll discover some half siblings (i know my father has other children with other women) and that's a reality i'm not sure i'm ready an willing to confront in such a forward way.
 
the original point of this wasn't even to go into all that. it was to talk about the friends i need to visit. the trip i must take back to ithaca because i love ithaca. the friends in chapel hill with whom we'll drink wine by a fireplace and drink red until the wee hours. the friends in baltimore who had the wedding full of wildflowers and paper lanterns and herbal teas tied with ribbons as party favors, my grandparents who are now in an assisted living center on the opposite coast. there's just not enough time. i have to schedule in days to do my damn laundry.
 
i'm headed for south america for two weeks in december. lima, cuzco, santiago and easter island. have booked all my hotels, b&bs, hostels. all that's left is reading up on my history enough to appreciate what i'm seeing and finding the right restaurants so that i'll know i'm eating well. certainly a more expensive trip than SE Asia but what isn't?
 
 

Peanut at 10 weeks. Mini schnauzer belonging to my friend David

notes left on my phone during the last LCD soundsystem concert at MSG

Herve lege. Gil Scott heron. "Weird thing in a boxing arena."
Surprised at the venue. 5day stubble. Began and ended with new stuff.
Best stuff. Empty seats in sunsets. Then purples. Big disco ball.
White balloons ready to fall. I would say they're from Canada but two
of them are Americans. Sheepish in the corner.  Toured two years ago.
Cloudy skies, plane wings. Ahhh-Ahhh! Arcade fire bouncing behind the
stage. You guys, I love you, thank you (she bought me a beer. That's
the true test) excyse me, we're charging the stage. Single pluck of
the guitar.then 2, and 3. Band mbers hugging. Tossing water offstage.
Here's the truth: 3 more songs. Always want to be pretty. Ticket stub,
craigslist: last ever. Can't wait for the reunion. Already out the
door when I realize I'm wearing grey. Worst fan ever. X but not Gaga,
no body guards. Wood blocks, tambourines. Collapse to knees before a
blinding wall of light. Last song. What's that noise? (feedback) it's
our last song. No "ohhhs." thanked bad seats. Brother amd sister
there. I'm wearing my dad's watch. Twin peaks music. Stopped two lines
in, overcome with emotion. White shirts, skinny ties as we flood
towards 33rd.
And sbarro

fall for dance

it's one of my favorite events in any given year in nyc (followed by things like lincoln center's american songbook series, the nyc marathon, jazz age lawn party on governor's island, the new yorker festival, et al). tickets are $10 a piece and they bring in some 20 dance companies from all over the world to perform.

headed to grayton beach FL for a wedding tomorrow so i'm missing programs 4 and 5.

highlights of programs 1-3

my favorite: VERTIGO DANCE COMPANY performing Mana. oh, was this fantastic. set in something of a temple, imagine monks wearing neutrals instead of bright orange, baggy and drapey. this piece had a heartbeat running through it, the movement almost primal but the dance moves contiaing a sort of downbeat that made you want to nod your head.

snippet here, go see this if you have the chance.

lil' buck performing the swan: THIS. amazing. beautiful. yo yo ma was sitting across the aisle from me.

steven mcrae of the royal ballet performed a kind of cheeky tap number. every time i see someone tap it makes me want to run to danskin to pick up tap shoes and sign up for a class at ailey. and then i remember i'm a terrible dancer and also don't have time to commit myself to yet another thing. this is at the top of my list for when i retire or something.

Pontus Lidberg performing Faune: this was lovely.

Hubbard Street performing Three to Max: i liked this, even though i felt it was too long. the women's dance sections dragged for me, this endless rounds of counting to 10 in some language I didn't know, wore on me about 3/4ths of the way through. by the time they'd stopped chanting uno, due, terra, blah blah i almost said "hallelujah" when i realized i probably didn't have to hear it again. that being said, the movements were raw, there was a lot of humor in this piece. very beautiful dance moves mixed with a jerky marionette "i'm losing control of my body" type movements. jason hortin was my favorite, i couldn't stop watching him, followed closely behind robyn williams.

clifton brown, my favorite from ailey since he started with the company, did Among the Stars by Jessica Lang. really beautiful. clifton used to do a phenomenal version of david parsons' caught a few years go that i still think about. the ailey guys rocked the shit out of this, a lesser version of the performance can be seen here with some white guy who isn't all that great.

nablopomo

i think about this place more and more often lately. about how lovingly maintained it once was. about how abandoned it's been.

 

about how my focus is constantly changing (when i'm not losing it entirely). once i started getting paid to write (paid! to do something fun! imagine that!) everything i did i was looking for angles, looking for pegs, thinking about pitches. it's a crappy way to live and an even worse way to look at life because all of a sudden you start to realize that every waking minute feels like working, feels like hustle. terrible! so at the same time the day job started to get more rigorous, the time for pitching dropped off and i haven't pitched a single story in months, besides that talk of the town piece i half-heartedly pitched a few weeks ago and at least a week later than i should have.

 

in short, i'm sort of in flux here.

 

i'm also gonna try to get through nablopomo over here, get my little space back. some posts might be completely nonsensical, notes found in the crevices of my iphone notepad. some maybe just a photo. but i will try to get something up every day.