theatre theater

Last week was another week of theater for me. As I already said I saw Meredith Monk (+) and William Forsythe (-). Then yesterday I saw Spalding Gray: Stories Left to Tell (+) and An Evening with Philippe Decoufle (+)*, who's a French choreographer and director. The company I work for was given free tickets to Spalding Gray, or else I probably wouldn't have gone. And that would have been okay. The show consisted of four actors, two men and two women, retelling a compilation of Gray's stories. When one actor would begin to speak, I would think, "Hmm, you're my least favorite" only to have that title given to the very next actor who spoke. So most of the performance I tried to figure out who I liked least. I didn't hate any of them but I didn't particularly like them either. This was quite the breasty show too, where the women were concerned. For some reason their breasts were pushed up and in like nobody's business. It was pretty distracting. What carried this show was Spalding Gray's superb writing. At the end of the show one of the women was retelling a story about a time Gray danced around with his family to a Chumbawamba song. At the end, that song began playing while a video of Spalding Gray telling the same story (sans sound) was played on the back wall. It brought a tear to my eye. A few tears. It was such a great, sweet story and the video brought home that he was really gone. I'm not usually one to remember specifics concerning other's lives but I remember what I was doing when I heard Spalding Gray's body was found.

Later Sunday evening I saw a bunch of videos choreographed/directed by Philippe Decoufle. I first saw his work when I was in college and the ad in Time Out had a still of the video I had seen. I recognized it and bought a ticket and I'm glad I did. He's a pretty clever guy. Some of his work was a little dull but mostly only when he fell dance conventions, for the most part he's inventive and original and fun and strange. Here's the video I first saw in college. I think it's a more accessible example of his work. Yes, yes, I know you don't want to watch a video on someone's blog, but it's fun. I promise.


And here's a probably less accessible one, but I still love it.


I like his work enough to actually consider seeing his solo show playing at The Joyce. The Joyce! Crunchy bone central. Where old women go to see non-offensive traditional but billed as avant-garde dance. I think they'll be in for a surprise with this show. That's probably why it's not selling that well.

*Not all (+)s are equal.

I've been spending money on a whim lately. It needs to stop. Or maybe it doesn't. A few days ago I bought a book by Michael Dorris and one by Salman Rushdie. Then I bought The Road, the book Meredith Monk mentioned, a CD of her music and another book that I haven't read for about 7 years but remember loving, so I hope I still do. And today I bought a book on knitting for men. I didn't even take much time to read it. But I saw a few patterns I liked and techniques I hadn't done before so I grabbed it. Granted I've been spending most of my money on books but still. I didn't buy any ice cream when I got home today. That took some effort.

I'm coming for you!

Watch your back. Look under your bed. My evil lizard and I are prowling the streets and if we find you, you'd better believe we're gonna make you watch some creepy performance art! Mwaa ha ha!

Seriously though, I wish I could make myself look this way in real life, I'd use it all the time.

Or maybe like this

But still be able to go back to my normal, narcissistic, beautiful self.

MNS and I went to BAM last night to see Three Atmospheric Studies, choreographed by William Forsythe. I don't know why I ever go to theater without bringing a notebook and pencil. Do they expect me to just sit and watch the performance? I can't do that. I find I get some great thinking done at bland performances, but I have to be able to write my thoughts down. I thought more about the muumuu piece, a scene involving a rolling pin and lipstick and a lot of repetition. What will become of that thought? Who knows. The best thing I can say about last night was that I got to spend time with MNS. The second best thing I can say is that I had long train ride home and got to spend lots of time reading a book I just bought. There was a part of the performance where a woman was kind of going crazy and getting all disjointed, that was kind of interesting. And that's all I have to say about that.

Pictures taken by HL on his brand new gorgeous Mac that he wouldn't leave me alone in his room with because he knew I'd just get naked.

get your fleas outta my chips

Last night I was up late in my room with my door open, doing whatever it is I do at 1:30 in the morning, when I heard my roommate walk out of her room and into the kitchen. I didn't have any music playing so it was fairly quiet but then what did I hear but a plastic bag ruffle and then some crunching noises. Horsey was eating my goddamn chips. I always suspected she did that (and maybe ate other food of mine too) but I never had any proof. I would open up a bag of chips and notice that the level might have gone done but I wasn't positive so I never said anything. I nonchalantly walked into the kitchen last night and when I was about 10 feet away the floor creaked. I heard a slight ruffle and then saw Horsey's shadow jump towards the sink, which she turned on right when I walked in. I was too tired to say anything last night but the next time I see her I will. I actually resent having to say anything at all. It should be a common courtesy not to eat your roommate's food without their permission. Of course, it also might be a common courtesy to close the frickin' front door but that doesn't happen either. I don't know why I keep expected "so" much. I will admit that I've used a few of her eggs before but I would immediately buy more the next day to replace them. I wouldn't mind if she did that, but she never does.

But I'm not going to let that get me down. YorN and I went to a concert last night featuring Bang On A Can and Meredith Monk. It was so good. I couldn't help but smile during the entire evening. When it ended we were both extremely happy and it felt wonderful. It was like Meredith Monk had given us a present in the form of her music. She's now on my short list of artists that I will always see if they're nearby. Watching her was amazing. She clearly loves what she's doing and is good at it. Her energy was infectious. When explaining the idea behind one of her pieces she mentioned that she had just finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy and that she was really into it and it inspired her. Right after the concert YorN and I went straight to Barn*s & Nobl* to buy that book. That's how much we liked her music. But they didn't have it. I'll be buying it soon though, along with more of her music.

I also noticed that a certain choreographer that I recently complained about on this blog received a full page write up in Time Out New York. Ugh. But I don't care. Good art still exists. Last night was proof of that.

another wish

This morning, pursuant of our conversation concerning living locations and long train rides, HL suggested I spend my time knitting on the subway. I looked at him and said, "I'm not that brave. I might as well just have some guy fucking me from behind while I'm at it. Oh wait, that would really kind of be my ideal date: knitting while getting fucked. I'd just need to throw on some anime and things'd be perfect."

Now how well do you know me?

without even trying

I didn't even notice that I posted an entry about how I'm allergic to eggs and then immediately following that an entry about how I love mini-eggs. HL had to point that out. What's wrong with me?

To pay tribute to MNS and beta (i.e. steal from) I was going to create one of those online quizzes but 10 questions is too many. So here are a few I've come up with so far. In an actual tribute those girls (particularly MNS) my answers are sneaky and based on what I'm feeling right this moment. Here goes:

1. I most often wish I were:
A) successful
B) a robot
C) a few inches shorter
D) more muscular
E) a slut

2. I most sincerely wish I were:
A) successful
B) a robot
C) a few inches shorter
D) more muscular
E) a Japanese woman

3. In my bag you will almost always find:
A) tweezers
B) a book (fiction)
C) my checkbook (non-fiction)
D) flushable towelettes

4. The item I value most in my bag is:
A) the tweezers
B) the book
C) the checkbook
D) the flushable towelettes

5. I spend this amount of time staring at myself in the mirror (cumulatively) each day:
A) 5 minutes (enough time to do my hair)
B) 10 minutes (hair's not quite right)
C) 15 minutes (I'm beautiful)
D) 20 minutes (how can I make my eyes more soulful?)

That's it. How well do you know me?

why oh why?

Jesus Christ. I just got an email from a dance space here about a new work coming up soon. It's by a certain choreographer whose work I can't stand. Granted I've only seen one of his pieces but I so vehemently hated it that I can't even think about seeing something of his again. I can't stress enough how unpleasant an evening that was. Here's a blurb from the email about the new piece, undoubtedly written by the choreographer himself. The piece is called Everyone.

Everyone is about the world right now and right now and right now. Nothing is interesting. Everything is interesting. This is a huge failure. Nothing works. Nothing is going anywhere. There is nowhere to go. Everything is perfect. Everything is a perfect mess. I know now. I know who this is for. This is for us. This is for me. This is for everyone.

Don't you want to go? Doesn't it sound like a lot of thought was put into this piece? Doesn't that make you think it won't be a complete waste of time?

"This is a huge failure." Thanks for the warning. How considerate.

Even if I didn't already have opinions about this choreographer I still wouldn't be interested in this show. This blurb encapsulates much that I dislike about "progressive" contemporary dance. There's this kind of blase attitude infecting the dance scene where shows no longer have to have any sort of entertainment value but can merely exist as the creators' exploration of themselves. Cohesive themes? Who needs 'em! I'm certainly not saying that all theater must only be entertainment, that usually ends up being awful. But the beauty of art is that it can be entertaining and educational, often in unexpected and unique ways.

lactoserific

I wanted bagels and cream cheese for lunch but since I also wanted a few other items I didn't go to a bakery, I went to a grocery store. When I arrived at 3:30PM the bagel selection was slim and poor, just a few flat unappetizing pieces of bread, but I had already made up my mind. To balance the fact that I was buying crappy bagels I also bought a crappy custard doughnut. Makes sense, right? On a whim I decided to treat myself and also bought some brie and wheat crackers. Now back at the office I just ate one bagel slathered with cream cheese, the doughnut and am about to dig into the brie. It's a very cheesy lunch. One that I at first thought would be healthyish but is quickly turning out to be stomach churning. I bought some V8 too, they say that counts as like, 3 servings of vegetables. Salty, salty vegetables.

I don't know why I have the tendency to avoid people, even people I like. I was walking over to the office building a few days ago and right before I got to the door I noticed a coworker about 15 feet away. I actually like this guy, he's nice and I enjoy talking to him but instead of waiting to say hello I put on a concerned face and walked into the building. We hadn't made eye contact so I wasn't being pointedly rude but as I was being stupid. I think I sometimes inadvertently revert to my junior high days where I made a point of seeming intensely occupied with my thoughts thereby discouraging any conversation. When I do that now though, I'm usually just daydreaming about winning the lottery.

my true love

Really. I love them. I would marry them if I could and then we'd have delicious chocolate babies. And I would eat them. My own children. That's how much I love these things. Even though I ate an entire pint of mint chip ice cream last night I couldn't resist buying of pack of chocolate goodness. My diet is really falling apart. I'll totally exercise tonight though.

I've discovered a problem with gay dating, one that I'm sure I've thought about before, but I have I ever blogged about it? Non-separate public restrooms. Yesterday Also-I (that's how I'm going to refer to him from now on after dropping his other, more offensive title) and I went to a movie. After it finished I needed to use the bathroom and as I walked toward it I noticed he was doing the same...and we walked in together...and stood at adjoining urinals. Normally that wouldn't bother me except for this time I really had to fart. And it's hard to release one set of muscles and constrict another. The solution may have been to go into a stall but the bathroom was quite small, one stall, two urinals and we were the only ones in it so I still would have been the obvious loud culprit. I ended up pretty much just pretending to pee then washing my hands. We soon parted ways at the subway and when I got home I ran to the bathroom.

I've also discovered that I almost always spell "separate" and "negative" wrong.

addendum: I did exercise. I did eat the entire bag.

I think I'm slightly allergic to eggs. At brunch today I decided to order an omelette even though I've always said I don't like eggs. I haven't had an omelette in a long time, years and years, so I thought that perhaps aversion to eggs might have changed. Nope. The first bite was okay, it was still edible but by the time I was half way through I was disgusted. I couldn't eat any more at all. I hated the texture and the taste. A few hours later my stomach started to hurt quite a bit. So I think I can't take large quantities of eggs. I'm probably still okay if I get them in smaller doses, like in cookies, brownies and ice cream. I'm sure that's fine.

Sometimes I feel like my emotional and psychological being is stuck at, let's say age 12. Little things can set me in a funk from which I have to fiercely fight my way out. Battles I consistently lose. Some events can be easily predicted and I do my best to stay away from those. But then I being the constant dilemma of am I reinforcing my behavior by not subjecting myself to those types of situations or is it that I really just don't like those situations? I don't know. Then there are unexpected happenings that seem to shoot straight into me, find that switch marked "depression" and flip it.

On the train today I was thinking about how I often use the words "just, like, really" and other vague modifiers. My father criticizes my speech and writing for this and tells me to be specific but the problem is that I can't. I can't be specific. I don't know what I'm trying to say and even when I do I don't know how to say it. So I need my qualifiers to leave things slightly more opened ended. I can't make a direct statement. They scare me. There's always something I don't know.

repress

I woke up this morning on my right side with my shoulders scrunched up and my head tilted way back to the right with my pillow smashed underneath. I think I have some anger issues that are manifesting themselves in my sleep. It could be that or just that my life completely lacks direction. That doesn't seem to lend itself to happy sleepy time either. My boss thinks it's because I'm too tall and don't quite fit on my bed but I think it's more complicated than that. Maybe it's time to actualize my goal of sleeping on my back. The only times I've been able to sleep on my back are when I've been extraordinarily tired and on the floor. My plan is to get really tired then lie in my bed on my back for progressively longer periods of time before I allow myself to flip to my side. I know the phrasing of that sentence is questionable but I need to go to the bathroom and can't think clearly when my bladder is full. And my teeth hurt and feel cold (when I have to go to the bathroom), which I've already mentioned though no one else appears to have this peculiar problem.

take that

A few months ago HL and I were talking and he said something slightly derogatory towards me (in a funny way, that's our relationship, that's my relationship with most people) and I almost spit my gum at him in response. I asked what he would have done if I had spit my gum on him and he said he'd have thought it was funny. What? This was a new side I had never seen. So I decided that I got one free spit out my gum to use in the future whenever I felt the occasion warranted it.

On Tuesday HL and I were waiting in the subway for the A train to take us home. He once again said something slightly insulting. I looked at him and pteuwie! Out shot my gum. The problem was that I had only just put the gum in my mouth a few seconds before so it wasn't chewed very much and the fresh piece was making my salivary glands work overtime so what ended up coming out wasn't a well aimed compact wad but a flat chunk surrounding by spit. It flung itself onto the sleeve of his coat then dropped to the ground. A woman walking by stared at us in disgust. And that was my one chance to do something funny with my gum. It worked out in a predictable ipj way, but not how I'd intended.

insensitive

During our morning meeting today I kept glancing at my boss' head. Boy, I guess she didn't really have time to wash her hair this morning, there are a few greasy strands kind of stuck to her scalp. What was she doing last night? Oh wait, no, she just has a little smudge. How strange, she's usually pretty immaculate. As I begin to open my mouth to inform her (I can't have her walking around all day not knowing she has dirt on her head, did she walk into a subway bar?) I realize that the smudge is actually closer to the center of her forehead and seems to have a particular shape. Ash Wednesday. And instead of saying anything I started laughing. Unfortunately, the whole time I was laughing I was still staring at her forehead. I hope she didn't notice, I don't think I was too overt but she is savvy.

My eyes popped open this morning at 4AM and I immediately knew that I was sick. I often wake up in the middle of the night, usually several times but normally it's a sort of groggy, moaning waking up, not an eyes wide open kind. Also, I had kicked off all my blankets and still felt a little warm. Now I know New York weather has improved since a few days ago but it's still cold and it certainly wasn't warm enough in my room to warrant no covers at all. So I pulled my blankets back on, huddled into a ball and smushed my head farther (further?) into my pillow. And now I'm sick at work though not feeling near as awful as many people I know. I'm grateful for that. There is one part I like about being sick though. It's never felt so good to close my eyes.

pants o' the mornin'

I had a good test for my new jeans this morning: I was bloated. Like crazy, y'all. I had a smoothie for breakfast with soy milk, bananas, blueberries and peanut butter but I've had that before and nothing's happened so I don't know what set it off today. Maybe I just had too much. It was out of control though. My jeans held up well, they still felt comfortable. Of course, I'm wearing the pair I bought specifically because they were more comfortable and less snazzy. The other pairs I bought are tighter and might not have fared as well. This was definitely a concern of mine when I bought them. I pretty much can't gain any weight in the stomach area, or in my legs, or my butt. And yet if my butt ever gets so hard and perky to actually do any damage to my jeans my happiness over my new perfect ass will totally overshadow any anger I might feel. If it just gets fat that's another story.

Last night it took me until 11:00PM to convince myself to go buy some dinner. If I had just gone around 9 when I first thought of it I would have been fine but I didn't really want to get dressed to go outside again and would much rather have just continued playing video games. But I finally did and it was a bad idea. I may have also smoked a little, which was also a bad idea as I had already been coughing up phlegm for most of the day. And I returned to an old friend, brownie mix. Some of the mix had gotten hard and stuck together into little hard pebblies. What a disappointing experience.

I need to remember to look for books on trauma at the library today. MNS suggested I get a degree in performance art with an emphasis in trauma studies and while I think that's an awesome idea I'm not quite ready to commit to a degree. So instead I'll do my own research and see where that takes me. The thought of it has already given me some images to work with. Like a woman in a big comfy chair wearing a muumuu talking about her past and present. Don't traumatic events make you want to wear a muumuu?

Here's what one patron wrote on her order form she faxed in to the theater the other day:

Question: What years were the kids with whom you will be attending born?
Answer: None yet!

I thought that was pretty funny.

Damn it. I just noticed that I've already spilled soup on my new pants. I'm certainly not surprised, just very very annoyed.

It just stays the same. My priorities are skewed and I have no direction. I keep using the word "just." I have nothing to report. Last night went better than I thought it would. I actually had a good time mostly. I need to go get some food. It may or may not happen.

Okay, granted I did first see this around midnight so I might have been a little tired but I still think it's pretty hi-larious.


I may or may not be going on a date tonight. I mean, I will mostly likely probably be going, I'm just not sure if it's a date or not. I haven't been on a date since I moved to New York. I was going to say it's not from a lack of trying but really, that's exactly the reason. This did give me a reason to pluck my eyebrows; I've been lax in their upkeep lately. I'd rather have had them threaded but that would have cost money and I don't know this person well enough for that. Also, I'm lazy.

thank god

I bought some pants! YorN graciously went clothes shopping with me today, a task that we both abhor so I'm very appreciative that she kept me company. She was really helpful too, going to search for different sizes and colors. And kept telling me my butt looked hott. Whether it actually did or not is irrelevant. What a good friend. I ended up spending too much money on three pairs that are basically the same jeans, with slight variances between them. We then trodded over to Urb*n Outf*tters, a store I dislike on principle, which we almost didn't go to but then I caved. It was incredibly crowded, no surprise. I picked up a few more pants to try on and, on a whim, a jacket that mildly reminded me of one my father used to wear to church. I didn't think it would fit at all but I'm trying to broaden my shopping to include trying on items I have no intention of purchasing. None of the pants fit, they were all to small and too short, the very things that have made me hate shopping over the years, but then I tried on the jacket. It wasn't quite as slim in the waist as I would have liked but otherwise I thought it looked good, really good. Uh oh. I bought it. Why not spend more money that I don't have?

YorN and I had a quick lunch before the shopping spree in which we had an interesting discussion on the meaning of being masculine, feminine, transgendered, transexual, queer and a whole slew of other related terms. We found that we had a hard time discussing any of those terms without making sweeping generalizations and relying on stereotypes.

oh my god

It's finally happened. I knew it would, I just kept hoping that it wouldn't. I was sitting at work and felt, well, for some reason I suddenly needed to feel my butt and there it was: a hole. And since I wore a thong today I brushed my finger right against my ass. I knew the ass of my jeans would give out sometime, all I do is sit around. I ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror and it's definitely noticeable. Luckily my sweatshirt is long enough to cover my ass, literally and figuratively. There was a question in my mind whether or not I'd be going out tonight but now I think it's been answered.

I may not have love

Happy Discount Valentine's Day Candy Day! HL and I went to Duane Reade during our lunch break and it took all my willpower not to fill my arms with 50% off boxes of chocolate. I only bought one small one for my office and only ate slightly over 1/3 of it. Good thing I didn't buy any ice cream last night.

Miss M had asked me to be her valentine, which I felt was quite the honor. That's her name for this blog from now on. We had planned on dinner and a movie but the selection of films was disappointing. Between the two of us we had either already seen most of them or were not at all interested in ever seeing them (Factory Girl). We casually agreed on a 9:30 show and went to find a restaurant. We walked for a while and finally entered an Indian place. The owner (I think he was the owner anyway) approached us and asked to wait a moment. He never said why exactly. We watched as he and his staff prepared a table (we assumed for us) and in the meantime we were approached 2 or 3 more times by staff members asking if we had been helped. When the table was ready we were given a choice to sit at it or at some other tables in the back. We thought it slightly odd that we weren't just immediately seated at the other already prepared tables but then maybe they were also fixing those tables at the same time, I don't know. I'm usually not a fan of Valentine's Day and can get pretty downcast but the couples around us helped to lift my mood. They perfectly demonstrated that just being in a relationship certainly doesn't guarantee happiness. To one side was the bitchy demanding couple and to the other was the bland "do they even like each other?" couple. All Miss M and I wanted to do was talk about them but of course, they were less than a foot away. I said we should try to disguise our conversation in metaphor.

My head is spinning. I've eaten way too much sugar. Is this what love feels like?

Ah crap. He ended up emailing me back this morning. And he was once again funny. And furthered the inane Netflix babble that I started. Now I have to be "on." But I have to wait to write him back. He waited 4 days; I don't want to seem desperate; he doesn't need to see that side of me.

repeatedly

I've done it again. I've been emailing, pretty frequently, with a guy on friend*ster, also with the name i. Things seemed to be going well, he was funny, I was funny (I think). Then he suggested a meeting. Apparently that's where I screwed up because his emails have stopped. It could be because I let my true feelings about his suggestion be known and I didn't offer an alternate suggestion or it could be that, as MNS pointed out, "you're making yourself sound crazier than you really are." That's what happened last time I spoke with someone online. It's kind of a relief. I know I bemoan the fact that I'm alone but I also don't want to do any of the work required in a beginning relationship. I basically want to date someone I can assimilate into my already set life. Of course, what's the fun in that? None, and that's the point. I'm not looking for fun.

This morning when I got up there was a note left for me on the kitchen counter. It was written by my roommate Horsey and let me know that the pipes in our kitchen sink are leaking (again) and could I knock on the super's door and take care of it because she's going to be gone all day every day. Apparently our sink has been leaking for about 3-4 days. I looked under the sink and sure enough, there was a bucket with water in it. Did either of my roommates tell me this? Nope. My other roommate left this morning to go to Florida for about 3 days. I really kind of feel that since he takes up the most space (in the fridge, freezer, cupboards, bathroom or any other room he's in), has lived there for 10 years and I'm really just renting a room, it should be his responsibility to take care of things like this. Plus, last time when our kitchen sink pipe actually broke I was the one the super yelled at for filling it with food. So I turned the note over and wrote that I had woken up late and just saw the note as I was heading out the door, Horsey will have to talk to the super when she gets home. At least I'm consistently passive-aggressive but not enough to push me into that crazy roommate category (I hope). Although I am prepared to go to a movie tonight specifically to get home after Horsey.

realizations

2 crumpets
1 glass half orange juice, half vanilla soy milk
1 cup hot chocolate
1 beer

When I was in high school, maybe junior high, I read a short story (you probably did too) about a totalitarian society where the government forced everyone to be equal. This entailed giving everyone a handicap particular to their strengths. The two characters I most remember were the father and son. The father was considered too smart and thus regularly had electrical shocks administered to his brain, to lessen his awareness. The son was too athletic and strong and had sandbags attached to his body. I was thinking about this story yesterday. I was thinking about how maybe we create our own hinderances. More accurately, about how I create my own hinderances so that I don't reach my full potential. And how amazing I could really be if I did utulize that potential. But then I understood that part of the reason I create these problems is so that I don't have to ever discover that that potential doesn't exist in the first place. It's much easier to believe that you could be great rather than truly discover that you actually don't have the talent for it.

lil' whiny

My nose won't stop running but I'm not sick. I don't have any tissues, just rough toilet paper. My room is a mess. I don't want to go outside. I have a two hour break today in which to do nothing because I don't want to do anything and I still don't know what I'm going to eat.

cleanliness is next to

HL and ipj are watching Grey's Anatomy. One character, overcome with happiness, leans down and kisses a patient who has just successfully come from a long and intense surgery session.

ipj: Ew. I bet his breath is terrible. He's been unconscious in surgery for hours.
HL stares at ipj incredulously.
HL: Sometimes people's emotions transcend personal hygiene! You probably would've made him brush his teeth before you kissed.
beat
ipj (thoughtfully): Yeah.

frickin' frick

It's cold in my apartment. I woke up this morning as a blanketly bundled ball of ipj. I kept rolling in my bed trying to get my blankets wrapped tighter around me but that didn't help. I didn't have much to look foward to either. I figured that if the heat wasn't working then the hot water probably wasn't working too. Yep. Once again, no hot water in my apartment. No shower this morning. I left for work half an hour early because I was just sitting on my couch with my coat on. At work I could at least be in my t-shirt and get some knitting done.

I'm still mad at my roommates. I'm doing my best to let it go. The garbage smelled rank the other day and no one took it out all day long. I finally did when I got home after 9:30PM. I'm pretty sure one of my roommates had been home all day too. And really, it smelled down the hallway. Stanky. And it sure wasn't something I threw away.

Here's a call I got at work the other day.

ring ring
ipj: NVT. How can I help you?
female caller: Can I ask who I'm speaking with?
ipj: My name is i.
female caller: You have a sexy voice.
ipj: Excuse me?
female caller: You have a sexy voice.

And then it went from there.

I've taken a short tech job this week. After the first day I realized why I had decided that I didn't want to do any more tech stuff. I don't like working for people who create art that I don't respect. This piece includes a lot of eggshells selectively placed around the stage forming a circle. It's ridiculous. I watched the last 10 minutes of the piece and wanted to scream. And just today I saw that the choreographer has a full page write up in Time Out, right at the first page of the dance section. Shows how much I know.

more angry knitting

This is my new favorite store. And this is my new favorite person who works at said store. I went there today during my lunch break to buy some yarn for a hat I want to make a friend of mine. She was so helpful and nice and it was a wonderful experience. I'll definitely be going back there. I also spent a bunch of money that I don't really have since I went to the dentist this morning and had two (two!) crowns put on my teeth. Those fuckers are expensive. I was hoping to set aside some money each month to later use towards getting certified in pilates but it looks like that'll have to wait, again.

I've been really angry lately. I think it's a combination of the weather, my roommates and my natural disposition towards anger. I've been pulling away from my friends and into myself. I'm sorry. It'll pass, probably. I will try to call you. I just feel like this cold weather has put me in a daze. It's hard to want to go anywhere or do anything. That's funny, that's how I remember feeling in the summer when it's ridiculously hot outside. I guess I'm only mostly functional during fall and spring though those seasons have their problems too. See? I just put my angry pants right back on.

It's been one of those days. And it's not even over yet. I did nothing today. Really. The most I can say is I took a shower, which I guess it some sort of an accomplishment since I could have just wallowed in my own filth instead. It's one of the days where little things are freaking me out. I got all jittery earlier at the thought of going to a tech gig I have tonight. I still can't think about it too much. It's probably going to be really easy and no big deal and yet I just can't calm down. I hate these times. This is why I need structure in my life. And I do have some structure and it does help, I'd just rather have some structure that I can actually appreciate.

blather blather

love me like Amy Tan

I was in Boston this weekend visiting my friend Bannie (as I just this moment started calling her in my head) who was starring in a play. She would probably correct me and say it was an ensemble piece but clearly, she was the star. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her friend. Actually, I found myself being exceptionally critical watching her specifically because she's my friend. Is she funny as this character? Is she funny because she's Bannie? Am I just having fun because I know her outside this context? And this is why HL will never voluntarily let me read one of his plays. Understandable.

Bannie and I went out to dinner before the show but overestimated how much time we would spend eating. Since we were eating before the show we couldn't order wine or any sort of alcohol and really enjoy ourselves (I guess I could have but I didn't want to be that drunk friend) plus the restaurant's heating was broken. All they had were a bunch of space heaters sitting around and instead of going somewhere else (the theater was right across the street) we just hurried through our meal. This left me with about an hour and 45 minutes before the play started. Bannie went backstage and I went to a coffee-type house next door to, what else, knit. I plopped myself down on a couch next to the fireplace and took out my bag. There was an awful singer doing his thing about 15 feet away but I just concentrated on my work and made smug remarks in my head. About 10 minutes before I was going to leave a late 50s-something woman came up to me. When I raised my head she said, "Excuse me, I just wanted to say: to know you is to love you. That's beautiful."

And it is and you should.

I've noticed that almost all the books I've read lately start with a quote or poem by someone other than the author. I usually read them and think, that's nice, or, why do I need an introduction by a different artist, or, do I really want to read this book? I'm probably not really that harsh. I just opened the new book by Amy Tan, Saving Fish from Drowning, and here's how she started:

The evil that is in the world almost always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence if they lack understanding.
--Albert Camus

A pious man explained to his followers: "It is evil to take lives and noble to save them. Each day I pledge to save a hundred lives. I drop my net in the lake and scoop out a hundred fishes. I place the fishes on the bank, where they flop and twirl. "Don't be scared," I tell those fishes. "I am saving you from drowning." Soon enough, the fishes grow calm and lie still. Yet, sad to say, I am always too late. The fishes expire. And because it is evil to waste anything, I take those dead fishes to market and I sell them for a good price. With the money I received, I buy more nets so I can save more fishes.
--Anonymous

I not only think these are wonderful quotes but that they succinctly set a tone that the novel can then follow. The second quote expounds on the first and the novel can be viewed as an even greater expansion. I feel that these quotes also act as a kind of guywire for the novel that the reader can hold onto if they ever feel lost. So far I'm not as absorbed in this book as I have been in others by Amy Tan but I'm still excited.

compensation

Scene the First

Someone sent me a message on friend*ster today. I haven't logged on there in months and completely forgot what I wrote. When I reread my profile it still seemed pretty accurate. Let me repost it for you here.

About Me:

I keep trying to write something about art but it's just not coming out at all. I think about art all the time. I started with dance but now I'm becoming more interested in performance art. Like yesterday I spent the entire day (meaning exactly 12.6 hours) staring at the nails in my bedroom wall until my eyes hurt so much I cried blood. My friends keep telling me that if I want to find a man that I should really change this section into something a little less creepy. I say that if a guy can't pick out sarcasm then we're already in trouble.

Who I Want to Meet:

Someone who also likes to give spontaneous ass slaps; there aren't enough of those in my life. Someone who has definite opinions, whatever they may be, and can handle that I have them too. Like if I told you I was going to make it my life's mission to destroy the oppressive, sexist power structure that is classical ballet, don't freak out. Just nod and say, "Oh, hmm, I may or may not agree with that...and here's why..."

See? Fits me, right? I was pretty impressed that he still sent me a message after reading that. And he encouraged my obsession with destroying ballet. He might also have just been emailing me because we share the same first name. Maybe he shares my secret desire to date someone with the same first name. Maybe he's also a complete narcissist. Not that I am.

I also liked rereading my profile because MNS left a comment that makes me laugh every time I see it, whether it's been a few months or just a few days. And here it is:

ipj is funny. He makes the weekends tolerable and makes me laugh so hard I
cry. Sometimes he just makes me cry. Sometimes after a day at work with ipj
I just go home and cry and cry and cry. That's part of his charm.

Scene the Second

I was doing some more critical thinking on the toilet the other day. I sometimes worry that I have these terribly annoying habits that drive my friends crazy but of which I'm completely unaware. But then I sometimes have that epiphanous moment where I realize just how annoying I could be but am not. For instance, there's a phrase that goes through my head each time I think or hear the word "eek." "Eek" popped in my head when I was doin' my business and I thought, "Thank god I never actually say this out loud. I would totally be that annoying guy at work." I'll never stop making that weird throat noise though. (For more info ask Ida, MNS, HL or YorN.)

Scene the Third

I was watching my clips last night (yes, porn clips and I'm going to stop and explain them for a moment because HL always makes fun of me for this but it'll help the story. I almost never watch full movies of porn online, only short 10-30 second clips. That's because the clips are free and I can't justify spending any of my dwindling money on aiding my sinful sinful daily/nightly/anytimely habit. HL sometimes lets me log on to one of his many accounts but really, I kind of prefer the short clips. The clips give me just enough to kick-start my fantasy/imagination. If I watch the full movie I get bored. The men always end up disappointing me in some manner; they're certainly no match for my lonely sex-starved mind. Back to the story.) and I was thinking, "Hey, that guy's pretty hot...and a little familiar looking. Hey, that guy on his knees looks familiar too. Hmm." The problem was I was watching amateur stuff with no close-ups and the lighting was pretty bad so the "actors" familiarity was only vague. At least they were familiar through their faces and not for other parts, give me some credit. I scrolled down to the bottom of the screen where there's more info on the featured clips and sure enough, I recognized the names of two of the five guys. I had slept with both of them (separately) in Seattle. Well, that certainly pulled on my heartstrings and made me miss the Northwest. Sigh.

Scene the Fourth

I've lost the blogging challenge. But, like laurenj, I have a good reason.

My life is boring.

Yes, going home and playing video games everyday does not make for good conversation, no matter how much my cousin might disagree. So I'm conceding to MNS. In my opinion (and through the rules we arbitrarily assigned) she's the winner. I may or may not (more likely) try to continue posting, we'll see. It's not like I don't have the time.

This week hasn't started off so well. I've already had 2 large slices of baclava, one piece of rugulah and an ice cream bar. Damn my friends for giving me sweets!

I'm going to make a hat for a friend of mine but since I want to use a knitting style I'm unfamiliar with I'm practicing on some other yarn I have laying around. I started today at work and it's pretty exciting. I had to start over about five times but none of those were actually related to the new style I was using; I just kept making dumb mistakes. The new style is called fair isle/strand knitting. I don't know which one it's actually called because different sources say different things. One website says that fair isle is a type of stranding but doesn't go on to say what's unique about it. Stranding involves knitting with two colors, one in each hand. I taught myself to knit with both hands specifically so I could try this style. As I could see my pattern begin to emerge in my knitting I actually got a little breathless; that's how excited I was that it was working. But then I would have to take it apart and start over. I'm sincerely anticipating work tomorrow so I can get back to my knitting.

I'm sorry, that's really all that's happening in my life right now.

trade-off

Here's how things kind of broke down:

Sunday
pilates
half a box of yogurt covered raisins
Monday
3 peanut butter Girl Scout Cookies, 4 thin mints
finished the box of raisins
Tuesday
pilates
Wednesday
pilates
Thursday
7 thin mint Girl Scout cookies
Friday
3 mini-cupcakes
Saturday
pilates
3 chocolate filled rugulah
Sunday
one pint o' ice cream

I thought I had done pretty well until I actually typed the week out. Now I'm less satisfied. But considering that I used to eat 3-4 pints of ice cream every week it's certainly an improvement. And I did exercise 4 times, that's pretty good. I mean, I didn't do any sort of cardiovascular work but I usually just sit on my ass so once again, an improvement.

The major inhibitor to the new me is that I've traded one vice for another. On all the days that I really wanted something sweet I instead treated myself to a 22oz Sapporo. So don't worry, I'm still getting my empty calories and I've cut out that pesky protein.

I'm just so angry right now. Or at least I was when I got home. Now it's turning more into apathy. I know of a few ways I could combat it but part of the problem is that it saps my energy to do so.

Why show?

I'm distracted by Top Chef. Ah! I can't think at all.

When I was young I fantasized about having super powers, as did everyone I knew, though I think I daydreamed a bit more often. I wanted to use my powers to find happiness, get fame, luxury, crush my enemies, the regular stuff. Now that I'm an adult I still have those fantasies. Only now I'd use my powers to stay free of disease, clean my room faster, have better hair, non-oil smelling clothes. My dreams have certainly become more sophisticated.

I have more elaborate fantasies involving super powers too but I'm not going to divulge those. I hope that someday I'll be able apply those fantasies in an artistic way but until then I'm just a guy sitting at home, living in my head playing video games.

The dance show was...was...was, I don't even know. MNS sent me a link to a website that's looking for reviewers and I was going to use this show as my sample writing but I don't even know what to write.

Why did he say that?! I can't believe he just said that. Oops, Top Chef distracted me again.

Back to the dance show. It was so boring and self-indulgent. The last 10 minutes or so were spent watching a fucking slide show of candid pictures. A lot (if not all) of the pictures were contemporary dancers and choreographers, some who were in the audience. It was like being forced to watch the college slides of a friend of a friend that you didn't know and certainly didn't care about. There was nothing in this show that made me actively interested. Melanie and I agreed that it did make both of us think but think about pretty much anything besides what we were watching. We should have just gone to dinner.
The title of this entry was taken from the program in reference to the subject matter of the show. It expresses my thoughts exactly.

And that's it for today.

blaaaa

I keep looking at this screen until I see double and then it gets fuzzy, trying to will some interesting topic into my head. It's just not happening. I've been experimenting with different knitting ideas in the attempt to create a hat pattern for a friend of mine. It's not going so well, let's just say it looked like shit. And I mean that literally. Really.

I'm supposed to go to a dance show tonight but I don't feel like it. Earlier I was afraid that it might be some sort of shoes-off type of thing and I of course wore holey socks today even though HL bought me new ones for Christmas and demanded that I throw my old ones away. Eh. I didn't. Then I feared that the dancers might break the fourth wall, which I'm also not in the mood for. The last thing I need is some dancer talking/yelling/staring at me. It's cold. I just want to go home.

I still haven't bought any ice cream or other dessert product. I did eat a bunch of those Girl Scout cookies but as stated earlier, those don't count. I've also exercised 4 times this week. Last night and this morning my muscles were sore and at first I was proud/disappointed with myself. Proud that I've been working hard enough to make myself sore but disappointed because I know I really haven't been doing that much so my body must be pretty out of shape for those meager exercises to make it tired. But then I realized the real reason, which completely erased any lingering pride I might have had. It's cold outside! Yes, when you are cold and shivering all the time your muscles tend to hurt, even after they've warmed up.

I may or may not still run to the mirror right after I finish exercising. I want to keep that image of toned muscles in my head as long as possible.

oh breeder (brother)

I just watched a communication training workshop held at the theater where I work. It was led by members of our education department in an effort to better equip our ushers with the tools needed to, god this sentence is just going on forever. I should really be filling out the observer response sheet they gave me but it requires at least some thought on my part so I'm avoiding it. I'm justifying it by telling myself that I only had one hour of work left when I got back to my desk and my, the phones are certainly busy and I really don't have time to finish that survey right now, I'll do it tomorrow. But in reality here I am on blogger. Did I ever actually think I could go back to school?

Disclaimer: men and women are not treated equally in our society. I am well aware of this, okay? Okay.

Last night my roommate Horsey came home and told me that she had placed an ad on craigslist for a date Saturday night. I mustered up my best skeptical expression while she told me about her responses. She did admit that obviously some were fake but she was positive about one man. I was less so. I'm pretty much convinced that every single person on the craigslist personal ads is a liar. But here's the kicker: in her ad she stated that he'd be buying her dinner. I've run into this mentality numerous times with women in my life. Among other things (that I don't feel like listing, let's just concentrate on this one), they still expect men to pay for dinner. That's completely unfair. If men and women should be treated equally then don't expect a man to pay for your meal, pay for it your own goddamn self. Yes, I know how nice it feels when you're out with someone and they offer to pay but to expect, nay demand it? That just pisses me off. Of course, I'm assuming that she believes in equality between men and women. I guess that might be giving her too much credit. It's just that I find it so hard to imagine that someone wouldn't want equality that I forget that those ideas actually do exist. In college I got in an argument with a friend of mine about this very subject. She thought men should pay for her dinner and hold doors for her and whatever other crap I can't remember. I said she couldn't have those things and still be treated like a peer. You can't expect a man to treat you like some fragile helpless queen and an intellectual equal. That's selfish and wrong. By the by, I'm well aware that I'm ignoring a lot of issues here; that was intentional. But if you really feel the need to point them out, go ahead.

at least my mom is proud of me

All you bloggers out there who haven't switched to the new Blogger Beta version should. And do you know why? Because it will be easier for me to leave comments on your blog. If you're still on the old version I have to go to a separate page to log in with my Google account then go back to your blog to leave a comment. And if I've already typed a comment it gets erased during the transfer. So switch! Switch! Switch for me!

And now for some pictures.

This hat is special for many reasons.

1. I made it.

2. A friend/coworker gave me the yarn, ergo I didn't spend any money.

3. I made it for said friend/coworker (that's her head).

4. I knit it all while at work.

5. I unraveled the whole thing right before I finished so I could slightly alter it.

6. The most exciting: I semi-taught myself 4 new knitting related techniques.

Since this yarn was free I decided to use it to learn how to knit with the yarn in my left hand (Continental style, baby). I was taught how to knit with the yarn in my right hand (English style) but I can only knit for about an hour that way. After that my arm gets tired. Plus it always seems like Continental knitters can go much faster. To begin I made myself knit a four inch wide swatch for an hour everyday. It was very frustrating; I felt like I was learning to knit all over again and realized why beginning knitters hate it so. Then I would switch back to English style to release some tension and work on my legwarmers. I figured that by the time I finished my legwarmers I'd be ready to try a project Continental style. I then taught myself how to make cables in my knitting. Cable knits form that twisty band you see best in the first picture. I used to hate cables; I thought they looked ugly. But they are so fun to do that now I love them. I also and still do hate seams. My seams always suck. My sister Ida once showed me how to knit a seam but I only vaguely remembered what she did so I tried to recreate it when putting together this hat. I don't know if I did it the way she did but it turned out pretty well. Then the pom-pom. I was pretty satisfied with my trial hat until I made that damn pom-pom. It just did not turn out that great. Then sewing it on was a bitch too. It looks okay until you touch it and realize that it's pretty floppy. But I'm still happy about the other things I've learned.

Hopefully something else will happen to me today so more than two people will find my posts interesting.

mr. hyde just needed a fudgsicle

So the day after I wrote that last post I walk into work and my boss has brought two boxes of Girls Scouts cookies. I'm one of only two people in this office today (not counting my boss, who has extra boxes at home and specifically brought these in so other people would eat them) and the other person is allergic to gluten and can't eat the cookies anyway. So all day I have to resist the temptation to shove these things in my mouth and it's getting hard. I mean, they're sitting right there! Maybe I should hide them. Maybe I can just restructure my resolution and say that I'll cut back my dessert eating of once a week to things that I buy. I mean, I can't control other people's actions and if they want to shower me with sugar I can't stop them. And wouldn't it be rude to refuse their gift?

Completely unrelated, I went to the dentist yesterday and my gums bled like hell. She said my mouth looked like a horror movie.

On Friday I told HL it was his duty to help me kick my dessert habit. At 3AM on Sunday morning we tipsily wandered the local corner store searching for goodies to buy. He, being a good friend, stood between me and the brownie mix and refused to budge, no matter how much I told him to ignore my earlier resolution. We jokingly argued for a while until I finally lunged, grabbed by him by the shoulders, threw him aside and claimed the coveted mix. I noticed the fear in HL's eyes was immediately shamed. What kind of monster had I become, to violently abuse my friend in order to feed my habit?! I put the brownie mix back on the shelf and we left empty-handed. And I swear I didn't go back later to buy it. I swear!

new year's ? resolution

I've decided to try to cut back my sugar/dessert eating habit to once a week. I say try because I can't quite commit myself to vowing to once a week. That's too much pressure. I need to have that out in case of an emergency but I'm going to try to narrow my definition of an emergency too. I'm also going to start doing my pilates exercises at least four times a week. I realized recently that I've been unconciously thinking that I have the same body that I did in college and that I can eat the same way I did in college but some hard staring in the mirror has convinced me otherwise. I ate a lot of ice cream in college and I mean a lot but I was also dancing every day and going to the gym a lot too. Now I sit on my ass all day at work and then sit on my ass some more when I get home and still eat lots of ice cream. Is it any wonder that my body has changed? Some day I hope to join and attend a gym again but that's tied into many other things that also need to change so I'm going to have to settle for exercises at home for now.

But I do so love ice cream.

I'm sorry, this just isn't the weekend of blogging. I'll do much better when I'm back at work and have endless hours to kill. In the meantime you should go see Cynthia Hopkins' show at St. Ann's Warehouse. It made me so happy, you know, because it was good. I wish she were my friend. Today I saw Notes on a Scandal, which I also recommend, though not as strongly. Of course, one costs twice as much as the other but it's worth it.

It's an emergency post. I'm going out and forgot to blog even though I thought about it all day. Then neither MNS nor Ida answered their phone so they couldn't blog for me. Luckily HL still had his computer on so here's the post.

But here's what it was going to be about:

I'm back on the hunt. MNS predicts sadness, she'll probably be right.

the fall of mine

In reference to yesterday, what I was going to blog about was my knitting. I finally bought some elastic thread on Wednesday and stayed up until 2AM sewing it into the top of my legwarmers and I tried them on and they stayed up and I was all excited to wear them the next day because it's finally gotten sort of cold in New York but as I padded down the stairs on Thursday morning I could feel them falling. As I walked to the subway my legs got progressively colder until they legwarmers were finally resting on my ankles. I took them off on the subway ride to work, much to HL's chagrin. During work I sewed a second, tighter band into one warmer then went to lunch, and it stayed up the whole time! Back at work I sewed the second one and thought I'd finally succeeded. I wore them both outside and my legs were very cozy, it was lovely. I tried to call my sister to tell her of my victory but she didn't answer so she has to read about it here; I'll not talk to her about it if she's going to shun me for less important things, like tech rehearsal. I then called GT but as the phone was ringing the first warmer starting slipping down! Tragedy! But I was able to wear the second one for the rest of the evening. I must be destined to only have one comfortable leg. I think I'm going to have to get an elastic band (not just thread) and sew it directly onto my knitting. But when will I do that?

the mer-people of new york

I often use music to help me out during times of loneliness. When I first moved to New York and lived in The House of Mormons I listened to Carla Bruni, like, all the time. I only had a portable CD player and since I didn't want to carry around a bunch of CDs I was pretty much always listening to her. And since that album was all sad and it was November in New York and raining all the time it was a pretty good match. I burned that album from my sister so it always made me think of her and, by extension the rest of my family, whom I had just left in Seattle (at a good orphanage though, so that wasn't bothering me). Then when I did my internship at a certain theater I started listening to a lot of Kristin Hersh (which reminded me of my other sister because I downloaded that off of her computer when she visited me) because a lot of her stuff reflected my (sad) mood too. Unfortunately, now if I hear any of the songs from those albums I'm taken back into my memories and get, well, sad again. I used those songs to take away sadness but they didn't just take it away, I put it into them. Now they carry it and throw it back at me whenever they're played. I think the only way I'll be able to listen to those songs again is to play them a lot when I'm excruciatingly happy so as to balance them out.

So, the play on Wednesday. It's title was The Big Voice: God or Merman? First of all, I kept thinking it was Man or Merman, like some nod to George Bernard Shaw so that was already throwing me off. But when I first read the title I thought this:



Or, more accurately, this:



But what they meant was this:



Do you see why I was confused? What's really pathetic is that I never made the connection despite the numerous references to Ethel Merman throughout the show. Of course, during the show all I thought about was how bored I was and how all the songs sounded the same (dull) and uh oh, can the performers see this snide look on my face, this is a pretty small theater? I think my version of the show would have been better. As it was we once again left at intermission. HL pointed out that my values must have really dropped since I used to say that I would leave a show only if I actually found it offensive. Now I just leave if I think it's a waste of time, which is a type of offense so I don't think I've changed too much.

This is my post. I don't have anything to say. I did have some things to say but my fire was taken away by certain circumstances. We'll see about tomorrow.

you wanted to know

In my quiet homage to Miss Beta Fippel I've already pooped three times today! Three! I don't understand it. I haven't changed my diet of shredded wheat, prune juice and V8. It doesn't make any sense.

This is the week of theater for me. Here's how it breaks down:

Sunday Netflix good
Monday Theater good. Recommended, awesome beginning, but not my favorite.
Tuesday Left at intermission. The option was presented to go home and watch The Golden Girls, the choice was clear.
Wednesday We'll see. I have my doubts.
Friday I'm super excited.

It feels great to be seeing so much even if two of them are movies. I don't have anything against movies, good heavens no, they get me through my life but I'd be more impressed if I were attending five live theater events in one week. Uh oh, I ran out of time. If my internet connection is working at home I'll let you know how tonight turned out.

who the?

Wow. An email just came into the office offering the artistic director free tickets to this play. All over the website it says Even Though It's A Play, It Doesn't Suck. Thank god! There are so many things wrong with this website and by extension, the play. Poor grammar is one thing. If you can't even construct a well-written sentence on your advertisements why should I trust your play writing skills?

Here's an example:

...an outrageous new comedy told in five outrageously funny Stop right there! This play is just too outrageous for me to handle.

Here's another, which also exhibits the play's great material:

Rebecca and Sarah seem to have found the men of their dreams. But what happens when they find out that they are the subject of some really raunchy and offensive sexual fantasies? Find out as they probe deep into the male mind...as if there is that far to go.

Raunchy and offensive? Those sound like great buzz words to me! Aren't you just itching to buy a ticket? The other problem is that our theater doesn't even have an artistic director, which is clear if you look at the staff listing, which is available for anyone to look at online. Also, this play is not at all appropriate for the theater where I work. Not at all. So I don't know why the "writer/director/producer" sent it to our office nor how he got our email address without ever noticing the kind of work we do.

What kind of idiocy did you encounter today?

something like a life

I just saw David Lynch's Inland Empire and it confirmed for me why I'd been avoiding good movies. They make me not want to return to my life. I really liked this movie but I really don't like my life. After it was over I had to ride the same subway home and go to the dimly lit grocery store then back to my apartment with my roommates whom I find either stupid or disrespectful or both. I feel that there's a serious lack of happiness in my life and it's all because I saw a good movie! See what they do? Stay away. (But if you are interested in Inland Empire I recommend seeing it in the theater. This film needs to be watched in the dark and you need to be committed to watching it.) Although it obviously had an effect on me, it still had flaws. It's not my favorite David Lynch movie but Laura Dern is awesome in it. She/it actually made me cry at one point. Of course, I immediately stopped crying at the very next scene because I thought it was stupid. So yes, some flaws.

While watching the film I began thinking about my experience of watching it. And about how I experience other forms of art. I regularly like to let half my brain have an experience while the other half analyzes that experience while it's happening. I began thinking about one of my favorite books The House of Leaves. This book gave me nightmares. More eerie than frightening but nightmares nonetheless. I loaned the book to a married friend of mine and it did not have the same impact on him. I mostly read it late at night, right before I went to bed. I doubt I would have had the same experience if my loving wife had been sitting next to me. I'm sure I wouldn't have sympathized with the loneliness and fright experienced by the main character. It's not that I already felt that way but that the book was able to make me think I did. Does that make sense? I think the point I'm trying to make is that not all art is for everyone, no matter how much I want it to be or how good I think it is. That's a lesson that I keep having to relearn, I don't know if it will ever truly sink in.

My internet connection is really running slow so my steam for blogging has dimished since I tried to log on. I finally bought some new shoes. Pretty practical, not as flashy as I wish I could get but I needed a pair I could wear all the time. I saw Pan's Labryinth today. I really liked it. There were a few problems but it was still a good movie. One of the problems was my own expectation going in. It was different from what I wanted and that took me a little while to get over. But I didn't how diffferent it was going to be until it had ended so I wasn't ever really able to let go of my own idea.

I think that's it for today. Pretty bland reading.

again

Upon request:







Clearly I was exceptionally bored last night. And exceptionally something else. And in case you're wondering, that silver tubular thing in the first picture is not this, it's...something else, which I actually seem to find more embarrassing. And if you weren't wondering, well now you are.

non

It's posty time. Each thought about my blog today led to thoughts about my life which led, and is leading, nowhere. Hence putting off posting. I think it's just one of those days.

I did get a spur of the moment hair cut today though. As I was describing what I wanted done I interjected the sentence, "But I don't really need much of a hair cut." He looked at me and said, "Yes. You do." Okay then.

Maybe I'll try Nights of Cabiria again tonight. So many times I'll start a movie that I think I don't really feel like watching but by the end I'm crying or laughing or having strong feelings of some sort and I really need that to happened again soon.

beauty is in the eye of the camera phone

I often worry about the need to stay immaculately beautiful. I know this is silly since I am not immaculately beautiful and really, worrying about it only makes me dreadfully self-conscious.

So.

A little smarmy and I could use a haircut but all in all okay, right?



But look at what happens when I let that worry go:



Yikes. Closet Monster. HL said it looks like I'm wearing a fat suit...on my head apparently. As much as I like letting this guy out, which one would you be inviting to dinner? I thought so.

lame-o

Oh my god! It's 11:41 and I still haven't posted! I'm not going out now. But I'm on HL's computer and don't feel like I can really flesh out this post so this is about all you're gonna get. Here's a tidbit:

I stared and stared at a man on the subway today for my whole ride, all the way from 181st to 42nd, willing him to look at me...and love me. He didn't look up once. In retrospect, he was fuckin' ugly anyway.

see? complainy

My roommate (we'll call her Horsey) uses her blackberry as an alarm. Fine. I use my cell phone as my alarm. But you know where I put mine when I go to sleep? Next to my frickin' bed. Where does she put hers? Wherever the hell she happens to drop it when she gets home: in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the hallway, wherever. Now, Horsey teaches yoga and likes to get up super early to center herself or some such shit so she typically sets her alarm at some ungodly hour. This morning's alarm was for 4:30AM. And it rang and rang and rang. It's loud and piercing and annoying and loud. After about 7 minutes of hoping that she would turn it off I rolled out of bed, fumbled for some pants and flung my door open. There, in the hallway was Horsey's blackberry and there, sitting on the couch, wide awake, was my other roommate. I picked up her blackberry, looked at him incredulously and said, "I am so sick of this shit!" Come on! Is he deaf or something? How could he just sit there and let this fucking thing ring and ring? And it only pauses for about 5 seconds between cycles so its alarm is pretty constant. I turned Horsey's blackberry off completely, tossed it back on the table, went back to my room and only semi-slammed the door (I didn't want to induce too much drama).

Both of my roommates are deep sleepers. They basically stay awake as long as possible so when they finally do go to sleep they're pretty much knocked out with exhaustion. I don't know what kind of solution I could offer. Another time after Horsey's blackberry woke me up after ringing for several minutes I discovered that it was less than two feet from her head. And she continued to snore on. Jesus Christ.

I didn't buy the ice cream. I made HL buy it with money he owed me. So really, I didn't break my promise. I never said I wouldn't eat the ice cream.

I will not buy the ice cream

Or maybe I will.

This after I just told someone else that when she craves food that she doesn't actually need to eat to drink a bunch of water. It helps fill you up. And that's true. It just doesn't calm you down.

I had a discussion with a coworker today about how she should quit her job. Her other job. She described her job to me and told me her thoughts about it and asked for my advice. I went on and on about how she shouldn't have to do anything that makes her miserable and it's not worth staying in a job that you don't like and doesn't go anywhere. We basically had a half hour conversation where I was a complete hypocrite. I really do want that ice cream.

I keep thinking about posting on some online dating site. I just can't quite bring myself to do it. I feel like I should meet someone the old fashioned way, you know, in person somehow, doing some sort of activity, or through friends. Websites just seem, ugh. I don't have anything against them in theory, I know a bunch of people who use them, I just can't imagine it myself. I actually did post a little something once, mostly so I could read everyone else's profile. Most of the guys sounded way too great and practically flawless and seemed to have way too much confidence in themselves. I don't need that. And that obviously can't be true, therefore they must be liars. But give me some emotional flaws. His need to compliment mine. I need me some neurotic love.

my small efforts

Here's the story:

There's this building in Times Square that was once used as a police headquarters or hangout or something police related. Now it's being turned into a JC Pennys or something equally ridiculous. I walked by this building almost every day and only slightly payed attention to it. One day while walking by in an already annoyed state I actually looked at the many poster lining its walls. They were all the same and featured "druggies" partying and goin' crazy and synching belts on their arms and had some slogan like The War On Drugs Starts With You. I'm pretty sure it was actually much more idiotic than that. And it made me mad. So mad that I turned my head and spit a huge loogie right at the nearest poster. It satisfyingly slapped on my target and I continued on. Take that establishment!

family

Last night when I got home I was a little bummed so I called my sister, who unfortunately didn't answer. In my message I said, "I promised I wasn't going to come home tonight and just get high and play video games but guess what I'm doing right now?" Later, in a responding message she said, "That's okay, the other night I sat around eating cookies, reading The Devil Wears Prada." And really, aren't those about the same?

down that road

I finally did my laundry. I woke up at 7AM and headed downstairs (I can do my laundry in the basement of my apartment building). I put quarters in two machines and right after I hit the wash buttons I remembered that I was supposed to check if there was any hot water. Last night there was once again no hot water in my building. Before going to bed I decided that upon waking up, I would need to check the water before washing my clothes. Did I? No. Was the water once again frigid? Yes. Do my clothes seem cleaner? A little. Still smell a bit like oil though. I'll probably end up washing them again, which I don't really want to do. I'm afraid that one of these days the ass of the jeans will just wash away.

I've had two supposedly great movies at home for a while now: Nights of Cabiria and The Short Films of David Lynch. I've been avoiding them and instead have been focusing on Samurai 7, an anime series inspired by and roughly following Akira Kurosawa's The Seven Samurai. I'm afraid that the other movies will actually be good. I'm afraid they'll make me think; I'm not ready to do that. If I start thinking about good art I'll start thinking about my art and about how it's nonexistent and then I'll just get sad. God forbid I should actually do something about it. So that's why I'm staying away from good things. I was talking to a coworker today about dance and was telling him that I had been disappointed with things I had seen lately and wanted to make my own. He looked at me for a moment and said, "Don't. That's a bad idea. Do not try to make your own work. It's so hard out there." That was certainly encouraging.

While sitting on the toilet a few days ago I had a profound moment. And after flushing I got down to some thinkin'. Really I do some of my best thinking while on the ol' American Standard, don't you? "You know, I can see me spending my life with some other career and just appreciating art made by others. I don't have to make my own." While this idea was comforting it also made me a bit sad. On one hand I felt like I'd traversed a hurdle with which I'd been struggling. It's okay that I'm not always making art; I can take breaks. On the other hand that particular idea involved taking a permanent break from creating, something I thought I would never ever consider. So in the end it felt less like a revelation and more like a resignation.

Maybe I'm just joining the American mass.

But isn't this picture awesome? Click on it for more, I recommend opening the flash version.

says who?

MNS mentioned yesterday that she thought the trick to blogging everyday might be to write about the things that you don't tell people. That might work for her but I'm not sure what I should do since I tell pretty much whatever pops into my head to the nearest person who's willing to listen to me. This has gotten me into trouble on a number of occasions since what I often end up doing is bitching about something, or someone.

But I'm not going to start bitching about someone on my blog. That really got me in into trouble before.

But I will try to tell you some things you probably don't know (even though some of you might).

1. I brush my eyebrows with a toothbrush every morning to get them to look just so. I've been doing this for over 10 years, ever since I saw my sister do it. I'm annoyingly particular about some aspects of grooming but terribly lackadaisical about others.

2. I kind of liked the middle of the "We Are A Family" song when I watched Dreamgirls, even though it's horribly sappy. The beginning is very extra boring but I thought when it started to wrap up it was kinda sweet. I've never felt so gay.

3. I really want to make a fool of myself but I'm too afraid to do it, plus I might hurt someone.

It just took me like half an hour to come up with three measly things. Three! That's because everything else I came up with I realized that most everyone already knew. See? Open book.

My stomach is growling but I'm trying to ignore the 10+ cupcakes that are in my work's kitchen. It's becoming quite hard. They're not even good cupcakes but since they're there, I'll most likely eat them. And then feel disgusting.

randomized

Remember how I needed to wash my pants? Well, I decided that yesterday was finally going to be the day. I got home, made some pasta (even though I really wanted to each nachos but I thought I needed a change because I have literally had nachos for dinner every single day for the past 8 or 9 days, literally), noticed that the America's Next Top Model Mega-Marathon was on and promptly got high and plopped myself on the couch. "I'll do it in the morning," I thought. But here I am at work today, sitting in my black Carharts (farmer jeans, most definitely not included in my regular wear) that are too baggy.

I think I need to get out of New York for a while. Like for a week. I'm not sure how I'm going to accomplish this but I'm really starting to dislike this place, or to be more specific, the people of this place. Lately, whatever block I'm walking down I see at least two people that I want to kick. Hmm, I had to pause for a minute after that last line and think about why I wanted to kick everyone and I realized that this post is starting a thought process that I don't want to follow. Let's change the subject.

In the book I'm currently reading there's a character who's a guerrilla fighter in Greece during WWII. The chapters describing his thoughts and the activities of the group he belongs to are so far the most interesting and disturbing, which may be why I find them interesting. His group kill a lot of fellow Greeks and perform other horrendous acts of violence, all justifiable, in their minds. The idea that a person can so wholly believe that his actions are right that he can ignore the atrocities he has committed frightens me. I so want to believe that that type of person cannot exist. That within everyone, no matter how cruel they appear to be, there is always a part of the mind that says, no, something is wrong. I don't know if that's true though. Perhaps certain circumstances can erase that part of a person's conscience. I'm not even going to start making comparisons to certain persons of today, you can probably do that yourself.

the benefits of procrastination

Or ignorance is bliss.

I know that I had been putting off making a budget of my expenses versus income for a reason: it's depressing. For a while now I've been wishing that I belonged to a gym. I know I'm much happier when I routinely exercise and I'm more likely to exercise at a gym than at home. Yes, I was doing okay for a while with home pilates stuff but there are so many things to keep me from working out at home and not all of them are under my control (my roommate constantly commandeers the living room, eating and loudly watching bad television). Plus, home pilate's doesn't do much for my cardiovascular system and though it would seem like I could just jog outside, that really really hurts my knees (I'm not whining, I'm being realistic). The point is, I get better exercise when I'm at a gym. And I'm more likely to go to a gym if I actually belong to one. So I just jumped right in and figured out my expenses. And figured out I ain't joinin' no gym. I could potentially join one if I cut back on any and all frivolities in my life but since I don't have that many to begin with that means I could never go out with anyone at all ever ever ever. And a six pack isn't that important to me. I kind of would like to fill out a t-shirt at least once in my life though. So now I'm going to neurotically document and categorize (I already have the Excel spreadsheet ready, maybe I can make it into a graph somehow) every expense I make this month to see just how I spend money.

Hmm, I think this writing everyday thing might turn out to be a lot of complainy and not much funny. We'll see.

death makes me horny

I don't remember during which scene of Casino Royale that I came up with that line but it seemed pretty funny at the time. What a bore that movie was. During the opening sequence MNS leaned over to me and whispered, "Did that say her name was Betina Broccoli?" (or something like that) "I don't know," I answered, "I was looking at Daniel Craig." I think I would only have actually enjoyed this movie if he had done the whole thing nude. Or in tight underwear for the running scenes (of which there are a lot) because I don't need to see his dick bouncing around, that'll just make me wince in sympathized pain. Of course the torture scene didn't make me wince at all, mostly just laugh, because...it...is...ridiculous.

A few bloggers are starting a pot to see who can blog the longest. You have to ante up five dollars to be in and then write every day. If you miss a day you're out. The last person blogging wins all the money. There are a few rules about how much you have to write among other things but I think it'll be fun.

This is my entry for today.

I need a change of pace (or pants)

Whilst taking a break from my busy work demands (see: knitting) I decided to stretch my hamstrings. With my body bent in half I noticed an odd smell. What could it be? No, it's not that disgusting; the answer is simple.

My pants need to be washed.

I really need to get a handle on this. Basically I have two pairs of jeans that I wear almost every day. I own about five other pairs of pants but none of them go with my awful falling apart white jogging shoes I now also wear every day. I recognize that I don't have much fashion sense but really, I'll feel uncomfortable all day if I have to wear black dress slacks with white sneakers.

Yesterday I woke up early and noticed that my skin had been feeling particularly dry of late. Here's my thought process:
Okay, usually I use almond oil in the morning as my body moisturizer but I have to be careful how much I use or my skin won't absorb it all. But, those salt or sugar scrubs you can buy have a bunch of oil in them and I love how my skin feels after I use those in the shower, so maybe I'll drench my body in oil, give it some time to absorb, then take a shower to wash away anything that's left. Then my body will be totally moisturized! So I threw off my clothes, put out a towel, drenched myself in oil (really, drenched), wiped off my hands and sat down to play video games. About 30 minutes later I got up to take a shower. (By the by, I spent too much time playing video games and though I woke up exceptionally early, I nevertheless would need to take a lickity split shower to still make it to work on time.) I stepped in the shower, turned on the water...and waited...and waited...and waited. There was no hot water. Not even warm water. Not even above frigid water. I tried kind of jump splashing my way through the stream but my body wasn't having any of it. I didn't know what to do. I had to take a shower, I was covered in frickin' oil. (By this time I really needed to get my ass in gear to make it to work.) I went back in my room, cursing the whole time, grabbed some moist towelette things I keep on hand (for various reasons) and set to work cleaning off the excess oil. I felt sticky and disgusting all day. This might explain why I need to wash my pants.

more

Curse these long legs of mine! I feel like I'll never be done with my legwarmers, but be sure that this blog will host a picture of them when I am. But for now, I'm taking a break.

The hottest rapist ever post was inspired by Dario Argento's movie The Stendhal Syndrome. This movie particularly resonated with me for several reasons:

1. I think the concept of Stendhal syndrome is pretty cool
2. Attractive people
3. Blood
4. Sex
5. I may have been in an altered state, organic or otherwise.

First a disclaimer: Rape is not sexy. Okay? Duh. Rape is horrible and awful and I can't imagine what it does to a person psychologically. But the fantasy of being completely dominated and forced to do things against one's will? That's hot. Now...

In this film, a young policewoman slowly goes insane while tracking down an elusive (and extremely attractive) serial rapist/killer through Italy when she herself becomes a victim of the brutal man's obsession (thanks imdb). There's a particular scene where Alfredo (the killer) has Anna (the policewoman) tied down and is about to rape her but first he cuts the inside of her lips with a razor blade. Part of the idea is that he wants her to look the way she did when he first saw her: bleeding after she swooned looking at art and cracked her face against a table. Anyway, blood is profusely pouring out of her mouth and he begins kissing her, quite passionately. This scene is sadistically and eerily hot. Here's the thing, the exchange of body fluids (come, spit, tears) is, I think, the most intimate act you can have with someone and blood is no exception. Plus, Thomas Kretschmann (Alfredo) is freakin' hot hot sexy hot. I'm not saying that I want to go out and lick someone's cut hand (maybe) but I won't deny that I want to make art that might involve said act.

Or maybe I'm already beginning to (see following post).

afterward

The other night I was at the theater where I recently auditioned a piece. Outside I happened to strike up a conversation with one of the panel members who saw the auditions. We of course hit on the subject of my piece and he said the only note he made while he watched it was:

creepy serial killer vibe

And apparently, to him, that's a bad thing. I'm okay with that.

hottest. rapist. ever.

And without the blood:




















Maybe this will force me into creating an actual post to explain myself.