platonic crush ninja!

have i mentioned that i've got the biggest platonic crush in the world on the girl who works at the little coffee shop next to my office?

she totally rocks my face.

the mix tape in my head today

*romeo-basement jaxx

*boys don't cry-the cure

*twiggy vs. james bond-pizzicato five

*because we can (can-can)-fatboy slim

*we're cheerleaders (opening number from bring it on)

*someone to call my lover-janet jackson

*mondo 77-looper

*three is the magic number-de la soul

*the middle-jimmy eat world

*libel-tilt

*young americans-david bowie

*like a prayer-madonna

*purple toupee-TMBG

*superpowers-dismemberment plan

*sing it back-moloko

*iceblink luck-cocteau twins

*play dead-bjork

by the way, whoever it was that identified "channel z" in my guestbook as the mystery lyric from a few weeks ago, would you step forward, please?

top of the week

feeling..warbley. woozly. weebly. disjointed. typical monday morning fare. surprisingly well rested, though. hm.

considering.

what a busy weekend!

there was the date (or quasi-date--the jury's still out) with that boy on friday...which was fun and festive, if you don't count the fact that i got caught in a ridiculous green-sky storm and made the mistake of wearing shoes that cut the living stuffing out of my feet which are still bleeding as a result (i'm sure you wanted to hear that, didn't you)...i feel i'm developing a big problem here in that i rather like this boy. like this is something new, i hear you scoff...and perhaps you're right. perhaps not. i wonder how it's all going to turn out. the pit of my stomach tells me that it won't be the way i want it to. alas. i'm looking forward to this particular pendulum swinging back my way. i'm entirely over things not working out.

there was the party, which was most festive. something about dressing up makes all shindigs that much more fascinating. and we were all decked out thirties style. fake lashes, fake 'taches, all that good stuff. none of us guessed who the culprit was. we're all too smart for those games, methinks.

there was the brunch, wherein we had a waiter who looked remarkably like maxwell caulfield from grease 2 ("um...thanks.") and i think that newroommate has been officially adopted by the clan. good stuff. it was rather remarkable, though, the sheer insane fullness of our brunch venue--it was packed to the gills the whole time. just goes to show you the power of the zagat.

there was the recording. adventures on the upper west side. bugger the MTA. fear click tracks.

in other news...

young mister longacre's quote of the morning: "you know times have changed when british aerospace has a section on their website called 'cool stuff.' i've got to see this 'cool stuff.'"

i got very far on a song that i was writing. it's quite pleasing. thank you, oh ex, for coming to town and giving me something to write about. see? beauty in all agony. somewhere.

and, as any pisces must crow to the heavens, i am wearing the sexiest shoes ever. seriously. i can't even express them, but they're bloody HOT.

...

...

...

i can't wait until september.

...

...

more later.

<---end transmission--->

je ne suis pas une parisienne (mais quelquefois, je le dÈsire )

the beret has been busted out yet again.

red lipstick, too.

i don't know, i was just feeling very...parisienne aujourd'hui.

and significantly better than yesterday. i have no idea what was going on there. all i do know is that by the end of the evening (10 o'clock or so), i couldn't finish cigarettes, sentences, straight lines (for walking). it was gruesome. i felt just terrible, abandoning poor newroommate at the smoking window when i realized i just couldn't handle being awake any longer. upon which i tried to deny my exhaustion, tried to get a little practice time in with the gee-tar, and couldn't get through a single song. just couldn't do it. i'd get a few bars in and then all of a sudden, my brain would land so far away i'd have no idea what time zone it had even been in. all i could say for certain is that it certainly wasn't with me, and i'm wounded that i didn't get a postcard.

it was at that point that i gave up the ghost and passed the hell out for a good, solid eight hours. and i feel better. i mean, once you overlook the fact that i'm at work and all.

but, i'm at work looking parisienne. that's pretty much the best that can be hoped for, i'd say.

well, that and having my computer actually work, but that's actually more than i can reasonable ask for, i daresay.

in other news...

-despite a complete lack of practice, the callous on my left middle finger is slowly taking on a life of its own. it makes a sharp pinging noise when i strike it against something metal. fear that.

-my stepmother is beside herself with joy that the ex has come to town and i didn't like it one bit. she never, ever liked him, not one bit. she tried to disguise her glee whilst giving me the "well, it's something we all have to deal with, seeing someone for the first time after you break up...blah blah pomegranate" pep-talk. but she just couldn't hide it. it was kind of sweet, actually. particularly now that i have a little perspective on her reservations. i wonder what my mother will say.

-so, though i really don't like julia stiles all that much, i found myself shelling out 3.50 for this month's ELLE magazine, upon whose cover she currently is. i haven't read it yet. but i've flipped through the little fashion spread they did on her, and i've decided. i'm going to start cultivating that look. cybervictorian androgyne/supervixen. it's good to have a project.

-so, though i really don't like gwyneth paltrow all that much...i watched the royal tenenbaums last night, and find myself having a grudging respect for her as an actress. i still think she's ridiculous, but she's quite the little trouper. enough on her.

and now...

shameless plug alert!

so, who's going to be in the nyc area on august 16 or october 2 (besides the illustrious huckster, whose imminent migration to our fair city brings me into paroxysms of joy!)? aaaand who wants to support their favorite delicious diva? got shows those days, my petunias, and a growly hungry mailing list to feed...anyone want to be part of any of these things, drop me a line. there might be a free cd in it for you...that's right, i'm not above bribery.

everyone can let their breath out now--shameless plug is now officially over

for now.

more later

over and out.

<

spibble

i feel like something that you scrape off the bottom of your shoe. it's almost like a hangover, but the world is spinning. i'm not well. it's been a rough week. probably the only week in living memory where i would be relieved to have my prospective date for the evening cancel on me.

because, frankly, if i make it through this whole day, by the time i get home, there's no way in hell i'm leaving it again. it's dvd's, orange juice, chicken soup and a really, really early fucking night for the shiv. maybe i'll get myself a mud mask, give myself a facial, or something. make it feel indulgent.

anyway. back to the story of this boy who canceled on me tonight. strangely, i'm not the least bit distressed by this cancellation. ordinarily, this sort of development would send me spinning into leagues of "oh no, he's not interested, it'll never work out..." but for some reason, i don't feel that way just now. maybe it's because he calls when he says he will. or actually takes the time to chat with me for a few minutes when we do meet on the phone. or that he always asks me how work is. could it be, could it be possible, that maybe, just maybe, miss delicious has found a functional straight male? god, even if this never develops into a romantic thing, that's still a pretty fascinating find! i hear rumors that he's crashingly neurotic. but, strangely, i find it reassuring.

anyway. my head feels like it's full of wet cement, so i'm going to stop waxing rhapsodic and leave you with this thought: you cannot make a noun into a verb by sheer force of will alone.

we like lists

reasons my roommate is thoroughly impressive: (all discovered when stumbling in late last night)

1. he cleaned the stove.

2. he sorted the mail.

3. he'd put the shelves in his fantabulous wavy bookcase and started putting books in it. including some of mine.

4. he'd brought home some funky postcards to add to the mural.

5. he's mad crazy job interview man. i'm so proud!

6. he's just as much of an anglophile as i am.

7. he's got excellent taste in music.

8. even his futon is tasteful.

9. he organized our cooking accoutrement cupboard, thereby becoming the first to realize that we do, in fact, have every kind of vinegar known to man.

10.he fetishizes short hair on girls. which i find incredibly charming.

in other news...

1. official gig at the c-note, wednesday oct 2 at 8pm.

2. i have a scheduled appointment to hang out with the rather tasty boy i was chatting up at the letdowns show.

3. i can now bank in england online. don't ask.

4. i'm going to meet someone's new man tonight. hopefully.

about last night...

there were two pigeons trapped in the smoking corner as i left the house this morning. i've no idea how they got in, seeing as how the window was only open about three inches.

fucking pigeons.

anyway.

so, to say that yesterday was weird doesn't even quite begin to cover it. deeply bizarre with tinges of abject horror might be slightly closer to the truth.

first, the minor weirdness: i ran into someone i went to college with just outside my office building. she graduated two years before i did and she was shilling for greenpeace. hm. further proof that the world is really about the size of an acorn.

and, of course, there was the main event. seeing the ex. i can't...really even explain it. except that i remain completely right and vindicated in having done the right thing by ending it in september. that and i don't think he's changed a bit since i saw him last. same huge hair, same european-unwashed smell, same twitchy habits, same sanctimonious declarations about my friends and family, same fucking shirt he was wearing last time i saw him. it all added up to one big twitch-fest for me, for the following reasons:

1. when i cease to date you, you lose all rights to making editorial comments on my friends and family. i don't care if i agree with you that my mother needs to date, or that so-and-so is behaving like a complete fuckwit, or that my father is a control freak. you don't get to say that anymore.

2. the ex is hyperanalytical by nature. it's one of the things i loved about him, it's one of the things that drives me most crazy. particularly when he feels the need to overanalyze our relationship (or lack thereof) to my face. what girl wants to be told "yeah, while we were doing the long distance thing, you became more a metaphor than anything." don't want to hear it! and by this point in the game, i don't want to be his talking cure. i don't want to get mired in the what ifs and "this is what i think happened"s. i know what happened. i know all the what ifs that i need to. i know i fell out of love with him eight months before we broke up, i can only just now say that with conviction and without shame, and i want to move on with my life.

3. the phrase "oceans of strangeness" gets really fucking old the sixth or seventh time it's used in an hour.

4. i still hate his tendency to mangle words. "napukindes." "table-y wabel-y". napkins and tables. dah!

5. he still looks at me in that same old way. he tells me he still thinks about me all the time. and then he asks about my love life. i, naturally, suppress a shudder and plead the fifth.

6. and, of course, just the great mystery: how the hell does someone cease to change at all in the course of ten months? i can't measure how much i've changed! and i am thus untrusting of someone who's not done the same, at least fractionally.

fuck.

at risk of sounding callous...after seeing him yesterday, i find it hard to believe how very much i loved him once. i'm not sure i even enjoy his company now.

needless to say, it was a strange and weird meeting and after about two hours i really needed to run away. and so i did. and after i ran away, i did what every self-respecting urban warrior does when faced with a weirdness that is too horrible to imagine. i sat in the park. smoked a cigarette. made a few phone calls. did some shopping and got really quite drunk for a school night.

the final chapter of the evening was no less strange than the rest of it, of course. it was lovely, to be sure. i had good company, and i was in my favorite bar.

the choice of company in question is probably going to get me in trouble with someone else, someone who has a stake in the emotional well-being of my companion, which is something i apparently pose a threat to. and this person is probably going to think that i was...i don't know. leading on. which i wasn't. at least not intentionally. my companion for the evening was chosen simply because he was the one who said "i'm busy early in the evening, but call me later." and because he's my friend and i love his company. so i did. call him. the others i asked simply said "i'm busy. bye." so, yeah. not leading anyone on, here.

anyway. even if anyone had felt that i was doing so (leading on, that is), there's no confusion about that now. before the night was over, i was asked point blank what my policy was on dating my friends. and i really wished that the asphalt on broadway would have opened up and swallowed me at that moment. i was drunk, i was emotionally raw as a result of my experience with the ex...and all i wanted to say was that i'd already had to deal with the aftermath of someone else's heart broken at my decree today. don't make me do it again. please don't.

but of course i couldn't.

i just had to say that i don't generally date my friends because my dating scenarios always end badly (just look at the ex! just look at the bass player, robot boy, pbs man, religious iconography manic depressive, joe college!) and my friends are just not a price i'm willing to pay. of course, i had to tack on that i'd certainly thought about it, certainly thought about what it would be like to run around with him...because i have. i just always come down on the side of caution.

i don't think he believed me, though.

christ in a sidecar.

so, here i am, back in the office, slightly groggy from the wine and the subway and the general fucked-upness of last night. fortified by a bagel and a very large cup of coffee, anticipating anarchy wednesday with a...well, something not entirely akin to a grimace. young mister longacre is talking about time travel. i'm thinking about how to effectively waste today with amazing grace and style.

and praying, just praying that those fucking pigeons are gone by the time i get home.

ex-tastic

guess

who's

going

to

be

playing

at

the

c

note

!

(no date yet, details to follow)

in other news...

it's official. newroommate is actually just a male version of me. it's twisted. he has a job interview today. i hope it goes well.

meanwhile...

tonight is ostensibly the night i get to see the ex over sushi. that's going to be strange and weird. and yet possibly fun. it will be nice to see him, though i haven't a clue what to say. do i act like we're just long-lost friends, like we were never lovers and just kind of go from there? that would probably be ideal. but, unlikely, because of that damn feral part of my brain that wants to blow his mind. i want to show up strutting about fabulously, stunningly, wonderfully, make his breath catch just once. how fucked up is that? he's the maligned party here and in my deep secret heart of hearts, i want him to see what he's missing. even though he didn't voluntarily leave it behind.

i have got issues.

don't hate me because i'm a mess.

listening to:

enter fruitbat

bootylicious

the old switcheroo

planning to:

ransack newroommate's music collection. homeboy's got some wild and wicked taste.

totally perplexed by:

ex-boyfriends. mine, and other people's.

goals for the day:

get through at least five more pages of database reshuffling.

sort through at least 300 of the new emails sitting in the newsletter inbox.

not kill or yell at sally sue.

don't be an asshole tonight. remember to not stop by the dewey's show (despite mentioning it to the ex) because, given who will be there, that would be stupid.

get the bassline from "lowrider" out of my head.

a big day for fortresses

today is bastille day.

today i wore a beret.

the two events are unrelated.

change is an absolutely terrifying thing, i think. this is on my mind because at this very second, new roommate is unpacking his stuff. changing the timbre of the apartment once again. at the moment, i am one of the few familiar things in this apartment. oldroommate's couch is still here, of course, but many other things are gone. it's odd. last time i had someone new moving in, i had the ex here with me, something else to help me get a sense of my placement within these walls. now, there's just me.

i don't always do so well being my own tether to reality.

and as a result, i've got the creeping dreads, not helped by the fact that we've a cavalcade of scary people coming in to the office next week.

but, despite the creeping dreads, i am hopeful, i am optimistic. i have to be or else i'm going to lose it completely.

ah well. at least this time around, i've a much better developed sense of who i am. that does make things a little easier. i guess this is one of those growing up things. doesn't really make it easier.

hm.

wistful.

anyway.

more to follow, naturally. eventually, i'll have to discuss friday night...

sally sue strikes again

listening to: the ramones

feeling: like i may never eat again. (office gathering, pizza for lunch)

engaged in: the most mind numbing task ever--deleting 1300 email addresses from a 12000 name database. though, this is slightly less horrifying than yesterday's task, which was pulling all of these addresses out of the "delivery failed" emails.

hoping: to find something fun to do tonight. and that my dad will call. i need to talk to him.

debating: whether or not to go see yo la tengo.

so, yeah. i'm currently thickly ensconced in what has to be one of the most boring tasks ever. and it looks like it's going to last a few more days. ahhh...work.

i know i've said it before, but i'm getting very concerned that my life is beating the wacky out of me. i fear that i've lost my capacity to be interesting. this is a fear that comes up whenever i encounter someone who, upon learning what i do, says "oh, you work for a corporation," with that particular sneer of disdain and pity that is the exclusive skill of the bohemian. and, ordinarily, that wouldn't bother me. but when i realize that my work stories are really quite dull to anyone who's not me, whereas all these artists and musicians and filmmakers i know have the best stories to tell from their work...well...yeah. i don't really know how to articulate it more than that. and it's not going to stop me from telling another little story about my office culture. because it's my friggin' diary, and i'll do as i please!

okay. today's adventure:

as i've said, i'm working on the most horrifyingly dull thing ever. yesterday, it nearly made me freak out. (sifting through nearly 2000 emails in eight hours will do that to you)...i was very distraught at the prospect of doing it again today. thus, people have been giving me a wide berth (particularly as i balked rather strongly at a swath of teasing put my way this morning), as they know that until this is done, i could snap at any time. and they're all very familiar with the fact that i both kickbox and carry mace. i'm a dangerous girl if provoked. so anyway. i've been getting lots of sympathy and attention because i'm getting that rabid badger look to me.

meanwhile, in the next cubicle...

sally sue receives a peculiar email from our designer. he's very christian, and is distressed that we want to change a sentence in one of our publications to be slightly less overtly christian. now, we don't want to offend him, but as a non-denominational company, we don't want to offend anyone else either. so, we call a little department powwow, and ultimately figure out a solution that will (probably) work for everyone. all is merry, crisis averted, time to move on with our lives. not so. despite the fact that we've come up with a solution, sally sue continues to be upset and agitated by it, fretting noisily and hemming and hawing. interestingly, getting most vocal when i'm giving my progress reports on the email inputting of death, or lamenting the fact that i have...you know... a thousand left to deal with. stuff and such. eventually, she's whipped herself up so much that she has to storm out of the office, announcing loudly to the assembled company that she's "so tense about this mitch thing," and just has to go "walk it off." interrupting a conversation i'm having with young mister longacre about how many of these rejected addresses are probably just wrong as a result of misspelling...

now, i'm as big on the tension clearing walk as any girl. i'm a believer. but, it all irked me. that she had to make a big production about how hard and taxing her job is on the one day that someone else is actually having issues with their work. as though she couldn't stand to lose the "who has the most work" or "who's having the most job trauma" competition that doesn't even exist in this office.

needless to say, it pissed me off righteously. as many things she does do. anyway.

whatever.

i should get back to that project, anyway. this was just enough respite and vitriol to restore my equilibrium for round three.

word!

an ode to the smoking window

i have five cigarettes, no money until four a.m. friday, three mysterious bites on my arm, two verses to a new song, and (yes virginia) a brand-spankin' new jar of peanut butter.

i figure i deserve at least that much.

and now, i go to smoke those five cigarettes and enjoy the surprisingly balmy weather from my favorite vantage point of all. hurrah for smoking!

bootacular!

gah, but it does feel good to be back in boots. after several weeks where it's just been too damn hot to consider wearing anything that even vaguely resembles a full shoe, much less a boot, i'm back in the go-go boots of love. boots of blackness. boots of badass. emma peel boots. these boots are made for walking, and damn, does it feel really quite nice. what can i say? i'm a boot girl. i don't feel fully in the zone unless my legs are encased to the knees in leather (that's right!). boots help me remain in touch with my inner eleven pounds of badass.

hee.

mmph.

anarchy day. i love anarchy days. particularly when i've only gotten four hours of sleep the night before (oh yeah, i went to see the letdowns last night at the luna lounge. it was a late schoolnight for miss shivery. totally worth it.) so, i'm a sleepy monkey. a sleepy monkey that wants peanut butter. a sleepy monkey with twenty two dollars to her name until payday, who is really debating whether or not she can actually justify buying peanut butter before that time.

that's it. i have to take over the world. this hand-to-mouth bullshit just isn't doing it for me anymore.

viva la revolution!

morning disjointedness

"you know, i can't decide if it's a good or bad sign that the UN is giving out our phone number."

yes, i actually got to say that this morning.

* * *

my newsletter has glutted the server. nobody is receiving email. i feel so...powerful. i've now directly touched the lives of fifteen thousand people. or i will have, when the bloody server finishes processing my mailout.

sentimental bullshit

i will inspire hope in others

i will inspire hope in others

i will inspire hope in others

i will inspire hope in others

i think that's a pretty good aspiration, don't you?

i have a confession to make.

i am an absolute sucker for crass sentimentalism. though i have enough of a cynical veneer to get over it quickly, there's always the small moment that makes it in through the armor, where for a fleeting second, i am genuinely affected. a tear brought to my eye and all that.

examples:

1. in the movie my neighbor totoro, the two main characters are girls living with their father because their mother is in the hospital. one weekend, she's supposed to come home for the weekend, but this plan is ultimately derailed because she picks up a cold or the flu or something...after this comes to light, the younger sister disappears, and the elder embarks on a big search for her, remaining strong strong strong until....industrial freakout. when she hits her breaking point, she lets loose with this amazing monologue dealing with her fear that mother may never come home unless it's in a casket...it's the fear of everyone who's ever seen someone they love in a scary situation. every time i see it, i just bawl like a baby.

2. (this is the embarrassing one) sometimes, just sometimes, this insane wash of patriotism just kind of...gets to me. for about a second. but, for example when i see pictures of soldiers being reunited with their families under the shining stars and stripes, or think about the fact that there are people whose job it is to DIE FOR ME, their fellow american, if necessary. i guess it's not so much a nationalism thing as it is a community thing. this country is just kind of a rallying point around which we can build this community, with protectors and dreamers and blah blah blah...yeah. i get a little misty. embarrassing. mortifying, even. ridiculous, considering i wouldn't classify myself as particularly patriotic. it's especially bad in this city. i look around at people going about their daily business, walking briskly by what remains of ground zero and i think about how hellish it was a few months ago here...and just that we're still standing. and functioning. it's kind of...

agh.

okay. i'm done now. i'm probably going to delete this entry within a few minutes because it makes me feel like such a div.

henry

i have only one friend that i'm almost never happy to hear from. his missives sadden me indescribably, because he's where i want to be, doing what i want to be, living the life that i want. and that i will have. but i'm going to have to wait for, because i opted to take a bite out of the big apple before running down that road.

i heard from him today.

productivity!

i

feel

productive!

what an amazing feeling. so rare that i actually have something to do here besides edit copy and perfect my "no, really, i'm working" demeanor. another rush job at work, 48 hours to assemble a brand new site for a client. we done bitched that monkey up. should be ready to go by tomorrow morning, with twelve whole hours to spare. a project that's been in the works six weeks gets unleashed upon an unsuspecting public today, guaranteed to tie up the server for a couple of hours. it's going to be beautiful. AND, last night, i created poster one of a series of three that i'm going to be using to publicize my show on the 16th.

i'm not fucking around here, people. i'm going to make this work if it bloody kills me.

in other news...

item! there was quite a little fracas in my apartment last night. it seems that the roommate encountered an insect roughly the size of his head. this is what i managed to gather from his hyperventilated yelps between jumps around the living room. poor monkey. he triumphed over said arthropod (arthropod?), but was so shaken by the experience that he required an infusion of tequila before he could stop shaking. if i hadn't been so concerned that he was going to absolutely bust a gasket, it would have been kind of amusing. i'm going straight to hell.

item! looks like i'm going to be in someone's short film.

item! the world is a beautiful place when your gym clothes are fresh and clean. your underwear, too.

item! i wonder...is it too late to become a secret agent?

i don't know, i feel like something's happening

i am restless.

i am afraid.

i am nervous and uncomfortable.

i am tense.

i am edgy.

and i haven't the faintest fucking clue why. it's not nic-fitting or caffeine detox, because i haven't given either of those up. all i know is that i woke up this morning having hurled my blankets all the way to the other side of the room and with distinct memories of flolloping wildly around my bed for most of the night. same thing the night before.

sometimes i wish i had a walnut cracker to take to my subconscious. because if this is a premonition, i sure as hell want to know what it is i'm tapping into. because for it to agitate me this much, it's got to be something worth knowing, for good or bad.

bloody premonitions. i'm not terribly in to this whole psychic friends business, but i do believe that there's a big ether stream that we don't see much of, but get to dip our toes in once in a while. just enough to make our hair stand on end. i also believe that pisces are particularly susceptible to these little moments. because we're so goddamn sensitive. i've had a few moments myself, though never for anything particularly huge. just conversations half-remembered from dreams occurring eight months later. knowing instinctively that some asshole that i can neither see nor hear is going to come tearing around the corner any second and kill what's in its path. things like that. and, of course, the nameless sensations that come when i know, just know that everything is going to be alright. and the nameless, creeping sensation when something may well be about to go horribly, horribly wrong.

unfortunately, the two tend to manifest themselves in the same way. and thus, i'm distressed, because i don't know if it's about to be creeping horror or shining joy.

hope for the latter, eh? i'm getting the feeling i could use the moral support. preemptively.

oh, and you get fifty points if you can name the song that i got this entry's title from.

one can only hope

Your Horoscope for July 8, 2002

PISCES

Because the approaching new moon falls in the most dynamic area of your solar chart, you really are a law unto yourself at the moment. Whatever your aims, whatever your ambitions, whatever your dreams, now's the time to do something about them. Set your own targets and make your own rules. Anything is possible if you want it badly enough.

and so it starts again this feeling

cici just stood there staring. "how are you?" asked carrie.

"great," cici said. "Every night i get dressed up and go out and nobody pays any attention to me and i go home and cry."

"oh, cici," carrie said. then: don't worry about it. it's just a phase..."

disillusion and envy. that's what's coloring my world. that and a sudden anger towards the new york times and the crack scribblings that passed for this week's sunday edition.