final act: other people's roommates.

"shivery...do you think...do you think you could just be my friend right now? i mean...i guess...i'm not physically attracted to you. i thought that it might develop in time, but now...now i don't think so. sorry."

and that's how that story ends.

hooky!

	I have an acute sense of style. And who wouldn't with a 12 foot wingspan? I can be a little cocky, but not without grounds. Mine is a battle of tact as well as strength, as flight won't win a alone. Like the archangels of lore, I have a sharp eye, and a keen sense of danger. I seek out injustice, and I stop it. From above. What's your superpower?

in other news, the interview went well. my apartment is approaching some semblance of clean. my feet hurt. my dad says hi.

and biscuit and i (yes, he's alive AND fully functional) had lunch at planet hollywood. i feel terribly unclean right now, but it seemed like such a good idea at the time! actually, it was a lot of fun. it was nice to catch up with the boy. AND we got to see the mirthmobile (garth's car from wayne's world), as well as the actual model of the USS enterprise that they used to do external shots in star trek I-III.

all told, an afternoon well spent, i daresay.

man, playing hooky RULES.

mercury rising

in retrospect, it probably wasn't the best idea i'd ever had, dropping in on the show at the mercury last night. but, my niggling little conscience voice was acting up and telling me that damage control was necessary, that it would be a very good thing for me to go and demonstrate to ye olde bass player that all was well in my corner, and that i hoped that the same held true for him.

i'm still trying to figure out his answer, since he would barely speak to me the whole night.

not that i blame him.

ah well. as i've said before, the price we must pay for honesty. they're playing again friday, i think i might miss that one. but maybe not. the boys have recently procured themselves a keyboard player, and it's a very nice touch. may warrant a few extra listenings. we shall see.

most interesting occurrance, though? one of the most infamous of ghosts came crawling out of the woodwork. the infamous boy, the one who ate last autumn and winter for me, made his first cameo in my life since i broke off contact in january or so. it was strange. a very curious amalgam of feelings on the whole situation. in one corner, there was a little residual annoyance. mostly with myself, wondering how it was that i gave so much energy to this particular piece of work...there was careful neutrality (don't want to betray too much in the opening act, you know)...there was guilt-ridden joy over seeing him, because in an entirely sick way, i'd really missed him a lot. but then, i suppose you don't easily shut out the last one who sent you tumbling like a ton of bricks. he was a train wreck that utterly twisted my world at the time. certain parts are, i think, doomed to continue smoldering for some time. at least until someone else comes along that does the same kind of damage to my world.

arse. ah well. i've already wreaked enough havoc in that arena of my life, and his, and the associated hangers on. i think it will behoove me to keep my distance. i've made my show of good faith. i can attend or not attend, as i see fit, because my conscience has been assuaged.

as you can see, there's still some lingering vestiges of fucked-upness from me with regards to the whole situation.

ack.

i get the distinct feeling that, one way or another, this one is going to be my waterloo, no matter how hard i send the rational thought tickers into overdrive, and no matter what appears in between.

anyway. mustn't dwell too much. other fish to fry today. job interview in two hours. hot date this evening. show this week. must practice.

moving

right

along.

lascivious

i'm having wildly, wildly inappropriate thoughts right now. definitely things one should not be thinking about at work.

at least they're not about anyone at work. imagine the strangeness of that. i might actually implode. ew.

these are thoughts that shall be indulged when i go downstairs to smoke.

yes indeedy.

ASSISTANCE!

THIS IS A DESPERATE CALL FOR ADVICE! i need to produce a writing sample (or two) for this interview i've got on monday...i'm going to bring one of my academic opuses from the Sarah Lawrence days, but i'd also like to bring in something a little...different. i'm thinking of taking an entry from this here diary, revamping it, fixing it up, and bringing that as well.

problem is, i've no idea which one to use. so, please. help. tell me which your favorites are, and which you think might be appropriate (given a judicious slashing with the edit machine). send an email, sign the guestbook, whatever. but i need your help.

okay. thank you.

mother's little helper

today's mantra: something's got to give.

the question is what? i am clinging to the shred of hope afforded me by this mantra, i have to believe it or else i feel my head might bob underwater and i may never recover. because things right now are perilously close to snapping point. or, at least they were yesterday. the timbers in the foundation seem to be creaking a little, i can hear them straining beneath the weight of my overwhelming desire for something different. the stalemate has been broken with someone else's roommate. the stalemate has been broken with the job hunt (i have been invited to set up an interview on monday). so now, i just have to figure out: whose move is it now, and what will it be?

anything but what the configuration is now.

wang's clinical opinion is that i'm nursing a low grade depression. i'm wondering if he's right. according to my research, the symptoms are all there: constant exhaustion with a total inability to sleep, changes in diet and eating habits, constant boredom, inability to concentrate on anything at all...i sometimes feel like i'm watching my life happen but am completely unable to do anything about it.

i don't know. i don't feel depressed. i'm not sad. but then, that's not what depression is about, is it?

but that is neither here nor there. as i said, i suspect that things will improve when something changes. the way i see it, there are three arenas in my life that could use a change for the better: music (having it take off), work (getting the fuck out of this soul-killer i'm rocking now), romance (needs no explanation). those, as far as i see it, are the three pillars supporting this anti-mood. one needs to change. one has to change.

that's all i need.

and then everything will be okay.

saskatoon

isn't it funny how easy it is to be taken by an industrial freak out, how quickly they come on.

that was the first one i've had with olfactory hallucinations, though. that's for sure.

i think i'm calmer. slightly.

very tired though. restless. it's like...i can't focus on anything and yet i'm constantly bored. or something. dunno.

but, in slightly nicer news, there was another minor recording session last night. i laid down one of the new tracks...and i't probably going to have to be redone because my voice was still weak from being a bit ill. when will i figure out that i'm not invincible? alas! anyway. it may also end up being a wash because i was having one of my epileptic guitar moments. i couldn't get the pattern right for the life of me. terrible. just terrible. but, i also laid down some vocals for the remix of sleepwalking...and hot damn is that going to be a hot little piece. some crazy electronica stuff going on there. AND, best of all, i might get to do more vocals on random things that my producer is working on. hot DAMN. how exciting is that?

anyway.

after recording, there was a pilgrimage to see young christopher robin kick it old-school style at the lolita bar, wherein roos and i decided that we simply aren't hip enough for the lower east side--our fabulous quotient greatly outweighs our hip quotient. it's almost tragic. but it was fun.

except that i got about ten phone calls from all the wrong people. well, not the wrong people, but pretty much the entire contents of my phone book except the one person i was hoping to speak to.

i don't like that this is typical for me. i mean, statistically, given the amount of time i've done in the trenches, i should have found one that could make it through more than a date and a half by now?

but i digress. the moral of the story is that soon i'll have some shiny new recordings, and my voice will be back, and i'm contemplating a vow of celibacy. at least then it will be voluntary.

the stench, part II

i think...

dear diary....

i think i may be losing my mind.

the smell is everywhere. it's in my office, it's at the gym, it's in front of the stock exchange and in the coffee shop it's everywhere.

and it can't be.

which means that my mind is headed somewhere dark.

if i still smell it when i wake up, you bet your ass i'm staying home tomorrow and burying my head under the covers.

melodrama. bleakness. ignore.

it's the fear that angers me so, the fear triggered by something so intangible as THE SMELL. it makes me feel like i've made no progress whatsoever in the last year.

and i was so together on the anniversary.

and now, one single, unrelated event later, and i'm weak at the knees (and not in a good way) and mewling like a kitten (and not in a good way). and dammit, this weakness is not a luxury i can afford just yet. and i hate that. i hate not being able to hold my shit together. because i've always prided myself as being tough as nails when it really comes down. i've defined myself by being strong when other people need it. and once they're strong, then i can fall apart. because they're standing again, so they can catch me. so what do i do when several of us are falling down at the same time, as we're starting to do now?

i suppose i do what i always do. i am going to rake it in, suck it up, tamp it down and go into battle. so i've got some wounds of my own. i've also got some righteous anger--at myself, at the world, at circumstance and smell--to poultice them. and hopefully i'll keep infection at bay until those around me can tend to them. until then, i'll be around if they need me. ready to give whatever i've got till it bleeds. and it may not be much, but it will be everything i have.

i just hope they'll all be ready to return the favor when they are all sound.

naked aggression

yep. definitely one of those days where if someone gets within arm's reach, they're going to get a wallop.

let's see if we can channel that into something productive, shall we?

a chintz inside a basket

high on the list of things i really didn't need right now:

1. the electricity conking out _again_ this morning while i was drying my hair. okay, so all i had to do was flip the breaker switch, but...yeah. annoying anyway.

2. the smell of burning in the neighborhood last night, the last vestiges of which could still be discerned this morning.

3. total upheaval in my work environment, particularly because it looks like i'm not going to be a part of it.

4. an email from the english ex. totally, totally didn't need that. at all.

5. construction on the 20th floor. not only is the sound annoying, but i'm utterly convinced that any second, we're going to have to start brushing flakes of plaster out of our hair.

narrrrrrrr.

in other news: buffy is shaping up to be rather exciting this season. i'm looking forward to it. and whoever told alyssa milano that her hair was okay like that...just needs to be shot. on sight. no questions asked.

fire

my city is burning.

again.

thank god this time it's only a duane reade in the bronx.

god, i thought i could make it through the rest of my life without ever smelling anything like that again. and while it didn't smell like that, it was enough.

enough.

i've had enough.

i just want to_______________ again.

feel free to fill in the blank.

i'm so afraid of fire.

syphillis!

forecast today: crime down. syphillis up.

yep.

ah ha!

Your Horoscope for September 24, 2002

PISCES

With Mercury, planet of the mind, in harmonious aspect to Neptune, your ruler, your imagination will be working overtime today. However, because Mercury is also moving retrograde, some of the things your mind conjures up could be rather misleading. For best results, try to focus only on positive thoughts. Don't give your fears and phobias anything to feed on.

see? hope has not left the building, no matter what the shadows say.

another pigeon flies the coop, and my wing is still stuck underneath my computer.

here's a thought for the day:

let's not throw hope out the window before it's walked out the door.

having said that, young mister longacre is leaving the company, and i've heard nothing with regards to the interview i had last week.

i am happy for him, though disheartened at the same time. partially disheartened because i can't imagine who's going to replace him, who could ever fill the void in my cubicle as he does. plus, we've got someone new in already...can we handle having another? what's going to happen to our dynamic? i know that my boss is terrified of our new (giant, russian) programmer, and it's my promise to her that i will make sure he doesn't make any sudden movements. and that's going to be strange. so, having another variable pop out of place is going to be...hard. what will i do without my comic relief, my political pundit, my verbal sparring partner? i swear, if we end up with someone boring, i'm taking over one of the operations people's offices.

and, of course, there's the other, petty hand.

what if i don't get another job? what if i'm stuck here for another year? or two? or ten? for god's sake, we've already had so much turnover in this department...other than my boss, once young mister longacre leaves, i'll have the greatest seniority in the department. what if that's as good as it gets? what if i'm the last one standing?

what will i do then?

because a pay raise sure as hell isn't in the cards, nor is an escape from the shackles of web content, which i loathe more and more each day.

can't WAIT to get out of web content. can't bloody wait.

oh, and just as an aside: i'm sure there are many out there who would say "hey, stupid, at least you've got a job. so shut up and deal." to which i say: just because i've got a job doesn't mean i'm not allowed to hate it.

which, in a very roudnabout way, brings us back to the mantra. wait until hope has flown the coop before you chuck it out the casement.

i'm going to. i'm going to try very hard.

i make no guarantees, however.

writing for corporate america

i am writing about how to properly pack and move fine art internationally.

did you know that certain kinds of packing foam can make paintings dissolve? it's true. fascinating.

i'm having trouble writing it. not because it doesn't interest me (because, frankly, it kind of does. i mean, we have a whole division dedicated to this. there's got to be something to it)...it's more that i haven't really flexed my writing muscles in a while. at least, not my expository ones. and the cobwebs are thicker than i would have thought. of course, it's not helped by the fact that i'm a little under the weather, or totally exhausted, or listening to one of my dreamier, mellower mixes.

frankly, i'm hating every second of it.

it's strange, because i've spent the last few months rediscovering my love of writing, whether it's lyrics (though those still flow like treacle and burn like salted wounds on their way, i still love them) or this snarky fiendness i throw out into this arena, i've been enjoying it. but this is just not doing it for me.

i guess this means i'm just not cut out to be a journalist. i'm not cut out to be a biologist, a mathematician, a painter, neurosurgeon or butcher, either. and that's just fine.

rock star it is, then.

no sweat.

machines. grumble.

god, how i loathe computers sometimes. i am counting the seconds until i manage to get myself a job that doesn't have "web" in the title so i only have to use it for basic and frivolous tasks.

anyway. vitriol aside, it's been an interesting few days. maybe not exciting, but interesting. film at 11. or when i feel more chatty and less inclined to toss my CPU out the window. the temptation of the 19th floor is sometimes terribly hard to resist, however.

the thing which i have dreaded the most

so, for those of you that have been keeping up with the story so far, you probably know that i went out last night with one of the boys from that other band that i love.

and if you've been keeping up with the story so far, you know that i was a little apprehensive about it, because of the history that is shared loosely among our clans.

and if you've been keeping up with the story so far, you can probably figure out how last night ended up going.

bugger.

the last thing i wanted was for anything to be awkward, and now awkward is how it's going to be. this is the price we pay for honesty.

i just hope it means that i'm not going to be blacklisted from them all. i hope this means i have to start pretending that i don't know them when i go to their shows. i think that might actually break my heart.

fucking bass players, making my life difficult left, right and center.

ach.

patsy for the man

i have just been reminded why it is that i tend to resist being, as mike doughty says, "a patsy for the man." i just made the unfortunate mistake of going to starbucks for an afternoon mocha. there are so many reasons why this was the wrong thing to do, not the least of which is i was tired and cranky (hence the need for a massive infusion of caffeine and sugar) and just not in the mood to put up with other people's bullshit. so naturally, that's all i get. in spades.

i somehow managed to remain utterly true to form and get on the line that is serviced by someone who has just started at the wall street starbucks. as in today. poor guy. got everything wrong.

"i'd like a tall mocha, no whipped cream and a tall coffee of the day."

"okay...so...you want a mocha?"

"yep."

"venti? the big one?"

"no, just a tall one. you know. small."

"oh, okay. whipped cream?"

"no..."

"so, a tall mocha frappucino?"

"no, a hot mocha."

"oh. okay."

then there proceeds a long moment in which he attempts to decipher the code of the register touchscreen. and it doesn't go too well.

and then he forgets to give me my change. so there's another ten minutes while we wait for someone to appear with a key to open the register and liberate the $15 i am owed.

happy afternoon!

at least it got me out of the office, you know?

and i do now have me sugary caffeine, and thus soon the malaise and fatigue of a busy week will melt away, fade into a scant and twitching memory.

another one of the boys in the band

it occurs to me that a decision i made regarding my activities for this evening may very well be misconstrued. it only just occurred to me know. yes, that's right, i'm being thick. leave me be!

basically, while out entertaining a company visitor last night, i ran into one of the boys from the other band that i'm a demi-groupie for. we chat for a second, i introduce him to the pack i was with, he goes away, but not before asking if i wanted to get together and do something soon.

well, i hadn't had a decent conversation with this boy in ages, so i said something along the lines of "hey, yeah. that would be fun." so, we're hanging out tonight, doing drinks, maybe dinner. on the surface, it's a precise repeat of what happened with the teacher on saturday. and we all know what happened with that.

and of course, rationally, there's probably nothing going to drive this off the rails, it's just two friends going out on a friday.

but knowing what i know about this boy, specifically that he apparently had a blinding crush on me while i was pining for another friend of his, makes me wonder. innocent or bizarre, my guess is that i'm going to have to play this one carefully, because it's another member of his band who would have me captivated, to say nothing of the teacher, and i don't want to get myself barred from the band's shows and friends because i fuck something up inadvertantly. so, there will be no incorrect signals given out, nothing like that. i will behave. i will be little miss goddamn hospital corners.

they're testing the fire alarm in my office right now. i wonder if it would be considered overreacting if i went downstairs and started bashing those responsible over the head with one of young mister longacre's new crutches.

no way to tell unless i try, which i'm probably not going to. alas.

i do, however want to call the teacher. right now. and arrange the meeting scheduled for tomorrow.

but that will just have to wait, i think.

sombrero!

today's ridiculous story, straight from the AP

Starting Nov. 1, 70 officers will fight crime in Mexico City's historic center dressed in authentic "charro" outfits, the capital's public safety director, Marcelo Ebrard, said Thursday.

Charros are Mexico's original cowboys, and their outfits include spurs, guns and pointy-topped, broad-brimmed hats known as sombreros.

The proposal was put forth by tourism officials who believe the costumes will help draw visitors while still allowing them to fight rising crime.

If the program is successful, officials plan to increase the number of charro police to 80 officers after two months, then 120 officers at the beginning of next year.

what?

other people's roommates: an explanation

a little explication...the "other person's roommate" is the roommate of one of the boys in the band, freshly back from germany and teaching 7th and 8th grade history in brooklyn.

and oh man, i'm in trouble, because i like him.

a lot.

and not in that semi-indifferent "oh, let's wait and see what happens, if it works out, that's just great but whatever" way, or in that "ooh, my feet feel like they are on fire and my stomach is full of butterflies and i can't speak" kind of way...more in that "i'm going to figure this out and make it work if it kills me" way.

this is odd. it's been ages since i got this particular brand of bee in my bonnet. sure, there have been many crushes, many ill-fated trysts and all that (as you probably know)...but a certifiable...thing. this is new. well, not new, exactly, but a long bloody time in coming. we were chatty. we talked travel and politics and books and drank wine and smoked many, many many cigarettes. i think he is smart and handsome, and just awkward enough to fulfill my geek requirements. suddenly it was 11:30 and we were both terribly confused

he held my hand. and there was nothing weird about it at all.

and then we got stuck in traffic on the queensboro bridge. only in new york will you find a traffic jam after midnight.

and yet there remains the nagging thing in the back of my head that's saying he's my friend's roommate. how is my friend going to feel about the whole situation? it's practically dormcest. except that they live in queens and i live in brooklyn and that's really not the point, though...i guess it's just, well, i never like being an observer when friends-who-date break up. it's messy, and it's strange. i personally prefer to have no part of it, generally. dating inside an established tribe is something i frown upon.

but then again, he's not really part of the established tribe, is he? i mean, he did just recently arrive from germany. he's not just new, he's imported!

food for thought.

ay, dios mio. here's hoping this gets interesting.

the date

i have a problem, and his name is someone else's roommate.

but it's the best kind of problem: how am i going to bung it up this time?

when did i stop being jane doe?

anonymity is a hot commodity. you wouldn't think so in a city of eight million people, but it is. and when it's taken from you slowly, you don't realize that the action is taking place, until one day you look around and realize that there's certain places that you can no longer go unless you want to be engaged. detachment, when this happens, is no longer an option.

and i'm not talking about the celebrity-style loss of anonymity, when you can't go anywhere without being harassed. i'm talking about the anonymity that we average joes and josephines enjoy. the kind of anonymity that means we don't always have to have a proper conversation with the person making our sandwiches, or selling us shampoo or what have you. the kind of anonymity that means you don't have to be switched on into social mode those times you don't really want to. i am having one of those days where i wish i were anonymous.

it's not that i'm harboring any greivances or anything, or that i dislike any of the people i see in the day to day, down here in the financial district. but, sometimes, i'd like to go have a cigarette without being accosted by the guy who works the desk at this building on the way out. sometimes i'd like to go buy coffee at the pret-a-manger without having the process be more than an exchange of basic pleasantries and currency.

god, that sounds horrible, doesn't it? it's not meant to. sometimes, i just want a few minutes to be alone in my head, in my bubble with my smoke and my beverage and that song in my head and not have to deal with other people, or worry about whether i'm paying enough attention or being friendly enough.

or, for the love of god, feel obligated to carry on a conversation in the elevator when all i want to do is watch those numbers drop away.

interview hell

oh, and the job interview went well.

i think.

stay tuned for more details...

alien bovine craving

here's something i didn't think i'd ever say again:

i think i need some red meat.

i am not, however, going to test this theory, due to the fact that i am not ready to find out the hard way if my body has decided it wants to digest it again.

but, damn. a cheeseburger would be really good right now.

rats of the air

you just know we're going to be okay when this kind of thing is news:

THINGS NOT WORKING OUT FOR 9-11 PIGEONS

Sep 18, 2002 5:51 am US/Eastern

(1010 WINS)-JERSEY CITY, N.J. -- Dozens of white pigeons released last week during a memorial service to commemorate the terrorist attacks were meant to be graceful symbols of the victims soaring toward the heavens.

But instead of flying majestically skyward, some soon became entangled with people at the event while others apparently fell into the Hudson River. Since then, several have been injured when they crashed into glass windows at several city office buildings and others were found dead.

Instead of getting homing pigeons, the kind used at weddings and other formal events, organizers of the Sept. 11 service bought their birds at a poultry shop in Newark.

"That's reprehensible," said Ellen Goldberg, a teacher at the nonprofit Raptor Trust bird hospital in Millington where some of the injured pigeons are being treated. "That's not how it's supposed to work."

Goldberg said some of the pigeons found near the city's monument to the attack victims were young and very thin, suffering from undernourishment and other problems.

"Usually, people who do white bird releases are people who raise pigeons, who feed them and fly them," Goldberg told The Jersey Journal of Jersey City for Wednesday's editions. "You don't buy birds in a poultry shop and just fling them."

Guy Catrillo, a member of the city's 9/11 Memorial Committee which organized the event, defended its decision. He said the city saved several hundred dollars by buying the 80 pigeons from the poultry shop and also spared them from a much worse fate.

"They're all free (and) they're not soup," he said, disputing claims that the pigeons were not adapting well to their new environment. "Pigeons are one of the most hardy animals God made."

Goldberg said the pigeons will be given to experienced bird handlers once their health improves. Susan Ryan, one of several people who have turned over injured birds to Goldberg, said the situation was ironic.

"They released these birds to commemorate the people who died, and they sent them to their deaths," she said.

6:30 and counting

things i know about this company i'm interviewing with today:

1. they have offices in sydney and hong kong.

2. they have worked with the australian film commission

3. they have many connections in the world of broadcasting, having developed the sales and management software for all kinds of people.

more research is necessary. what kinds of things should i ask them? what should i be prepared for? any advice is welcomed.

so much to do. dah!

why i hate teenage girls.

as i was walking home today, i stopped to look in a window. and while i was doing that, a pack of teenage twiglets walked by. one of them pointed at me and so brilliantly remarked: "damn, you're ugly!" with a grin of wicked glee.

i almost shoved the bottle i was holding through her eye socket.

such a charming way to end the day.

she's got the look

i keep thinking about how much you reveal to another person through eye contact. it's a full language unto itself...short, flickering looks imply that your mind is somewhere else. lots of them mean that you're still interested in what your companion is saying, though slightly distracted. there's the look that you tend to share with a good friend, where the contact is longer but not prolonged, if that makes any sense. there's the look you share with a lover, long and slow and searching, like you're looking for a piece of yourself you dropped in there, somewhere along the way.

and then there's the dangerous stuff. the fun stuff. the kind of eye contact that if you shared it with a wolf, you'd find yourself covered in toothmarks posthaste. it's eye contact prolonged in a way that only strangers can do, particularly strangers who want something from each other, or think they might. it's almost devious, almost violating, the look that lasts just too long to be casual, when you're canvassing each other, assessing whether what you want is on offer, or could be cajoled into being. it doesn't matter if it's sex that you're after, or a bargain or a promise or dominance or anything. that's totally irrelevant. the point is that the look is predatory. the look is a challenge. the look is almost certainly discomfiting. the look is definitely designed to suss out the alpha, or how one can become it.

the look can be a declaration of war. the real question is this: what are you fighting for?

well, i'll just have to let you know as soon as i've figured it out.

as advertised

and lo, monday doth roll 'round again. to say i'm both underwhelmed and exhausted would not put too fine a point on it.

but the show.

i promised you stories about the show.

ah...well...it was fun. really fun.

it felt like i was onstage forever. i was given free reign on time, and boy howdy did i take it. i was up there for what i think was just over an hour (or possibly just under an hour...one can never be too sure. either way, it felt like forever. in a good way). i think i pulled out every song i have ever written that is fit for human consumption...with the exception of one, that's only been played once, and has been asked about many many times in the months since. i suppose it may have to find its way back into the permanent rotation. roos' feeling on it is that it's a nonsense song, which is a nice contrast to all the angst of my other songs.

i premiered the infamous a cappella song, which as of now has no real title. it seemed to go over a treat, as did the britney spears cover, which became a sing-along because i forgot the words to the chorus and as such jumped straight to the verse at the end. i felt like a total div, but people seemed to be into it. which is always good. we love interactive audiences.

anyhoo. fastforward. the consensus seems to be that saturday's gig was the best one yet...i'm not sure i'd agree, considering i was dropping chords left right and center...but it was the most comfortable, i'd say. apparently my patter is getting much better. but, whatever. all this is neither here nor there, and my guess is that you probably aren't that interested if you weren't there.

but that's okay.

because this is my bloody journal, and as such 'tis my prerogative to go on and on and on about it.

so, in summation: really fun, i remain utterly peached and glowy that the letdowns asked me to share a show with them, moreso that they've asked me to do it again.

like i said before, big stupid grin. all day. yeah.

in other news...

-heard the remix of sleepwalking. fucking amazing. seriously.

-saw "igby goes down" yesterday. fucking amazing. seriously.

-finished reading the cheese monkeys. fucking amazing. seriously.

-i'm thinking of going all the way blonde in time for the november show.

hee hee!

about last night...

show number two went down last night...and i don't know what else to say is that i had a fabulous time, had a big stupid grin on my face the whole evening, and am doing it again on november 16, it would seem.

rockdiggety!

i'll add more when i'm actually awake. which i most certainly am not right now.

strung....out....

i've been stuck in this mire of late, where i feel like i'm constantly forgetting something that is of the utmost, terrifying importance. real life or death stuff.

and, naturally, i can never figure out for the life of me just what the hell it is. i scan the inbox, but never locate the festering message that will surely spell my doom...i sift through the bills and the scraps of paper that define my parameters at home, but never find the time bomb that's making me quiver...

all i know is that every now and again, rather frequently of late, i'll find myself sitting at the smoking window, feeling my nerves wind up for the pitch for reasons i can't describe. and as such, i end the evening punchy and subject my friends to seething rants via email (sorry 'bout that...), i go to sleep early and angry and wake up uncomfortable. i find seemingly innocuous situations hateful and suddenly my emotional skin turns to rice paper.

and then i get to work.

and it's a downhill slide from there.

now, for example. i think i've finished everything i have to do today...but i can't just accept that i'm done for the time being, not with just over two hours to go. very unnerving.

but...honestly, everything else that i can even vaguely remember...is dependent on stuff that i'm still waiting for from other people.

hm. fancy that.

in other news:

-i am almost off secretarial duty. we just had our phones tweaked around, and so now we in the marketing office have the right to ignore the phone, unless it's making our super-secret ninja ring. it's kind of awesome.

-the woman whose office is adjacent to my cubicle sounds like an exoctic bird when she's exasperated. shrill, squawking and rapid-fire. that's not meant to be uncharitable. just an observation.

-i'm in the process of redesigning our company business cards. they're going to be fabulous. biscuit, i owe it all to you.

-it smells like cheese in here. in a good way.

and lo, the stars have spoken

Your Horoscope for September 13, 2002

PISCES

Forget about what you have to do today and devote yourself entirely to what you want to do. That is not only the recipe for having fun, but also the recipe for success. It's quite simple really: What comes easily to you, what brings you happiness, is what you were born to do. Life is there to be enjoyed, not endured.

rock.

agh!

ihaveafuckingjobinterviewontuesday.

salty jesus.

ow.

i somehow pulled a muscle in my leg very, very hard, and as such i am having difficulty straightening my leg. my guess is crazy new kickboxing instructor, on a three-day delay. irritating.

also irritating: due to a software malfunction, one of the high mucky-mucks in the company has spent the last month thinking i've been ignoring one of his requests.

super irritating: all the operations people are back in the office, taking it upon themselves to have great screaming arguments and noisy phone calls to the distraction of us all. this is why you have doors, people. use them! god knows, if i had one, i would.

ALSO irritating: people who take the elevator to the mezzanine. it's the first bloody floor, people. take the stairs.

off to stick my head in switzerland. more later. over and out.

at the end of the day

one more hour, darlings.

one more hour and we've made it.

happy anniversary

it's here.

*

i was speaking on the phone yesterday to a customer service rep from ikea...it was a rather, ah, unique experience. the conversation went a little something like this, beginning with her:

"you're going to be really unhappy with me..."

"why?"

"because we don't have the cutting board that you want. i'm really sorry."

"oh, that's okay. don't worry about it."

"oh, good. this other woman i was speaking to, i told her we didn't have the wooden spoons that she wanted, and she pretty much took my head off."

"really? that was unnecessary. was she from new york?"

"yeah."

"yeah, my guess is that new yorkers in general aren't going to be particularly pleasant for the next few days. try not to hold it against us, we don't mean it."

"it's pretty high stress right now."

"yeah."

and there's some more idle chatter, eventually it comes out that she lost someone in the WTC. and the phone call goes to pieces. i'm trying to be reassuring because i can hear her getting misty, while trying to give her my address and everything so i can get my stuff, while assuring her that it's okay that it's taken her a few tries to get my credit card number right because i can hear her starting to weep on the other end of the line...

strange, definitely strange.

but not wholly unexpected.

okay. i know this is a day of mourning, a day of reflection, and for many, a day of great fear and apprehension. but i want to say this. at risk of sounding the ridiculous optimist...hey, people, hey, new york. we made it. we were scared out of out minds much of the time, but we made it through the longest, hardest, scariest, most confusing year in living memory. we proved that when someone tries to pull a tonya harding on our collective asses, we take the road of nancy kerrigan and soldier on with a limp and a brave smile. we proved that comfort can be found in strangers and strength in our own weakness. we proved that we can rise above having a moron act as our leader and stumble onward with grace and aplomb. just keep it together through the rest of today, and chalk up another huge battle to victory. the first anniversary is the hardest, it always is. but we've made it this far. we can make it just a little bit further. and then we can start over.

i love you. it's not much to offer, but it's all i've got. and from what i can tell, if we're going to make it through today, we're going to need every ounce of firepower we've got. so stick that in your arsenal and smoke it.

it's coming.

and now the fear starts to creep in...i just heard sirens outside and my pulse started to race, and not in a good way.

sometimes i can still smell it.

crimson and clover

a quick word before i delve into the purgatory that is post-newsletter release invalid email sifting: the media frenzy over 9/11 has begun. well, okay, so it actually began a few weeks ago...but right now it's just disgusting. the last thing that new yorkers need to hear from the new york post is that there's some sort of terrorist plot about to happen that the FBI has been unable to crack. fuck that. we've been living with that prospect for 364 days already. i say that if ever there were a time for blatant self-congratulation for simply NOT FALLING APART and devolving into chaos, now is it. now we need positive reinforcement, not scare tactics.

needless to say, during the hiatus i shall be taking tomorrow, there will be no tv, no radio, none of it. there will be sleeping and singing and loitering in cafes and the sun and congregation with the friends...it's going to be a day of wholesome goodness and pleasure, because if i've got some moral obligation to feel like shit about the day, feel guilty that i'm still alive, well...hell with that.

dozy guitarist

it's official. it seems i can play the my damn songs in my sleep now. i was having a minor practice session (seeing as how there's a show on saturday, where i get to pull the full complement out of my hat), and i'd gotten as far as "judd nelson" when i suddenly realized that i had no recollection of playing the middle of the song. and i must have, because i'm not much good at compartmentalizing my music. it was odd, to say the very least.

petit flashback: it was raining, and three of us had the misfortune to be slogging down broadway on our way to canal street...i'd just knocked this one's contact lens out with my umbrella, on to the oh-so-sanitary streets of soho...and promptly found it again, through some miracle. which may have been explained by...the giant, massive wooden cross lying on its side not a block away from us. was it fate? luck? divine inspiration? we didn't know. but we did know just the right thing to say, the only thing one can really say in that situation:

"jesus christ."

kwaaaa

fixation blows.

it's a large and heavy ladder leaning up against the shack that you want to make your dream house. it would probably be fine if you'd just take the ladder away. but as long as it's there, yours is the shack of cards.

listening to jimmy eat world, mike doughty, andy stochansky

feeling very far removed from my own head. a little cold.

wondering what happens next. if releasing the damned company e-newsletter is going to give me an aneurysm. whether my new kickboxing instructor's going to be any good.

looking forward to: saturday night. having it work out. getting over myself.

psychosis

i've discovered today that i think i might have a new disorder: email fantods.

seriously.

i frequently have severe issues over sending out emails, particularly if there's a group of recipients involved. i check the facts, double-check, triple-check...and i get flushed, i get strange butterflies in the pit of my stomach whenever i hit the send button.

quite frankly, it's embarrassing.

i'm fairly certain it all ties in with my perfectionist tendencies. if i have an ounce of control over a situation, i want it to be perfect. at least, as much as can be reasonably expected. and when it's not, i feel like an ass. so, i think that's what it is with my email anxiety. it's nice to have a point upon which to affix this strange affliction of mine.

that does not, however, mean that it doesn't have to go.

especially now that i've engaged in flirt via that medium, i've got to just GET OVER IT. and, for god's sake, the level of insanity i felt when i actually did respond to that which i am really hoping was a flirt...well...let's just say you would have thought that that particular experience would have simply cause the disorder to exhaust itself, and burn itself out.

yeah.

she says as her stomach flutters and she feels the crimson seeping through her cheeks.

by any other....

remember the quest i was on to find myself a new last name? well, after an extended session, post-tv coma, here are the latest frontrunners:

1. carraway

2. kipling

3. michel

4. catriona (soft spot, what can i say?)

kind of a bit of a "k" sound theme going on, yeh? i think i'm really quite fond of carraway, myself. but we're still taking suggestions. i'd love to have this sorted in time for the show on saturday (that's right, it's official)...but i suppose i can wait until the one on october 2.

though i do love performing as shiveryde1icious.

in other news...i had a very nice dream last night. i blush easily. i'm in line for the dunce cap. i have to buck myself up to destroy whatever this is that's going on with subway boy. because of the first three reasons.

oh, and twenty points to whomever can identify the tori amos song wherein she says "i'm ok when everything is not ok"...for some reason, i'm drawing a total blank and it's making me insane.

this is sportscenter

this is the find of the day.

i'm about as non-sports oriented as you can get...but these are absolutely, unquestionably brilliant.

.

so quiet

It is not OK to kill the French!

it's amazing how the faintest whisper of something you desire is so much more intoxicating than the most robust strain of something that's really quite convenient.

musical theatre

congress is in town today. i got mowed down by a senator and his aides as i trundled down broadway. and let me tell you, when those little asian girls don't want you near their employer, they're much more hardcore than their delicate exteriors would imply! but i digress. yep, congress is in town today, which means that the block where i work is an absolute zoo. the media hyenas are out, and of course the law enforcement staff is fully regimented and all over the place. most of the sidewalks in the area are roped off entirely. the only security measure i've yet to see in place is the sniper brigade. but my guess is that they're hiding somewhere, so as to be more effective. it's not always too cunning to whack someone with a gun on top of a roof. too easy to pick off.

it's a beautiful clear day, not entirely unlike another day i'm sure we can all remember out here in the naked city. here's hoping that we can make it through without a major catastrophe.

but then, how could there be a catastrophe on a day that started like this: as i lumbered down broadway, i heard a cop start to sing that song "sh-boom" (you know--that one from clue, that goes "life could be a dream if i could take you up to paradise up above, if you could tell me i'm the only one that you love, life could be a dream sweetheart...")...and then as i got further along the street, someone else picked up the melody. and then someone else. and it kept getting passed along until i reached exchange place and turned to go to my office. honestly, it was like i'd suddenly gotten trapped in a musical. thoroughly wicked, though thoroughly strange. and nice. after all, nothing irreparable ever happens in the world that busby berkeley built.

and in other news... actually, this isn't other news. but i could use some opinions, here. do i: send a missive to the boy who did my astro chart, saying oh-so-flippantly that perhaps we ought to get together and discuss the stars further? or just kind of steamroll over the whole thing? or do something else entirely?

this has to be handled carefully because i think i actually have a proper emotional stake here and i can't afford a mess.

i'm a hopeless case, here, people. consider this a public forum in which you can give all the advice that your mother warned you not to for safety's sake. go crazy. sign the g-book. drop a note. send an email. unless you're just going to tell me that i'm a pathetic and indecisive psychopath. because, while you'd be right, it's a gorgeous friday and i feel no need to have my parade rained on.

is this what i think it is?

okay. i've completed the immediate task at hand, i can now get down to the nitty-gritty of strangeness. so the story goes a little something like this: i ask "john" (to whom we will begin referring minus the "quotes") for his bassist's email, as senor bass has expressed interest in making an appearance at one of my shows. i ask for this, john responds, asking three questions of his own: where was i born, what day and what time? slightly confused, i respond. asking why, naturally. he tells me that he just likes to know who he's dealing with, and that he was kind of into astrology. he just wanted to get an idea of me. fair enough.

flash forward to the next day. i open my mailbox to find a terrifyingly long email thoroughly detailing my relationship to the stars. interesting, how nice of you to take the time...i send back another little note thanking him, which went a little something like this:

my my.

in certain respects, i'd say that's fairly accurate.

it's funny...you get so used to dealing with the

tangible that it's sometimes easy to overlook the fact

that things like stars, which are so far away that

they are functionally only ideas for most people, can

impact us as well.

makes me feel rather small, actually. in a good way.

to which he says:

Actually, it's not that the stars are in fact 'impacting' us. It's more the whole notion of synchronicity. Things that happen at the same time do so for a reason. And we're partially aware of these reasons, I'd say. At any rate, probably too much to explain in an email.

yes, yes it is. now, my immediate instinct is to follow up this note with a "you're absolutely right, we should get together sometime and talk about it some more."

doesn't that seem like the logical conclusion?

christ in a sidecar.

a cooling period is being enforced until i get over myself.