lilyvolt

i am on a mission that is making me slowly insane.

i want, i need, i must have, i am desperately seeking a copy of the song "every day is a lie" by SF-area band Lilyvolt. it's from 1996, and as far as i can tell, nigh on impossible to locate.

if anyone, anyone, anyone has the faintest whiff of a lead for me, i would be the happiest and most grateful little monkey ever.

seriously.

this has been bugging me for nearly six years now.

help.

full contact shopping

i've come to the conclusion that navigating midtown manhattan during the holiday season is a full contact sport and should really be avoided at all costs. but, if crunch fitness marketed it properly, it could also be the next big fitness craze: boot camp for the urban warrior. you get the pure cardio of walking, leg toning from the constant lateral slide you have to do in order to avoid the stupid and oblivious, waist toning for the constant twisting you do in the same vein, arm strengthening from carrying the packages obtained from the inevitable shopping action (we are talking fifth and madison avenues, after all)...truly, all the benefits of the gym in one convenient package. just stick a hyperactive tour guide in yoga pants and a sports bra up front, and voila! the next big thing. the advanced class could involve using the subway--butt toning from going up and down the stairs, as well as balance improvement from standing on the subway.

extra points if you wear heels. calf toning, you know.

double extra points if you manage to knock one of the snotty society matrons in furs into the gutter.

triple extra points if you manage to knock over a pack of oblivious tourists stopped in the middle of and taking up an entire sidewalk.

and quadruple extra points if you can do it without breaking a nail.

in other news<...

i think i'm in love with norah jones.

hindsight.

you know, in retrospect, i should have known from the beginning. the signs were all there, from the first phone call. from the first bit of business. everything. i should have fucking known.

blind girl. learn to see what's in front of you.

ah well, not much longer now. too long, but not terribly long.

i can do this.

though i won't guarantee that there won't be casualties.

salty sweet

so, i'm on this sick salty-sweet pendulum right now. one extreme to the other. see? extremism!

attack!

i hate feeling attacked.

even when i'm fairly certain that the offense in question was not meant to come across that way.

i still hate it.

grr.

merry christmas to all...

well, we got that white christmas of which we were all so vividly dreaming. complete with scathing, howling winds and large puddles. one of my heels is in tatters, i am (mercifully) no longer intoxicated, though full of yummy food. visions of south park dance in my head.

i had family and friends all in one neat little package today. we were warm and well fed and well loved and happy. we were the who family that so infuriated the grinch before he understood, dancing and drinking and laughing (to, incidentally, the mother of all end-of-year roundup compilations)in that way that so angers the lonely. generating our own light, to get all hyperbolic on yo' ass.

i have several new sushi sets.

i am expecting a guest.

soon, all the ninjas will come home to roost from points beyond in time to ring in the new year.

i am happy tonight.

...and to all a good night.

reason number one

reason number one that all is not lost: russian programmer boy just brought me DiVaCo and tortilla chips because i've been so quiet all day--he wanted to cheer me up.

and salt is, indeed, bringer of cheer.

merry bloody christmas

merry bloody christmas.

1. picking up my package that i've been waiting two weeks for proved to be just as much of a pain in the ass as it has been for the last several attempts. i was late for work. they were late for work. there was much sadness and huge lateness.

2. i was supposed to put our chairman's holiday message up on the ticker. i was going to do it today. today, i look in my inbox to find it's been sent out as a mass email, along with a note to me wondering why it wasn't posted yesterday. god, i love that i'm going to get to spend the rest of the holiday season wondering how much i'm going to get my ass kicked in the new year. charming with a capital cha-cha-cha.

i am now going to try and get some work done and maybe, just maybe have a good day. though i don't harbor much hope for that at the moment, now that the can of worry and possible whoopass has been opened.

grr.

hey joe, where are you going with that...

how many clash albums do you think will be spinning worldwide tonight? i bet we could power a small turbine if we harnessed the power of all the machines they'll be trilling out of.

afternoon ramble

okay.

number one: my sister kicks ass. because i'm a bad monkey and peeked at my christmas present early, i know that she made me my scarf, my beautiful and lovely black and white tim burton-esque scarf that i'm probably not going to take off until the thaw this spring.

number two: the city of soundsville (techno remixes of background music from the powerpuff girls) ROCKS my FACE

number three: records management most certainly does NOT rock my face. nor do any periodicals about it. especially those i have to edit. grr.

number 4: i am getting a very irritating reminder of why i get most of my mail sent directly to my office. i had a package arrive last tuesday. now, due to the fact that we don't have a mailbox, when something too large to shove through the mail slot arrives whilst my roommate and i are not on the premises, said object gets delivered to the real estate agency downstairs. now, as i was saying, a package containing precious, precious cigarettes arrived last tuesday. i've been trying to pick it up ever since. they appear to have taken most of the month of december off. so, i get to come into the office two to two-and-a-half hours late tomorrow, because i must get this package before christmas. i absolutely refuse to give mike bloomberg any more of my money. and tomorrow is the only time i can do it. thank goodness i told my family to send all gift-y things here. otherwise it wouldn't be christmas for me until sometime in the new year.

have i mentioned i live in the ghetto?

yeah. i live in the ghetto. and the mailman hates us. alas.

number five: my parents arrive tomorrow. my brother arrives at the weekend. my parents insufferable friends may be arriving this weekend as well. it's quite the family affair. all i have to say is thank god it's happening on my turf--that way, when it gets to be too much for me, i can just jump on the subway and run away.

i'm really glad that i don't have much too terribly interesting to say this week. the last month has been way too full of excitement. and not always in a good way.

'twas the week before christmas

i'm not entirely certain why i'm even here. why i didn't make some sort of bullshit excuse to take the entiredamn week off. stop wasting everyone's time.

it's 11:19, and i've not done a fucking thing.

grand!

i'm watching my desk vibrate with the force of my neighbor's computer, getting my bbc fix, preparing myself to receive the parents tomorrow...still trying to ascertain whether or not my brother will be staying with me this weekend. pondering the weekend. wondering whether my conscience will really allow me to not do another fucking thing today. i think it might.

hoping my brain doesn't start oozing out the ears before the end of the day.

new song.

newly developed photos.

left my phone charger at roos' house.

sun is shining.

anarchy monday.

yeah, it's not so bad.

though i'm a bit worried about one of the boys. he was being cryptic, and i am now rather having trouble getting him to talk to me. there may be many reasons for this. but, nonetheless, i worry.

psychoanalysis for the chronically insomniac

i keep having these dreams where i'm driving cars that have either spongy brakes or no brakes at all. invariably, i find myself clutching the wheel, leaning and pulling back while stomping on the brake pedal with all my might, as though by sheer force of wheel and the straining of my own small back muscles, i could stop this juggernaut i'm piloting.

now, normally, i manage to stop the vehicle somehow, someway before it hits whatever it is it's careening towards. not last night. last night, it hit a midnight blue porsche convertible with a matching set of louis vuitton luggage in the back seat.

psychoanalysts, start your engines.

why do i keep having these dreams?

further

it would be so easy to wax rhapsodic, to delve into metaphor and schmaltz and cliche...but i won't. because i know exactly what this is and exactly what it's not, despite the whispers in my ear at midnight saying that this may be the time, just enough dust may have settled.

i know better than to bite a line like that. however much the speaker might believe it himself.

i know this much is true: it's been a long time since i've been looked at like that. particularly by a repeat offender. and it is a look worth traveling leagues for. it is the kind of look that shores up your faith when the rest of the world seems too dark to even look in to. because it says so much i need to hear even with the words missing. even if months elapse between. that i am beautiful, that i am bright, that i make someone happy. all these things, if only for a second. and sometimes, when it gets dark, i forget that i can do these things, that i am these things. you've all seen it. you know what happens when the dark creeps in.

but we all know it only takes a little light to banish it again. for a little while. for long enough to mend the worst wounds.

i know what can be given in this case. and i what i can give back. we made a deal. and i will never ask for more than i offer.

i feel as though there's a bit of me waking up that's been asleep for months. i think that once upon a time it was called peace.

such a change...from one who takes what he wanted from me without asking once, to one (with whom i've a history) who took five hours to figure out where we stood before touching my arm.

never let it be said i don't live my life in extremes.

five years in the making

it's hard to concentrate when senses are tuned in as high as that. every pore aware, seething, straining to pick up some signal, pulse racing to the beat of a triphammer, trying to understand.

trying to figure out how this bargain will be upheld.

it is as palpable as it is raw as it is unchanged from the first, no matter what has been said. reason and emotion make no sense against the laws of this land. everything is chemical, everything is wrong against the larger picture but somehow it seems to work. as long as you don't ask it to be more than what it is.

quiet. fierce. soft. spacious.

eyes saying everything the players need to hear.

i know what these hands have seen. i know what those eyes have done. i know what this body wants. but i also know what the rest of the party has left to give.

i've waited this long, even if he just thinks it's flattery.

you are very small, so you may be right

so yesterday was just one big fat kick in the pants from the universe saying that things...occasionally...aren't so bad.

but are always just a little bit strange.

annual review

do you ever get the feeling that you're a much better actor than you had any possible notion?

just had my annual review.

it went well.

really well.

alarmingly well.

all points made against me were totally valid, and plenty of points were made in my favor that i had no idea were getting noticed.

i got a bonus.

i got a raise.

and, best of all, i got

an extra week's vacation.

extra week.

that brings me to three.

it still leaves me making less than i would like, but now i have an extra week to sit home and brood about it.

interestingly, one of the things that was pointed out to me as something i could improve was the fact that i hadn't sought external/supplemental training. apparently, there's a budget for this stuff.

it seems that this year, i'm being encouraged to go get my learn on.

where was all this goodness when i was spending the whole year at the end of my tether? it all would have been easier to deal with if i'd known that these are the kinds of things i'm working for...

anyway. i give myself two days before i start hating my job again. but hey. a two day reprieve is better than none, right?

cover girl

hm. sudden realization. my show on january 24 has a $10 cover. i didn't know this.

sweet chewbacca, is that going to be one empty house.

gorey story

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The Curious Sofa - You are quite sensual and love a good romp in every sense of the word! People are drawn to you and always want you to sit in their laps!

all i have to say is thank goodness i wasn't the doubtful guest. i sipmly don't have the right scarf.

a brief spell of outrage

i find it irksome that the brilliant "spirited away" is up against the likes of "lilo and stitch" and "spirit: stallion of the Cimarron" for a critics' choice award.

sick. pabulum against a pearl.

this has been the longest anarchy tuesday ever. i don't think i've done anything productive since about 1:30.

such a great tirade recipient.

it's really difficult for me to harbor this kind of animosity for anybody, particularly to backslide into it when things were going so well.

i'm going to beat her upside the head. i really, really am.

she bumped into me at the post office--literally bumped into me. and looked at me--and didn't say a word. just kept on her way.

i see this girl every day of the working week.

i'm debating whether this is something i should bring up in my review session with the bosslady. because it is starting to impede my ability to do my work. or to work with the team, rather.

i hate that someone i work with has the ability to make me this angry.

for god's sake, she barely speaks to us here in the office. no good morning, no good night, no "hey i'm going downstairs, anybody want anything?" none of those basic coworker courtesies. i don't expect her to be my friend. but i expect her to stop swanning around here with her back desk, superior demeanor.

i've got four months at this job on you, woman. and we don't have a hierarchy. so don't go acting like you're more important than the rest of us, okay?

dah! grr! eep!

"you'd be so great except for the fact that you had to go on and be who you are."

shivery: girl detective.

so, i've done a bit of research. i've found out all i need to know about elevator guy in order to file a complaint, or file something.

i just need to figure out what to do next. i think i'm going to file a report with building management. i want something on file in case that happens again, either to me or somebody else. i don't want to screw with this person's life, though. there will be no police report, no report to his company, nothing like that.

i just kind of want to make my mark and then pretend it never happened.

the thing that's getting to me about all this is that i'm finding myself devolving ito every statistic, every stereotype that i've so abhorred. i don't want to make a big deal out of this. i don't want to file charges or anything. frankly, i don't even want people to know about it. and you know why? you know why?

because i roll back over it and i can't stop wondering how much of it is my fault.

my fault.

and i know, in my true deep heart of hearts that none of it is my fault. it is never your fault when someone at your place of employment sticks his tongue down your throat. at my OFFICE. in the ELEVATOR. it would have been different if it had happened outside the office. in a bar, or something...that would have been just a random--annoying--aberration. but now...now a safe zone has been violated.

but for some reason, i feel like the guilty party. like i led him on, like i was sending out some sort of signal in the course of being friendly that made it seem that i wanted it to happen.

i am falling into the pattern of every woman who's gone silent after being assaulted in any way, no matter how minor. consumed by guilt, feeling somewhere between violated and unclean but not certain i'm allowed to feel that way.

isn't that funny.

analyzing what i'm allowed to feel.

i'm allowed to feel however the fuck i want.

but even now, i'm berating myself mentally because i don't know if i'm overreacting.

am i overreacting?

or am i justified in being righteously freaked out?

i can't imagine what i'd be feeling if it had been a worse situation. this shit is already interrupting my sleep.

crisis mode

this city is mere inches away from being held hostage by the transit union. i'd be chewing my nails down to the quick if my index finger weren't already covered in a bandage, because i sliced off a chunk of it while baking the lebckuchen that was a complete disaster, thereby leaving me bewildered and not understanding what the fuck has happened to me that i am unable to make a confection for which i've been the family's head chef since i was about ten.

i believe in pouring a bit of myself into everything i cook. but i think that adding my blood to the mixture might be taking the metaphor a little too far. don't you think?

fuck.

what is happening to me here?

when is it going to begin to look a lot like christmas?

where the hell is my family and when are they going to tell me if they're coming to noo spork for xmas or not?

and let's not forget the million dollar question: why, oh why, are all straight boys evil? unless, of course, the question is: what is wrong with me? (yes, a phone call was made. and the predicted outcome was, in fact, the case. it's getting obscene)

ah well. i hear celibacy is very chic this year. almost as chic as the haircut i'm going to get. eventually. once i decide on it.

roundup!

so, with the end of the year grinding ever closer closer, the time has come to make the yearly mix. ah, but what to include, what to include? this is always a quandary, because as the creator of the disc, i will not be bound by such silly rules as "oh, the song has to have been released this year" or anything like that. no, this yearly roundup is going to be a mishmosh of songs that have made multiple and significant appearances in this past year. which means we may get some bootylicious! which means we may get some garbage! we may get some rufus wainwright! hell, we may even get some of this (mainly because i'm a total narcissist)!

it's such great fun to have a project.

i just need to get myself a cd burner. i think it's the necessary next step in my emotional evolution. and it would mean i could stop using the one at work. yeah!

oh, bother. in other news, i need to pick up some tchotchke bits for sally sue this week.

ah well, that means a trip to the flea market, i think, for some funky old goodness.

mint juleps and needles

and you find that your life is a frustrated vision of gaugins, rodins, excellent fiction mint juleps and needles don't add up to wisdom, you're cracked, you've gone mad, makes me so sad, i like you better than most of the men i've had.

next to the club where your girlfriend is dancing on the bar, i left a stain on your glass, you called it a scar.

and he struck me, like a matchstick, if only to prove, there's nothing out there that i have to lose...speaking in tongues through tar-paved lungs, the boy fell off his chair, too drunk to notice, too lost to care.

half a glass of cognac and a punch in the mouth WE ARE THE PEOPLE OUR PARENTS WARNED US ABOUT.

bad week.

i am having a bad day.

i have had a very bad week (with the exception of wednesday night).

if this evening is not good, i think i'm going to lock myself in my apartment for the rest of the weekend and cry myself into oblivion.

i also think i'm going to file a complaint against that dipshit in the elevator. if only i knew his name.

what's with today, today?!--the elevator

oh

my

god.

i just got accosted in the elevator. this guy who i chat with occasionally while smoking. overly flirty for my taste, but i figured that was just how he is. anyway. i was taking the elevator up with a friend of mine, when we pick up chat-guy on our way up. my friend gets off on his floor, i'm in the elevator with chat guy. we ride up a few floors, and he kisses me. with tongue.

ick.

naturally, i turn my head and push him away as soon as i register what's going on, but...agh.

i...yergh. i dread seeing him again. though, when it happens, i will at least be more prepared. if a move is made, i lay down the law.

but...ew.

i feel really unclean.

really.

ew.

tell me something good

i'm having one of those days where the only thing left to do is turn up your music so loud that the rest of the world couldn't get to you if it tried. i feel like that's the only way i'm going to make it through alive.

why am i doing this again?

grin, grin, grin

awright, ninjas. you asked for it.

bitch, bitch, bitch

transit strike imminent.

widespread ban on smoking in bars.

large, painful knot in my shoulder.

newsletter release aftermath to sort.

is it any wonder i love the holiday season?

thank god i got to get my sweaty-christian-bale-german-impressionism-martial-arts-movie-action on last night.

for these small mercies and these great adventures are we grateful.

agent shiv signing off.

more sally sue tirades

so, how excited am i that so many people are taking the flirt test! and even more pleased that we all seem to be coming up with different answers. it seems to me that we just need to all get together and have a big ol' flirt caucus in new york. compare notes. raid each others' arsenals and become invincible. yeah.

in other news

and once again, as on so many other days, we turn to the question of sally sue. how effortlessly that girl manages to alienate half the office is an absolute mystery to me. the bosslady doesn't see it, nor does the chipper aussie. newgirl and techboy just haven't been around long enough...but really. she no longer partakes in little office deals, which are silly but fun. like on triniwoman's birthday, we had a cake. we sang, and we ate cake. she sang and then ran back to her desk. triniwoman was hurt that sally sue was not interested in sticking around for the actual celebration part. she is always at the gym at lunch (well, so am i. but only a couple of days out of the week). she never comes along when we go out for drinks.

i know that this is not a character flaw. it's fine to not partake in these things.

it is not fine to look at someone else like they're tainted because they do. it is not fine to treat someone like they're subservient to you when you are both on the same level of the hierarchy, just because you made it to the back desk first. it is not okay to complain very loudly about how annoyed you were when your wonderful, loving boyfriend brought you a bag of kitty litter and some juice while you were sick, so you wouldn't have to do it yourself. not when other people around you are painfully, poignantly without boyfriend. i don't care how sad you are about the "romance" going out of the relationship. kitty litter is absolutely romantic if you look at it the right way.

anyway.

the point to this tirade is the same as every other tirade i've made about sally sue in the past. she orbits around but only rarely involves. and whatever her motives are, those of us who do not get engaged get treated like we've been rolling around in dog shit.

and, frankly, i don't take kindly to that. no matter what the reason, no matter who it is, no matter how much better and more important they think they are than i. there's such a think as common courtesy.

stooble

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okay, i'll stop this soon. promise.

and still

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You're A Hero! You live to save the world! You are honest, true, and always victorious! You may not always get the girls/boys, but all you really want to do is battle the bad guys.

i feel like this is to be the shape of my morning.

more!

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Languid-Sexy.... You rock the messy hair and crisp white cotton sheet. Your idea of bliss is a day spent in bed with your lover. There is nothing wrong with that, though some people like to leave the bed at times. You're a total fox, even if you are a hedonistic bum.

i'm bored and procrastinating this morning. can you tell?

the mania continues

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hm. not so much anymore, but definitely back in the day.

a fine day in harlem

five hours can slink away so quietly, so easily that the click of the latch doesn't even make a sound

not like you would even have heard it above the beating of the drum and the wailing of the horn and the skip of your blood warmed just a little too much by the wine and the song and the smile and the game.

did you know it was a fine day in harlem? do you remember who was wearing white?

did someone promise to teach you?

did someone persuade you to believe them, to believe that somehow, someway maybe, just maybe it was possible to be different, just once?

and you knew you would live to regret it, somehow, someway. well, you suspected that, anyway.

the jury's not yet come home to roost over that one.

did someone miraculously appear with his head above water and all the right words and all the beauty and brightness you forgot could ever dare to look at you? and what did it take to make you look back? how long did it take you to notice the flush on his cheeks every time you smiled?

and you still can't bring yourself to be excited. you still aren't brave enough to believe.

the shortest five hours of my life.

smoke and honey.

more bio

i'm rather pleased to be thought of as a "Song siren, boot rocking, city-climbing wanderluster."

thanks, peaches.

strike one from the working stiff

so, my company has just essentially slapped all the staffers in the new york/new jersey area in the face. after promising us a low-key but fun christmas party out in the wilds of jersey (shudder), we were today informed that the party will not be taking place because it would COST TOO MUCH. instead, there will be group bowling.

i LOVE being told to my face that i and my fellow staffers are not as important as revenues. i mean, we know this. but it's never nice to be told. all i have to say is that morale in this office and out in jersey has been knocked back about nine months.

thanks guys.

oh, and in a moment of supreme beauty and irony, guess who i'm shopping for for the secret santa extravaganza?

if you guessed sally sue, you would be right.

last season's counterculture

listening to: yoshimi battles the pink robots (flaming lips), fallibility edition (new mix i made), untitled mix (though the current band is the starlite mints)

feeling: relieved--though my rent check has not yet been debited, i have received confirmation that the payment has, in fact, been received.

plotting: total world domination, of course.

so, i decided to put the kibosh on the show on the 21st. i decided to put the brakes of realism on and come to terms with the fact that holiday hell week is no time to expect people to show up. so, no shows till january. but, so y'all can mark your calendars, here's what's coming up:

january 8 at the orange bear

january 24 at this weird converted yoga center (don't ask. but it will be fun)

february 26 at bar b.

so there you go.

in other news i love sundays. i know i've mentioned it before, but i do. i really, really do. i spent yesterday with wang, getting caffeinated and being flollopsome. hanging out with that boy is terribly refreshing. he sees a side of me that i don't really show to anyone else. and it's a side that needs to be aired out once in a while. so, it's a good thing. it's nice to be allowed to act like a child once in a while. though totally exhausting. wonderful. especially now, in holiday hell doldrum time. it's good to have different levels of rocks to hold on to.

anyway.

it's sunny and cold and gorgeous here in the naked city.

are YOU wearing last season's counterculture?

hmmm.

so, is it a total impossibility to think that i could get people to come see me play on dec. 21? i've been tentatively offered a slot, assuming i can actually get people to attend...thoughts? comments?

choose life

choose life.

that's the phrase of the day.

i got a call today from a girl from my past, my best friend through elementary school and junior high. she had the most amazing bout with anorexia that sonoma county had seen in years. seven years in and out of rehabilitation clinics, and nothing took.

but it looks like something snapped. i guess something had to give. something always has to give.

give life, in this case.

i don't know the details, i don't really know what happened, but apparently about seven or eight weeks ago, she woke up and decided to live. and has started what i understand is a miraculous recovery, to a degree that all the therapy and rehab in the world had not previously been able to inspire her to do.

though we've not spoken much in the last few years, this news fills me with so much joy.

well, they do say that the holidays are a time for miracles.

entry #1

entry #1 in the great bio contest:

Used sparingly she doubles as a spice; used in great doses she tranquilizes better than morphine.

Someone stop shiveryde1icious before she takes over the world, I don't think we can have someone that beautiful and that talented making something of themselves... it would simply collapse the masses. Perhaps that's just what they need so the rest of us up there with her could walk on their backs just a little bit easier.

Have you ever seen someone and thought, nah, she'd never date me, I'm not good enough? First, you're probably right, second, chances are she's feeling just as human towards you.

Smokey eyeshadow and hair that doesn't quit. If that's not enough for you, shut up and listen, you'll wish she weren't so right.

You'd never guess shiveryde1icious is really Dorothy Gale, but she is and to prove it has the ruby slippers (if you're real nice she might let you see them). Thank god she clicked her heels.

snow day part II

so, in a strange and bizarre turn of events, my father called me yesterday. three times. he was the guy that called twice during my set. now, if you've been following the story, you know that my father never calls of his own volition. well, rarely. and so, when he does, it's a big fat hairy deal. particularly when he tries several times in a row.

so, upon realizing that he'd called a third time, and then called my house phone, i got a little worried. what the hell was going on that necessitated this urgency to speak with me? who's died now?

turns out, though the conversation ended up spinning itself out for about an hour, he'd really called to tell me one thing: "i was watching the treelighting at rockefeller center, and there was a girl singing there, michelle something-or-other. brown?"

"branch? michelle branch?"

"yes, that sounds about right. anyway. what i noticed about her is that she's not terribly good, and not really all that attractive. so i don't understand why it is that she's famous and you're not, when you're clearly so much better."

(and here i was, thinking he didn't actually know the meaning of the word nepotism)

"you know, dad, i've been puzzling over that one myself."

"it just reinforces the fact that it must not be what you know, but who you know. which means we need to find out who is the right who and get to know them better. it is inspiring me to make a real push to get your cd out there."

get my cd out there. my father. getting my cd out there.

does anyone else find this behavior bizarre?

snow day

i'm dreaming of a white wall street...

yep. it's pissing it down, in that angry-yet-floaty way that only city snow can muster. and we're getting a great view of is, so strongly ensconced up here on the nineteenth floor. it's like we're right in the middle of it. it's beautiful. it makes me wish i had a window.

eight inches today, people, EIGHT INCHES!

of snow, that is.

i'm very, very tempted to take a snow day tomorrow if it sticks, and go sledding and build snowmen and make snow angels out in prospect park. yeah.

anyway.

if any of you have been keeping up with this one's diary, you will undoubtedly know that the consensus has come down with the verdict that last night's was, actually, the best show i've ever done. still far from perfect, but definitely a personal best. i whooped, i hollered, i moaned lasciviously (during the britney song, thanks), i bounced and screamed and trilled. a grand old time, indeed. i was reassured that i do, in fact, have the very best groupies ever. really and truly. and, as ful pointed out, i did get a chance to flirt with that boy named leo that performed after i did. too bad he wasn't as interesting as he is cute. law student. felt it necessary to say "oh, you're such a baby!" upon finding out how old i am.

i swear, i'm going to start telling people i'm twenty six. seriously.

oh well. but, my conversation with him did prompt the bartender to sort of spirit me aside at one point, after i'd put on my sweater because i was cold: "you're not leaving, are you?" "not yet. just kind of cold.""okay. but, when you do, don't leave with that guy. really. i've been instructed not to let you go home with him.""that's sweet. thanks. and don't worry. i will be leaving this bar solo." but then he had to end the conversation with this: "yeah, if you leave this bar with anyone, it should be with me, not that piece of shit."

and i'm not sure how i feel about that at all.

i think i'm just going to giggle over it. i think that's really the best thing to do. just like i did when my cel phone rang. twice. during the set. yes, mine. the performer was the big idiot who forgot to turn off her phone. go on, giggle, it's funny.

what if i was heathcliff

new cover! new cover! new cover!

i'm very excited. i've loved this song since i was nine years old. or possibly ten. whenever it came out. and it's taken me this long to figure out how to tweak it so i can actually play it.

wang, this one's for you.

should you desire to see this exciting new development, show up at bar b (188 allen, between houston and stanton, about thirty yards from the 2nd avenue F stop) wednesday night at 8pm. ask for shiveryde1icious.

circus folk

i think i want to join the circus. seriously. cirque du soleil is hiring singers for the next tour group, bound for the russian frontier (i think). it's very tempting. okay, so, i'd have to wear a spandex bodysuit, which really nobody is ready for, particularly not those who are so nice as to flatter me that i'm actually managing to rock my cybervictorian androgyne supervixen look. and people might fall off trapezes on to my head. but...but...i'd be in the circus! how bloody cool would that be?! i would be able to tell my descendents (or, more realistically, my sister's) that i really, truly ran away to join the circus.

after all, in a manner of speaking, my family believes that's what i've already done.

the fact that the auditions are in stockholm next week (or something like that) is only a minor detail. minor. totally

oh, and happy birthday, britney spears. you're all legal today!

there's always room for j.lo.

so, apparently, j.lo has included a song on her new album entitled "for ben" (or some other such hogwash) for and about her new love, ben affleck.

isn't she going to be embarrassed when they leave each other at the altar?

sean nelson is my personal god-emissary

i'm in love.

christmas has fallen

it's 4:07 (or 1:11, depending on which of my clocks you look at), and there is singing somehow wafting in through the closed windows up here on the nineteenth floor.

it seems christmas has come to the financial district at long last...the american flag is twinkling lit on the stock exchange, though the grand vast tree remains darkened. it's cold and breezy, the wind gets trapped between the buildings, it's angry and seething and wants to take it all out on we, the teeming masses of pedestrianism.

it's dirty, it's cold, it's ugly but it's bright and beautiful. i suppose.

welcome to new york.