the great brooklyn apartment hunt #2

of course we had to be stupid and start with the winner last night. (but more on that later--at the moment, i daren't breathe too loudly less i wake the fates)

paperwork...possibly.

hold your breath and cross your fingers, count to three--something momentous is potentially about to happen, so send me some good vibes, eh?

waking up.

ah, brooklyn

okay. if you're reading this, you are probably versed in some way in the circles in which i travel, blog or otherwise. and thus you've probably noticed the suffusion of painful sincerity that's been blowing around. that's right. spring has sprung and a whole pile of us are in love. overcome by the rarity of such a happening, you may have noticed that we have abandoned the usual witty snarkiness that was once the hallmark of our ramblings (at least at this address), and for that i apologize. and offer up, by means of atonement, the beginning of a series guaranteed to put the sin back into cynicism. you see, dom and i have decided to shack up. and that means (draw a breath, ladies and gentlemen) apartment hunting.




i loathe apartment hunting. and anyone who's ever lived within the borders of the boroughs shares my pain, i'm sure. no matter who you are, no matter how much money you have, it's a similarly painful experience for all. this is why new yorkers talk about their apartments so much. you brits have your weather (so very much of it!), we have rent controlled studios in chelsea (or wish we did). it's an easy conversation, because we've ALL BEEN THERE.
but, i digress. back to my diatribe.
there are several problems with hunting for places in this city. the first being, naturally, that all decent apartments are exorbitantly expensive. it's  common topic of conversation 'round these parts--if you can clock in a decent living space for less than 1200, you are admired. if you can do it for less than 1000 (in total, not apiece), you're a god. if you're a real estate agent, you have lots of friends. if you decide to look for an apartment that is not subject to the incredibly painful fees associated with real estate agents, you have a long, hard road ahead of you. as we are rapidly discovering.
stay tuned for the first official installment, detailing our first two viewings and clocking in later today.
meanwhile, if you or anyone you know can point us in the direction of a no fee 1-bedroom in park slope, cobble hill, carroll gardens or boerum hill for 1500 or less, feel free to drop me a line.

oh, almost forgot

p.s. i'm playing at the c-note tonight at 7pm. new yorkers, represent!

the great brooklyn apartment hunt, #1

i think that the horror can be summed up succinctly:
brown formica washstand.
brown carpet in the bedroom.

on talking things out (or not, as the case may be)

"Talking is good. Listening is good - I always want to hear what you have to say whether that is good or bad. It's part of the job description, as you would say. And if you don't want to talk, you can always just rest your head on my shoulder. Or surrepticiously kick small childen nearby. Whatever floats your boat. I love you regardless. "

funny how that happens.

some decisions you make. others seem to make themselves, and just wait for you to catch up.
for us to catch up.

shameless self-promotion

it has come to my attention that i really, really lack skills in the department of self promotion.
so, for those of you who have just joined us, i am a musician (a rock ninja, i prefer to call myself). my website can be found here. if you like what you find there, drop me a note, and i can hook you up with some more. or, perhaps you can come catch one of my shows one of these days.
suggestions, questions and comments are appreciated, particularly if you can advise me in how to sell myself a little better (and i mean that in the most tasteful of ways).
this message brought to you by the fact that shivery is going guitar shopping this afternoon and is more excited than she can reasonably express.

for life

can someone please explain to me who is in charge of developing the life insurance commercials to which we seem to be continually subjected here in cyberland? honestly. i'm all for emphasizing the importance of setting up your family financially in case of emergency, but it doesn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling to think about involving companies who have all the softness of touch of thor's hammer. i don't really want to be asked outright "what will become of your family IF YOU DIE!"
 i mean, really. tact. if they can use it for ads about colon polyps and domestic violence, they can use it for insurance.

some thoughts.

i feel...smug. and elated. and surprised. and proud.  and loved.
and like looking up to see everyone--everyone--singing along to my songs may well have been one of the best moments of my life.
also, does anyone know where we can get a pair of plastic platform shoes that we can fill with goldfish?

spring fever

hot damn, i think it's safe to say that we've all got a healthy gust of spring fever up our gussets here.
haven't you?

mousezilla

my mouse is dash cunning. it's been five days since i laid out the mouse post-its, and he has continually avoided them. he has pulled the challah bait from their centers and gluttonously chowed on them. he has made a mockery of my kitchen counter and eaten half a loaf of bread. he has rattled the plastic bags beneath my sink and made for an interesting night's sleep for my charming and lovely houseguest.


when i said that this was war, i wasn't kidding. time to pull out the big guns. if only i knew what they were!

say it's your birthday...

the funny thing about birthdays is that sometimes i think we forget why it is that they've been built up to such celebration in our culture. it's not about consumerism, it's not about the cake (well, not entirely)...it's about celebrating the fact that you survived another year. it's about taking stock of what you've done in the last twelve months and applauding your own progress. it's about surrounding yourself with the people you love and understanding that they are the reason you are rich and complete and happy. it's about getting together with friends and family and simply appreciating the fact that ON THIS DAY, you started to exist.
so i'm looking forward to this evening. because i want to celebrate that i exist, that i'm here at all, with my best and brightest.
because it's my birthday, and it's fucking great to be here.

dratted mass emails.

i get very grumbly when i am reprimanded for something i can't control.
such as the behavior of microsoft outlook.
largely, it upsets me because there's nothing i can do about it. i did everything correctly on this end, and i lack the requisite skills to actually tinker with the system. so i can't actually do anything about the little demon that made half the emails i sent out go wonky, but not the other half.
and i hate that.
so now i'm in a bad mood.

so....

so, it's my birthday tomorrow.
tra la!

of course you realize, this means war

despite the fact that my favorite form of exercise has historically involved punching people in the face and then kicking them (hypothetical people, of course), i am really a pacifist at heart. i am against the war in iraq, i am against domestic violence, i am against corporal punishment.


in keeping with this particular line of thought, i am also fundamentally opposed to glue traps in pursuit of vermin control. thus, imagine my chagrin in the acceptance of the fact that the time has, in fact, come to bust them out.

coming up on shivery timbers...

if you thought last week was a doozy, wait till you see what the next two bring.
a hint: items involved include a birthday, a show, a party and a visit from one of my favorite englishmen...
stay tuned. it's about to get madcap round these parts.

too much of a good thing can be...wonderful.

...but exhausting.

beat the devil.

i fell in love last summer.

with a book.

i'd purchased it secondhand at 7th ave books, a paperback reviewer's copy, rife with illegible scrawlings and dog-eared pages, and i read it voraciously, joyously. it was unquestionably my favorite tome of that long, hot season.

but, as i tend to do with such volumes, i lent it out. and, as is always the danger, since then i haven't really seen much of the lendee. as in, any of. so, given that i consider it to be in incredibly poor taste to call simply to retrieve a book, i've chalked it up as a casualty of book exchanging and hope that he is enjoying it as much as i did.

but this is not a wistful lament over the loss of a much loved tome. rather, it is a happy notation of the fact that the book has drifted back in to my life, thanks to an incredibly thoughtful Boy, who found a signed first edition and figured the time had come to fill that particular hole in my bookshelf.

 and, if we were to be melodramatic, my heart.

part of the problem.

i certainly can't say that shilling extreme consumerism doesn't make me feel a bit dirty.

guaranteed to make your head hurt:

being a single girl who doesn't particularly aspire to marriage or children, being forced--as part of your job--to spend days poring over and studying wedding and baby-related websites.

now, this is getting a little ridiculous.

jesus, mary and joseph, someone up there in the scheduling department is clearly having a huge laugh at my expense. we're now up to four random people from my past making an appearance.
this time, it's the lovely L (henceforth referred to as "scully," to be explained later in the post) that has resurfaced, at long last. one of my nearest and dearest in high school, i've barely heard from her since the fated day we assumed the mantles of mulder and scully to host the talent show. naturally, i'm thrilled. and unsurprisingly, i'm in a panic over how in the hell i'm going to clear the decks to see her before she leaves on saturday. at the moment, the most promising option appears to be flaking on Boy tomorrow night; we were supposed to go see a screening of some  french film. while he's given me his blessing, i confess that there's the tiny twinge of guilt. so not really promising. but as i've said so frequently, something's got to give.
and you know, if something is giving, there's not much better reason than to do it for an old friend.

but seriously. four people in two weeks. the scheduling department is entirely too entertained by me right now.

SO, graham norton...

so, on thursday, biscuit and flex and i are going to see a taping of graham norton. now, as you may or may not be aware, graham norton's show is very interactive--lots of audience participation is encouraged. in accordance with this, all audience members are asked to fill out a questionnaire...and let me just put this out there now: if i have a deep secret about myself that i've never told anyone, i'm certainly not going to start with the audience of an international television show.
though i'll certainly cop and tell you that yes, if all you're looking for is the hairline and a goatee, my boyfriend DOES look a little bit like john malkovich. but no, he's not going to be joining us at the taping.

and neither are flex and ful's siegfried and roy costumes--both white and sequined clothing are expressly verboten for audience members.
alas!
so much for my plan to wear a full sequined bodystocking. 

scenes from a snowy morning.

the scene: his apartment, early morning. she is applying her makeup using a hand mirror and the snowy light trickling in through the small window. they are listening to the radio. she is, as always, running late.


her: do you think TC Boyle is that much of a tool, or did they just recut his statements to make them sound as--


him: oh my god. oh no!



her: what? what is it? are you okay?


him: there's...oh...look in the mirror, sweetheart. you've got...


her: i've got...?


<he gestures in her direction, terribly concerned.>


him: you've...god. sorry. sorry.

addendum: coool

another spectre has just appeared out of the woodwork, bringing the number of random characters from my past up to a nice round three: the girl who was cooler than anyone i'd ever known, one of the most beautiful piano players i've ever seen, and the eighth grade love of my life (who is now, apparently, a raging, shreiking republican. my, how times change).


clearly, my milkshake is bringing all the boys (and girls) to the yard. even in weather like this.

cooooool.

to this day, one of my fondest memories and greatest achievements remains the speech i gave at my high school graduation. to a captive audience of approximately 3000 people, i spoke of ferris bueller and the beatles, proudly eschewing the favorite crux of the other two speakers: green day's "the time of your life." i spoke slowly, too slowly, as sound was traveling the length of the football field more slowly than i'd anticipated. unsurprisingly, i was nervous as hell. like so many other tormented artistes, i'd never really felt that high school was my milieu; aside from my core group of lovely and brilliant friends, i had pretty much labored under the impression that i hadn't really registered on the radar of the rest of my classmates. i was always that weird girl with the glasses and the stripe in her hair, the smart one with the filthy mouth.


so imagine my abject terror and surprise when half the graduating student body leapt out of their chairs when i finished, roaring my name and screaming their approval. after the ceremony, i had so many people come up to me and wish me luck at college in the fall, how they'd really miss this thing about me, or that thing about me. i was flabbergasted, having been utterly convinced that most of my fellow students never even SAW me, much less noticed.


since then, that feeling has occasionally reared its head in my life, in those moments when people from my past willingly seek me out for reasons i can't fathom, reappearing with the announcement that they'd been thinking about me for ages, and were so pleased to have finally found me and caught up. people who i thought were too cool for me when i knew them.


it's happened twice in the last week, with people i haven't spoken to for eight years and three years respectively.


all of which begs the question: am i cooler than i think, and has that always been so?
don't answer that.

disoriented.

i spent last night in the back room of my favorite bar, holding a very good friend as he fell to small, shattered pieces in my arms. the salt of his tears clung to my forearm even as i made my way home far too late.

announcement

for a variety of reasons, i have decided to quit smoking.
you heard it here first.

from russia, with love.

just a word of advice: unless you're really into intellectual masochism or speak russian fluently, avoid registering domain names via www.nic.ru. it will make you want to smash your head against something large and unyielding.

primary colors

today is the day of the primary elections in several states. polls are open till 9pm.
so go vote, already!

spider sense

i am filled with dread today, and i don't know why. i'm trying to figure out what could realistically be about to happen that's making me feel like this, and every scenario is worse than the last.