Monday, December 22, 2008
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
I'm in NYC this week. I get around. Here is a list of my recurring dreams. They pretty much recurr on a cycle, as in, number one one night, then number two the next, and so on.
In dream number one, I am being chased by some violent force, and I manage to find a getaway car that in dreamworld has the keys in it! Momentarily relieved, I then realize that the car has a manual transmission which I never learned to drive. I have now wasted time running and my persuer is gaining on me as I return to a state of panic.
Dream two: I am falling from a very high undetermined point, falling, falling, falling...
Dream three: I am afflicted with heinous bloody sores over my entire body.
Dream four: I am in a room infested with various insects, all of which are growing larger.
Paging Dr. Freud...anything? Anything?
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Finally got the main computer hooked up. How I've missed her!
I'm going to Bulgaria -- BULGARIA!!-- Wednesday. I've been reading the State Department reports...interesting...nothing worse than I've ran into before I'm sure.
Then I'm going to New York on the 9th.
I'll be back to bloggin' soon. Taking control of one's life is a lot of work you know.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
"The beautiful feeling after writing a poem is on the whole better even than after sex, and that's saying a lot." --Anne Sexton
"We're not going to be able to keep anything from this submission, we're sorry to say. Thank you, though, for letting us have a chance with your work." --The Editors, POETRY
Just kidding with the title of this post of course. Perhaps I should submit my very amatuer work to the PINNACLE of the profession and expect much more than a polite decline. Just slappin it up there seeing what would happen you know lol
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Monday, November 03, 2008
Yet I feel good about things. I feel like there must be something out there, some perfect niche for me where I am supposed to be making my living. It is not the Church. I have liked working there, more or less, but sometimes I really can't believe that it has been nearly ten years. I've got to go places I would have never been, and do things I would have never done without this job. But it's time to activate Operation Back Up Plan. There are major changes happening in the Church and in my organization in particular, and I don't like 'em one bit. Attitudes are like the seasons and in the end it's all politics and scandal up in that piece.
I feel good about things. I feel good about meeting a single guy that is into me and accepts me for my flaws. I feel good about the black president that is going to be elected tomorrow, if all goes well. I feel good about my house and my future choices. I'm going to turn over a new leaf and it will take me a while to tear right through it.
I am just under such a huge amount of pressure. Pressure to get the job done. Pressure to do the right thing. I don't even know what the right thing is half the time. That sounds totally psychopathic, but seriously. I know, I know, cry you a river.
Anyhoo, as some special little person once wrote, "It's time to rise and shine again."
Friday, October 24, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
1. Bailout bad.
2. Citigroup step the fuck off Wachovia and let Wells Fargo get that action.
3. Stock up on guns and canned goods.
4. No one in Washington has any idea what they're doing.
Once I get everything settled and into my own abode, I'm going to get into some of my hobbies, and have a return to me. The Butch Stroll will reflect. Coin collecting, caligraphy, gardening, geneology, poet-tree, computing, photography, ebay, Warcraft....the excitement is likely killing you but try to be patient.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
by Hayden Carruth
How many guys are sitting at their kitchen tables
right now, one-thirty in the morning, this same
time, eating a piece of pie? - that's what I
wondered. A big piece of pie, because I'd just
finished reading Ray's last book. Not good pie,
not like my mother or my wife could've
made, but an ordinary pie I'd just bought, being
alone, at the Tops Market two hours ago. And how
many had water in their eyes? Because of Ray's
book and especially those last poems written
after he knew: the one about the doctor telling
him, the one where he and Tess go down to
Reno to get married before it happens and shoot
some craps on the dark baize tables, the one
called "After-Glow" about the little light in the
sky after the sun sets. I can just hear him,
if he were still here and this were somebody
else's book, saying, "Jesus," saying, "This
is the saddest son of a bitch of a book I've
read in a long time," saying, "A real long time."
And the thing is, he knew we'd be saying this
about his book, he could just hear us saying it,
and in some part of him he was glad! He
really was. What crazies we writers are
our heads full of language like buckets of minnows
standing in the moonlight on a dock. Ray
was a good writer, a wonderful writer, and his
poems are good, most of them and they made me
cry, there at my kitchen table with my head down,
me, a sixty-seven-year-old galoot, an old fool
because all old men are fools, they have to be,
shoveling big jagged chunks of that ordinary pie
into my mouth, and the water falling from my eyes
onto the pie, the plate, my hand, little speckles
shining in the light, brightening the colors, and I
ate that goddamn pie, and it tasted good to me.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
NASA in fiscal year 2009 will launch several missions into space and pay for hundreds of people to operate a host of space telescopes and even remote robots on Mars and run a PR and media department that puts most large corporations to shame. The agency's budget: $17.6 billion, or 2.5 percent of the bailout sum.
The bailout amount is more than the entire military budget and the entire social security budget. And since the budgets are down to the wire, an extra $700 billion to pay for the bailout would mean printing 700 billion new dollars.
Most people, myself included, are not sure what’s really going on. However, we are all a little like Naomi Campbell, who, upon Gianni Versace’s death, said, “It’s been a terrible thing…for me. Yes, I am worried about my own ass in all of this! And I’m worried about my mom and dad, who are near retirement and should be retired, as well as my grandmother who lives off her retirement. What’s going to happen to their money?
We all know this mess has something to do with shady mortgages, toxic debt that has lead to bank failures and plummeting stocks, and many of us are seeing it on paper as our 401K’s and pensions turn into dust. Similarly, the people in charge – our politicians in Washington – largely have little understanding themselves. You know both presidential candidates are shitting their pants trying to figure out what they're supposed to say about this. There’s a lot of finger pointing, a lot of people blaming the other’s policies. What is truly laughable though, is that so many of them believe in a magical marketplace that goes up and down but always carries forward and needs no government intervention. But this is crisis is an exception! The market’s magical powers have failed and since this is really serious, we now have to do something! Pony up taxpayers!
I don’t know whether to be for or against the “bailout” which they’re now calling the “rescue plan”. Part of me wants to think that the bailout has no benefit to me because, for one thing, I don't have anything like stocks or a savings to really rescue from whatever it is that's happening. I do of course realize that Whatever It Is That's Happening is going to effect everyone for years to come, in many ways from getting credit to food prices to gas etc. I’ve been following both sides’ arguments about what to do. I’m in the midst of buying a house, have mad credit card debt, and have actively began looking for supplemental income via a part time job because I do know that the shit is about to hit the fan, and it is going to be a while before we are no longer feeling the effects of this mess.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
In other news, why is the national news media not really reporting on the gas shortage in the southeast? I know the Mother of All Bailouts is in the forefront, but still. This gas situation is quite frightening, and earlier I thanked the Lord that I found some before I ran out. It's due to pipeline problems caused by the recent hurricane, but it makes me TOTALLY buy even further into hte peak oil theories of impending global societal collapse. People get vicious, I've witnessed it...and I'm glad that in my pick up truck there is a lock on the gas tank.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Monday, September 08, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
BUT I'm in NY next week so hit me on my hip, you damn Yankees!
Sunday, August 31, 2008
The cats did remarkably well for the vast majority of the trip. Early on however, Buddy, the big one and the one I expected to take it all in stride, FREAKED THE FUCK OUT, and started LITERALLY FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. Eventually I stopped at the first rest area on the turnpike (because I was about to piss my pants) and calmed him down a bit and then we were fine. Shortly before we got here he started up again, but now both he and Jackie are running free in the room, pretty chill, kind of fascinated with the place actually, though getting them back in the cages will be a nightmare in the morning I'm sure.
Well I show up at my friend B's tomorrow with the cats and everything I own and we'll see how this all goes. Right now I am both disgusting and exhausted and gonna fall out with these lovely animals of mine.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
I have been Tweeting up a storm on Twitter. Thanks, Kelly, for one more thing to consume my time and force me to update constantly to keep like three people aware of my EVERY BREATH.
Well, shit fell through with the apartment I'm supposed to move into on Sunday because they LOST MY MONEY ORDERS and I in turn LOST MY SHIT and had them shred the whole damn lease and send me my $150 "administrative fee" back. Which they say they'll do. I spent a huge amount of time cancelling everything I had already set up and now me and two pissed off cats are looking for a place to live in Charlotte, North Carolina.
I got some tricks up my sleeve, but damn. I think it may be a blessing in disguise becuse the reviews of the complex online read: "Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime, Dangerous, Gun Shots, Crime, Crime..."
"Get away from my windshield! Tryna wash my windshield with that ole dirty water! Rollin' your eyes in the back of your head like you blind! You know you can see, gurl! Listen, I'll buy you a sandwich but I ain't givin' you no money...you might try to buy crack or somethin' with it."
Calgon, take me away.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Well I am here today to tell you about yet another business person using her baking skills to take over the world.
I am talking about the mysterious Mrs. Freshley, of course.
She bakes a mean cupcake, packages them in plastic serving trays in pairs, wraps them in celophane, and then serves them from shady bodegas from Maine to Mexico.
They are perfect, a little too perfect...they clearly contain illicit drugs.
Why, just look at this woman (from her actual website) who is ENTRANCED by the doughy goodness:
TELL ME that doughy goodness does not have a power over her that she can't control.
Me too, lady. Me too.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Is his exciting over winning really any worse than THIS, which no one said a word about?
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
I say entirely seriously that this could be played to acclaim in any gay dance club in the world.
Watch to the end for a little taste of Janet Jackson's salad.
[via Taylor Siluwe]
Monday, August 18, 2008
There is a magical, mythological man named Joey who puts out a line of celophane wrapped cheese danishes that come in a variety of flavors, most notably blueberry and strawberry. I am here to blow the whistle on Joey. these danishes are CLEARLY made of 90% transfat and 10% crack.
The package has microwave directions but they need no microwaving. The most delicious things you can buy for 99 cents in your local bodega, which will inevitably be short on stock but there is always at least one there waiting for you by the coffee pots, tempting you, taunting you, daring you to resist.
And you can't. Becuse they are decadant joy wrapped in a thin layer of plastic, the inside doughy goodness sticky and sweaty against the wrapper.
Oh Joey you bastard...I would rather be fat with you than slim without.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
First: I have 3 large dressers that are pain-in-the-ass heavy. I am trying to give them away on Craigslist. Perhaps those of you who have experience with Craigslist know that there are a lot of flakes on there. I have some people I think lined up for the stuff, but already one visitor did not take me seriously when I said it is HEAVY and this young 50 pounds soaking wet girl shows up with some dude and declined. Anyway, it's for the taking if you are in the area and need some furniture. The tops of the dressers are "unfinished" but those cube things with shelves sit on top. This ain't Ikea, honey, this is 10,000 tons of storage. Just have some manpower (or womanpower, or dykepower preferably) and be ready for four flights of stairs. And have a big ass truck. Holla.
Two: The cats. Moving with the cats in a simple U-Haul (actually a Penske). I clearly can't put them in the back with the stuff, so they will be riding in front with me, in their little individual cat carriers. This is a nightmare waiting to happen. Some people say they will be so freaked out they won't #1 or #2, but I don't know...how do I address this issue, of feeding, watering, and allowing for natural biological processes? PLEASE give me some advice here.
Incidentally, the other day the man came to take the Murphy bed apart and I was helping him move the pieces to his truck. I left the door propped open and when I came back up I knew where the little one was hiding, but Fat Boy was no where to be found. Turns out he was in the crazy neighbors' with the semi-hot papa's apartment on the third floor. JUST CHILLIN. They got a kick out of it at least. He wouldn't really budge for them, but he came with me, making his funny little noise on the way back up to my apartment, as if to say, "What? I can't visit the neighbors?" He's the exploring spirit and I anticipate he will do ok on the move, it's the other one who is already nervousish and crazy and is GOING TO LOSE HER MIND OVER THIS.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
"The mall has something really positive to offer, something that has nothing to do with shopping," Townsend told me.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I don't know -- that's what I moved there to find out."
If I were asleep or awake.
And everything seemed so pure,
There were no mistakes to make.
The dark and dirty secrets of the fall
Cleared out with the summer sun.
Heavy eyelids but standing tall,
I had a little too much fun.
Love your life and live your wiles.
Eat and drink and burn your fire.
Highway 95 and hundreds of miles,
In your dreams you never get tired.
This is an unreleased song from the Ray of Light era, a cover of the ABBA song, "Like an Angel Passing through My Room". I think it's beautiful. I get a little sentimental at the beautiful lyrics, her beautiful voice, and the little photo retrospective. And I'm not a sentimental person, like, at all.
Friday, August 15, 2008
There is this job that my former (two promotions back) supervisor has. A little recon mission (spying) has revealed to me that he has a new position, effective August 22. This will not public knowledge until Monday, but a bitch like me has her ear to the ground.
I just had my performance review, which was good, and I'm moving to Charlotte very, very soon. My boss made a joke at the end of my evaluation (but was completely serious of course) about how I better not "go" anywhere. Failures and bullshit complaints aside, they kind of need me desperately, let's be honest.
His position is located in New York and there has been a stink about another woman being "deployed" and in fact they made her ass move back to New York. In Charlotte I will not be technically "deployed" because I won't be working from home, I'll be working from the satellite office there.
Now the thing is, I WANT THAT MAN'S JOB. He has the NC portfolio among other places I'd like to have, and it's a position that I could so easily rock, I practically did it for two people when I was their assistant a few years back.
I know the powers that be would say, "You just moved to Charlotte. You have to stay in that position." But there must be some way for me to finagle getting that job and being "deployed". How do I breech this with my boss and the Big Boss (who has been in a pissy mood for like 4 months now). It may not be meant to be, but I'm on the case. Holla if ya hear me.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
However, I will give you some food for thought on the "social networking" destruction of the internet. Web 2.0 FTL!
Here is a list of words the internet killed.
And this is what Facebook in the Real World would be like:
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
If you want to be a star, the Capital of the World is a good place to start. Yet, if you want to go unnoticed, there is no place to do it like a chaotic sea of eight million people. I’ll miss that anonymity to an extent. I’ll also miss that every day stage, the stepping out into a grand show that is happening all around you. Either route is an option for any day of the week. I worry that I won’t fit in in Charlotte. I don’t fit in anywhere…but no place is more comfortable for a misfit than New York City. I just can’t really abide by cliques, and my experience with North Carolina, especially the gay North Carolina, is that it’s cliquish. Add that to the fact that it’s kind of small in number and, to quote Heidi Klum, you’re either in, or you’re out. Charlotte is metropolitan, but not cosmopolitan. Look it up if you have to. Anyhoo, I’m sure I’ll find my niche, or dig one for myself.
Not to get too cheesy on your asses, but I feel a lot like the vampire Lestat, who, in the midst of the performance that was the pinnacle of his success as a rock star, knew when it was time to get off stage-- the sun was rising above. The sun has risen for me and it’s time to head back to the Motherland, the above notwithstanding.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
My former roommate owes me $291. Actually it's more than that, but that's what I'll settle for. How to go about collecting? I'm sure she's trying ot "forget".
Meanwhile, the thrift shop scheduled to pick up my furniture says that due to the four flights of stairs, the men doing the pickup may choose not to take the shit out of my apartment. I have a feeling they will choose not to do so. Exploring options.
Murphy bed for sale in NY -- inquire within.
Monday, August 11, 2008
You know, the sun is in your eyes
And hurricanes and rains
And black and cloudy skies.
You're running up and down that hill.
You turn it on and off at will.
There's nothing here to thrill
Or bring you down.
And if you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town.
Oh Lady, luck has led you here
And they're so twisted up
They'll twist you up. I fear.
The pious, hateful and devout,
You're turning tricks til you're turned out,
The wind so cold it burns,
You're burning out and blowing round.
And if you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town.
The fates are vicious and they're cruel.
You learn too late you've used two wishes like a fool
And then you're someone you are not,
And Junction City ain't the spot,
Remember Mrs. Lot
And when she turned around.
And if you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town
Thursday, August 07, 2008
I have written before about Jason Holliday from Portrait of Jason and being in search of material about him. Well the internet reveals, via this post, that an audio CD is available from CD Baby featuring additional recordings of Jason's musings, including: "They talk about 'free love'...well it's the only kind I can afford!" I know that's right!
This lifted my spirits and made my day. Somebody buy this for me as a housewarming gift for my move!
From the CD Baby listing:
When the Clarke film was released, it was seen by fledgling recording engineer/record producer, Michael Rashkow. Captivated by the character, Rashkow set out to present Jason in a different persona---warm, fuzzy, funny and loveable--in a free wheeling comedy format on vinyl.
In those days, audio was edited with razor blades and splicing tape---with segments hung on the wall, coiled into boxes, or hand-spooled onto reels. It took months to construct and when the finished master was delivered to the record label which had agreed to release the LP, they walked away from the project. They wanted something dark and disturbing--like the film.
For the next 40 years that recording sat in a box. Nobody heard it and nobody cared. Rashkow retired in 2002 (and had long ago lost touch with Jason); but when he learned that Jason died in 1998 he felt determined to resurrect the project---and keep alive a legacy of Jason Holliday that the film didn't show.
So, the deteriorated 1/4 inch tapes from the 1960s were transferred to digital format; restored, re-edited, and enhanced by Rashkow on his home computer.
This CD is that finished recording. A labor of love and a piece of history. Jason lives--again. Dig him!
Indeed. Queens and queers of all stripes and abilities, Jason Holliday came before us all.
Here he is from Shirley Clarke's film..."What do you do for a living Jason?"
"One doctor the past couple of weeks keeps harpin on sex. Well sex is the thing I'm trying to forget! Because I've spent so much of my life being sexy, as you can see, that I havn't got anything else done! Ya dig? I've been ballin' from Maine to Mexico, I havn't got a dollar to show for it, but I had a swell time."
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
No he does not read Madge on IKEA!
This actually fuels my interest and obsession with the subject matter.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
I have let a large part of this day just waste away. Back to the office tomorrow, which I dread, and which will take all I've got to get there and through the day. My boss is in town this week, so there's no rolling in late. We'll see how that works out.
I have lists out the wazoo with nothing checked off. Time's a 'ticking. The move is imminent. I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown between everything, everything that everybody is tired of hearing about.
Friday, August 01, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
I need to no longer work for this place, and I plan to get down here to Charlotte, finish off some big projects, and keep my eyes open for a dream job. Yeah right. I hate the bit of advice that one should "do what you love". Because I don't even know what I love. Well, I do know a few things but no one is ever going to pay me to do them. I'm in the midst of a major life transition, a midlife crisis, and extreme job insecurity. And to top it all off Jimmy Johns fucked up my sprouts and provolone sandwich by putting it on a white bun instead of the delicious seven grain wheat bread.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
(One of the comments on the YouTube clip asks the question, "Delta Dawn, what color panties you got on?" which, because I am a 12 year old inhabitting the body of a 32 year old man, I find endlessly hilarious.)
Friday, July 25, 2008
"If God ain't gonna take care of it, it just ain't gonna get taken care of!"
This is an absolutely un-resourceful woman for whom "office manager" as a title is the joke of the century. God ain't helping her figure shit out at the office, that's for damn sure.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
I figured out today my coworker is not a resourceful person. I also figured out that getting sidetracked with stupid stories and kee-keeing and ha-haing is why nothing ever gets done in these long ass meetings. They sense my frustration I think.
Did I mention I got a ticket the last time I was here? For excessive speeding and "endangering human life and property" or some such? Got a lawyer on the case. Cost me a shitload. I might have to go to drivers school to which I have been before and lets just say it's not America's best and brightest in there. I should feel right at home.
Incidentally, she had BED BUGS in her hotel room when she was in NY last time. Meanwhile, bed bugs are closing in on my apartment as there has been another (unconfirmed) scare RIGHT NEXT DOOR. They had that shit sealed off with blue tape and a sign that said "do not enter till after 7:00 PM" and when you do, "ventilate". I hope they didn't just scatter the things. God will I ever be glad to get out of there.
Been looking at apartments to rent and houses to buy.
Roommate drama later.
Moving stressing me out alongside work.
It's gay pride in the Lotte this weekend so should be fun.
My self-esteem is nearing an all time low, but I'm pulling it back up and together.
Holla at a bitch!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Enter Christopher Ciccone, her brother, and up until recent years the person closest to her in her life. Perhaps you’ve heard of his book, Life With My Sister Madonna, in which he supposedly gives a “scathing” expose of her life. I have read a number of excerpts and reviews, and my sense is that this memoir is, in the end, the sad story of a mean older sibling losing contact with the one person who truly loved her like blood. I imagine writing the book was his form of therapy in dealing with being the proverbial wind beneath her wings, with no acknowledgement of such. It may be pretty shitty of a brother to rat his famous sister out like this, even if she did treat him like crap and take him for granted most of the time, but if his side of the story has any truth to it, then I can’t really blame him. And I do tend to believe every word.
From what I can tell though, it's not really that scathing. She can be bitchy. She's self absorbed. She helped create the mythology around her rise to superstardom. She’s calculating. She's lonely and hungry for attention. She's cheap. WHAT ELSE IS NEW? Some of the moments are even tender from Christopher’s perspective, and I don’t doubt that even to this day he loves her deeply.
I think my sympathy for him may stem from the fact that in my own life, I usually have to be the Christopher to someone else’s Madonna.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
On a screen,
At night or in the morning,
When you point out the direction,
The sun is going,
And tell me north from east from west from south.
“Send me kind words,”
A pitiful request.
It’s dark and my body is hollow,
And the hum of electric,
In the windows,
Flows through earaches and stuffy noses.
Send me a photograph,
To remember your face,
And chant spells over it with,
A lock of hair, a chicken bone,
One in each hand holding hard.
Send me kind words, tonight, tomorrow, forever.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
My heroes have long been the freaks and degenerates of the world, those eccentrics who start with little, survive as subversives and deviants inside the "mainstream" (or, to use a phrase I hate even more, the "mainline"), and then somehow hit the big time. In answer to the question, "What is the most overrated virtue?" I employ the immortal words of one Jackie Beat -- "Good taste." The ones who defy convention and take the world by storm, and even the ones who never make it onto the map, are the mujahadin of my life, and challenging the "culture" and the social norms of the times is my jihad.
This used to occur in downtown Winston-Salem on the butch stroll -- Liberty Street lined with drag queens, hustlers, prostitutes, queers, cruisers and gawkers. I think a combination of AIDS, the internet, and gentrification led to the inevitable -- no one is downtown anymore. Winston wasn't much, but even New York has changed and less and less people spit in the eye of expectations and more and more people just try to be rich and normal.
I have found myself living a life of obscurity and mediocrity, settled into "mainline" employment and doing such necessary things as paying bills and letting people exploit me. However, I take comfort in the fact that at least I'm not that worst of things to be -- ordinary. And I take comfort in the words of Dorian Corey, from Paris is Burning:
"I always had hopes of being a big star. But as you get older, you aim a little lower. Everybody wants to make an impression, some mark upon the world. Then you think, you've made a mark on the world if you just get through it, and a few people remember your name. Then you've left a mark. You don't have to bend the whole world. I think it's better just to enjoy it. Pay your dues, and just enjoy it. If you shoot an arrow and it goes real high, hooray for you."
After her death in 1993, friends discovered a trunk containing an actual homemade mummy, covered in baking soda and wrapped in leatherette, in her apartment with a note attached stating, "This poor soul broke into my apartment and I was forced to shoot him." The corpse was figured to have been dead for about twenty years, which means it was moved from apartment to apartment over the years.
I'm for self-defense and not necessarily for murder, but Dorian Corey and this situation speaks to me. In fact I have a select group lined up to, upon my death or disapperance, infiltrate the home before parents or police arrive, and remove my own proverbial skeletons from the closet. But maybe I should just leave them there. That, or live forever.
North Carolina is going to be so boring!
A matter of opinion, indeed, but having spent a large part of my life in that state, and a lot of time this year in Charlotte, I know what I'm in for. I happen to have the rare gift of being able to -- gasp -- entertain myself. OF COURSE I will miss aspects of New York. But this statement usually comes from people who rarely take advantage of anything New York has to offer anyway. It's a change, yes. If you bore easily maybe it's you that's boring.
Everyone is ugly in the South!
Like everyone in New York is not a grey-skinned ball of rot. There are plenty of good looking people in North Carolina, and I will happen to not be one of them anyway. So eat it.
It's stupid to rent instead of buy!
OMG! You should TOTALLY be in the financial services industry. I will eventually buy a house but in the meantime I'm going to rent, because, believe it or not, buying a house takes a little time. You can sign short term (six months) leases in NC, which is what I plan to do, because I have made a firm decision that I will never live with another person again. Once I have all my ducks in a row, I'll look to buy my cute ranch style brick house with an acre of yard in Charlotte.
Just remember that I'm moving to this place, and will likely live the rest of my life in this place, that you are disparaging. And also remember that there are certain decisions that I will have to make that are in my best interests and may possibly be none of your business. I am not married, I do not have babies. I roll alone and, by the way, these days my tolerance for bullshit is pretty low so let's keep it on the serious, shall we?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Monday, July 07, 2008
Saint Thomas USVI is just beautiful and wonderful. Sadly, it looks like in about 15 years it will be commercialized to the point of Myrtle Beach. I have had a great time here, however, the sad fact of my tremendous stress level has kind of kept me from fully enjoying myself. My roommate, my cats, moving, my work, money, the amount of money I've spent here, not having any money, money being sucked out of my pockets, my apartment, did I mention moving?, health concerns, future worries, needing a car, needing a home, needing a man, etc etc et-fucking-cetera. I have SO INCREDIBLY MUCH on my mind, and it's quite a shame that my dear friend with whom I share these things just kind of scoffs like their so minimal and all I have to do is "be excited about moving" because, you know, that just solves EVERYTHING. Jesus, why didn't *I* think of that? Because, moving is so simple and it's the ONLY thing I'm thinking about, and I can just magically change my emotional makeup to EXCITEMENT. So I keep it to myself. However, the fucking doctor is always in when YOU have a problem.
That feels better.
Anyway, one thing about this trip is it's NOT the kind of vacation *I* would take. First of all the resort is nice, but I'm not a resort kind of guy. I love nice accomoadations, don't get me wrong, but I feel so removed from the nitty gritty that today when my travel companion when shopping I took a hitchhiking excursion through jungles and mountains to a secluded beach where I mingled with Real Live Island People and one of them even gave me a ride back. You know, there are reasons I prefer to travel alone, not the least of which is being able to just get out there in it. Again, the "resort" is nice, but I'm not one to sit around tourists showing how much money I have via outfits and bling.
I'm also fascinated by the people who live here and either own businesses or work in town, a few of whom I've asked, "Did you just decide one day you wanted to live in the islands, and moved?" The answer is always "Exactly." Where does the money come from though, to open a restaurant, the nice ones of which must cost a jillion dollars?
Gonna go to dinner here in a few and then maybe work it out on the butch stroll, we'll see. I'll be back late tomorrow...then back to work, the thought of which makes me want to vomit. How does one become a professional vacationer.
Friday, July 04, 2008
I don't have much to say. He was my senator growing up in North Carolina, and he hated a lot of things I loved, like, well, art. And homosexuality.
I have a story that I may share some day that involves my elementary school and Jesse Helms, but for now, I just send him this in homage, from someone who was likely not his favorite artist.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
My roommate was in the hospital for a few days -- she'll be fine, she just can't eat all the shit she loves to eat, and has to keep her blood sugar under control. How evil am I though? When she called and told me, I had not been at home the night before and was leaving my friend's house. The first thing I thought was, "How does this effect her moving out August First like I told her."
I really have let things go to far with her from day one. I anticipate problems getting her out of here. And I'm so sick and angered by the fact that her boyfriend still lives here. After all the discussions, all the leeway that I've given them, am I supposed to just accept this illusion that he does not? I told her I wanted him to give a third of the electric bill for the last few months. She said, "Yes, I've said that too," since it's summer and all and the bills will be high with two air conditioners running...one running when neither of us are even here! I should have said a third of the rent and utilities from the moment it was clear he was a fucking resident up in this piece. I'm too easy. I have been such a pussy during this whole time. How come I can push a grown man to the ground in Times Square and proceed to lecture him while on the ground regarding subway etiquitte, but I feel like I have to tip toe around this bitch. Working together has something to do with it. She knows the real deal, and the deal the big shots at work are going to say is not entirely true, and she could, if she wanted to, get hateful around that. Anyway, I am the giver in the expression "give someone an inch and they'll take a mile." The level of resentment I feel is overwhelming. When I hear them, it makes me want to murder them both. I have learned a lesson at the expense of everything in my life, including my looks...my quality of life has suffered from trying to do something nice for someone in November. Look where it got me. I need to have another talk with her now that she's out of the hospital. Reinforce August 1 as her move out date, and no "is that realistic?" thoughtfulness, just "Be out by August 1." I'll probably lose money on this. Rent, electric will be disregarded if she knows she's leaving. Lord knows I've been stiffed already a time or two on things. Meanwhile it is going to cost me a million bucks to move that I don't have...I'll figure that out though.
The bedbug thing in the trash room has me so freaked out and there's nothing really that can be done at this point. Even though they are not here, knowing they are in the building is going to make me crazy. I have to stave them off until I move.
In positive news, I had a doctor's visit today and it made me feel much better. Health concerns I have had are not much concern now.
By the way, anybody want two cats?
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
She was in the hospital over the weekend, btw. She'll be fine, but she's got to stop eating everything she loves and take her blood sugar seriously. She could have died.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
”I don't run the subway system, I don't run the MTA, but if I did - if I had total power - I guess I'd say it's too crowded for bikes," the mayor said.”
Of course, some bike advocacy group spokesperson says,
”Without that access, it would be a huge blow to biking in the city."
Well here’s a novel idea. You have a bicycle with you, so RIDE YOUR DAMN BICYCLE.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
But I think ole Mike Bloomberg is right:
"Reducing taxes on energy consumption is the wrong way to go. We should be raising taxes on energy consumption dramatically because it's the only way you're going to force people to use less."
And everyone needs to be using less energy. Bloomberg is also an advocate for nuclear power, which, again, he’s right.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Friday, June 06, 2008
Thursday, June 05, 2008
I took this as a sign and came home.
I hear the Japanese believe it's good luck when a bird shits on you. But still.
Anyway, several times in the last few weeks the Sex and the City episode, in which Carrie stupidly declines to allow the hottest man who has ever appeared on the show to further pursue her because he says something negative about New York, has come up. Her reason in the episode is because she is in a “relationship” with New York City, and “nobody talks shit about my boyfriend”.
So B mentioned the approaching departure from New York as my “saying goodbye to my lover” referencing that show. And I said, “Well, honestly it’s been an abusive relationship.” This boyfriend hits me sometimes. He also takes all my money for himself. And he’s frankly kind of stinky a lot of the time, and a big fat liar. But I’ve stayed this long because I love him…but he ain’t gonna change. ;)
I ONLY GOT YOUR CONTACT INFORMATION FROM MY SECRETARY WHO OPERATES COMPUTER,WITH BELIEVE IN GOD THAT YOU WILL NEVER LET ME DOWN IN THIS BUSINESS,CONSIDERING MY POSITION AS A PUBLIC SERVANT
Particularly, the word "only", "secretary who operates computer", "believe in God" (cause you know He's gonna make this transaction a success on all ends), and "public servant" because that's what bank employees (his stated position) are, right?
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Sunday, June 01, 2008
I am 100% serious. Where would one find a hat like this?
Saturday, May 31, 2008
"There are miserable creatures like you in every administration who don't have the guts to speak up or quit if there are disagreements with the boss or colleagues. No, your type soaks up the benefits of power, revels in the limelight for years, then quits, and spurred on by greed, cashes in with a scathing critique."
Maybe he was caught up and has had his eyes opened, and has the interests of the country at heart now. But indeed, while the book reveals a lot about the Bush administration, it also reveals a lot about Scott himself. He was on CNN talking to Anderson Cooper about the whole thing, and he said several times that he is hoping his book will usher in a "new kind of politics" and shut down the partisan divide. Is he going to vote for Obama? He sounds a lot like him when he talks like that.
What gets me the most about this discussion, and political discussions in general, is how quickly rhetoric and talking points emerge as the important thing. Regarding Iraq, everyone talks about the mistakes, the what-we-have-to-do-now, the good of taking out Sadaam Hussein, and what we were trying to do versus what happened. Bush and company and even Scott McClellen in his "scathing critique" never really get around to admitting that people are dead because of this dishonesty -- Americans and Iraqis. It is very abstract to us over here, with our economy in shambles and yet still in the relative comfort of sea to shining sea.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
the poison, in a little vial.
Your ears must have heard the symphony
and you had to have breathed in the scent
of home cooking gone wrong.
Suddenly it became clear to you
like the tiny little ship in a glass bottle.
How the hell did that thing get in there?
Young eyes see beauty sometimes
in the black night where scars
and suitcases filled with body parts
Young fingers feel silk
on hot ovens and points of nails.
The young walk right into the giant’s
foothold and touch his pounding heart.
But even the youngest knows better
than to play with rattle snakes
because they make a musical noise.
The young know that lightening is both
pretty and dangerous.
The young know better about most things
like locking doors and both sides of the street.
When someone says they have feelings
for you they might not be ones
you would have hoped for over
your birthday cake candles.
Maybe you just grew up a little,
got a year or two behind you,
looking over your shoulder afraid,
or maybe you just knew it all along.
A certain realization came to me, looking at them and then looking at myself, that I might not ever find another “relationship”. Not because I would prefer to play the field and have my fun, which is in fact not the case. But because I am so fucking weird and consumed by complications and irritations, that I do not think that there is any person who would ever be entirely comfortable with me, nor would I be entirely comfortable with them in an “intimate” “relationship”. I’m not talking about liking every little thing about me or my personality – no one has that 100%. I’m talking about comfort, that is, the ease of being together even when you’re sad, mad, disappointed, etc. It’s so cliché but I really do just want that one man out there who would really understand me. Someone who would know what I need from him and could provide, or at least say what he couldn’t provide. Someone who would be tolerant of all the little neuroses and intricacies that make me me. Someone with whom I would have an understanding about things like sex, time apart, time together, household issues, family matters. Someone who would get a little bit of joy out of having me figured out. And someone I would feel the exact same towards. Someone that I would like so much and would like me so much that we’d be the most good looking thing ever to each other.
It’s a lot to ask for, I know.
Monday, May 26, 2008
I have had two or three little snafus that resulted in no metal-on-metal or tickets. But just the look on some of the horn-honking faces in the rearview mirror scream "Ya damn Yankee!"
Sunday, May 25, 2008
First he was talking about how he takes care of my mom and dad, which is complete and total bullshit. There was some crap in there about how he’s going to move to “this little town in Oregan where all people do all day is hunt, fish and drink cold beer”. I left the cold beer alone since he is a raging alcoholic. But I did tell him that no place is like you think it’s going to be, even though I know the dumbass ain’t gonna move out of MY PARENTS HOUSE much less to OREGAN. Then we got into it over, of all things, my grandmother. First of all he was talking about how she’s in her “second childhood” which if he knew anything he would know she’s still mentally sharp as a tack, but she’s just EIGHTY TWO years old and therefore needs a little help, it’s not like she has Alzheimer’s. Meanwhile this fool ain’t out of his FIRST CHILDHOOD.
He was saying how he doesn’t like how my dad gets ill with her sometimes, and what he didn’t like was when I told him that nothing my dad has ever said to my grandma is as bas as how he talks to our mom and dad. He went into how he just doesn’t like people telling him what to do and what’s wrong with him, and I told him that he lives under their roof and they can tell him anything they want to. He lost it and hung up. Meanwhile I cried in the McDonald’s drive through because of everything that’s gone horribly wrong in my life, you’d think having a stupid, mentally ill, delusional older brother wouldn’t have to be the cherry on the fruitcake.
It’s kind of upsetting.
Meanwhile, Mr. Man in Greensboro remains to be heard from. As I said this is probably for the best all the way around. You don’t wanna get involved with someone like me, I’m a loner Dottie, a rebel.
I’m going to see my cuz in Winston now and tomorrow, early in the morning, I’m heading North, looking South, with apologies to Ariel Dorfman for using the expression.
In this dream, we were in a relationship and lived in my huge house. Some of my other friends were there but for the purposes of the dream were kind of nameless/faceless, except for B from Charlotte, who advised me to be careful because the kid was leaving everything on, unlocked, and bringing in shit like butterflies and other little critters.
Well we and all these people went to one of those things that’s like a mystery novel dining out experience. Where you participate in solving the mystery while you have dinner, you know what I’m talking about? Except this was like a combination of that and a haunted house. Me and the kid were having a great time in there, jumping around and I jumped on his back and he carried me through a lot of it, especially the one part where some straw in the middle of one of the rooms caught fire. It was all weird and moving fast, I lost my bags (for some reason I was carrying two – my real bag that I carry all the time and a bag that I had YEARS ago that I no longer have in real life). But it was okay because the woman at the check in desk had it, who happened to be the woman who plays the receptionist on Ugly Betty.
In reality, outside of the dream world, the boy got all weird on me in anticipation of my arrival in NC from NY, talking about how he has feelings for me, how I can’t possibly feel the same, and how he I don’t “try” like he does whatever that means. I told him I feel like the one getting overbearing about the whole thing with my attempts at contact which are brief. All this is through fucking text messages. He told me to call him yesterday so I did, when I said I would, around six.
All he really says during that call is “wassup” and “let me call you back in a couple of seconds.”
Well I’m here to tell you that it’s now about 24 hours later and I have not received that call back, nor have I heard at all other than seeing him online like the stalker I can become. WHAT’S THAT ABOUT. Maybe the boy came to his senses and changed his mind which in the end is better for everybody. But I’m all tore up about it, but I’ll get over it.
Meanwhile my roommate just called because something is wrong with the oven and she wanted the super’s number. She was going to bother the neighbor’s about this shit. JUST MAKE DUE, you know, until I get back. I don’t like the super up in there while I’m away, but anyway, I told her to go to his front door if she must. I will be so glad when I’m done with that living, breathing headache, and I will live in a box on High Point Road before I have a roommate again.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
I'm debating should I start the journey back tomorrow or Tuesday. I think I might get started tomorrow in case I have to stop somewhere for the night, since I have to be at work on Wednesday and wouldn't have that option on Tuesday. At any rate, more later, the boy trouble follows me across state lines.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
How many people thought during the George Michael medley they were gonna bust into "I Want Your Sex"? Or hoped at least? LOL
When George himself emerged I died a thousand deaths. I love him. And then he sang "Praying for Time", one of my favorite songs ever.
Tomorrow around 5:00 PM I'm driving to North Carolina, which may not be the best decision ever, but I'm gonna have to take The Very Best of George Michael with me for driving inspiration.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Meanwhile, in other cities, more peole are saying they do want to sacriice their lifestyle of convenience to prevent global warming but still not doing so.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Don’t wanna die
Just wanna see
If I can fly…”
It’s 1:35 EST and I’ve been home a couple hours. I just took two of my knock out drops so I can sleep hard and long tonight, because I’m very tired and just returning to NY is draining. All day in airports and on airplanes, thinking about all that hard work and all those good times in Phoenix. The three guys that I met over the course of my time there, that chauffeured me and showed me a good time are of course in my thoughts and it’s unfortunate to meet people you really like, when after getting to know them and show them the dark side, you will be thousands of miles away.
When we were alone at the registration desk, my boss asked me how my “transition plan” is coming along, meaning of course, if I’m still set on moving. We talked a little about it, and she implored me to think about whether or not this is really what I want to do. She told me I don’t have to get all personal, but I of course did, and I told her a lot of the major reasons for this decision, and she shared with me her own decision back in the day to get out of DC and head back to her homeland, which is also NC. I appreciated her insights, but it’s a bit different when you have a husband and a child. In that case, wherever you go, you still have something that you will always have, and wherever you end up you’re still a part of a nuclear family and nothing is really going to change besides the scenery.
She told me that no place is like you think it’s going to be, which I know, and that one’s problems come along wherever you go, which I also know. Despite how it sounds typing it out, it was actually comforting to talk to her. I don’t know if she really feels solid about it from a work perspective. But she’s said it’s okay, so we just have to clear with the Big Boss. When that will happen I don’t know, but time’s ticking.
The thing is, I don’t know if I’ve made the right decision, but it is the decision that I’ve made, and people who know me know that when I make up my mind my mind is made up and that’s that. So while I will never say never, at this point, I’m planning on going through with my plan – spending a small fortune to relocate and split my time between Charlotte and Winston-Salem. On my flights back I read this crazy novel Rant , watched I Am Legend and Charlie Wilson’s War and kept being overcome with waves of emotion and uncertainty. Am I going to go home for Memorial Day? Am I going to go ahead and move some stuff? Am I going to be able to get to the airport in July for my heinous six AM flight for Saint Thomas? Am I going to have enough money saved come September? Am I making my own myth, am I finding the meaning of life, am I in over my head, am I changing along with an unsecure world?
Am I going to spend the rest of my life surrounded by people who can't relate and don't understand?
Are Antonio, DJ, Jason…my three friends in AZ – three people I will likely never see again – gonna think about me like I’ll be thinking about them?
And the one in Greensboro who knows the darkest secret of my heart but NOTHING else about me…is having a friendship with him upon my arrival – having him as someone to turn to, ears to listen, us as mutual beams of support – a fucking pipe dream, the imaginings of an idiot who can’t see the huge, clear, bright sign right in the middle of the road?
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Here in Arizona – a state that I have started to full on fall in love with – I met two guys. One picked me up for our night on the town and the other met us out. They both were really, really nice, but one of them was just so fucking good looking it hurt a little bit to look at him. Just beautiful, perfect body, perfect face, but I kept in line with my good girl routine that I’m doing lately, and also thinking he’s really nice and I’d like to have him as a friend but he wouldn’t imagine in a hundred years thinking of me like that. But he did, at least a little bit and after I had sucked down 6 vodka-and-sodas and we all wound up back here at the resort. Where my work thing is taking place. Where our participants and staff are running around. I had all been meant to be so sweet and innocent, which it was to an extent, but I digress…
Anyway, this morning I woke up at like 7:00 buck naked with a throbbing headache, so I put on the hotel’s terrycloth robe, hair going everywhere, eyes bloodshot, face a wreck, coffee cup in hand, curtain wide open with a two hotass black boys sleeping in my bed, and I stepped out onto the balcony to smoke a cigarette.
I get to smoking and thinking about the day ahead and my work duties, when I hear, like a primitive arrowhead being smashed into my head repeatedly, “HAY! STROLL! HAY! HAY!” I look around through blurred vision and a cloud of cigarette smoke only to see my coworker on her balcony fully dressed to the nines, with a big chipper fucking smile on her face, excited and ready for this presentation, waving with both her hands, bright as a thousand suns shining on my vampiric, pained face like I’m gonna somehow miss seeing the bitch.
I just sat the coffee mug down on the table, dropped my half smoked cig into it, turned around and walked back into the room.
In other news I called this woman a cunt in front of my boss who, I could tell, was deeply offended by my use of the "c" word, but it is true...oh well.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
The cab driver was a character. He was an older man from Poland with longish silver hair and a gigantic mustache. He had lived in New York for a while too, where he was a magician's assistant, which I could totally see. I asked him if he learned any tricks, and he said, no, he just mostly did the music for the shows, and I said, well that's magic enough, isn't it?
The magician used to order these special butterflies from South America. They would pop out of the end of his wand – as if by magic, naturally – and fly off. The cab driver was in charge of the butterflies, but one time the butterfly that was to pop out next was injured somehow in transit. The cab driver had tried to tell the magician that it was a bad idea to do the butterfly bit that night, but in a panic the magician insisted the show would go on as planned. So when the butterfly bit came to pass, the little butterfly popped out of the wand, fluttered it's little wings for a lift off…and then dropped to the floor, dead.
Ain't no magic gonna revive that dead butterfly, and he was laughing while he was recalling this, but wanted me to be sure to understand that at the time it was horrific. The magician was more upset about the 25 bucks he wasted on some dead butterfly than he was about his magical powers being exposed and the show being ruined.
I do not have any butterflies involved in my presentation this week, and there is no magic to PowerPoint and talking-point memorization. So I think I'm good. What could go wrong?