i got a job

hey guess what everybody. finally after weeks of striving for having a job, i finally do have a job. hooray! now i get to:

i don't even have to buy a goddamn suit! whee!

anyway i meant to say, now i get to:

go shoppping at uniqlo and buy jumpers.

fyi, the magazine i work at is called "ins&outs magazine" (sic). it is so awesome, and this is why. in its first issue, they interview kids on the streets of long island about their style. then... they interview a dog/pretend to interview a dog... and it is so cute!!!

i hate blogging, so, the end.

queer as folk

have you guys ever seen "the 'bu"?

probably, but i wanted to make sure. it is like, so funny.

i'm kevin nealon, and that's news to me.

there's a funny part in season one of "weeds" in which mary louise parkers (hard name to remember) character calls kevin nealon's character an idiot, and kevin nealon corrects her and says that he is an idiot savant. i just ruined that part for everyone, sorry. anyway,

smoking pot is bad for you. here are the reasons why.
a) acting stupid
b) getting arrested
c) eventually getting cancer
d) being mistaken for someone who appreciates the "kitschy" appeal of "reefer madness"
e) mistaking yourself for a bad person
f) feeling awful and freaked out
g) wasting your money
h) wandering around in a drug haze
i) joe reeferhead

also, smoking cigarettes, for reasons c, d, and g.

also, drinking alcohol, for reasons g and h. except drinking one drink a day is good for your heart.

okay and i am editing this post after neil already commented on it.

i also wanted to Add that the band "the high strung" is pretty good. my mom's co-worker scott eury burned me some mix cd called "guided by hrabel" that contains all sort of music i would never have found the time to "check out" & listen to, such as the high strung, the arctic monkeys, clap your hands say yeah, oranger, the clientele, giant drag. ie, bands that dan chaon, listens to and possibly chelsea. also, i head, josh rosen. by the time i finally burned scott some cds, i learned that he was fired. i think all he did all day was burn cds.

my parents' tim buckley record

tim buckley
you could go worse than this album...

empoyment update

i would like to whole heartedly announce that i was fired from my job at beacon's closet! this comes as little surprise to me, just because i would never have imagined that a "hip" dirty, used clothing store would ever have any use for my energie-less presence, my diaper-like shorts, uh my too-small american apparel t-shirts, my lack of glamour. i was fired after only 3 days of working there, for quote "sitting around too much". this is strange- i have a feeling it was more because of the diaper shorts.

last night i went to a bar where there was a play being put on. i think the play was maybe too ambitious for the space it took place in. the play was kind of like "even dwarves started small" crossed with "..." what is that other werner herzog movie that takes place in a desert land?, croseed with "koyannisquatsi". then i introduced my roommate ken to the music of the skeletons. "these guys cook!"

i have a job interview open house to attend soon, i don't know why i felt i had to get this blog off before leaving the house, before putting on my outdated grey slacks and my weird, tuxedo-like, lesbianish button down interview shirt. it is also to be hoped that i hear back from earwax records today, and hear that yes, they will let me work there.

i like working at beacon's closet. it is better than working at gimme coffee would have been. i like saying to myself, "that shit is wack!" and then sometimes saying "that is wack!" out loud to my co-workers.
i can tell that this blog post is going nowhere, early on. this is a blog, it isn't really worth anything.
okay i am at a very very low energy level. i don't know if my housemate's realize how much coffee i drink. i guess now they do. it's like, four cups a day, guys.
am listening to peter blasser's "tofu alpha", an album whose track names i do not know.

not that album pictured above. a different album, one called "tofu alpha".
okay now i am listening to white magic. i don't get how people are "into" karen dalton, but if someday i do understand, maybe i'll look back on this blog entry, and smyle.
bleh bleh.

this is my pet peeve:
people using language: language is cool, but use it expresso. fast. use it fast. if you must practice using the most bestest word for something, most bestest gesture. i mean, please. let's be more low brow about this sometimes. shades of meaning are the most artificial. i understand pretty much what you are going to say. you are hungry, thirsty, etc

funny things i saw recently

1. a student driver train.
2. silly mta engineers
3. 3 people in my neighborhood carrying surfboards to the myrtle-willoughby G

s blog is fascinating.
thi. hello computer do what i tell you to.

hello.

the pony problem by barbara holland. jean wins a pony in a contest at the back of a lame magazine, the only part of the magazine she ever reads. it's an annual contest whereby the girl who sends in the best name, gets the pony sent to her. jean wins the pony. she lives in the suburbs and has to take care of it. her family doesn't have much money. her mom is a single mom (i recall that her dad is dead), and is the only woman on the subway platform in their particular neighborhood. jean is a misfit with hair that she accidentally dyed green and wears a fisherman's hat every day to cover it up. eventually jean rides the pony out to an abandoned farm where an eccentric old woman lives, and eventually though a series of delicate negotiations decides to board to pony for free if jean and her mother rent out the old servants quarters house.

prisoners at the kitchen table by barbara holland. a boy and a girl whose names i don't remember are friends. they are playing one day in the suburbs, when suddenly

ok this is to be continued. i'm moving today. i got a job today. here is where i'm going to be working. they sell slingshots here.



also tonight i think i'm going to an arthur magazine benefit. you guys are all invited! ran into that dude named tyler who is jess karch's roommie on the st today who claimed that "tonight is a good one". what did he mean? let's do some research.

http://www.arthurmag.com/magpie/?p=2134

destinos

learning spanish.

the first thing i want to learn to say in spanish is:
stop opening the goddamn fire hydrants, get a fucking rubber hose or something, or just pour tons of water on yourselves. this is some merry bullshit that raises your taxes exorbitantly.

or something to that effect. i wish that manu chao lived in my pockets. he speaks like, several languages. i do not speak a goddamn word of spanish.

today on youtube i noticed that someone i know has a serious anger problem that seems really horrible and depressing. whoops! and is COMPLETELY WEIRD. whom i like a lot in spite of this, maybe b/c of this, but AS IF my qualifications as a mental health professional, would stand up to personal-offense scrutiny (they would not). even though: this exists.

wow. what emotional ground this blog is totally breaking.

hmmm. but not even my qualifications as someone who speaks english could handle this.

but anyway- what is anger? i mean, what is it for? i get super angry a lot! i feel like anger comes out of a lack of discourse. sometimes anger itself is what makes the discrouse lacking. look how fucking stupid this blog is, etc.

i am going to do days of multiple blogs like raymi the minx because i guess i quite my job or something, after "making rent" (though probably i didn't because i buy so much [redacted] because of [redacted] and [redacted]. ha ha ha ha ha! [redacted]. last night night i had a dream that NATHALIE FRANQUES my francophile freshman year roommate was SUCKING OUT MY SOUL through sucking at my back like a succubus. omg it was HORRIBLE. dreams like that

i'm just kidding my life is super awesome! hee hee i listen to "crazy on you" by heart all day and look at stuff on friendster. i get drunk and open the door to delivery food like the don of well-established younger authors that i am. JUST KIDDING. ha ha ha h!

i'm sorry for touching your sensitive infected eye.

grace slick you are so refreshingly slutty

not sarcasm

i have been thinking about things recently, trying to put them in a new light, which is something i do compusively when i am upset about the way things are going. "it can't be THAT bad" i say to myself, searching in the innocent and sort of sad face of my 6'5" co-worker. i try to remember what i used to be like and compared that to what i'm like now, and i think i'm a lot better. i feel better, even with the insight i gained by learning how to take risks, into the risks everyone else does and doesn't take. taking risks- it's the kind of phrase you hear in self-help books. like that weird book steve wood read at my party, that a weird fat person gave to me. what's it called. that stupid fucking book that is probably one of the things that is defiling society's foundations with its corporate speak and so on.
Anyway it's good to know this now and have something to be mad at. But it turns out I am mad at almost everyone and it's hard to figure out what to say to people. I know that I used to be in this nightmare world, able to wildly misinterpret everything that happened around me, anything that was said to me, etc.
"how to make friends and influence people"- that is the book. this woman walked/waddled me to barnes and noble on my last day of work (2001), bought this for me, and then as we were walking back, we passed a haagen-daaz. she saw the sign and said, ooh haagen daaz and then bought one for herself.
but then this therapist gave me this self help book. if you google my name you will see my amazon book review of it and little else. "take more risks" it said. that was interesting, so i did. take more risks. what is a risk? what are YOU risking in the past present and future. it also didn't say, take well-thought-out risks etc. anyway.
how am i supposed to tell my co-workers and stranger to "take more risks"? this is really hard to deal with as a challenge. certainly more so between the sexes. "take more risks".
would i even been thinking about this, helping other people, if i were happy? if i were rivers cuomo, or if i was the president, would i even give half a shit about this? probably i would be doing a better job of actually being helpful to other people if i weren't obsessing over bad ideas like saying awkward things to me coworkers. THE END

bubonic chronic

dear diary,
i just ate a lot of pizza and feel gross!

today i am hanging out listening to some music and watching you tube videos. i hope i have friends and a television set by the time prison break comes back on. today i really wanted to watch "two and a half men".

i'm listening to the shirelles "baby it's you". this song for some reason in my itunes come on after "walking after midnight", my country music. it reminds me of stephen king. i hung out with my friend emilio and talked about stephen king this weekend. i'm thinking of adding "carrie" to my goodreads. this song reminds me more of "christine" though.

okay now gin and juice is on!

taking the train is the worst thing i do all day, which is saying a lot. there is "train rage". i got off the L at 1st avenue because i was so freaked out, and walked to union square. usually i go early but today i was talking to the employees of gimme coffee about their lives and my dreams and stuff. the walking is not because of the train rage- it's because of the more subtle ways people don't know how to stand correctly on the train and the stress injuries i'm going to get and the mental exhaustion. also the men who don't ride their bikes are all pussies anyway so there aren't even cute guys on the trains at all.

i wish i was snoop dogg's wife and all i did was hang out and make music videos. these teenagers on the train were laughing at something, maybe me sneering at this dude on the train. i need to sneer harder.

now rapper's delight is on! thanks for recommending wlid style at the video store steve. it was funny when amanda didn't like when you said "wild style" to me. or maybe that wasn't what happened because that just doesn't make sense? whatever.

today was not as bad. at work. i finally found the headphone jack on the computer (i know: i am a huge idiot for believing the girl who said there was no jack). so i listened to some internet radio. uh brian turner's show last week has a SILLY interview with PiL at the beginning.

okay now "insane in the brain" is on! i put that one on myself. thank you limewire.

spanning time

jesus F-ing christ

i never have to go deeper than the myspace pages of cultural icons sam and ben halterman to find relevant and worldy videos to post on this blog.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipZR1EBKFoA

i am going to sleep at 830. thank you.

bongo bong

no one understands how important microsoft excel is where i work. personally, i fucking love microsoft excel. it is easy to use, it is utterly the most useful thing ever. when i worked for real companies, i used it all the time. when i was self-employed as osca tank workchart coordinator, i used it all the time. i would have been lost without it. but now, as a temp, i am disappointed by how i should be using it more, but am not allowed to take initiative to use it. what are these, the dark ages?



no, this is the information age. not the roman times or the dark ages. update: who does this remind you of (on the left). that's right, [sorry about google privacy issues] watching rome had always been a strange experience for me at home in chevy chase because my parents hadn't understood how silly it was that brutus was portrayed by this britishy-jewishy ie [privacy issues for everyone involved] look alike. they hadn't understood why i had been standing, snickering and snorting derisively with laughter at brutus, because they didn't have very refined senses of humour. really, the people in union square the subway station ALSO didn't understand why i was snickering loudly at the poster of brutus. on a related note, there is an [sorry] girl who works at a used boutique clothing store. she is like so high all the time. she is exactly like a crazy, high version of [sorry!]. on a related note, her awesome store is also called "the pirate store". it is on graham and like, ainslie or something. on a related note, the owner of gimme coffee looks exactly like steven, although he claimed to have NO idea what i was talking about. i have NO idea what YOU'RE talking about. what do you look like in your head i wonder?



fuck writing short stories. totally fuck it. this is my short story
"i looked at the trashcan. it was full of like, witch hazel cotton pads, cotton pads i had put witch hazel on to use as astringent. i was so thrifty. i was wearing jeans i had altered myself using the [redacted] method. i hated [redacted]."

thats a good idea, writing about hating people and then changing their names. it's not anyone who reads this blog, don't worry.

what's the DAR?

black eyed susans because i am from the suburbs, and it is august.


i stole this from raymi the minx's boyfriend fil's (hey greg nichols, "fil"!!!!!!!), pix. credit to you, mr.

cricket (cage) because i am from the suburbs, and it is august; but i only hear crickets in the like, city hall park on my way home from work, so i need to capture on and put it in a cage, and feed it grass, and take it to work with me, and get fired. neil kelley keeps crickets or something, or so he claims.

it is too hard to find a happy looking cricket in a cage though. i guess i plan on weaving the cage myself.

every morning i read in this graveyard. it is full of black eyed susans, a hardy daisy. when you go to work early, ie 7:30, you avoid throngs of fuck faces staring at you on the train, walking like neanderthals, criss crossing and zig zagging all over your emotions. this graveyard is at wall st. and broadway. it is between the american stock exchange and borders. famous men are buried there, men who commanded warships in the american revolution, warships named things like "hornet", against british warships named things like "peacock". their bones are actually there. it is interesting to think about the kinds of people these were. at lunch, i read harper's in borders. after work i walk to union square because i hate the train at 5:45. i stretch my flat-lands walking muscles. i eat dinner somewhere, or take it on the train. i get home, i turn on the air conditioner and eat and read. i fall asleep. i wake up. it's a strange life. i only have one pair of earrings. they are small dark green hearts made out of transluscent plastic over crumpled tin foil, posts.