In the Making

I always hated the color pink.
Ok, maybe not hate.
But never came close to liking it.
I was wondering this weekend if it was because the Crayola markers I would color with when I was a little girl, did not have any pink marker. I always liked the red marker best. Maybe if there had been a pink marker I would have accepted the color with open arms.
But my arms were always closed to pink. I never wanted pink colored clothing, I never liked pink flowers, and I think I might actually despise pink-colored houses. But don’t think that I usually have things against specific colors. It’s only pink. I love most colors. The world is big and bright.
I love colors.

D.I.D.

It can mean Damsel In Distress.
Which I was tonight when I finally got up the five flights of stairs to my apartment and realized the door was slightly ajar.
That’s not overly welcoming since I’ve been away for a week.
So first I panicked.
Then I called Ariel and made him come stay with me mostly cuz he was the only one I knew for sure was here too.
And then I called Mum and freaked out.
(It hasn’t helped that lately I’ve been thinking deeply about how she leaves me to be independent, possibly because I’ve always declared my independence, but either way this was part of the equation when she did not panic nearly as much as I wish she would have…)
She told me I mustn’t go in, that I must call the Po-Po’s (read: Police) and that I should let her know when I know more.
Great.
Comforting.
So I called the Po-Po’s and some idiot lady on the other line took down my information really slowly, and I thought during the many times I had to repeat myself, how awful it would be if my situation wasn’t just an ‘ajar door break in’ and if it was my best friend sprawled out dying on the floor with blood all around. The Po-Po’s really need to learn how to deal with Emergency calls better.
Then Ariel showed up, and we sat on my floor for quite a while, during which I went through my apartment mentally and started mourning all my stolen valuables.

My precious Hadaya Jewelery (silver handcrafted engraved stuff)…A pile of twenties I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with, and therefore just hoarding…
I was very tense.
So we took out my laptop and started listening to the Raconteurs until the Police came.
They did a whole action scene thing with the guns and kicking the door open and everything. I wasn’t so thrilled by this, but at least Ariel was, so it entertained someone. Everything was perfect. And in place.
So the Po-Po’s were able to leave. And all’s well.
Sort of.
See now I’m starting to worry about this week.
And why Adam hasn’t answered yet.
And how I’ve been completely ignored by Nico.
And so I’m still a D.I.D. after all.
… note to self for tomorrow.
To deposit all those twenties into a bank.

Bright Eyes

Children have no business being raised by adults who cannot remember how they thought, and saw the world, as children.

They’re brilliant lots of the time, and it’s amazing to stop and try to relate to how they perceive everything.

My almost-three-year-old-niece was playing with puppets and her father wanted to dress her for dinner.

“Come Esther, time to get dressed.”

“Wait a minute, I’m busy.”

“No sweetie, you ate grapes but I haven’t and neither has anyone else, and we’re hungry so let me get you dressed so we don’t have to wait any longer.”

“No! This cannot wait. I said I’m busy!”

“Sweetie, this can wait, we need to start dinner, let’s go.”

“No, this can’t wait, the puppet will be cold!!!”

And with that, she finished ‘dressing the puppet,’ skipped over to her father, and lay down to get dressed.

And then she sighed and said, “isn’t she beauuutiful?!”

Children’s priorities are simply darling.

And so are they.

The Love-Child

Is thankfully imaginary, by the way.

It was Chloe’s method of entertaining me

whilst I was all caught up at the mother’s house.

So, I can breathe a sigh of relief and not have to worry about puppy pampers,

After all.

(see previous Lovechild post if this confuses you)

One More Night in Hollywood…um, New York

Nananana…

I assure you the vision I am now- in fits of seasonal allergy symptoms- is nothing similar to the wonderful night which was last’s…

The weather has been more than charming.
So has two days of freedom & no worries been in the city.

I saw Lucky & J last night at Banjo Jim’s in Alphabet City and it was a lovely sort of intimate duo show.

But after hopping on the M21 bus right outside and running from LaGuardia all the way to Canal street, and seeing that line of people who had accumulated outside and woven round the block, I was ready to have a hissy fit and leave.

I hate lines.

Good I waited.

For the two minutes till dutchess showed up.

And we even got that little velvet VIP rope pulled. And drink tickets. We even got interview the band and Adam. The way I did this, was making my planner into a pseudo-notebook and jotting down shit.

It was kinda surreal with just us three girls, the musicians, many bottles of beer, some video camera’s, a whirring fan, and lots of words.

The words were good. And real. There was no fake bantering there. It was laughs and fun and snapshots. And my email address sprawled out on a tiny bit of paper. I assume that bit of paper lost itself just as easily as it would have washed off your hand.

But the gesture was totally sweet.

Love-Child

The following is a series of texts I have just received from Chloe:

(I said stuff in between, but use your imagination…)

“Ok when are you allowed to talk on the phone again because I bought us a love child spontaneously.”

“ya on a whim, I thought we would really bond over it. But it’s half your dog.”

“I’m walking it now, it’s beautiful, it’s a hungarian pug. I named it lorenzo.”

“I had to name it because they put it on the collar…my phone sucks i’m trying to send you a picture.”

“yes ZoZo is our little munchkin. But she needs a good washing. She stinks right now.”

“where do you think? starbucks. She’s trained but she is going to start running- she’s a porker.” (2 texts later she explained- “O zo needs to start working out- she is a little big.”)

“this guy at starbucks was selling her cheap.”

I’m half freaking out, half thinking this is the funniest thing in the world.

Chloe is certainly not typical girl-friend material, and I think this just about proves that to anyone.

Stars or City Lights?

I love when words or lyrics jolt my core with intense profundity and truth. I know this would be an insight for which you’d share my appreciation.

He spoke of diamonds and other rare subjects of human admiration and desire. And how rare things are what we think make us happy. But in reality if we were alone somewhere, those rare things would not be the source of our happiness at all. In face, things that are completely mundane, routine, and typical are what make us happiest.

Air.
Sleep.
Water.

That feeling of crawling into bed at night and falling into a peaceful slumber. Being outside on a beautiful day and taking a deep breath. The indulgence of even one sip of pure, fresh water.

Such feelings of satisfaction and happiness are superior to any feeling, which can be obtained through the consumption of what is considered rare and wonderful by the general public. This is because these rarities are simply tagged with importance in public context. They become benchmarks of status and have nothing to do with pleasing oneself inherently.

The sad thing is that we pathetic people tend not to appreciate the happiness the “regular” things bring us until they become “rare.” No one appreciates air more than when they’re confined in a place where there is a shortage of it.

And so it seems that we are so inclined to chase after those matters which we named rare and special to make us “happy”, that we neglect the abundance of the true sources of happiness all around us.

We pollute the air; damage the environment, waste days & nights away.

And come to think of it, truth and sincerity in this day and age have unfortunately become so hidden and unique, that when profound bits of it filter through to our consciousness, (like this whole bit which he spoke about) we drink it up with the utmost pleasure.

Because we failed to see its value until we forced it to be rare.

“Trip”ping through Memory Lane

I have too much time on my hands?

I think not.

I think that this is exactly what I was meant to be doing all along.
In over 21 years on this earth I have accumulated an obscene amount of stuff/crap/junk.

Depending how you would define a life’s journey in tangible possessions.

The point is, I tend to think of everything in scrapbook terms and therefore tend to keep an overwhelming amount of “tangible possessions.”

From shopping bags, notes passed in class, birthday cards, photos, pamphlets from trips, movie tickets, random photos, journals started and stopped, notes taken in class, textbooks, other books, magazines, and even (gory warning!)…baby teeth!

So today I’ve been playing judge and deciding which things get to live on as part of my tangible memory of life. And which ones to toss. It’s almost like renewing history. And even rewriting it.

Memory lane is a strange place to visit, and makes me realize how many lives I’ve already lived.

Looking back at things I’ve written, and opening closed windows on thoughts I once thought, and beliefs I’ve since turned away from, I wonder at my journeys and if I have any connection to  the me in my past.

Clearly the voyage and experiences make up what I am today, but when I turn back time with my mind, the essence of me withstanding it all,
is as blurred and foggy as the faded words written on the pages in front of me,
Covered in dust.

Crack, Christ, & Grandma

With all the business of life, this is quite outdated.

But last time at the office I was pleased with every opportunity to dash out and be in the sun.

Spring has Sprung, some would say. That corny sort of some.

On the subway, a huge guy who must’ve been adopted by a Gospel Church and has become utterly ”New & Improved” in his life’s discourse, gave us all a sermon. Anyone who has experienced subway sermons knows the idea, but this one was particularly amusing to me. His size, firstly was quite overbearing, and his voice- even more so. It was more like a booming substance which battled with my music. He was commanding my subway car that we must become one with Christ. His slogan for repetition, was:

“I gave my best to Crack, now I give my best to Christ!!”
I gather there are people who are instantly inspired by such an outburst, and make life-changing decisions. I just found it quite humorous.

SO during my dashing during the day, my overly attune ears and positive spirit made me notice something else quite funny.

Arm in arm, a nanny a child. The sun clearly had hit their senses as well, as they skipped down the street near Columbus Circle. While they skipped, they sang “Oh we’re gonna sleep with Grandma when she comes, oh we’re gonna sleep with Grandma when she comes!”

They were chanting this gleefuly and proudly to the tune of “she’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes…”

And I simply thought of how rich a mere few minutes out on the street of New York can be.

In sights and sounds.

Singing to the walls.

Isn’t it slightly egotistical to want people to read my own words?

Or to even assume that people shall?

I think it’s comparable to a singer singing his song for a random audience.

We don’t have a right to have an audience.

If people choose to listen to what we have to say, so be it.

But it’s foolish to assume that things we think are important, are worth other peoples’ time.

Yet, sometimes there’s a little part of me that gets annoyed when I just speak to deaf ears.

I guess everyone is slightly egotistical.

And I’m just waiting for some slightly sort of audience.

Chuckle

My idea of the idyllic chuckle is when it happens after you relate so well to something random, inside your head, and it’s humorous.

This morning on the subway, I experienced that when I read a Jameson ad. I’m pretty sure anyone who has lived in New York would too.

“Maybe this ad will give tourists a place to look so the guy in the map seat can get a break.”

So clever! So personal for New York.

And P.S. it’s the most beautiful day outside, and all I want to do is run away from this building and skip about in the sun…

Mona Lisa’s and Madhatters

I always say how even just the first few chords in a song can bring me back to a moment in my past so completely. It’s true. My memories are so linked to songs and music that I can feel as if it were occurring at this second, what the mood was, what was so beautiful in that moment, and even what my priorities were. Things that were so important then, are so inconsequential now. Time does that. And that night was one of those moments where I felt “it’s all happening.” Carnegie Hall. Backstage. Hundreds of people in that beautiful audience. My friends on stage. And a night on the town afterward. It seems so far away. And so. Perfect.

The Last Waltz

I just wanted to let you know that I’m waiving the little white flag.

I’m surrendering/giving up/running away before it’s too late.

It might be already, but there is no way that’s happening again.

You meant nothing to me, you were just one on the shelf, fun to take out and play with every once in a while because you wanted to. So I entertained that feeling mostly because I know what it’s like to be on someone else’s shelf and played with every once in a while.

But now you’re complicating things. I don’t dance with offbeat attention. I get it all the time.

So now that you’ve messed up the rhythm, and stepped on my toes.

I’ll take a graceful curtsey.

And you’re just gonna trip on my white flag.  

Good luck with that.

Tiniest, Largest, Pleasures

Isn’t it wonderful how the smallest, silliest things become the biggest treasures when they are so needed?

As a long-haired girl who obsessively works out at the gym, 

the lack of a ponytail holder is a disaster.

So at the moment where someone handed me one, 

it was the greatest thing on earth.

It’s remarkable and great how circumstance can turn a tiny piece of 

elastic covered in thread, into the mind’s equivelant of the realization

of a greatest, deepest desire.

b-r-e-a-t-h-i-n-g

“I’m finding my way back to sanity, again

though I don’t really know what I’m gonna do when I get there

Take a breath and hold on tight

Spin around one more time

And gracefully fall back in the arms of grace”

This is what I feel like. Just back from a wedding, and this is what I’m thinking.

They say (don’t ask me who) that each person is a world.

All the people who I know and mean all sorts of things to me- they as worlds are all

around, surrounding my world.

And their worlds are spinning round and round.

They’re spinning so fast, and I’m standing still.

And I’m so overwhelmed.

I don’t feel like I’m getting older, but it’s being thrust on me.

By the people spinning by.

And the elder people growing deeper wrinkles. When did the adults become old?

When did my childhood friends decide to grow up?

And leave me here in my mind with people spinning all around me.

At various heights.

Speaking to small children and old people is now a comparable experience.

The lines and circles are all blurred, and everything’s spinning.

I’m just going to try and take a deep breath

There’s nothing to hold on tight to, so  I’ll spin one more time.

And I’ll fall back in those arms of grace.

Because once there, I’ll feel comforted by the feeling that I’m spinning along.

Until it all starts spinning without me again.

And I’m left standing still.

Traumatically Intrigued

The things that are witnessed on subways in this city are random and taleworthy.

Especially this…

I was on the way to Brooklyn on the D train. I was tired and quasi-taking in the rush-hour reality surrounding me. And there was one couple (guy + girl) chatting away in that hard-to-ignore thick brooklyn accent.

“Undustandubal”

“thayts whawt I’m sayyinn”

That sort of thing. They were talking about something having to do with a new guy joining what they do during the day. My first impression was perhaps it was a business team or something. But the more and more I heard (with my eyes closed-no doubt, and utterly inconspicuous in my way of listening in)…I realized that they were talking about the third guy in a physical relationship.

And that’s when I realized they were porn stars. I don’t think it’s appropriate to relay all that I heard, but the just of it was “artfully getting him into new things without him realizing it.” See, apparently when you’re working with someone as a team in that sort of field, jealousy arises when new people join. There was talk of feeling like an outsider, and not being able to see what she was saying. And goodness, I gathered three’s a crowd. Ha.

But the kicker was when she turned to him (after they both drank huge things of redbull) and said “and he’s not a cop.” And he responded, “yea…haha not after that performance.”

And then I got off the train. And that, my friends is my tale of getting too much info.

A Good Distraction

…I was at Rockwood in the back-room while you played last night, and I found myself distracted by the TV displaying your show, because your music was actually amazing!

And I don’t mean to sound like a jaded annoying NY-er, but I’ve seen so much live music around this city, that I just don’t sit and give everyone a chance anymore. But you kicked ass, and you need to know this.

So I looked you up, and Made sure that even in my tipsy state, the name stuck with me. And here I am, on Myspace, contacting you to say Kudos. Now I’m going to sit and listen to what you have posted here, and I truly hope our paths cross again. If for nothing more, than my listening pleasure. Consider me a fan….

Max (the girl)

Little Demons

Believe in them.

Ok, So I did listen to you. And I even took your own advice and applied it to 

your presence in my

life and thoughts.

Your big head and your Demons were something I challenged, and tried to release.

And now you’ve come back for a minute and thrown me into fits of nostalgia.

Because you’re just like you, only sweeter.

I know you want to meet Chloe. I don’t know what fascinated you about her.

I mean, I do know how awesome she is. It just intrigues me how you picked up on it. And is that how you’ve creeped back into my 

Good Book?

Or was it that I said how I haven’t felt this way about music- until Lucky & J came along- since you?

Did you feel threatened?

That’s kinda cute. And charming.

So you noticed I was having a moment last night. And you texted me that 

I’m a ”good one.”

So now you are as well, once again. And the Little Demons have taken a walk.

CLockS

Apparently I hurt someone because I agreed to go to dinner with them and they spent the entire time since dreaming of being in a relationship with me. Ugh. Why must people be so expectant? I hate pressure. My life’s pretty busy, and I didn’t even notice that a week has passed. He’s been going nuts, poor guy, wondering why I wasn’t rushing to his side. What does he think he is? Some friggin knight in shining armor who swept me off my feet, and very basis of the way my life runs? That just aint the way it is kid.  And you are a kid. And you’re clearly not as independent as you tell yourself (and me). Because you’ve been pining for me. How sweet and childish of you boy.  And now I feel all shitty b/c you made me think this is my issue when it’s yours.

Auto-reply: I LOVE U MAX!!! “…cuz my heart wont break and my friends will hold me if its my mistake in needing you” – as originally sung by ‘LUCKY’ for Max  they’ll b back soon…

She’s darling for writing that. I do miss those boys. But it’s all forlorn. Because they all take the same voyage, and I always remain.

Conundrum

I haven’t had a night like this in a while, and I barely know how to handle it anymore. It’s one of those nostalgic, introspective, slightly sad moods. I even took Garden State out.  This movie for me is like nostalgia in a bottle. Or disk. But I do I have a bottle of Red too. ”Maybe that’s all family really is; a group of people that miss the same imaginary place.” Is that what home is? See I’m convinced it might be.  I think about it all the time, how I have to work so hard to connect to my family. And how people that come in and out of my life make me feel more like family than my own. But the problem with that is they do indeed come in and out of my life. Family is a blessing because they remain constant. At least my extended family does so.  I’m “in it” right now. It’s real. Sometimes it fuckin’ hurts. But it’s real. And I need that person to make me feel safe. And Home. 

Drunkity Drunk

Singles is a good movie. I barely remembered that I’ve seen it because last time it was when I was with Tamima and we were both drunk as shit off three bottles of red. And then I kicked my wine glass over, and I was too drunk to realize I slashed both of my big toes with broken glass. And then I spent the next many hours trying to implement the first-aid I quasi knew in my drunken state; with both legs up compressing the bleeding. And Tamima was laughing on the phone with her then-boyfriend. We were both laughing and wondering if I was going to bleed to death.  But this time watching Singles was not as dramatic. (Though I do still have the scars from the glass cuts for the story). I just think it’s funny how that one scene where he’s drunk in the bar and he’s in the pay-phone stall. It wasn’t even that long ago that the movie was meant to take place (and did). And yet our reality with drunk dialing has vastly shifted. Crucial, I know. But it’s odd isn’t it? How now we can just “drunk text” or drunk dial someone’s cell phone instantly. “Back” then they had to wait drunk online to drunk dial someone from the pay-phone. It’s just kinda humorous to think about. Waiting in line to dial drunk. And giving someone the clicker to your garage door meant something in the relationship.