High Hooks in Hook

We went down to visit The Grandparents in Boca and stayed in the condo. I got the best of both words, having a couple of days with the sibs, and a couple of days with the cousins. It’s hard seeing The Grandparents wither away into old, old, old. But at least we still have them.

We used some ganjah one night and watched Hook. Blame it on the G”J but I ended up with all these insights concerning Peter Pan and Hook, and scrabbled them down on The Gandparents remaining stationary.

Here goes…

• Peter Pan worked so hard to find his happy thought to fly and it ended up being his kids. This is ironic since if he hadn’t left Neverland kids would never in a million years have been the source of the flying power.
• the kid who started the fight seems menicing and ‘the bad guy’ but he was the one who knew Peter Pan’s one everlasting ’soft’ spot to get him revved up enough to imagine again. This soft spot was to get him fired up and fight.
• Hook’s kind of happiness that Pan was back was as if their universe and world would perish if there was a lack of the friction between good and evil. This is very interesting. Maybe this is what keeps the world moving on and on. A struggle between good and bad.
• The guy who gives in to Peter Pan’s return (that same menicing ‘bad guy’) is in a sense getting fucked over. He is willing to become the strong one when Pan leaves, but when Pan returns he’s willing to step aside. He ends up getting stabbed and “dies” (whatever that means in Neverland). This kind of shows that only the strong survive. You can’t be too much of a pushover.
• Peter Pan says “what do you want old man.” Hook replies “I want you.” This to me means that the essence of what older people want is their youth.
• Hook says “you took my hand, you owe me something” when Pan is turning victorious and taking his dignity. I find that interesting because it’s symbolic of youth resenting elders, but at the same time without the elder’s “hand” they’d never be there growing to begin with. It’s almost like a plea from Hook.
• And of course…”Death is the only adventure” is Hook’s attitude toward what’s going on. It is in a sense what we all feel.

1st Aid

Drama Drama Drama.

It follows me everywhere, though when I step back and sip tea I realize I’m decidedly alone as soon as I walk away from all the action in the Drama I encounter outside. The winery is only three months old, and the crew of employees are even younger in the sense of our knowing each-other, and yet people have already left, people have already been fired, and more than one pair have slept together. So it seems that wine and cheese or wine and music are not the only thing fated to be drawn together inside the 25,000 square feet one block north of Soho. I work hard in general in life. I am aware of problems in situations and with people, and rush to their Aid First. But in romance I think of, but don’t Act. And I think too late, at that. But maybe it’s my blessing in disguise. Instead of getting wrapped up in situations, I get to marvel at everyone else’s, be their conscious, be their guide, help write the Script, play a supporting Role. And walk home alone, out of the Scene before some haunted Director shouts out ‘Cut!’ But right here in this moment of reflection of past and present, I wish I was the one walking the tightrope, even with the fear of the fall, because then at least my aches and pains would be for me, myself, and I. And perhaps someone would even come to my aid.

At a Crossroads

I definitely have to stop drinking so much.

 Things I want to do: (written with anxious gusto in Starbucks waiting to be picked up to go to the airport, hung over from the wedding, and totally stressed about making a decision about the job…and about to see my old, old grand-folks)

• I want to go with Amber on the road right after my birthday. I would go be paper raincoat’s merch girl for a while, and travel to many states and just live.
• In May, I want to go to the folk festival and experience Texas ranch life and be amongst tripped out happy musicians.
• I want to go on that horseback-riding trip that Mr. James did in June to bring the cattle up the mountain for the summer. Then I’d get to see Wyoming and breathe some fresh air.
• I want to be working for Ryan McGinley and I want to end up traveling this summer with Veronica for that….And then an Epiphany came:
• “Maybe I should be a teacher because then I have the summers off. I would get to work with children that would keep me young, and I would never have the same day. I would have to be high energy every day, and I would have to be attentive to all children and pretend I don’t have favorites.”

 Well, timing really is essential. Even when life and fate deliver what we’ve thought we wanted and strived toward with all energy and inklings possible. Ha. So after I was that aggressive person tracking down the CEO, and working odd jobs there at night to keep the contact… his assistant with the same last name as me gave him two weeks notice. Tables Turn. I had turned to him, now he turned to me. And yet, timing made it impossible for me to accept what should have been a dream job. I need time during my days to pursue other interests. I cannot be confined to one task to do multiples and multiples of tasks for one entity. These are the golden years. The ones where so much experience and so many opportunities can be grabbed and had if my time and attention is not completely enslaved to fill just one purpose. It is strong not to let opportunities slip between fingers, but it is even stronger to let them go by if it’s not right in the macro level. I would like to see myself as brave considering the economic situation and the fact that it is Him and that Place which I turned down.

 

Here is how it went…

“Mr. Blank,

 I have spent the past couple of days considering the position that we discussed, and while I do think it would be an incredible opportunity and experience, I have decided that it is not the right time for me to accept the job. Timing really is everything, and perhaps even in a few months it would be the perfect job for me, but I do think that at this particular moment in my life, during my transition from college, I need to slow down and figure out what the correct direction is for me to focus all my energy. If I were to work full time as your assistant at (edited for this): ‘the’ Winery, I would and should be basically making the winery ‘my life.’ I am not quite ready for such an hour and multitude-of-tasks intensive stride forward. You need someone right now who will jump right in and give it their all, and I need a little time to breathe.

 

 I want to make it perfectly clear that I am honored that you considered me for this position. I also want to reiterate that I do think that I would accept it without blinking if timing were not an issue. I certainly hope to continue working together with you and ‘the’ Winery; to whatever degree proves to be possible. I believe in the venture, I appreciate everything and everyone involved, and I look forward to seeing it prosper.

 

 Have you found any other prospects? I have someone in mind that I think would be perfect, if you are interested in hearing about him.

 

 Good luck finding the right person for the job,

 

 Thank you again, and see you soon,

 

 Max…”

 

 

           

Reply (not five minutes later!)

           

“THanks, I might have found someone.   I appreciate your instinct that the timing is not right.  THis is another sign that you have the goods.  We will do things together, and I think your making a wise decision.

 Warmly,

 

 Mr. Blank”

 

Wow. And just like that I had a weight lifted off my shoulders

The Case of my own Curiosity

Truly beautifully shot movies can be paused at virtually any second of their duration, and look so picturesque that you’d hang it on your wall. This movie was like that- all two hours and forty five minutes of it. The lighting was breathtaking. As were the color, location, and angle choices. It’s a true work of art. But that’s just the physically artistic part of it. The story is a whole other artistic story. What a way to start the new year- with such a thought provoking, refreshing yet raw way to reevaluate life. It’s all about Time. Timing is everything. The way it Passes, the Pace it moves at, the way we interact with its Passing. This story opens up a secret door for a different perception of growing up. Or growing young. It merges the Oldest people barely still Living, to the Youngest babies barely Born yet. Everything else between those two stages is just the result of time passing. It can be the disintegration of Body and Spirit, or the rejuvenation of it.

And that’s really what is in our hands. I look at my Life as my one chance to live it how I want. To do the things I want. I fear routine, and becoming numb to noticing the possibilities all around me. It’s New Years day. I’m about to graduate college. The world is waiting. But time is not. Time is ticking. And I’m not about to waste it. I would hate myself when I’m so old that I’m barely still living, if my experiences added up to someone who has barely been born yet. People die before they’ve lived, even if the time they’ve spent alive is lengthy. I want to live each day and grow younger with my spirit- grow younger with bigger Curious eyes for more and more that I can accomplish and experience. That way, when time has ticked itself silly in my world, I can look back and see each moment of my life as picturesque, lived, and vivid, as the cinematography in this awesome movie.

That Day was a Wonderful Day

A perfect day might start in dread of regular routine that gets sweaty. It did in my case, and little did I know that after I pushed through running 7.5 miles I’d be running off the treadmill and into a perfect day.

It was frigid, don’t get me wrong. But the sun was shining so strong that we wondered how it can warm us from so far away, and pondered how scorching it must be up close. Vin & Max day did in fact happen. Brunch at one at a place called Egg in Williamsburg right off the L train. That neighborhood is love at first stroll, and I was utterly enamoured. The vintage sweaters and brunch spots and pretty people.

The tea hit the spot while we were waiting to be seated, with steam from the drink and our mouths mixing together to form dramatic poofs. The food was scrumptious, the conversation was splendid, and my mind and body purred with contentment. We walked into that wonderful store with all things Alice, things from households ages ago & past, and simply darling. Now the tiny brass pocketknife sits on a chain around my neck, and the Gingerbread Man stands upon a baking timer. I certainly will be back in that shop again.

I decided to walk across the bridge to get back home, despite your warnings of the cold. It was magical. Like seeing the city from an entirely different world. I was numb and frozen by the end, by my core was bursting with happiness and warmth. I felt so alive.

And then Rockwood was open with people and music and Scott, even though it was four. It was surreal and wonderful. So was the spicy drink. So was the fact that a bunch of children soon entered for a Rock School music show. Little Children starting their music journey on Saturday afternoon in Rockwood Music Hall. It was like a glimpse of the future. Precious.

So Scott sipped jasmine tea with me, and then I went to the French apartment. I entered with a culture shock, and it took a little while to warm up. But now I’ve got a born & raised in Champagne crush. And I can’t even pronounce his name. The scents and tastes were analyzed. Champagne, Rum, and Red Wine. I was happily tipsy and my nose was filled with wonderful aromas when I took my leave of the Gentlemen. For I was tired, and a Lady needs her beauty sleep, so he sent me off with two bottles of Red. To remember him by?

Perfect Day. Perfect Night. I pray I pray with all my might, that this goes forth similarly into the week.

Unfinished Art

“It just takes some getting used to, it just takes some getting used to…it’s all, it’s all…It’s not the changes but the spaces in between… it’s not the story, but the cuts between the scenes…it’s the part where your eyes get in focus a minute just before you notice, the images align naturally…”

Life is so cyclical.

It’s almost comical because you’d think we’d all learn after being tossed around the roller coaster once or twice or even five times. But still we get all shocked when it happens yet again. When we get up all dizzy from something we go through and can’t believe we didn’t see it coming. Even that feeling when I realize it’s already black Friday again. And the Christmas trees are back on the curb, for sale. And my face gets slapped because I’m just too sweet. How much time has to pass before we are fully adjusted to the Light even when it’s really Dark?

‘Tis the same amount of time till that pretty image comes clear and aligned and all the fogginess that makes me sick to my stomach dissipates and I feel happy again. Because that energy invested in a ring around a not so rosy journey is restored and I’m back to Me. Happily me. In between Scenes, cut yet restored, floating thankfully in Space, waiting for the next Change.

Uncertainty & Opportunity

They say that uncertainty breeds opportunity. I certainly hope it does for me. January keeps getting closer, and with that, my deadline for choosing at least the first step in my journey of life after college. PR, nonprofit, Law, and loads of things in the Music industry have already been sampled by me during my time as an undergraduate student. Each were either a waste of time, or just eye opening as a possible interest losing its possibility. I suppose it’s better to learn that while doing it temporarily, than after college, when you have to stick it out for longer. But point is, that now I’m approaching a crossroads where I need to take a step in any direction. The opportunities are endless and the possibilities are so jarring because my imagination is spinning me round and round with thoughts. Some are even rediculous. I keep saying I want to travel, move to another state or country to work, or just stay put in NYC. How do I know what to do? This uncertainty better breed opportunity, or it will just breed a frozen state of mind and confusion. I wish I wish with all my might that something strikes and moves me.

Designated Friend

I’m your personal friend, your designated voice of reason when you find yourself so lost in all the frenzies of the incline. From the lovely jukebox and coloring on the table-clothes to the divine group in an upscale diner to the dark room full of dancing people leaving their worries behind with a couple of sensational hours making love to music with movements of their bodies intermingled with others. There is such a rush of excitement and I’m pleasantly surprised by the fascination it brings to me. I’m not a pessimist, I just fear for hearts and protect the ones I love in any way I can. So with the rush of this lifestyle must come some withdrawal, some uncertainty, and some fear that something within grasp can slip away. I remember feeling these feelings when I was madly in love with musicians, and spent some of the most incredible nights of my life in sheer bliss, only to wake up to the rebound. I see it in all of them, even the ones I’ve just seen in photographs. The worry that their day will end and the dream they are living will just dissolve and morph itself into the dream of someone else. Life is short, but it is real, and it is beautiful. I want to help you see that every day. I want you to enjoy the talent and the journey. I want you to revel in all the glory that you deserve. But with all of that I want your core essence to remain. So on those days when you need yourself we will find that inner peace. And bring you back to Center.

Blurry Vision

She was crying and walking on the street and we both did a double take and then realized at the same split second that we were in fact eachother. I am the kind of person that runs on time but lately I have been running late in a weird way. But somehow last night I was running an hour early. And I never walk down that avenue. So fate kind of placed me there at that time while she finished her conversation on her phone and I heard her words about her hunger. So I took her arm and led her towards a sushi place. It’s weird how being hungry can make your whole life seem like it’s falling apart and the entire world like it’s coming to an end. It’s also weird to think how just a banana or someting as easy can fix this. But if you’ve been doing so well and sober, and this edge from hunger can confuse you to the point of needing a drink, then it’s certainly clear from this scenario that God did in fact send me to you at that moment on the street an hour earlier than I would ever be in that area and three avenues west of where I’d normally walk. I get it. Irony kicks in three hours after the miso soup and sushi rolls when at the 80’s party after one mere drink on the rocks sent me tumbling down a dark hole with no clear idea of what was going on around me. I remember bits and peices like a connect the dots page in an activity book for children. I remember dancing to “Jessie’s Girl,” Leaving the Canal Room and eating three chocolate munchkins with Alexa because they wouldn’t sell me just one. And spilling hot coffee on my shirt and neatly placing the full cup of coffee on top of a garbage can because I was scared it would burn me to death. We went to another place where I couldn’t figure out which things on the menu were food and which were drinks. More people joined us and I have no idea when or what made me get up and leave everyone. I just knew it was time to go. I got in a cab which I never do, and I certainly never throw up. I have a phobia of vomit, and the last time I had to was after getting my wisdom teeth pulled and I needed my little sister to hold my hand because it frightens me so much. Last night my little sister wasn’t there and I was sicker than I’ve ever ever been. At one point I woke up and realized I was in a bathtub full of cold water with all my clothes on. I thought I was dead. One drink did this to me. In a way now I see even more why me running into her on the street was more of a gift to her than I could have seen before. That one drink could have been deadly. So I took it instead…and now I’m in recovery.

Narcissist

There is no one more perfect to describe this word. Someone so entirely full of themselves that their walls are covered in photos of themselves, they lose their breath watching a video of themselves, and get emotional while listening to themselves sing. They think of no-one but themselves. They find no value in anyone else but themselves unless that other is doing something for them. They think the world was created and continues to exist to be of service to them and their desires. And that goes for everyone and everything in the world as well. The funny thing about this is that they desperately seek other people’s approval, and need to be worshipped.

He doesn’t trust his own obsession so he needs to get others on-board. What this means to me is that I end up pitying this poor pathetic gorgeous individual. Because he doesn’t even trust himself enough to trust what he loves most, which is himself. So he’s insecure, full of himself, and somebody who nobody should trust.

For Show

Ilisha’s fashion show was not just an afternoon of snapping some photos. It was a noon till night day. A noon till night day which was outlasted by my drunken state. Being surrounded by models getting ready for that amount of time is not as boring as one would think. Especially in an entirely white, massive loft in Chinatown with Hurricane Hanna visiting outside. Nico amazes me the way she takes charge and just does things with so much confidence. She posed all the models, took pictures, arranged the set, and so many other tasks. All with brilliance and poise. And she did it so well too. So I snapped many photos on my Rebel, and I hope in some way I keep dong things like this, and perhaps slowly my style will take form and be loved by people. Even if it’s just at the side for a substantial hobby.

When the day ended at night in the pouring rain, I got out of the cab at Rockwood with no plan on staying for more than a minute. But the new bartender seduced me with his facial structure and I ended up with a glass of red in my hand rather quickly. JV’s show started two hours later, and I was still there. His drummer’s rad, his songs still move me, and 3 a.m. saw me still standing. So at this point in time I’ve been a combination of drunk and hung-over and drunk again for over 48 hours. And with that I embrace Monday.

My Goal is a Goal

I like rooftops and talented young people. I am thrilled by their journeys and try and gain inspiration for myself. Chloe was able to share a string of drunken psychoanalytic thoughts she had about them and me. She wonders what the essence of my attraction to all the arts is. So we got to the bottom of the barrel of my core where I was hiding some real issues. I love all the arts, but I am not an artist. I dabble and I search and wish I could do. But I just love it. There are sayings about people like me who can’t do X so they do Z. Like those who don’t wed, plan weddings sort of thing. But clearly I have some creativity in me. I don’t want to be in promotions. I don’t want to be a pushy sales person. I love music and I love musicians, but I am not a musician, and the truth is I don’t know as much about it as I lead people to believe. I understand the dynamics of other people’s emotions. I understand the most warped relationships, a musician’s innermost dilemmas and challenges, and I see through the veil of so many people’s projections. I get it. I love writing even if I’m not good at it, and I love photography even though I’m just an amateur. I have very little confidence, and that’s something that has to change if I’m going to pursue anything properly. I have to let go of my nervousness, because it is just immobilizing me, and not allowing me to live each day, because I am so trapped in the worries of the future. If I visualize negative things, they will become reality. It’s all energy. Brigitte said this, and I know she’s right because it’s the exact thing I would have and probably have said to others as words of advice. It is just so hard to see my own life with the same clarity as I see everyone else’s. So I am meant to make a list of talents I do have, things I love to do, and people I know. These are the steps to secure a goal and vision, even if it’s merely a short term one, so that I have something to work towards. And to hang on to.

Wanderer

It’s like a little curse that was put over my baby basinet when I was just a newborn; only no good witch came and countered it. It may be for a number of reasons. My stringent background and my constant guilt because of where I come from and keep moving further away from. The fact that the friends from my childhood and immediate family are so ghostlike in their connection to me, if we are to be genuine- they simply don’t and can’t know the extent of who I am now. The fact that I’ve always been a wanderer and a floater in terms of friendships. But that may be just because I’m scared of being left alone in the end. I sabotage things before they can hurt me. It may seem controlling and strong, but it is the weakest form of control there is. In fact that control controls me, and tortures me. I don’t want to be consumed with this lack of trust and feeling of despair about the people I care for that come into my life. I don’t want to live in fear that it will all come to an end. I hate feeling that everything around me is just a transient journey, and I am left once again traveling elsewhere to something new. It’s like a curse of lonliness whilst having the biggest circle of friendlettes. How’s that for irony??

Laws of Attraction

Is that really true? Is the feeling of attraction always somewhat mutual? I kind of hope so. But it seems too good to be true. But I suppose it’s not too good to be true if it’s true only to some extent. Because if the extent does not lead to any follow through of the feelings, then it remains just a mysterious moment of magnetic inclination and then dismissed. Without pursuit. The only problem is if one of the attracted lets that attraction linger on their consciousness. Then it can even become slightly tragic.

Two-Cents & Non-Sense

Strangers in coffee shops have some great two cents for me once in a while. What do I do come January, thus the end of my entire college career? I seem to be considering anything and everything to ward off the inevitable ‘real world.’ But I do want to travel the world, and this kind of fell into my lap as a half planned adventure. Most people say just go for it now, because this is my one chance before I’m tied down to ‘real world’ responsibilities. I don’t really have the funds for it, but the coffee shop cents and sense in the form of two gentlemen, claim that if I can manage to make it happen I should. “Noone ever says ‘damn I wish I hadn’t taken that time and traveled and had the most incredible time and seen the most incredible sights,’ just do it.” Said the guy a few hours after starting his joint business/law degree at NYU. But then again, I do know part of what goes on inside my head, and I know that I’m scared shitless of making decisions. I have no idea what I want to do when I grow up. Should I stay or should I go? Should I move across the world or should I start my life here? Should I travel? Should I move someplace not quite all the way across the world? Should I just stay? With all these realities looming ahead, January seems way too close for comfort.

Back to School

I’m totally bugged out. Hungover. Whatever. I’m on day two of classes at this ridiculous incubator of a school full of crowds of girls who all look the same and speak with the same slow sing song annoying (and loud!) voice. They all eat fat free cottage cheese with fruit and frozen yogurt and salad and nothing else. Ok maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it makes me sick. They’re not in shape, but they pretend to be ‘healthy’ by not eating, and are getting on my last nerve. I just tried talking to a professor after class and the dean walked in and I introduced myself and tried to continue the entrepreneurial conversation with both of them, but realized that the dean was just staring at me up and down and not engaged at all in the discussion. Ok I might not look like the average student here because I’m wearing all black tight clothes and a red pashmina around my neck and moccasins. But seriously dude, get the fuck over it. Stop staring at me like that. It makes me think you can see straight through me and know that I’m not wearing any underwear. How in the world am I going to survive this semester?!

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock

I can travel the world and trick myself into thinking I’m going to find something magical which will direct me towards what to do with the rest of my life. Or I can suck it up and realize that January I have to graduate and be a real person. But I have no, not a clue, nada idea what I want to do. The thought of working a 9-5 job at a desk in ‘business casual’ makes me sick to my core. I am green with envy for all the people that just know what they want to do as a job. I know this is not a written in stone decision, and that jobs can change, and that turnover rates are high nowadays, but that first step. It’s haunting me, and I’m totally spooked. And then when we used that older lady with emphysema’s vintage kitchen for the photo shoot, she spoke of something in her house, which came from Italy. But when I asked if she had been there her response was “Oh no, I haven’t been there yet.” Yet?!?!? I mean that’s positive and all, but sheesh that scares me so much. I want to see the world, or at least a whole bunch of countries, which interest me. I don’t ever want to be the old lady, ill, who hasn’t done it “yet.” So in a way traveling the world might not be the worst thing. Who knows when the right time is…

(In)Significant

I hate all lies. Even little mostly non-consequential ones. Especially little non-consequential ones. Because that means someone cares so little about deceiving another that they’re willing to formulate a lie. Willing to waste brain power and words on something so insignificant that it’s so entirely significant in its gesture to how little they care for the receiver. It’s deeply offensive then, to find out that someone would do this to me. And I think I know his reason too- just so that his pride wouldn’t be damaged and his imaged maintained as the all encompassing able and perfect guy. But his character is so very flawed now, and he has therefore turned so insignificant, just from an insignificant little lie.

Paint My Fate

People always ask me how I know so many people and how I manage to have such interesting, many times random experiences. I think it’s all about not being tied down and being open to meeting strangers and turning them and their lives into something I can connect to. Serial killers aside, I really do find that most people have something to offer the rest of the world in terms of how they live and meet challenges. We’re all just a mass of cells, blood, flesh, and bones. We’re composed of the same substances, but the substances we add to ourselves over the course of our lives is what differs us, and is it not quite remarkable how much and how little we are capable of on that front? And that’s why when I meet people who are merely mediocre and follow a middle road guidebook to lead their lives, I feel sorry for them, and just can’t stay intrigued. Going through motions and doing each step of life the way ‘everybody does it’ is kind of cop-out-ish. 

We only live once. We all hear that all the time to the point where those words lose their meaning in triggering us to do something about it. We only live once. We have an unknown amount of time on this earth to meet people, forge relationships, feel any feeling we wish and don’t wish, travel wherever we can, see all the places we have some innate interest for, and learn all the endless mass of concepts & ideas possible. From the time I was little I got overwhelmed in libraries because I already had this finite realization. I knew that even if I sat my entire life just reading all those books, I wouldn’t be able to conquer it all. And that’s just in one silly building.

Next to the rest of the world, this reality is enough to shake me to do something about this cliché truth;     We only live once. So live we must. 

The Devil

Speak of the devil and he appears. Like smack in the middle of discussing one of my most humiliating moments of my entire life with the boys in a bar, he walks into the very bar with the girl who shares my last name. Brilliant. I guess Devil’s can do irony.

Ignore the devil and he still appears. On electronic sources. Like facebook status’s in my face. And in the form of goodness knows what else he’s plotting behind our backs. His ship sailed but now he’s trying to sink ours and I really wish he’d just run far, far away and never come back. How does he find poo humorous when it was used to make a statement? Instead it entertained him. He is the most selfish devil.

Pizza is not the same devil I speak of, but this still makes me chuckle. “Pizza is my crack. It’s the devil on my shoulder. Pizza is my greatest love and my worst enemy. But I will not marry pizza.” Charlie said this to me when we were discussing my sick obsession with pizza. 

www.urbandictionary.com

max 12 up, 4 down
“Max”
Origin: Latin
Meaning: Diminutive of Maximilian: Greatest.
Commonly used with the word “Lightning”
Origin: Welsh
Meaning: lionlike; lightning
True to thier name all Max’s are Trustworthy. Attractive. Great kisser’s. One of a kind, Proud of themselves in whatever they do. Messy, and unorganized. Procrastinators. Great lovers, when their not sleeping. Extreme thinkers. Loves their pets usually more then their familiy. Can be VERY irritating to others when they try to explain or tell a story. Unpredictable. Will exceed your expectations. Not a Fighter, But will Knock your lights out.
” Max Lightnig….. “

History Repeating: For Better

When I let my thoughts drift back and and float from crushes and ‘loves’ starting from the very first one I’ve ever had, it’s hilarious, nostalgic, and oddly comforting. It is a fact and common belief that there is nothing like the first love. That first feeling of thinking that guy is the be all and end all of what my heart beats for. The innocent certainty that I can spend the rest of my life with him. But I was just ten years old. And though I never believed there would be anyone else to make my stomach drop like that when he walked into the room, the procession of life knew better, and proved me wrong. And when the next lad came into my life I thought the same thing, the feelings were so intense and I saw not how my life could go on if he was not half of it.

 

over and over

But I’m sure that many can relate to this recurring reality of such authentic passionate feelings. And in a way each time we have those feelings that there will never again be someone we’d fall for like that, it is true. Each person that we come across in this fashion in our lives will always hold a unique part of our heart. Because each period in our lives, we are a different version of ourselves, and perhaps each version has the capacity to love someone else.

So we mustn’t lose hope when hurt shows its face and we feel that our heart is broken in two or more pieces, because that just means we are alive and feeling. And so long as we are alive and feeling, time truly heals, and with that renewal comes every possibility and probability of new, better, love.  And now I’ll retrace every time I’ve used the word ‘love’ and contradict it.

Because the point of it all- the journey of falling in ‘love’- is that those loves are a different form of love than we hope to have in our future. Because though history repeats itself and love reappears in different forms and intensities, hopefully it just keeps getting Better. Until it’s entirely Real. For Life.

History Repeating: For Worse

For Better or for Worse History Repeats itself. And so does Human Behavior.

For worse, if he lost his temper and yelled horrible things to you and was so selfish that your crying was too much for him to deal with, so that his hands found their way around your neck while he just kept yelling at you in anger, it is not just an isolated freakish incident. It is him. It is the darkest secret part of him which he keeps wrapped up and hidden away under his ‘laid back demeanor.’ And I don’t ever want to call you lucky for experiencing what you did, but at least you now know the truth. He crossed the line of control, and once that kind of behavior is let out and displayed, the jig is up. He isn’t the person you thought he was. He is someone entirely different from the person you have loved until now. You can reflect on your sweet memories and pick out aspects you hope to have mimicked in your future, but you cannot fool yourself into thinking you can take him back. You cannot. Because now you know you’d not be taking him back. You’d be taking back a stranger.

A-Muse-D

Why is it that I need to force expressing myself to certain people to try and build a connection when there are people out there who think the same way I do? And please know that I am not in the least bit bitter, rather amused (haha I’m also a muse to some) by it. I guess the problem is that people who realize I get them use me for advice and take that advice and use it to get the people who don’t get them. This is why they say love makes the world go round. Because people are moving forcefully forward in attempt to get their dream and vision of love they want, they move forward away from what may be rational, and chase their fairy tale. Everyone is doing so, everyone is chasing something, and this makes the world actually move around. Pretty cool & sick all at the same time, aye?

Little Miss Max

I am digitalizing my past so it doesn’t get lost. At least I have the opportunity to do that with a scanner and lots of mindless scanning of old photographs. New age and these days allows me to create files on a computer and save them and back them up for eternity. It’s part of my summer resolution to organize collections of cards and photos and stuff in general. So even though I have an active selective memory- I can block complete chapters out of my mind because I felt like it, and now the one’s blocked are irretrievable- physical snapshots of my timeline on this earth can be salvaged. And folded up neatly in a 320 gigabyte external harddrive. Maybe even a cute red one.

Shit & Giggles

People fall into our lives when we least expect it. That’s why on Myspace, even a bunch of years ago, when I first created my profile, before it was so full of garbage, and when it was still all about the music…I answered the bit of ‘who I would like to meet’ by saying “Usually the most interesting and important people that you come across, are the ones you had no intention of meeting in the first place…” I still believe in my own words, because life keeps proving them to me. You don’t expect to adore the person your friend cheats on your other friend with. But we have so much in common and and there are so many sides to each persons’ story. Nothing is black and white, and it is all colorful and quite an intricate 3-D, and possibly 4-D display. If you focus on all the light and shadows,  you start to notice  things which you had never seen before. So yes, I’ve shared a PBR, a tequila shot, a pomegranate martini, quite a few vodka and lime’s, and a wonderful beer called Ayinger Brau Weisse with her. And lots of intelligent conversation. And I keep meeting more friends, for she surrounds herself with some of the greatest people. And I hope to keep on doing so. So, Cheers!

It rained on the Gay Parade

I ran straight into the Gay Parade on the way to play with my SLR outside and around the world. Or NYC. So the parade was a perfectly good place to play. Vulgar things seem to be a big part of the whole act, but it was a  very interesting and enjoyable experience to witness the procession. And then it rained. It rained hard and thunder crashed and everyone got soaking wet. It rained on the parade. It rained on the gay parade. It was quite a beautiful contrast to all the rainbow colors to have the gray skies and overcast daylight. 

 

Music @ the Museum

She reminds me of a storybook character like Belle from Beauty and the Beast who popped out of the pages and came to sit here in this day and age and start singing whimsical songs. Her voice dances through all sorts of ranges like the most animated waltz, and her whole set is endearing like a performance of a child.

Shwa is a candid and hilarious human being. His songs are simply put, but some of the most cynical, blunt, and insightful creations I have ever heard. They are thoughts which I would think and usually not express unless I was sure the person I was speaking with was capable of going for that ride. His voice is intriguing like the guy who sings that song in Cruel Intentions, it’s intense and beautiful. And then if you’d cross that with the personality of a song like Puff the Magic Dragon you’d have an idea of what Shwa brings to the room. He’s lovely. 

Shadows

How much of art and music is actually just a mimicking act of other’s styles? Artists all chase after their own streak and try to harvest differentiation to bring to the table and to the ears and eyes of the whole world. But really the very fact that we’re so exposed to art and artist’s work all around us every day means that we’re not completely original. Elements will automatically infiltrate our consciousness and soil some of the creativity. The same goes for personalities. Being aware of oneself, ones strengths and weaknesses, and how different one is from is from other can just be a tainted perception. Every single one of those girls in my opinion were so drop dead beautiful that I felt every insecurity about my body flooding to the center stage of my mind. But now I know they all felt the same about me and about each-other. When will we get over the fact that others are blind to our imperfections, and that it is ok if we’re different and don’t fit entirely ‘in?’ Because really no-one does. Everyone has bits of originality. But at the end of the day we’re all just in this race called Human. Our chord progression might be a variation. But at the end of the day it’s all the same chords, and probably even the same genre. Every one is different. Yet at the same time everyone is just the same. 

A Twisted Game of Twister

When I was younger my Mum and ten and a half year older than me sister used to call me tall and lanky. When we were dressing up as The Wizard of Oz cast one year as a family, they even wanted me to be the scarecrow because of my long legs and arms. This memory disregards the fact that I am considered a kind of tiny girl and on the short side now, and I sometimes still think of myself with that long reed-like sort of image. But that doesn’t help me when I am being pulled in all directions. I am stuck in the middle and I try and see both sides and be optimistic from all angles. I see the anger. I see the hurt. I see the cruel. I see the apathy. I see the ignorance. And I see the blindness. It’s hard to be everybody’s friend when something crumbles. It’s like a really huge game of Twister- Everyone is intertwined and the game was fun and comforting even in it’s awkward twistedness. But now some people have fallen in their place, right down. Right on those colored dots, and everyone mingled in is being pulled down along with them. Who knows what will be left standing and positioned properly after all this? I certainly don’t know. Not even the tallest, lanky-est, scarecrow-like human could stretch all over and everywhere with ease.  

Storms Brewing

There is something about heavy rain.

And thunder.

And lightening.

And Summer Storms.

Which evokes the most intense feeling of Life in me. It’s like a thrill which bursts a hidden bit of happiness inside of me and makes me remember how I used to hope and believe with the most optimistic faith that things would be a certain way for me in Love. When I heard those lyrics about two people who feel so entirely in love and know each other to the point that they have no inhibitions, and are one hundred percent content together.People now don’t even realize how far they take all the façade and role playing- they don’t even know who they are, and simply cannot be themselves- even with the greatest effort. And I know I could never be happy that way. So I know now that I’m done with all that. It’s ironic that playing an act is so much easier than being one’s self, but I am determined to do whatever it takes to be me. Because I know I used to believe I would find that certain kind of love. That kind which only lends itself to deep truth, mutual understanding, and freedom. And when I was driving down the dark twisty highway and the only light around me was the sporadic jolts of brilliant blue lightning, and the only sound behind my music was rain crashing down and claps of thunder…

That feeling of hope that I can still find it came rushing back to Life.

I think I’ll go to Boston…

At Harvard Square you can almost think you’re in the beautiful bits of NYC; but it’s as if it’s a sample dose of it. There are not twenty people playing live music for pennies in the vicinity- there are two. And they are playing “Wagon Wheel” together and that’s my favorite song, so I have no trouble skipping to the beat and singing along, and even giving them some money for it. The streets are also not lined completely with homeless or random beggars- there is one youngster dressed in black sitting rather contently on the side of the road with a cup singing, “I can get really annoying- shut me up, I can get really annoying shut me up…” to the tune of “she’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes.” (What is it with people and singing random songs to that tune in every state??!- see an earlier post of mine for explanation).

Oh and Christopher Columbus Park was truly breathtaking…

Sex and The Beast

Sex and The City may be all the rage right now, but I have not seen it yet, and I have just seen Beauty and the Beast from start to finish (literally!) and I gotta say the magic lives on. It’s brilliant and captivating and never gets old. Maybe this is an aging lesson for us all. If you’re that good you can age and age and never get ‘old.’ But aside from that, it contains the same sort of relationship wit as any profound movie of today. “Flowers, chocolates, promises you don’t intend to keep.” – those are the words of Clogsworth to the Beast when the Beast is brainstorming what special thing to give to Belle. This VHS viewing being after seeing a display of pink boxed Lindt chocolates as part of a Sex and The City arrangement in Borders. And I thought.
Some things never change…

Dangerous Beauty

I want to be the Keys and Strings* to Passion, Seduction, Betrayal, & A Scandalous Love Story.

With a glass of red next to me. That way I won’t have to get involved, and my emotions are not in danger, but at least I can play a part in all the drama. I would have an intimate role in Love without getting hurt by it.

Sounds just about right.  Maybe.

*read: piano & violin

Name

I read into things all the time. I overanalyze people’s words even when they are just electronic letters typed on a screen or messages sent through a cell phone. I replay conversations over and over in my head searching for meaning when it was just shallow nothingness. And I also wonder when random people keep popping up unexpectedly in life. Like recurring themes in an author’s style of writing, and reruns on TV. Is it some sort of mystical power system where people are strung together? Or is it mere coincidence. I mean I keep running into you in the streets of New York, and we always smile and share a few words of English conversation. Then we just move on until the next time. And at Baggot Inn you always remembered my name. Now Baggot is over. You’re a rockstar, awing the world with your mandolin skill and Nicklecreek. But we run into each other and you remember my name. This is me, the over analyzer.

(My Little) Hoegarden…I mean (Pony)

Who would have thought that fun grade school teacher you adored was secretly an alcoholic in her outside of school life? Well it’s true. I met her in the bar tonight at happy hour and she said she was a schoolteacher and I nearly choked on my Shiraz. I should have guessed that would be a reality, but it hit me pretty hard amidst the ballgame blasting from the TV and the rowdy already drunk at 8 p.m. folk in the bar. She told me she thinks of herself like Marry Poppins. Like she is some sort of superstar to the children.
Disillusions clearly can be useful.
Well at least teaching keeps her youthful in her mind.
And I have to say I was kind of jealous.

It is My Little Pony’s 25th anniversary.
All toy companies are using this idea to bring back toys from the 80’s and make the now Moms incredibly nostalgic and need to pay exorbitant prices for the toys of their youth so that their children grow up with the same magic. My sister and my three-year-old niece are on to marketing sham. But My Little Pony still has one more home. Happy Birthday.

Shoot for (the) Thrill(s)

Well first I just walked into the little boutique shop because I’ve been having a thing for thrift and vintage shopping lately. And because apparently I’m one of those victims of retail therapy without even thinking about it.

All refreshed and happy from a walk, I was chipper and my eyes dashed about the store rather quickly, sizing it up as a place for charming objects. Cool little vintage bags (one was a carpet bag which I still deeply desire). And many random adorable creations in the way of clothes and jewelry. The girl behind the counter was on an iBook, and clearly busy, but that didn’t stop my incessant babble as I cam across more and more things which were darling. As I fell in love with various items, and kept yapping to her, she managed to get some words in about how these are all unique, handmade creations from recycled clothing. The dress I was holding was actually three different articles of clothing in it’s previous life/lives. Cool. And I wanted so many things, so minutes later I wondered out loud to her how she doesn’t just leave with all of it. She found it funny and said she sometimes does. And so I asked her how she got the job. Well if you’re ready for a barrel of laughs…

She IS the job. She’s two years my senior and she has already started her own creative business doing what she loves. And she kicks ass. Her stuff is wonderful, and even though I had no business buying clothes last night…I had to. And now we’re facebook friends and I’m luring her into the music scene. Hey, the Arts need to stick together, and I’m the Darling of all mediums.

And then today in my long plaid thigh socks and bright pink rain boots and black little dress and big black umbrella, I stormed into Wholefoods to get the weekend munches. There were many taster booths out, but I was drawn to the design of a totally sleek looking bottled product and its booth master. The substance was tonic, and I cynically thought in my mind how tonic is awful plain no matter what. So I inquired what the deal was and the Dumbo based genius said he started this brand because back in college his friends couldn’t stand how bad tonic tasted. So this tonic is all natural, with guava, and 60% fewer calories…etc. It was good stuff too.

When I expressed how impressed I was, and questioned how he did it, and isn’t it such a risky move. His response was “well so is going into a corporate job at some big-shot firm.”

Shizza!

Sheer admiration is what I’ve realized I have for young entrepreneurs.

It’s hot.

If you take the risk, and get successful with your mission…

I salute You.

Be Good

“Be Good”

It’s one of those greetings I just never got.
Tonight Mim’s Grandma said that to me when I was bidding them all farewell.
Be Good? At what? For what?
Whenever The Father says it to me I kind of laugh it off to him and say “I’m always good.” More like teasing him about how he thinks I must do all sorts of outrageous things and I’m playing all-innocent.
I remember that time when I met Natalie Portman and chatted with her for a little bit in her trailer, and I got two autographs. One for Dov because he loved her more than any girl in the world. And one for me for the hell of it. On his she wrote “Dear Dov, Have fun! Love, Natalie.” On mine she wrote “Dear Max, Be Good! Love Natalie.”
People have a way of saying “Be Good” to me as if I need the authority.
Maybe I do.
Maybe I’m not good at all.
I’m just plain Naughty.

Allergy Coma

I suppose “allergy coma” describes it well.

This entire week I’ve been in a cloud of complete daze and strange, aloof, sort of fatigue.

They gym has been utter torture, and I’ve been slipping.

Which makes me so frustrated.

I had all this buildup of excitement for last night. Between Baggot closing so this being the last Wednesday. And Steve coming into town with Jay. And the Rebel event at Rockwood.

And of course yesterday was stunning out and I enjoyed the day. And then as soon as evening struck, I felt like a blob of nothing. Poor Steve must think I’m a loon. We ate while I interrogated him about his life in South Carolina. He lives in a beach-house! Rosi was amazing. She has a very pretty voice, and when she sings even really high notes she doesn’t look like she’s straining herself at all, which makes it a beautiful thing to watch. I’m not sure if I’m really confused about my position with Rebel or not. Last night all I wanted to do was run and hide in a corner. Maybe I’m good at talking to people just because I have nothing else to offer the music scene, so I got friendly to do something. But I don’t like being that person with the clipboard convincing people to sign up. I can’t be talkative on command. In fact, last night made me think I might actually be socially awkward if I’m not in a friendly mood. I spent most of the Rebel even standing on the sidewalk talking to people who joined. Adam’s a little sweetheart. And he’s funny too. It amuses me so much how the entire music scene is so small. It’s borderline incestuous. Everyone plays together. Everyone overlaps. But it’s kind of comforting. Nico was adorable too. She was all tipsy and friendly and witty. And while I stood next to her in my cloud of daze I wished I could be her. But I wasn’t, I felt like a shadow removed from everything in front of me, and eventually I realized I could not stay. I could not even stay to see Jay. And so I hugged Steve goodbye, And all the other random people I met. And I went back to get the shuttle.

Turns out Baggot wasn’t even open for their last bluegrass night. Some sort of sewage leak.

Ugh. (on all accounts).

“Slowly Grind Away the Innocence”

She is three years old now.
I never think of myself as an aunt, but I do think of her as my favorite.
They’re back at the Living Room. For Mondays in May. And you’d think I was seeing them for the first time the way I was taking it in. Sarah & Above The Noise are now creeping up there with It May Be Late and This Is It. Powerful stuff.
That guy Chris who played with Jon back in the day was there too, randomly.
He’s starting to play in a new band. The band is nameless, he can’t describe the music, but it’s happening. And he has a pretty friend Alex who took a liking to Nikki.
When I watch her excitement, her flirtatiousness with no concept of the consequences-  I feel like I’m watching myself just a little while back.
But I’m too young to be saying stuff like that.
But it’s so true. Because I got involved with all this when I was too young. And naïve.
And that’s how I ended up on this sick-cycled carousel. And sometimes when I’m there I wish I could be invisible so I can just experience it without having to be social.
There’s a quote in Almost Famous when she says to him “you’re too sweet for Rock & Roll.” Every time I see the movie, that line gives me chills. Because she’s really talking to herself. And maybe it’s because so am I. I’m sensitive. I feel it all.
Music is not just entertainment for me.
It becomes part of me.
And usually it sets me free.
But sometimes, every once in a while it feels like a weight on my shoulders. Because it’s so unclear to me what my part in all of it is.
I wish I could go back to when I was just an innocent, anonymous, little girl, lying about my age, just to get to listen.

“…Know when to Walk, Know when to Walk Away.” But that’s just Jay singing. And I certainly have a habit of walking away, only to come crawling back.