- 16:31 twitpic.com/48crs - 'maybe they'll give us 250k.' [lick] #
- 20:24 Watching TMNT I with Chris Doug and Schuyler projected huge on the office wall. Jealous? #
- 01:09 NEW AQUA TEEN ON SUNDAY. This is officially the best week ever. #
- 13:00 @availtony Just on the floor of Tower Records, amirite? #
all the news that'll fit in 140 characters.
- 18:36 'school is different now then when we were kids.' 'yeah, there is a lot more pig sex now.' #
- 18:41 twitpic.com/46jad - Baseball. #
- 19:32 twitpic.com/46mix - Nose bleed-y #
- 01:44 twitpic.com/478ik - Company newsletter. #
- 01:59 I'm not sure if I'm a wreck because of the anniversary of the breakup or because I am starved for love. Probably both. #
all the news that'll fit in 140 characters.
- 18:34 Rapesville Movie Nite, Wed 4/27, 7pm, "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles." Let me know if you want in. #
- 19:05 Mexican MAZAPAN has the consistency of cookie dough and tastes like peanut butter. We're made for each other. #
- 23:48 Came home at midnight, Joshie is in his underwear eating black beans out of a sauce pot and tapping his mana. I love that boy. #
- 12:33 twitpic.com/45v5b - Eating lunch in fourth grade today. #
- 13:58 twitpic.com/460iz - Today is bea arthur memorial shirt day. #
all the news that'll fit in 140 characters.
Share a good tip with us.
Submitted by TheFiercestCalm.
All your friends are morons.
That's not to say that they're not nice or fun people who are probably pretty kind. And probably at least 20% of the time they have your best interests at heart. But they generally give tremendously poor advice considering the fact that they are not you, and have never been you, and never will be. Take whatever they say with a grain of salt, and then do whatever you want to do anyway--the best friends you'll ever have will help you pick out the lesson in the aftermath instead of choosing what you'll learn in advance.
- 17:02 twitpic.com/428l6 - Tasti d lite is kind of preachy #
- 20:30 Watching old gay men sing show tunes in the basement of a church. Its so underground, so. #
- 00:36 @dSiz Move to New York. I'd like to be lady-friends. #
- 01:04 It's a million degrees, I can't keep my window open or Ill be attacked by mosquitos in my sleep, and I've totally lost my voice. Mess. #
- 01:17 I am homesick for almost every other apartment I have lived in. Double mess. #
- 15:36 3:35PM -- time to listen to Las Ketchup #
all the news that'll fit in 140 characters.
- 17:06 Using a sheet to block the sun and steaming a dress in the shower. I love life hacking. #
- 19:16 twitpic.com/401go - Just discovered the big oven doesnt work #
- 21:47 twitpic.com/40f94 - Party! #
- 01:18 Lost so much voice. #
- 03:24 Ghetto blaster playing, 'put it in your mouth' #
- 12:56 Good party everyone. #
- 13:16 twitpic.com/41p36 - About half of the damage. #
- 14:16 twitpic.com/41txi - Welcome to hipster summer. #
- 14:52 Having a gallon of margarita in the sun in a summer dress in april. #
all the news that'll fit in 140 characters.
Voxy Vox! It's been awhile, suckers. I've been busy, and stressed out, and a bit of a hot mess all over the place. I'm sure you know how it goes. I signed up for LoudTwitter--I've been twatting up a storm and ever since I got a new phone after having my bag stolen at BLVD last week during Bootie I can picture message, and like, check my email on my phone and stuff. Welcome to 2005, Charlie. It's an LG Vu, and yea, for it is the sex.
The important stuff has happened. I moved, officially, and it was a bit of a nightmare. I still haven't painted the old apartment. Today is our housewarming party and I thought I was sick last night but it's either allergies or I'm on an insta-mend. I slept poorly last night, getting in at 3AM from a house party in Crown Heights where I sipped on espresso vodka (kind of brilliant) until my face was warm and went home walking through dangerdangerdanger. I shouldnt've gone alone, but Shit Happens and I'm alive and unraped. Anyway, I hit the bed but had a hard time sleeping, waking up thrashing at 6AM with the sun cresting over the Hirschfeld Theater across the street, coughing and hacking and feeling like a grade A messfactor. Joshie (Enrique Iglesias--he's a real person now, he gets a name) hooked up with the hostess of the party, so I was alone.
I scrubbed the kitchen floor, which I needed to do, on my hands and knees at six am listening to Kanye West. And I texted Josh and asked if he'd bring skim milk on his way home. I was happy to clean, and to be cleaning. Our apartment is two blocks off of Times Square--our backyard is pavement and ceaseless neon lights (well, tbh, the sign for the theater across the street goes off at midnight). Our property line is filled with tourists all hours of the day, it's perpetually loud and garbage trucks rumble by every night--as do horsedrawn carts with a surprising amount of regularity.
Josh brought the milk and told me about the adventures he had at 7AM on 8th Avenue (the bastard avenue, and thus, even though Times Square is cleaned up, it's Old New York insanity on the off hours) and checked up on me. I'm so happy to see him, perpetually, like a puppy. He makes me laugh, he makes me uncomfortable, he makes me happy. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, but we are our own little family. He made his way to bed and I watched DVR'ed House episodes until I was coughing so badly I wanted breakfast and milk to coat my throat.
We'd just gotten a huge order of groceries delivered last night, and I mixed together Honey Nut Cheerios, the skim milk and cut up a banana in one of Joshie's black mugs. It's the first "meal" I've cooked here, or anywhere, in beyond ages. And I ate it peering out the front living room windows, due south, watching the sun climb up the horizon. In that moment, in that second, I was happy beyond compare. Last night's green eyeliner was caked across my cheeks, and my hair is a knotted, hair sprayed, 3-days unwashed mess, my body tired and unloved and --but it all slipped away in that moment. In that moment nothing mattered. It was one of those "these are the days of our lives" type parties--and however fleeting, I'm making the best of them.
I came back to earth. I'm still sitting in a messy bedroom, with
cooking and party shopping and getting super nervous other things to
do. Back to living days.
I am just so bad at the Internet lately.
Well, I've been pretty good at Twitter. But not blobbing. The blobbing requires me to exert more than 140 characters, to convey more than just "guy in a dolphin suit walked by the Mexican restaurant"--to think and explore MAISELF in order to CREATE ("people are only unhappy when they stop creating").
Maybe this is why I haven't done it. Hm. Emo Epiphany, thy name is Internet.
Anyway, Internet, life is chaos. I roll and swim and photosynthesize in chaos but I'm ready for this kind of stuff to be over for awhile. The moving stuff, especially, since moving is just such an overwhelming and absolutely miserable task. It's a task that's no good for list makers, the neurotic, and the worriers (of which I am all three).
Enrique has officially moved in to 305 (we don't have a good name for it, unlike my current apartment Skullcrusher Mountain / Copenhagen / Hopokin / Rowboatin, and have sort of been treading water on it as hard as we've tried to put our heads together on the issue). I helped him the past two nights clean out his apartment in Queens, hauling bag after bag of trash down the stairs after neatly packing it up in silence (well, I constantly broke the silence to ask "You really want to throw out [X thing that appeared to be of value of importance]" to which the answer was always a stern and unwavering "YES" or "OF COURSE"). I'm all trash bruises and sore muscles now.
The world has kind of been conspiring to make me feel like a child a
lot lately (alternative hypothesis: I am acting like a child and refuse to admit it). Although most of my friends, acquaintances and casual
dates have at least 3-6 years on me I generally don't even notice it.
But more and more often I find myself in situations where people are
talking about me, or at me, or about things I've done in the Retarded
Little Brother voice. I'm not sure exactly what this is about and it's
been causing me a bit of emotional turmoil, as I tend to regard myself
(as most people who are definitely not are wont to do) as The Most
Together Person I Know. All the non-conflict related things (ie, everything outside of interpersonal relationship) I do in my
life I do on my own almost exclusively, and I've built up some sort of
really sagely ego thing that I've been hesitant to let crack. It's not even cracking now, it's just straight up CRUMBLING.
And I resent that I'm being talked about this way when I'm turning 24
(a fact that I refuse, refuse, refuse to admit. I'm going to fight
this even more than I fought turning 23, which I intend to do this year
for real) this year. Enrique and I are going to have a joint birthday
party since his is 6/14 (I'm living with a Gemini, I know, right?) and
neither of us can really admit that we'd want to have an individual
party. Maybe we'll make it themed The BDay Parties Of Your Childhood.
Hm, I'll have to put a pin in that.
And we have to pick a date for a housewarming party soon. Parties parties parties. What a rough life I live. Speaking of photos, here's a short roundup from Preaster at my parent's house (which involved a quick jaunt to the Mutter Museum, which we raped with our love for medical oddities) and Jessica's birthday on Tuesday.
So I have two weeks of gradual preparation before I move, and the hope is to save in cost when the actual mover's arrive, so I've been trying to figure out what I can pack and bring over myself. Although 305 is only 3 blocks from Port Authority, and I have big rolley bags, it's a whole ordeal to get them over on the bus. I packed one big duffel bag (full of clothes along with knick knacks I'd pulled off the top of the oven--not having them there makes me FEEL like things are moving along since the walls are more naked, even if it's not really true) and then took a bunch of shit to the laundry, thinking that once I picked it up I could take it directly neatly folded to my empty room in Manhattan. When, one evening this week, I couldn't figure out exactly how to get rid of everything IMMEDIATELY I had a bit of a flip out and somehow just decided to write out a list of everything I owned. I still have no idea why I did this. I look at it now and the details are so specific it freaks me out a little, but it's still fundamentally worthless.
My empty SLIGHTLY BIGGER room in Manhattan is waiting. Enrique gave up the square
room because the sign from the theater across the street is keeping him
up. I said we could do blinds or drapes but he's insisting and I
certainly wasn't going to doth protest too much.
I'm scared to be living with someone again. It partially terrifies me every once in awhile, as much as I am delighted that we seem to be growing together as a little unit (talking about hypothetical pets and Christmas trees and partiespartiesparties). When I wake up in the morning and worry about the move I worry about living with him, seeing his face every day, being fundamentally plugged in to sociability all the time--it scares me. It'll be ok, but I want it to start immediately so I can get over it.
The last day of work is Tuesday. I want to light this place on fire. I don't want to talk about it.
That's far from being it, but that's all I've got for now, chip-chips. Have a good weekend, and east coasters try to stay dry! for it is raining like the sun.
