saturday, september 28
Just remembered something sweet and silly that happened last night. Ever since his discovery of KROCK Luke has been gung-ho for all the new songs on the radio...even those that are less than credible. I tease him gently for liking "Alive" by P.O.D. So last night we were sitting at a red light, and the song came on, and there was that line that goes "But I trust in love." And he looks at me and gives me this big guileless smile and says "I trust in love too." Then the light turned green and he hit the accelerator like there was no tomorrow. [10:20 PM]
Those lovely jeans I bought Thursday are still lovely; however, I did not notice upon purchasing them that they were extremely low-cut in the back. This came to my attention this morning as I caught my provocative reflection in a window. Despite the warm temperatures I had to wear my trenchcoat jacket the rest of the way home so as not to reveal my posterior to the general public.
Since I must now venture outside again, I have done away with the ass pants. You may thank me later. [7:45 PM]
My cell phone is missing.
Yesterday was nice enough considering we only had 24 hours to be with each other. The rain made everything rather slow and surreal and neither of us were 100% mentally stable...I freaked out about my hair (big self-esteem issue I thought I had resolved but which occasionally pops up to remind me I haven't) and he freaked out about having to work 12 hours a day and being exhausted all the time and we had a little angst session and then just decided to go out driving. I left my hair in a big bohemian-like mop and we rolled the windows down so after all that wind it wouldn't have made a difference anyway.
It was a good night for driving, rainwashed and cool, cleaned out, empty. We ended up in Port Washington among the old-money mansions, dark imposing shadows replete with Roman pillars and other equally archaic flourishes. The juxtaposition with the city (I knew it was only miles away) was bizarre. I knew why we were there: the summer of 1992 his family rented a house for a few months, out there on the Gold Coast. "One of the best times of my life," he said, stopping the car in the middle of the deserted road by the water. "Used to sit out here and read Walt Whitman..." Though the wind wasn't as strong as before the leaves around us still rustled with the breeze like a bunch of voices all whispering at the same time. "Shit man..." he sighed. "It was great."
On the way back we raced down the Northern Parkway and blared KROCK and bought more Camels. Then we stopped at a diner where I came perilously close to being locked in the bathroom. The waitress didn't speak English and gave me lots of dirty looks. Which is I suppose part of the whole Long Island diner experience.
Then this afternoon we held hands in the parking lot of the train station for a few minutes before we went off separately. And once I was on the way back to Penn Station I realized my cell phone wasn't in my bag. This will turn out to be only a minor inconvenience if it turns out I left it in his car. If it turns out otherwise, it may be time for me to start stressing out. We'll see. In the meantime, please pray for the safe return of my carcinogenic handheld device. [4:19 PM]
friday, september 27
Well, 'tis Friday, which means that's a Luke day...so, I shall be off. To steal from RENT (is that still playing? used to be obsessed with it)...You can take the girl outta Hicksville, but you can't take the Hicksville outta the girl... [6:47 AM]
thursday, september 26
I think my fish just yawned! ROFLMAO!
I know, I have no life. [8:05 PM]
Brrrr. Pretty cold out there.
New outfit: straight leg bellbottom jeans, suede thread lace-up front; 3/4 sleeve shirt with a French vineyard motif; trenchcoat-style tan courderoy jacket. Luke will be happy, as he is obsessed with all things French and has a thing for me in long jackets. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because long jackets cover up my enormous stomach flab. Or maybe I just look good in them.
"Give me a dollar! Hey! Give me a dollar! I want a dollar! I need a dollar! You got a dollar or so? Give me a dollar! I want a dollar! You got a dollar and I need a dollar! So give me a dollar! NOW!... There are beautiful birds, here and there, on the television. They are beautiful, but they don't have any dollars to give me so fuck them. I need a dollar. I walked a very long way to come here and say this, and this is not a joke! Give me a dollar, please! Give me a do—oh wait, this i—I'm just kidding, I don't need a dollar, I'll be fine, I have a few dollars right here, in my pocket, and I'm expecting a check in the mail, and I just got a new job and I have some shows coming up, and a lot of people owe me money, I don't need a dollar I'm fine, I was just kidding, don't give me a dollar, give it to someone who needs it, in fact here do you need a dollar? I have 8 dollars, and I only need a couple to get me through the next few days, so here, have a dollar, you can have this dollar, please, take it, please. Thank you."
I think I would do just about anything to see King Missile in concert. [7:16 PM]
This morning while I slept the construction crews worked outside, but every bang I dreamt was thunder, and I sat on the porch of a sweet Midwestern house overlooking an endless prairie, watching the grey sky flash in time.
I love the way my subconscious works sometimes. [10:01 AM]
Sam apparently thinks that Luke "looks like Tom Cruise and Gavin Rossdale's illegitimate child who's all grown up."
Very observant of you. Sam, by the way, is only 42% gay. [12:46 AM]
wednesday, september 25
Okay, so last night at about 1 in the morning, right as I'm getting all nice and tired and ready to go to bed, our toilet starts flushing and will not turn off. The noise is roughly equivalent to Niagra Falls. This is not a fun thing. I call the front desk; they inform me I must come downstairs, sans contact lenses, in my flip-flops, to fill out a "service report." At 1 in the morning. I oblige, except that when I get down there they can't find the "service report" forms. It's all very mysterious. They offer to call maintenence, which is supposed to be on-duty 24 hours a day, but they add as a caveat that "they usually don't like to show up this late at night." Well isn't that special. Personally I don't like to hear my toilet flushing ad nauseum this late at night, but maybe that's just me.
I am awakened this morning at 9:30am by the sound of two maintenence men banging on my door, come to fix my toilet, which has at some point during the night fixed itself.
Naturally.
In other news, there've been some good poems in my Writing class lately. Miss Brooklyn managed to win my tentative approval with a very New Orleansean type ballad that somehow managed to make great artistic use of the word "indeed." And there was a delightfully surreal account of a hospital from hell called "Hippocratic Goat." Every Nurse would speak only German, be of Olympic stature and wear a big green yellow button that read "It IS that time of the Month." Every Doctor would enter eating fried chicken and wearing a baseball cap with a large bill that said "Mine's Bigger than Yours." True talent.
Oh, and as a final note to all NYC motorists: just because you drive a BMW does not give you the right to run me over. Thank you. [5:18 PM]
I remember listening to this album over four years ago in the choking heat of a late August heat wave with classes gearing up and school around the corner and all those smells and feelings of fall that go through you in the back of your mind and the back of your throat. And back then it felt like a vice tightening around my chest, like a great rubber band, tightening and squeezing. Sometimes I would go to my room and just lie on the floor like roadkill and think yes, life is so very long when you're lonely. And I would listen to this song and draw long red lines across my shoulders. Some of them bled for weeks. But I still listened to this album, on band trips in the school bus, curled up against myself, headphones jacked up to drown out the cacophony of screaming teenage voices. Me curled up against this world, with my headphones and "The Queen Is Dead." I bled all through that year, again and again, and I was so unhappy. But there was always this album. And even now when I listen to it I feel safe. [12:28 AM]
tuesday, september 24
Stuka now has some nice new clothes. Let's see how long I can stand them before I rip them off again.
Rusty James is really angry at something. He keeps opening his mouth threateningly at me. I fed him and everything. Shows how much gratitude you get from a Siamese fighting fish.
Right now on FOX there is a dude running around with his clothes on fire. True entertainment, my friends.
Sorry I can't be more meaningful right now... but...in the eternal words of the great Perry Farrell..."There ain't no right, ain't no wrong now ain't no right...only pleasure and pain..." [9:15 PM]
I'm pissed off at the design of this site again. I may have to go out and just pick up one of the free linkware ones, because I am pathetic. I'd rather not have people distracted by the crappiness of the aesthetics around here.
My boyfriend is way too nice to me. In fact everyone is way too nice to me, except for my roommate who scares my fish and knocks over my CD rack. [1:00 PM]
monday, september 23
WTF? This friend of mine who goes to college in Delaware, whom I haven't spoken to in about 2 months and whom has shown no interest in maintaining contact with me (thank god) just randomly IMs me asking "Do you know if the spectrum is round or elliptical shaped?"
Go away. [6:47 PM]
I just got my absentee ballot for the Pennsylvania gubernatorial election in the mail.
"Do you favor the incurring of indebtedness of up to $100,000,000 for the purpose of establishing a program that utilizes capital and other related methods to enhance and improve the delivery of volunteer fire and volunteer emergency services in this Commonwealth as hearafter authorized by statute?" YES / NO
Uh...bwhfsgh. [5:17 PM]
This is the kind of weather that makes me want to listen to the Smiths and walk for hours. Just like high school, all over again.
But these are "better" times. We (yet again) don't have enough money for more than one day together. I have a papercut on my knuckle. But despite this, my long sleeves comfort me. If only it were cloudy. Then things would be perfect. Well, maybe if I were a little prettier. Or smarter. No, forget that, I'd just rather have one day more with him, just one day. No matter how long I'm there, I always want to be there just one hour longer, one minute. I'm never happy, never satisfied. I am eternally one second short. But I'm happy, because I feel him across the river from him and I feel comforted. That's what I never had through high school. It was always just me and Morrissey. But things are different now.
I know some people will never be convinced of my sanity, and that's OK. It's such an overrated thing anyway. Maybe we will always be poor, never able to get it together. Perhaps it's a sign of abnormality that I don't care. But I've seen the other side, and it's a room full of records and posters on the wall, rocking back and forth with your arms around yourself pretending they were someone else's. Songs are nice and beautiful, but they can't hug you on a cold night and kiss your forehead. For the longest time I thought that was all I had.
But things are different. Things have changed.
"Oh mother," says Morrissey, and back then it was like he was speaking my own tasteless sorrow, "I can feel the soil falling over my head..." [2:31 PM]
Things I hate in the morning:
- contact lenses
- Regis & Kelly
- construction crews outside my windowThat's about all I can think of; give me a few more minutes and I'll come up with more. And now, I'm off to blowdry the life out of my hair. [9:54 AM]
sunday, september 22
I finished my poem. It took about two hours to write. I make no claims to its quality. But, if you are so inclined, you may read it here and have a good ol chuckle. [10:20 PM]
While I was walking down Waverly I saw someone had written on the pavement in chalk, "I BELONG TO A COMMUNITY OF QUEER DORKS."
Woohoo! Yay for queer dorks! [1:57 PM]
I don't like mornings like this. You wake up in a sweat because it's just too freaking hot, and you're hungry but too apathetic to put food in your mouth, and Courtney Love is on MTV2 finishing up a 24-hour marathon of burned-out-rockstar bullshit. Friday morning Luke insisted on sitting in the car outside Starbucks listening to the Howard Stern show on KROCK waiting to hear this porn star song they promised to play. Then Courtney Love randomly called the station while she was driving around Manhattan. That's what made me connect these two unrelated threads of thought. They never played that porn star song, by the way. He was really bummed out.
I'm listening to "Lake Of Fire" by Nirvana and trying to motivate myself to do something. I have to write another poem by tomorrow. No. I do not want to do this. I should feed Rusty James. I wish I was on the L.I.E. I want to be driving somewhere. That's the only thing that seems to bring me any comfort anymore. Thank god for Long Island, I'd be insane without it. I wish it was Friday. Those people in the Starbucks in Westbury must think we're totally insane now. I'm really glad it isn't last year. I'm glad this Halloween is going to be different. I'm slowly getting over the trauma that was 2001. Someday I think maybe we might get married on a cliff.
"Where do bad folks go when they die?" [1:09 PM]
