LCD Soundsystem
Sound of Silver
New York, I Love You
But you're bringing me down
New York, I Love You
But you're bringing me down
Like a rat in a cage
Pulling minimum wage
New York, I Love You
But you're bringing me down
New York, you're safer
And you're wasting my time
Our records all show
You are filthy but fine
But they shuttered your stores
When you opened the doors
To the cops who were bored
Once they'd run out of crime
New York, you're perfect
Don't please don't change a thing
Your mild billionaire mayor's
Now convinced he's a king
So the boring collect
I mean all disrespect
In the neighborhood bars
I'd once dreamt I would drink
New York, I Love You
But you're freaking me out
There's a ton of the twist
But we're fresh out of shout
Like a death in the hall
That you hear through your wall
New York, I Love You
But you're freaking me out
New York, I Love You
But you're bringing me down
New York, I Love You
But you're bringing me down
Like a death of the heart
Jesus, where do I start?
But you're still the one pool
Where I'd happily drown
And oh.. Take me off your mailing list
For kids that think it still exists
Yes, for those who think it still exists
Maybe I'm wrong
And maybe you're right
Maybe I'm wrong
And maybe you're right
Maybe you're right
Maybe I'm wrong
And just maybe you're right
And Oh..
Maybe Mother told you true
And they're always be something there for you
And you'll never be alone
But maybe she's wrong
And maybe I'm right
And just maybe she's wrong
Maybe she's wrong
And maybe I'm right
And if so, is there?
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Saturday, August 2, 2008
virtue
I invite him to my place. I let him carry my bike into the building, admiring his biceps as he does so. We talk about books, and him being angry at a friend. We end up on my love seat with an arty film playing. All the lights are off. And he's not touching me. I flirt, crack suggestive jokes, he plays dumb. If I were someone who ground her teeth, now would be the time to be racking up the dentist bills.
I watch the screen,
(yawn,
rub my eyes,
calculate the time it's been since I've been kissed,)
as I will myself not to make a move.
Patience,
is not
my virtue.
I think I'm wrong about him. As he says goodbye, I see a spark in his eyes that says "Really? You like me?" and it lights in me an ember of hope.
I watch the screen,
(yawn,
rub my eyes,
calculate the time it's been since I've been kissed,)
as I will myself not to make a move.
Patience,
is not
my virtue.
I think I'm wrong about him. As he says goodbye, I see a spark in his eyes that says "Really? You like me?" and it lights in me an ember of hope.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Jacob I have loved, but Esau...
He lists all the reasons he's angry at me.
Valid reasons, that make sense and lend themselves to solid argument. Reasons like bits of leather making up the self flagellating whip I try not to pick up.
I can't tell if we argued, it seems too logical to have been a fight. Though I do know I yelled, yelled his name in gradually louder tones. Like a rising To stop him. To stop him so I could say goodbye. Because I couldn't continue our interaction civilly. I wanted to take off the gloves and get rid of the ref. It's a time to build, but I want to burn. I want to tell him all the reasons I'm angry, I want to destroy him with my fury. But I don't, because I know he can't hear them. It's so unjust, that all the work I've done has brought me to the place where I can take his anger, and know well enough to keep my own.
Valid reasons, that make sense and lend themselves to solid argument. Reasons like bits of leather making up the self flagellating whip I try not to pick up.
I can't tell if we argued, it seems too logical to have been a fight. Though I do know I yelled, yelled his name in gradually louder tones. Like a rising To stop him. To stop him so I could say goodbye. Because I couldn't continue our interaction civilly. I wanted to take off the gloves and get rid of the ref. It's a time to build, but I want to burn. I want to tell him all the reasons I'm angry, I want to destroy him with my fury. But I don't, because I know he can't hear them. It's so unjust, that all the work I've done has brought me to the place where I can take his anger, and know well enough to keep my own.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
right-hand man
He keeps his left hand jammed in his pants pocket the whole time we talk. As if my eyes were not quick enough to catch the flash of monogamy before he hid it from my view. As if my adoration of his puppy would somehow rub off on it's owner. He is banally handsome. In that clean, GAP, blue button up, nothing to note, way. But if the ring on his finger (the one he hides so faithfully) is any indication, he's married.
My boss once said, "Marriage takes work, it takes willpower. I will stay faithful, I will stay married". I wonder, is anything that hard worth keeping? Is the temptation to leave a sign that is time to do so? I'm suspicious of anything powered by my own will alone. I'm so used to my desires leading me astray that I can't imagine using that power of self to control my relationship status. I can't fathom that the tenacity that allows me to hold on to the wrong, powering me to hold on to the right.
I don't know what it takes to make coupledom successful. I haven't given monogamy enough of a shot to say whether I think long-term relationships can work. But the thought that they don't makes me sad. The idea that marriage is only forever until something better comes along, that love only lasts for the time in which the happy is more than the sad, that just like my life each and every relationship will come to an end with varying degrees of pain. The possibility that love and devotion are never constant and always fleeting depresses me. Am I the only one?
My boss once said, "Marriage takes work, it takes willpower. I will stay faithful, I will stay married". I wonder, is anything that hard worth keeping? Is the temptation to leave a sign that is time to do so? I'm suspicious of anything powered by my own will alone. I'm so used to my desires leading me astray that I can't imagine using that power of self to control my relationship status. I can't fathom that the tenacity that allows me to hold on to the wrong, powering me to hold on to the right.
I don't know what it takes to make coupledom successful. I haven't given monogamy enough of a shot to say whether I think long-term relationships can work. But the thought that they don't makes me sad. The idea that marriage is only forever until something better comes along, that love only lasts for the time in which the happy is more than the sad, that just like my life each and every relationship will come to an end with varying degrees of pain. The possibility that love and devotion are never constant and always fleeting depresses me. Am I the only one?
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Every time...
Every time I see someone list A Million Little Pieces as a favorite book, I want to scream. The fact that James Frey peddled his fictionalized experience makes me livid. I am agog that after his deceptions were uncovered people would respect him enough as an author (or even a human being) to claim his book as a favorite.
Are you freaking kidding me?
How much of it was fictitious you ask? Please read The Smoking Gun's article to find out.
Are you freaking kidding me?
How much of it was fictitious you ask? Please read The Smoking Gun's article to find out.
Friendship
Sex and the City doesn't always get it right. They do a nice job of doing what they do, presenting the lives of four city-dwelling friends, but I do not think they wrote the book on today's single woman. (Or married, or divorced, or dating woman for that matter.) As I imprint my ass-size groove on my couch, watching re-runs when I should be doing something more useful, I am touched by one scene which was pitch perfect.
Charlotte finds she's just as infertile as she feared, teary eyed she decides to walk home from the doctor. On her way she bumps into Miranda. The two are in a fight because in the midst of Charlotte's baby-less trials, Miranda is dealing with an unexpected pregnancy. Miranda confronts Charlotte's silent treatment and avoidance tactics with characteristic bluntness, only to be told of Charlotte's findings at the doctor. Tearfully Charlotte says she just wants to be alone. Miranda agrees, saying she'll just walk behind her in case she changes her mind.
That's true friendship, being there... Even if it doesn't feel good, and walking in heels that hurt your feet, neglecting work, thanklessly showing up for a friend. Being present when you are needed, that is friendship.
Charlotte finds she's just as infertile as she feared, teary eyed she decides to walk home from the doctor. On her way she bumps into Miranda. The two are in a fight because in the midst of Charlotte's baby-less trials, Miranda is dealing with an unexpected pregnancy. Miranda confronts Charlotte's silent treatment and avoidance tactics with characteristic bluntness, only to be told of Charlotte's findings at the doctor. Tearfully Charlotte says she just wants to be alone. Miranda agrees, saying she'll just walk behind her in case she changes her mind.
That's true friendship, being there... Even if it doesn't feel good, and walking in heels that hurt your feet, neglecting work, thanklessly showing up for a friend. Being present when you are needed, that is friendship.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
You know you've been on the online dating scene too long when...
You know you've been on the online dating scene too long when a guy you dated (albeit very, very, briefly) electronically winks at you.
Whee!
Whee!
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Barbie Genius
I've have a serious fascination with Barbie. I hold no ill will towards her. I do not damn her for her wasp waist, eternally pointed toes, or hard plastic smile. Barbie enraptures and amuses me, which is one reason I love this.
Friday, February 22, 2008
I -heart- Craig's List
You knew I was a monkey, why are you asking me to be a cat? - w4m
SCENE I.
ME: Come look at me in my sexy monkey costume! Isn’t it awesome?
YOU: Damn, girl, you’re a great monkey! I really like the tail!
ME: I know! Check out the ears, and the paws! I love my monkey suit!
YOU: Do you ever wear anything else?
ME (Shakes ass to better show off the tail): I’m a monkey, I’m a sexy monkey! EEEEEKKK!
YOU: How about this (pulls out a cat outfit)?
ME: Um. That’s nice.
YOU: Because I’m really into cats.
ME: Why don’t you go talk to one of those cats over there, by the scratching posts? They look friendly. You’re hanging out here, by the bananas, where we monkeys like to congregate. EEEEEKKK!
YOU: Because I think you’d look hot as a cat. And we seem to have so much in common: both are mammals. Here, let’s just switch these ears. MEE-OOW, that’s hot!
ME: I feel awkward.
YOU: You look great. Purr for me, baby.
ME: Purr.
YOU: Say, “Meow.”
ME: They don’t go with my paws.
YOU: Try these paws.
ME: I would--I would rather have my own paws. Can I have my ears back?
YOU: Why are you being so difficult? I feel like we aren’t connecting.
ME: Because you’ve just met me and you’re not into what I like about me.
YOU: I am, I just think you should be a little flexible.
ME: I didn’t realize I was wishy-washy. I should have stood my ground a little firmer. Lesson learned. Here are your ears back, sir.
SCENE II.
ME: Come look at me--I’m a mongoose! Chillin’ by this bowl of rubber snakes! Waiting for another mongoose. Or a ferret. Or a marmot. Or another weird carnivore. Not putting on a bunny suit. Or a squirrel outfit. Rather be alone than change for anyone else. I’ll change for me, but not for you.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
sick
I'm sick. My eyelids hurt, my throat is raw and sore, my head aches, and my nose runs. I hate, hate, hate being sick. I think it's because I suppress my want to be taken care of on a daily basis, but when I'm sick it starts to feel like a reasonable request. Boo.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
tactical error
I don't know how I managed to be in charge of clean up but there I was. Stewing with resentment as I stared down at an untended spill. I wonder whether it would be rude to put up a sign "Your mom doesn't live here, clean up after yourself" when Frank came in to keep me company. He was looking good, having come over to the hipster side with a short haircut, jeans, black hoodie, and black and brown bowling style shoes.
I can't gush to him about how good he looks, about how much the short hair ups his cuteness. I don't want him to mistake my flattery for flirting, so I give nothing more than lukewarm praise over the makeover. Maybe it was dissapointment in my reaction that caused his vindictive teasing.
"I saw Sam here, oooh he's tall and sexy ooh" he mocks, dodging in and out of my personal space like a boxer, rolling on the balls of his feet as he busied his hands drying a dish.
Sam is tall, sexy, and all the things that Frank whines at me. I can't tell you why he wants to point these things out to me, why he is pulling my ponytail with his taunts. I've never dated Sam, or fucked him, or done anything more than flirt. I used to flirt with Frank, till he asked me on a date. Then asked again. After a few more tries he asked why. Foolishly I answered that he wasn't as tall as the men I found attractive. (Cue me shaking my head at dumb self.) Frank has never let go of the fact that I won't give him a chance romantically. His passive aggressive response to this makes a future friendship less and less likely.
His face warps from boyish to demonic as he continues to tease.
"You like him huh? I can tell. Yeah you do, yeah you do, don't deny it"
I don't respond, hoping he will run out of steam, knowing any protest will keep him going. I frown and furrow my brow at him, wishing he would just stop it. Only when I think Sam will hear him do I try and shut him up.
"You really want me to stop? Is it really bothering you?"
A glimmer of hope lights in me,
"Yes, please stop it"
his face splits into an ugly, gleeful grin
"No way, just kidding. You totally like him, you're like so into him"
I don't spare him a glance as I walk out the door. Later Sam gives me his number and a smile. I don't bother saying goodbye to Frank as I leave.
I can't gush to him about how good he looks, about how much the short hair ups his cuteness. I don't want him to mistake my flattery for flirting, so I give nothing more than lukewarm praise over the makeover. Maybe it was dissapointment in my reaction that caused his vindictive teasing.
"I saw Sam here, oooh he's tall and sexy ooh" he mocks, dodging in and out of my personal space like a boxer, rolling on the balls of his feet as he busied his hands drying a dish.
Sam is tall, sexy, and all the things that Frank whines at me. I can't tell you why he wants to point these things out to me, why he is pulling my ponytail with his taunts. I've never dated Sam, or fucked him, or done anything more than flirt. I used to flirt with Frank, till he asked me on a date. Then asked again. After a few more tries he asked why. Foolishly I answered that he wasn't as tall as the men I found attractive. (Cue me shaking my head at dumb self.) Frank has never let go of the fact that I won't give him a chance romantically. His passive aggressive response to this makes a future friendship less and less likely.
His face warps from boyish to demonic as he continues to tease.
"You like him huh? I can tell. Yeah you do, yeah you do, don't deny it"
I don't respond, hoping he will run out of steam, knowing any protest will keep him going. I frown and furrow my brow at him, wishing he would just stop it. Only when I think Sam will hear him do I try and shut him up.
"You really want me to stop? Is it really bothering you?"
A glimmer of hope lights in me,
"Yes, please stop it"
his face splits into an ugly, gleeful grin
"No way, just kidding. You totally like him, you're like so into him"
I don't spare him a glance as I walk out the door. Later Sam gives me his number and a smile. I don't bother saying goodbye to Frank as I leave.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Resolution
New Year's brings an end to my holiday season. Traditionally it's the last night of gluttony before the penance of resolution. Well, I think New Year's is a dumb holiday. Too much expectation met with inevitable disappointment. What do you get for the whole of it? A mascara smeared pillow case and a wretched hangover. The spit of a stranger on your mouth because you were too scared to be alone. Bills will still exist, infidelities will be remembered, and grudges will hold strong on January 1st. You do not get a fresh start on the midnight of New Year's eve anymore than you do on any other midnight.
Beginning each year we gorge on hope. New Year's day we voice our plan to make our shoulds into wills. Well I don't believe in resolutions. They are candles with only so much wax to burn, doomed to sputter out. They are a looking glass version of self flagellation. (You will be better because you were not good enough. You will be kinder because you were cruel. And on, and on.) If you have changes you want to make, then desire alone should be enough to spur you to action. Why wait for champagne, ticker tape, and a dropping ball to make your life anew. Any day above ground is a day you can change.
America is the land of the makeover, do over, and try again. We have scores of TV shows devoted to our favorite past time-- improvement. Whether it's your house, your ass, or your face. We can improve upon it, and it's downright lazy of you not to. This constant striving breeds discontent. We can never be happy with what we have. Using scalpels, hammers, and money we beat the now into a shinier happier future. We do not stop for gratitude. We barrel ahead, thinking not of where we are but where we'll be.
This year I hope to buck the trend. Not to be something that I'm not. But rather to be. In the moment, where I am, as I am. To inhabit the present in mind, body, and spirit. And not bemoan that it is not something else. To try to practice presence and gratitude, and put down whatever failure I would use to hurt myself. Sound like a resolution? Probably, but it's one I've been making everyday for years. Each new day of this new year is what each day was the year before: one more shiny, battered, chance.
Beginning each year we gorge on hope. New Year's day we voice our plan to make our shoulds into wills. Well I don't believe in resolutions. They are candles with only so much wax to burn, doomed to sputter out. They are a looking glass version of self flagellation. (You will be better because you were not good enough. You will be kinder because you were cruel. And on, and on.) If you have changes you want to make, then desire alone should be enough to spur you to action. Why wait for champagne, ticker tape, and a dropping ball to make your life anew. Any day above ground is a day you can change.
America is the land of the makeover, do over, and try again. We have scores of TV shows devoted to our favorite past time-- improvement. Whether it's your house, your ass, or your face. We can improve upon it, and it's downright lazy of you not to. This constant striving breeds discontent. We can never be happy with what we have. Using scalpels, hammers, and money we beat the now into a shinier happier future. We do not stop for gratitude. We barrel ahead, thinking not of where we are but where we'll be.
This year I hope to buck the trend. Not to be something that I'm not. But rather to be. In the moment, where I am, as I am. To inhabit the present in mind, body, and spirit. And not bemoan that it is not something else. To try to practice presence and gratitude, and put down whatever failure I would use to hurt myself. Sound like a resolution? Probably, but it's one I've been making everyday for years. Each new day of this new year is what each day was the year before: one more shiny, battered, chance.
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