Today was absolutely brutal. One of my many fatal weaknesses is my complete intolerance for the heat. I'd say it's my tragic flaw, but my weakness for candy probably is closer to qualifying for that elite title. That or my love of The Osmonds. Anyway....my moaning and groaning and repining today paid off in a SPECTACULAR thunderstorm just now! Before the rain, the wind kicked up and blew so hard through the windows that plastic dishes were literally flying out of the dish drainer. My bedroom door, which either doesn't close or doesn't open was in a doesn't close phase, which meant it was slamming open and closed repeatedly. It even shattered two of the Chinese peppers on the string hanging on the doorframe. Totally unexpectedly, amidst this pre-apocalypse wind, Greg showed up! He said "It's crazy out there. The wind is insane. There's sand and dirt blowing all through the air. I had to get off my bike. It's insane. LET'S GO WATCH."
So Greg, Aldo and I walked to the water (common sense was obviously not a big part of this venture) as it started to pour. The raindrops were huge and cold and lit up by the lightning-- they looked totally silver. Beautiful. The lightning was amazing. I love a good thunderstorm. And shivering felt great, drenched to the bone. I was wearing a dress, which supports my casual theory that whenever I try to look good, nature exacts revenge on me, saying "Who do you think you are?!", but this time I didn't give a fuck.
And now I'm back in the apartment, where it is still sweltering, but I somehow feel much better.
Things are happening. Maybe one of these days I'll do any of the number of things that I know I need to do.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
never turn back!
as of a few minutes ago, i have my plane tickets for my trip below the mason-dixon. leaving the 30th of june to atlanta, then to anniston, alabama--departing new orleans on july 11th. oh my gosh. excuse me while i commence panicking. ok, ok-- excited panicking. more panicking over where and how i'm going to get the church-mouse clothes i feel like i have to wear, and how i'm going to avoid fainting dead from the heat every time i move a muscle.
217!
217!
Friday, June 6, 2008
your man in the electric city...
i'm at home, and it sure is nice. as much as i don't want to live here, boy, is it fine to visit! sunlight, windows, no fourth-floor walkup, my beloved slinky by my side, all my records, a non-slanting floor. grass! trees! the overgrown pool next door, mr. dugan and mr. ziskin at the high school...old letters in a box on my bookshelf to read and smile at. food! ha! a seersucker bathrobe that i conned off my brother, a pasticiotti from the florentine in utica (wasn't i just talking about that?), lunch at peter pause with my grandparents, my mom and my cousin...a trip to PRICE CHOPPER!! reliable urchins on eastern avenue. YES. a sighting of the albino girls across the street and i will be set set set. (ret-set-set?)
i have two guests at the house right now, two singers from RI. they sat in the kitchen as my mom and i hustled and bustled around making things. read: i took up space, spilled flour on the counter, and broke measuring cups as my mom made a cake for me to take to the singing tomorrow. actually, i WAS busy making jell-o to take to the brunch i'm going to on sunday-- which will be followed by the flag day parade. what is the jell-o in the shape of this time? well, the united states of america, natch! it's creamsicle orange and is guar-an-TEED to be patriotically delicious. (manhattan doesn't exist in it.) look for pictures later.
right now, marvin hamlisch records are beckoning to me and slinky is perched on the table beside my bed. cares, begone! worries, flee! i guess that's the hope, at least.
ah, schenec.
i have two guests at the house right now, two singers from RI. they sat in the kitchen as my mom and i hustled and bustled around making things. read: i took up space, spilled flour on the counter, and broke measuring cups as my mom made a cake for me to take to the singing tomorrow. actually, i WAS busy making jell-o to take to the brunch i'm going to on sunday-- which will be followed by the flag day parade. what is the jell-o in the shape of this time? well, the united states of america, natch! it's creamsicle orange and is guar-an-TEED to be patriotically delicious. (manhattan doesn't exist in it.) look for pictures later.
right now, marvin hamlisch records are beckoning to me and slinky is perched on the table beside my bed. cares, begone! worries, flee! i guess that's the hope, at least.
ah, schenec.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
i need to read this ten more times.
sam shepard says:
Now lemme get this straight
You say
You're tortured because you can't write
Or
You can't write because you're tortured
You say
These times have made you cynical
Or
These times confirm your cynicism
Now lemme say one thing
I'd rather rope steers
Than talk politics with you
I'd rather get skunk drunk
Under a goose-neck trailer
Your despair is more boring
Than The Merv Griffin Show
Your sniveling whine
Your dime-a-dozen solutions to crime
Get off your tail and cook
Do time
Anything
But don't burn mine
Now lemme get this straight
You say
You're tortured because you can't write
Or
You can't write because you're tortured
You say
These times have made you cynical
Or
These times confirm your cynicism
Now lemme say one thing
I'd rather rope steers
Than talk politics with you
I'd rather get skunk drunk
Under a goose-neck trailer
Your despair is more boring
Than The Merv Griffin Show
Your sniveling whine
Your dime-a-dozen solutions to crime
Get off your tail and cook
Do time
Anything
But don't burn mine
Chew every word.
If I was King Lear, this is how I would describe when you could next find me buying sushi from Trader Joe's again: never, never, never, never, NEVER! (Whenever I think of that line, I think of poor Peregrine Devlin saying it at the end of 'Theatre of Blood,' as the knives are coming towards his eyes! Aie!) I don't know why I buy it-- ever since Catherine, illustrious bassist for even-more-illustrious ska band extraordinaire Captain Destructo and the Armageddon Horns, went on a twenty-minute rant about how shitty it is (this is nigh on four years ago, mind), I've had some sick compulsion to try to prove her wrong. Catherine will always be right.
This mugginess is killing me already. I sweat doing nothing. Yesterday, I went to yoga and every time I did a downward dog, I wad blinded by my own sweat rolling into my eyes. Ugh. Yoga was a farewell date for Katy and me-- she heads to Rio for three months on Sunday. Today I took a nice stroll around Soho/into Little Italy (reminiscing about Schenec's own little Italy, of course: though it hasn't been nearly as impressive since the gay bar Blythwood closed three years ago, a restaurant, two bakeries [one of which really only deals in lemon ice and mob hits, as far as I'm concerned], a biker bar and a funeral home DO constitute a cultural district of sorts...right?); saw a lot of rich, good-looking people and hated every one of them (I'll never be anything but a stormbird in various stages of disguise, I guess); made mad dashes to the Strand (for "When You Are Engulfed in Flames" by David Sedaris), Fishs Eddy (eeeeek father's day presents) and Trader Joe's (accompanied by anxiety...assuaged when the girl directing people to registers told me that my shirt was sassy) and NOW, now, millions of parentheses later, I am at work for the most pointless shift ever. Ending at TEN.
That was really obnoxious. Congratulate yourself if you actually read that.
A few nights ago I saw "The Country Girl" on Bway. Obviously I'd wanted to see it since it was announced months and months ago, because I want to see anything by Mr. Odets. I bought the script at a bookstore in my neighborhood shortly after moving to NY, but never read it. And then I dragged my feet about getting tickets, and had all but forgotten about it. And....I don't know, maybe it would have been better that way. I certainly enjoyed going, I always enjoy seeing stuff even it's crap and I wind up infuriated ie "Rafta, Rafta" at the New Group a few weeks ago. It was wonderful to see Frances McDormand. I think she's a really good fit for this type of play, and I'd love to see her play Bessie Berger in "Awake and Sing!".... in about twenty years. I think she'd be fantastic. Morgan Freeman did not thrill me in any way. Peter Gallagher was doing a sort of schticky, slicked-back hair, smooth-talking turn, but I can't say I didn't enjoy it at least a little bit. Please. I have to fight the urge to imitate Jennifer Jason Leigh's speech patterns from "The Hudsucker Proxy" every time I open my mouth, see?
Tommorrow I'm getting on a bus in the wee hours of the morning, getting picked up in Albany (Desolation Station, eh, J. Knudsen?) by G-pa, hopefully conning my gparents into taking me and Maddy to lunch at Peter Pause, swinging by the old alma mater to get the latest gossip from Mssrs. Dugan and Ziskin, and then, HOPEFULLY, logging some quality time on the floor of my room listening to Hair and Elvis Costello on vinyl with Slinky. Phew. And then begins the extravaganza-- Albany Area All-Day Singing on Saturday, social afterwards, then brunch/singing/Flag Day parade at Jesse's in Troy (Collar City for those in the know) on Sunday.
If you made it through this mess, look at these amazing photos as a reward (thanks to Boing Boing):
One with Dinos
One with a Monocle (bought at Daffy's?)
Amazing.
This mugginess is killing me already. I sweat doing nothing. Yesterday, I went to yoga and every time I did a downward dog, I wad blinded by my own sweat rolling into my eyes. Ugh. Yoga was a farewell date for Katy and me-- she heads to Rio for three months on Sunday. Today I took a nice stroll around Soho/into Little Italy (reminiscing about Schenec's own little Italy, of course: though it hasn't been nearly as impressive since the gay bar Blythwood closed three years ago, a restaurant, two bakeries [one of which really only deals in lemon ice and mob hits, as far as I'm concerned], a biker bar and a funeral home DO constitute a cultural district of sorts...right?); saw a lot of rich, good-looking people and hated every one of them (I'll never be anything but a stormbird in various stages of disguise, I guess); made mad dashes to the Strand (for "When You Are Engulfed in Flames" by David Sedaris), Fishs Eddy (eeeeek father's day presents) and Trader Joe's (accompanied by anxiety...assuaged when the girl directing people to registers told me that my shirt was sassy) and NOW, now, millions of parentheses later, I am at work for the most pointless shift ever. Ending at TEN.
That was really obnoxious. Congratulate yourself if you actually read that.
A few nights ago I saw "The Country Girl" on Bway. Obviously I'd wanted to see it since it was announced months and months ago, because I want to see anything by Mr. Odets. I bought the script at a bookstore in my neighborhood shortly after moving to NY, but never read it. And then I dragged my feet about getting tickets, and had all but forgotten about it. And....I don't know, maybe it would have been better that way. I certainly enjoyed going, I always enjoy seeing stuff even it's crap and I wind up infuriated ie "Rafta, Rafta" at the New Group a few weeks ago. It was wonderful to see Frances McDormand. I think she's a really good fit for this type of play, and I'd love to see her play Bessie Berger in "Awake and Sing!".... in about twenty years. I think she'd be fantastic. Morgan Freeman did not thrill me in any way. Peter Gallagher was doing a sort of schticky, slicked-back hair, smooth-talking turn, but I can't say I didn't enjoy it at least a little bit. Please. I have to fight the urge to imitate Jennifer Jason Leigh's speech patterns from "The Hudsucker Proxy" every time I open my mouth, see?
Tommorrow I'm getting on a bus in the wee hours of the morning, getting picked up in Albany (Desolation Station, eh, J. Knudsen?) by G-pa, hopefully conning my gparents into taking me and Maddy to lunch at Peter Pause, swinging by the old alma mater to get the latest gossip from Mssrs. Dugan and Ziskin, and then, HOPEFULLY, logging some quality time on the floor of my room listening to Hair and Elvis Costello on vinyl with Slinky. Phew. And then begins the extravaganza-- Albany Area All-Day Singing on Saturday, social afterwards, then brunch/singing/Flag Day parade at Jesse's in Troy (Collar City for those in the know) on Sunday.
If you made it through this mess, look at these amazing photos as a reward (thanks to Boing Boing):
One with Dinos
One with a Monocle (bought at Daffy's?)
Amazing.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Also:
Why do I read things that contain quotes like this? Who IS this woman? Where is her soul?!
"This is an absolutely huge, huge story for us," said Sarah Ivens, editor in chief of OK! magazine. "Essentially you have two of the most beautiful, famous people in the world. We've all seen they've had one baby, Shiloh, and it is the coolest, most adorable baby on the planet. And this time they're having two? It can't get any better."
Someone just came into work and I introduced myself to her. She said back "Ayana?"
"This is an absolutely huge, huge story for us," said Sarah Ivens, editor in chief of OK! magazine. "Essentially you have two of the most beautiful, famous people in the world. We've all seen they've had one baby, Shiloh, and it is the coolest, most adorable baby on the planet. And this time they're having two? It can't get any better."
Someone just came into work and I introduced myself to her. She said back "Ayana?"
empanada, turnover!
These days have been good. The weather is starting to oppress me. I need a fan on me at all times. (Can you send some fans up to me?)
Saturday afternoon was everything I wanted it to be. It's nice when things work out that way.
Saturday night found me at the Beer Garden at Bohemian Hall in Astoria to celebrate Jimmy's 24th birthday. It was a collection of his friends that I'd mostly never met, as well as Erin, of course. Try as I might, I drank more than I wanted to....they make it too easy there! Whatever. It was way less drunken than the last time I was there, no one was injured, I crashed on their couch, and all was well. We made a stop at the Neptune Diner on our way back to the apartment-- last time we were at the B.G., we tried to go into the Neptune but they wouldn't let us. Now I know why-- in Erin's words, there's something weirdly wholesome and family-y about it, even at 2:00 am. Our waiter was bizarre and had a talon. He mocked Jimmy's decaf coffee and seated us as far away from civilization as possible. Jimmy ordered the "Neptune Banana Royale" which only now is making me think of "Battle Royale"....and as far as dessert items go, if anything could remind me of Japanese school-child carnage, it MIGHT be that. Anyway, I had a lot of coffee and some pie and Erin and I wound each other up about Twin Peaks and I posed for a million pictures and a million more on the stumble home, where we proudly showcased the fruits of our petty larceny at the Garden. Someone said "Why would you steal those glasses?" and we couldn't really understand the question.
What else have I been doing? Ah. The other night, I met up with Nitzan and Katy in the W.V., we were joined by Craig, and then we went to see Harmony Korine's deranged "Mr. Lonely" at the IFC Center. It was bizarre and over-long, but amusing and engaging for almost the entire thing. Werner Herzog played this insane priest in it and that was really almost worth it by itself. Diego Luna dancing like Wacko Jacko and yelling "YOU CAN LIVE FOREVER!" in the faces of old people was pretty good, too. Then I bought circus peanuts, Craig and I went to a record store where neither of us bought anything. That didn't matter, though, as soon as Craig said "Did you know that there is a really fat cat in this store?" It was super-fat. I petted it. It bit me. Another comrade makes the excellent point-- "Well, how do you think he got so fat?!"
The night before, I took a short walk across McCarren Park to see The All-For-Nots at Matchless. It was my first time in Matchless, and I liked it. Nitz accompanied me, and Craig met us a little later. As neither of them have *really* watched more than two or three episodes of the show, they didn't really know what to expect...but we had a good good time. And they signed the mailing list. :) It was fun to see the AFN in Brooklyn...close to home is nice, of course. And also cool.
The only other thing worth mentioning is that in an effort to expand our crafting empire, Erin and I have branched out into making things from shrink plastic...something that apparently everyone else in the world did as children, but we never got around to doing. Slinky Calhoun will soon be full of the fruits of our labors.
I'm going home this weekend for the Albany Area All-Day Singing. It's supposed to be 90 degrees. I know that I want to be in an old building in Voorheesville in that kind of heat!
Saturday afternoon was everything I wanted it to be. It's nice when things work out that way.
Saturday night found me at the Beer Garden at Bohemian Hall in Astoria to celebrate Jimmy's 24th birthday. It was a collection of his friends that I'd mostly never met, as well as Erin, of course. Try as I might, I drank more than I wanted to....they make it too easy there! Whatever. It was way less drunken than the last time I was there, no one was injured, I crashed on their couch, and all was well. We made a stop at the Neptune Diner on our way back to the apartment-- last time we were at the B.G., we tried to go into the Neptune but they wouldn't let us. Now I know why-- in Erin's words, there's something weirdly wholesome and family-y about it, even at 2:00 am. Our waiter was bizarre and had a talon. He mocked Jimmy's decaf coffee and seated us as far away from civilization as possible. Jimmy ordered the "Neptune Banana Royale" which only now is making me think of "Battle Royale"....and as far as dessert items go, if anything could remind me of Japanese school-child carnage, it MIGHT be that. Anyway, I had a lot of coffee and some pie and Erin and I wound each other up about Twin Peaks and I posed for a million pictures and a million more on the stumble home, where we proudly showcased the fruits of our petty larceny at the Garden. Someone said "Why would you steal those glasses?" and we couldn't really understand the question.
What else have I been doing? Ah. The other night, I met up with Nitzan and Katy in the W.V., we were joined by Craig, and then we went to see Harmony Korine's deranged "Mr. Lonely" at the IFC Center. It was bizarre and over-long, but amusing and engaging for almost the entire thing. Werner Herzog played this insane priest in it and that was really almost worth it by itself. Diego Luna dancing like Wacko Jacko and yelling "YOU CAN LIVE FOREVER!" in the faces of old people was pretty good, too. Then I bought circus peanuts, Craig and I went to a record store where neither of us bought anything. That didn't matter, though, as soon as Craig said "Did you know that there is a really fat cat in this store?" It was super-fat. I petted it. It bit me. Another comrade makes the excellent point-- "Well, how do you think he got so fat?!"
The night before, I took a short walk across McCarren Park to see The All-For-Nots at Matchless. It was my first time in Matchless, and I liked it. Nitz accompanied me, and Craig met us a little later. As neither of them have *really* watched more than two or three episodes of the show, they didn't really know what to expect...but we had a good good time. And they signed the mailing list. :) It was fun to see the AFN in Brooklyn...close to home is nice, of course. And also cool.
The only other thing worth mentioning is that in an effort to expand our crafting empire, Erin and I have branched out into making things from shrink plastic...something that apparently everyone else in the world did as children, but we never got around to doing. Slinky Calhoun will soon be full of the fruits of our labors.
I'm going home this weekend for the Albany Area All-Day Singing. It's supposed to be 90 degrees. I know that I want to be in an old building in Voorheesville in that kind of heat!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
