I am falling behind and I actually have things to record! BUt for now, I'll just tell you something that happened to me yesterday.

I came out of the subway and was on the NE corner of Bedford and N. 10th, and a construction guy sitting outside the corner store yelled the following at me:

"Are those real?! Fuckin' BEAUTIFUL!"

!!! What a ridiculous and hilarious thing to yell! Gordie's gf Grace happened to be coming out of Anna Maria pizza at that same moment, and she said "Anna! Why are you like this?" and made a goofy, jaw-hanging face. I told my friend Matt and his response was "I assume he wasn't talking about your knockoff designer shoes?"

Too good.

White stone!

I had a truly excellent day today, filled with fun, sun, friends, junk food, and even a little bit of good news on the "what I'm supposed to be doing here in NYC" front.

And I found a four-leafed clover!

More to come.  Last revelation:  The Hulk seems to be a nevernude.  

good honest dirty hippie fun

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.

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!

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 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

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.