three month itch

I realize again the epic importance of blogging/journaling....so much time is going by so quickly, so much seems hegemonic and un-exceptional, but only because it is being compared against what I have already done, what I am in the midst of doing - everything seems the same, like the same song played again even though you haven't heard it in three months you realized you have not changed, it has not changed. But everything really is the same if there is no way to trace the passage of days and events - for me time of late has been one stony, unrecognizable and drunktastic conglomerate of days and weeks. I work all the time and then when I am not working I am probably drinking or sleeping (that I am also high goes without saying).

Things that have changed in the last three months: I moved (triumph!) and have found my office job that I had just acquired upon last bloggity to become my more substantive bread and butter, I hit the back of a taxi just barely and fucked myself and my life HARD, I passed my first birthday-and-holidays cycle in Austin, I took up with a young fellow for whom I have nothing but mediocrity in my heart, whom I am currently very passively blowing off (not in a good way, obvs).

I am excited about the possibilities surrounding this new year, but have felt over-burdened by the post-cabbie horror, to the point where though I had no phone, it didn't matter a whit because I was too overpowered to even want to do anything but hide away in my house (which is new, beautiful and full of novelty and capacity for changing my life, so not all bad).

I want to be more. I want to live and do more and feel more electricity for my life.

I think I can do it, because today is the first time my heart felt freed of some of the dread Damaclesing over my head seemingly without end.

I don't know if I'll be blogging with any sort of regularity, but keeping some kind of record at this point is critical.

sous de la nouvelle vague

Wow. In my many blogging years, delinquency of posting has definitely dragged into the 4-6 month mark - but I feel almost like this if the first time of this particular blog-vehicle that I have been so postless. And having just verified that statement, I agree with myself.

Last night was...epic. The Second Sunday Sockhop, truly one of my favorite things in Austin, came to pass. As if seeing my beloved Naenae laugh in the face of tomorrow morning and show up to dance off her sweet hindquarters wasn't enough....there was so much more.

I forced my way into friendship with a couple just because I saw some guy taking blatant hits from his pipe near me...the lady in his company was one of those crazy east coasters - she spoke French with me and confessed her past of being once engaged to a b-list celeb - not that I want for any new best friends, but I would describe her as someone I'm going to do coke with someday and it's going to get really raw really fast.

And then...oh yes...my dreamweaver showed up - I had given up on him, having been informed by a friend that d-weaves has picked up a shift at his work - but there he was, like a bolt of sexy magic. And though there were certainly others around, I did hang with him until the early, early morn - I remain as unsure of myself as ever, totally unable to confess to my crushings.

I know this is all terribly unspecific, but I haven't properly woken up and I don't have time to get into details and I must be snazzy and clean for job numba 2 almost at once.

Let the blogging silence be undone!

tie-red

I'm silly tired today. Perhaps vaguely connected to the fact that I kept waking up from 5-7 am every few minutes this morning. No amount of coffee can bring me back to normalcy, I fear. Tiiiired.

I'm also tired of people telling you they're going to take you out to lunch, drinks, Monte Carlo etc. when intoxicated but with the veneer of sincerity all the same. Then, you show up to collect (like a good lil opportunist should) and in their blank stare, you become simultaneously over-sober, cheap and/or delusional.

a good whiney rant

Admittedly...I have no fucking idea what I'm doing.

But that's a given.

Somewhere along the line, I surrendered my ability to capitalize. No more! 'I' will be capitalized from here on out, as well as any/all proper nouns. I strayed from my destiny.

As I have been doing for months now. Staring blankly into my computer, I feel amazed I can even put together a complete sentence. Looking at my resume never felt so...chilling. Last time it was time to do this, I suppose I was less existentially shipwrecked than I am at the moment.

I found myself thinking today that my excessive potheadedness is not limited to association with compulsive behavior - I wondered if I was trying to stun myself out of consciously realizing how quickly my life is passing me by and how I am changing without even consenting to these changes! And by changing, I mean growing older. There are many people with whom I have not spoken in what seems to be ages, but when asked to summarize what I have done with myself and my time, I realize...there is very little I can say.

'Oh, you know - drinking and smoking to the point of stupidity and hanging out with my friends all the time,' I would blithely reply if I felt more blithe about the whole thing. I am not strictly dissatisfied with this, my relatively pointless lifestyle. I am admittedly obsessed with my friends. To say nothing of drinking and smoking. But it seems far more pleasurable to be with my people, my self-made family, my tribe than to be by myself attempting to do...anything.

I feel like I could be staring into the face of the last wave of brilliant and unrealized ideas I could ever have...my brain could go drier than the Sahara at any time - when the ideas and characters fade, surely the quips are not far behind.

So, I must act. And I have collaborators, supporters, resources and I'm even coming up on some free time what with the eventuality of my quitting my job finally kicking in and all. I guess I'm just scared as fucking hell. I don't know what I'm doing. But I do not what I'm not doing. Which is enough. Knowing the I will never be able to do enough for myself is what puts me in this waking coma....like achieving true justice, it is impossible. So rather than make the attempt, I apparently just wish to slide into the warm bathwater of nothingness.

I'm whining. And you would never believe that I'm pretty happy righty now, but I actually am.

I just wanted to whisper into the ears of my fears for a moment. That's what you're here for, old bloggybabes - innit?

thoughts: connected and disconnected

Which came first?
The birds shat on my car because I always try to run them over when driving?
Or I always try to run over the birds while driving because they shat on my car?
Not that I think anything with a brain smaller than a peanut is realistically culpable for its actions.
But I still fucking hate nearly all birds.
And by hate, I mean fear.

South Congress Ave?
It will make you feel like a skank.
If you let it.
And by you, I do mean me.
Today, I put it all together. Two of my 'conquests' work within one block of each other on Congress.
In that same one block radius? The man sitting on top of the mountain that is my 'to fuck' list.
And that wasn't even the icing on today's lustcake...
Coming back from the walk that forced me to solve the mystery of what can only be described as a Bermuda Triangle o'Sleaze ....I see the hottest piece of manflesh I have laid eyes on in the parking garage of my office. I don't know if it was him, or the promise of crawfish...but I started to drool like a dawg.
Or maybe it was when he said he was a sailor.

In more cogent news...I am perhaps over-loving the life alone. So, I don't really have 'furniture' - so the fuck what? I do have bamboozy cushions and a lil table to match. And a bed. And a desk! Who needs anything else? Chairs, couches? What are these things? And where are the bougies who lounge upon them?!

Drinking a few beers toward the last hours of the day? I feel a spring in my step that can only be spurred by beery delusion.

And I have decided this weekend shall be even more glorious than the last.

back for more!

Last night, some funny shit went down.

I settled into my temporary pad in South Austin, where I have most generously been allowed to stay while my friend goes north for a wedding this weekend.

I get a call from a friend of mine, who is hanging out and drinking with a guy I used to work with - let's just say, I don't like Workboy. He's pissed me off a few different times, and I think he's kind of an idiot and sketchy to say the least. My friend Stacey says, 'You should come over...here, Workboy wants to talk to you...'

Great, I think. WB hops on the horn and demands that I come up North and hang with them, since he's moving soon and we've never gotten to hang out. I made various protests, but finally gave in because...am I a doormat? Fuck!

I proceeded to call my friend back, leave her a monologue of a message telling her that I don't appreciate her telling him I don't like him, since obviously that's what she did and obviously his attempt to get me to come down there is to force me to re-like him.

I call back her girlfriend and WB answers the phone. "I'm not coming," I say. "All I do is drive north, come back south, drive north, come back south, ad infinitum! I feel like chilling out and I actually can, so I'm fucking going to. Sorry."

The evening went on...my friend told me about the little dog hanging with us and how it shat out its own rectum. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard.

I got a text message from my friend this morning: 'WB thinks you're hot and wanted to get with you. That's why we were trying to force you to come over.'

The weird thing is, usually when I dislike someone, I secretly or not-so-secretly want to do them. But this guy is just sketch and not really cute. So....NON.

updatables ahoy!

I have been wanting to update for some time.

Obviously, I am now an emotionally destructive blogger, who HAS to check the fuck out of blogville for a good two or three months, tearing a new arsehole in exciting sub-cities of existence like Silencio, Inexpressiveburg and Secretown.

But I'm back. Who knows for how long?

Leading anecdote? Today, I stood behind one of my myspace favorites at Torchy's. Such a deliciously odd feeling...recognizing someone you don't know and have never met, but you've 'seen' them in the most pseudo-sighted manner imaginable. Did I feel him reciprocally recognizing me, or did I just want to? The weirdest thing about this dude is that he really is a clone of Nate Fisher, who I don't really have a history of thinking is tremendously hot, but for some reason, I find his real-world clone crazy hot.

With little to no regard for structure, let us move on to the current state of affairs. I have tossed the dice on my life and future once again - I am moving into my own place on the other side of Austin. It will change...everything. I hope. Because I do not really know how I became the rambunctious rambler I am today. Perpetually outbound, ne'er-to-be-found (at home), constantly over-wound. I want to be able to know stillness and solitude and all the good things that add balance to one's life - other wise I am just a manic case constantly waiting to crash.

I'm very excited about the change. And I was reluctant at first, as I have been constantly living under the pre-developed roofs of others, so I was not really ever required to have much in the way of 'furniture' or 'kitchen essentials' or 'ANYTHING.' So, while that's great for fitting my entire life into a car, it doesn't really make for...much of an actual life. Outside of a car.

Also, I can't really afford this new place. But I COULD afford to learn some budgeting skills. Anyone wanna teach me how ta hawk d-rugs and/or apply for food stamps? I expect both should come fairly naturally.

Because of the expense of this move, I was not able to 'fuck you, fuck you, you're cool,' style quit my job as soon as I realized the offer they had made me was completely insulting. Especially since the first salary figure on the table was technically less than what I make now. I wish I had quit, slapped faces and high fives as appropriate and walked out and really cast myself to the four winds. But I would probably die. And by die, I mean have to move back in with my parents, which is like dying and going directly to hell without a trial and/or passing go whatsoever.

So I stayed. I stayed when I should have screamed, broken things or ran out the door. But these are the things we do to survive, eh? I feel like life is a constant prostitution, and one has to compete against people willing to do scatplay, DVDA and/or group necrophilia - so you have to really humiliate your fucking self just to make it. Fuck meta-whores! Why can't they think about how their nastiness just makes it harder for the rest of us to be lesser-dirty whores?!

And finally, I am couch-surfing. From the start of this month to the tenth...and I have been really lucky to have a lot of people willing to put me up. But let's just say I'll be glad when it's over. And it could mean I retreat even more deeply into my solitude.

That's all for now - hopefully the scene-change will also render me capable of cohesive blog-writing.

under de-construction

I keep on sitting here, trying to collect my thoughts and recollections so I can blog about the entirely out-of-character ice storm adventure I had last long weekend...but my emotions are all over the place lately. Thurdsay found me sad and tired and having the worst working day of my young life. That night, a few free Dior shirts and a weed-deal later, I was feeling much better and went to go play psychiatrist with my favorite lesbian couple. Yesterday, I was pretty on top of the world and ended up having a great night downtown.

But today is cold and grey and captive to work. I'm cold, vaguely hungry, slightly over-caffeinated and largely hating everything. I'm tired of feeling like this. But I just feel like everything seems pointless and dissatisfying and nothing I can do will change that.

I sense an evening rife with movie marathons, chinese food and maryjuwanna.

Eventually, I will blogicize my adventure. Once I've figured out why its end has thrown me for such a fucking emotional loop.

I'll give you a hint...it involves the hottest boy I'll probably ever sleep with.

all I want is having you and music, music, MUSIC

FALLING IN LOVE WITH AUSTIN MORE EVERY SECOND OVER HERE!

First, there was this. No big deal. Just David fucking Lynch, leaving his footsteps all over my destiny. Desperately hoping my dreamweaver shows up in tow, but it is doubtles an impossible dream.

But THIS?!

How much more can my heart take, Austin! What's scariest about this rumor-plagued lineup is that it will probably at least double. Oh. My. Fucking. God. Whatever happens, I have to not work during SXSW.

And my original best friend just sent me an email informing me that she and her mang are coming for the extravaganza! Hurrah!

Okay, so, some recent musical purchases I would like to plug are...

Beach House - S/T - This is the official music of driving home stoned at 3 am. It sounds like if Nico (who I'm finally not creeped out by anymore!) and Ladytron were trapped in a burning building together and afterwards their shit is all fused together. Um, sonically. As it were. It has a really beautiful blend of actual accoustic music and cheesy synth. When the girl isn't riffing on Nico, she almost sounds like Hope Sandoval - also not a bad thing!

Midlake - The Trials of Van Occupanther - These boys make me proud to be a Texan! Smart, low, classic-sounding (I've heard comparisons to Fleetwood Mac and the Eagles, respectively - I'm staying out of that one) with rich, smooth arrangements. Though the opening song 'Roscoe' threatens to steal the album's spotlight with its classic rock redux and meandering allegory, I think the best songs are 'Van Occupanther' and 'Young Bride' are the album's best tracks. The first, a dreamy dram of heartbreak. The second has all the energy of the single, but the strings here add a lot to the sound and the lyrics recall any number of too-young-for-eyes-that-sad girls.

Beirut - The Gulag Orkest - I almost like this more than Devotchka, though the sound is strikingly similar - Zac Condon, the multi-instrumentlal group's ringleader commands all the charm and grace of Devotcha's Nick Urrata at the tender age of 20. He works with a glimmering mass of gorgeous brass, strings and accordians - but no mothafuckin' guitars! No, sir! I think the best song on here is 'Idle Days (Mount Wroclai)' but I'm a whore for the accordian, even if it is an instrument which damns the player to homelessness.

Stereolab - Whatever the Fuck Their New Compilation is Called- Hard to believe I went through so much of my life without Stereolab! But thanks to the helpful nudgings of Jenn Daly and Benj, I have now embraced it via this disc. Obviously, it's perfect for me - hot chick singing about weird shit, periodically in French, with a Portishead-meets-Smiths-esque sensibility. Me. Likey.

That's going to do it for me (again). I wanted to drop props to this music and also stretch out my critic's muscle as I want to try and get reviews written for the new Oblio Joes and Lights CDs, both of which were sent to me ages ago so I might review them. I suck!

finally!

It seems every single night I go to bed, I recall quite suddenly the phenomenon I have termed 'déjà rêvé.' I do not begin to recall my dream from the night before until I am slowly drifting toward slumber the following night. Strange indeed! And each half-unconscious eve, it strikes me as if for the first time. And each night I rather swear to blog about it, for I find it quite strange to say the least. I suppose it was telling of me feelings of rut-ishness.

At last, I rather feel that things are on the upswing. Yesterday proved to be a rather exceptional day. In spite of semi-crazy allergies (which I have finally admitted to the existence of - I've been allergy-free my entire non-TX life!) I decided to hit up a few drinks at the Elephant Room after work last night. I used to go there constantly, in my early days of Jenn Daly worship. I miss the dank, cellar-ian ambiance - the 'who gives a fuck if you smoke in here' of it all. The scads of be-written-upon dolla bills all up above the bar, sailors swearing to their return.

Perhaps my nostalgia was warmed up by the deeeelightful Lisa B serving me up a freebie from the get-go. Perhaps.

Saw a friend I haven't seen in a bit play a happy hour intermission - in some ways, she reminds me of Tori Amos, but with a much deeper, raw-er voice. The imagery, the darkness and the originality of her text was really awesome though, in a completely different way from Tori. You can just kind of see the influence - they are only strictly comparable by being women singing and playing the piano.

Anyway, it was a nice start to the evening off there, catching up with the various members of Jenndaly's entourage (for she had her hand in the turnout for this event, assuredly) with whom I have shared many fond memories, dinners and holidays. Yay!

A few cocktails later, it was off to my new herbalist's house - and after a few moments of conversation, it was revealed that he knows my dear friend Beth and worked with her for quite a while at three different coffee shops! Lord those kids get around. It was awesome to stumble across this total 'Austin is the biggest little city since Reno' moment, as they truly define this place. He agreed with me on that, as well. And he even showed me scenes from Lost and the Al Gore doc respectively (whatta gamut to run!)! Yay for liking your herbalist!

Then it was over to Josh and Jared's, where the drinking scene definitely got a little out of hand waaaay before I got there. I wished a young ex-Coloradan a happy 19th (gods, were any of us ever that young?!) and set sail shortly after. I did, however, find out that Sam, the drummer for the band I manage is being ousted! Que escandalo! I must pick up the slack and become a drum prodigy at once, as their successful future lies in my wildly capable hands! And by wildly capable, I mean musically retarded and eerily irresponsible.

Then it was a latelate viewing of Princess Mononoke with Beth (yep, that one!) and Stacey. My love for that movie is wildly reaffirmed, as is my desire to become Ashitaka. What a badass! What a beautiful, strange and parable-ic world! If I could live inside the movies of Miyazaki, I fucking would. I would also have to be living off of pay-otee (deliberately misspelled to damn the google) and liquid acid, I imagine.

It was good for my old soul to have a super-late night - I so long to return to the days when to sleep during daylight was the norm.

Well, that should do me now. If the heavens are with me, I will re-blog some love over recent musical acquisitions later today.

well, that was interesting

I hate the feeling of being overtaken by an evil little notion or fear that you believed you had finally evaded - one that has plagued and nagged and drained to excess already. The accidental freedom you didn't even know you were enjoying because for some reason you weren't clapping your hands or spinning in circles over this victory, this escape or distraction.

I spent what could be described as a supernatural amount of time, energy and even surplus thought trying to slipslide away from the machinations of my own mind.

Be it this fella or that foible, they have a nasty little way of jumping back to their spots in my mind (perhaps left still-warm in the painfully brief absence).

It's hard to not view life, the universe and everything as a battlefield. At least a lot of the time, I think.

Why is this relevant right now?

Because it's raining. I just took my marvy British flag umbrella out for a walk in it. To drop a wonderful book off to a rather magical girl whom I even more magically known through a variety of connections.

But...

It made me wish that the feelings of wonder could outpace feelings of dread. I don't really know how to do that. But I'm trying.

I think the books I'm reading are sharpening my mind to a fine and hopefully fantastical point - Angela Carter and a beautiful book called 'The Book of Embraces.'

I would like these pesky thought buggers to bugger off.

In more officially catchy-up-y news, Montana was awesome. My birthday was bloody awesome. Christmas was a textbook illustration of awesomeness. Let me re-assert that I am much more in favor of the vacationing life rather than the working life.

New Year's Eve was fun, but it's hard to put a dent in the glorious and record-setting NYEs of the years that became 2003-2005 (New Orleans, Berlin and Amsterdam sequentially). There was a barrage of champagne, dancing and poor decisions and de-wigging. Friends and staying up late and all the good shit that comes with these times in our lives.

Anyway. That'll do for now. More magic pending, mehopes.

wow...seriously?

Well, my beloved old roomie called me today. And she told me to leave where I have moved at once so I can go live with her. I think she was kidding.

But the exact same thought crossed my mind yesterday - my boss mentioned this sublet coming up, and I thought 'Man, I wish I hadn't moved and I could live with Stima again.'

So I'm probably going to move. Again. I mean, I haven't really unpacked from the last move. Barely, I suppose - books were unpacked and shelved. There's still a bunch of shit in my car that I haven't moved in yet. Two months, huh? The spirit of my laziness is all knowing.

I just...can't quite cope with my new place. Something about the vibe is off - perhaps it is the balance of power. As in, I am living in someone else's house - not in a cooperatively 'not our house' house. The distinction, while slight, is POTENT.

Six days til it's time to go home...I am positively abuzz with excitement! This is the getaway I have been thirsting for - the good heavens above only know when I will get out of this town again, in spite of all my intentions.

In other news, the beard has finally been shorn. While I do feel a bit facially naked, it is better to look and feel younger on the eve of such a drastic age-change.

'it's come to this' or 'i like movies'

Okay. I kind of swore I would actually pen a blog this eve, rather than just staring blankly at mypace and hitting refresh. In a boredom coma like the one I find myself in now, old habits die hard. Or rather, thinking outside said old and brain-numbing habits requires entirely too much effort.

So, this is it.

This is it? Seriously?

Yeah.

Well, here's the good news: you can rest easy. I saw and loved the new Bond movie. I never thought I could ever accept a blond Bond, but mothafuckin' boy did I, would I and will I! I was kind of giggle-ishly a-quiver (with Bond virgin Renae by my side) at the absolute silly sexiness of Daniel Craig. Movie, plot, action, character, blah blah blah...but DAMN that mothafucka is hot. It was like the entire movie was in on it and winked at you gawking at him. Not a bad thing whatsoever.

Speaking of the beautiful...I had begun to harbor a fear that Scarlett Johansen (or as I know her, Scar-J) had a fluke good-acting virus that quickly evacuated her system following Lost in Translation. I have found myself hating or only vaguely tolerating her beautiful arse in whatever cameo-sized role that was thrown her way. And that most especially applies to Match Point, which I loathe something crazy. But, Woody made it up to me and managed to throw together a really good, humorous and yes derivative film with Scoop. Basically, Scar-J plays Woody in the film. Y'know, cute, babble-y, lucky in a 'in the right place at the very right time' kind of way and somehow managing to hook up with someone who should not really ever do such a thing. Woody also plays Woody - it was surprisingly refreshing to see him in one of his movies again.

Otherwise, the weekend was rather chill. And by chill, I mean lazy and forgettable.

This is what I'm blogging to distract myself from the 13,000-episode saga known as my soul-crumbling existential crisis?

good morning!

I had cookies for breakfast today. Because that's what was in the kitchen. And because it was delicious.

I signed my name on about 300 holiday cards yesterday. I'm kind of shocked I didn't mention that yesterday...it nearly re-programmed my entire existence. My signature began to look like a mongoose preparing to uncoil on top of a barrel, ready to strike at the first unwary wino who crossed its path.

I'm sporting my Dior sweater, because it gives me power. Power to vanquish the annoying. But nothing can destroy the Incubus fans threatening to tear my sanity in two like warring puppies tearing at opposite ends of a beloved sheet carelessly left on the clothesline.

As always, FUCK WORK.

Lunch with V-Ron today...yay!

fallfallfall

Today was kind of a dream come true. Started off cold and gray...crept towards sunny but still stayed cold and windy. The seemingly permanent green has been slowly leeched away. I woke up earlier than I had planned (always a bit of a shocker) and managed to get away with all my insane feats of procrastination (waiting until the last day to pay my P.O. box, managing to somehow not overdraft my bank account). I've been breaking in my new be-swapped style parka (I swapped a pair of swank white loafers to Jigga for it) and it feels all nice with the fake fur lining the inside. Driving to work, as I crossed the bridge, I was kind of bowled over by light breaking through the gloom over red and yellow trees and the river...it was just kind of amazing. I'm feeling very stoked about the world at large at this very moment.

Like the squillion things going on tonight. Unlike most places I've lived, I would drive myself into a tizzy over missing this or that glorious event. But here, it's just...there's always something awesome going on. And so if I really feel like hitting the town and seeing and being seen and polka dancing on the hearts of the unwary...I can! But I so rarely do, because I'm already so in love with the friends I have, I just want to hang out with them. This could be why I struggle to find a boy worthy of my affections...I am never out in places where cute gay boys go. Perhaps I should revise this policy?

Honestly, though, I'm not too worried about that. Not only is it coming up to be time for me to have sex (it's pretty much an every 3-4 months kind of thing) but...One of my crushes from last spring/summer is back in town and apparently doing one-on-one yoga sessions for 'donations.' Do you accept payments made in...dick? I guess he's kind of a yoga genius though, so if I don't get 'da vibe' I could at least get some sweet yoga for cheapish. Thinking about seeing him again though kind of freaks me out. He's incredibly dynamic and awesome, but I just get filled up with a powerful sense of nervousness. Upon meeting him I was just like...wow. You exist? Really? He's a total international sexed-up libertine and I'm...not quite the seasoned sexual warrior I would like to be and certainly not close to where he's at. Due to my runaway parade of insecurities, I don't really pursue people unless I am wasted and usually then I'm not really making sense, so I only hook up with idiots and/or people I'm not really attracted to. Sure, there have been a handful of exceptions. But not really enough to turn the tide on the other trend.

Anyway. Whatever happens happens. Which I've always thought is one of the most obvious statements one can make. Oh if it happens...it happens? Redundancy! It obviously didn't bother me enough to prevent me from using it.

Notice the subtle transition from honest disclosure to linguistic analysis? I didn't.