Gwazdor asked if I ever meditate
count my breaths

My breaths take looong

do you ever
take a nap at 7 on a friday
and wake up at 8
and turn on all the lights
and get back in bed
on your back
look at the ceiling
see a circus seal
or a cartoon airplane
there's smooth patch in the middle where the fixture glows
then craggy all around there
and theres chunky vocal soft noise
it's some kid in the stairwell and the hall
footfalls - they sound different, muffled still but percussive
and I didn't realize that kids made this noise like manatees back and forth til I listened
This would have scared me when I was little
to think about that dirty stairwell
and hear this monstrous continuous non verbal noise
insulated i was then
scared of dirty hallways, and the muffled noise of playing kids
Still insulated, but
I'm not scared now
When i was climbing up here, tired, bare-legged (hose discarded in the trash beneath my desk)
I saw him...
If he were standing he would come to the bottom of my breast
head beneath his arm face against the wall
I knew he was crying
and I said
cheer up
And he looked at me and it wasn't
stupid grown-up
it was
stupid grown up
it was okay
because I said it right
He didn't know
I didn't let on
that
one day he might be my age
lying on his back
still more in his skin than anywhere else
and certainly more in his skin than anyone else
just still him
somewhere like Queens
with his own waking thirst and ceiling to see.

Did I mention...

that I keep getting flowers out of all this "abuse" I'm setting myself up for with this guy who's working-on-it in terms of the crazy?

Seems a relevant detail.

Why am I always so touched by "trying" ... You've got to admit it's compelling.

"DRAMA QUEEN. DRAMA QUEEN. DRAMA QUEEN. DRAMA QUEEN [etc.]" -Madeline's pajama bottoms

Public V. Private

Yeah-- there has lately been this element that's like -- "you hurt my feelings. Well, that's fine, I'll write about it on my blog." So I guess that's somewhat noteworthy. I would have anyway. Just in a journal. Incidentally I bought a new journal yesterday so this blog might suffer or get ignored for a bit.

A

It sounds fun to be a powerful man

Overheard from my secretary desk: "He wants to play that game where he wants [couldn't hear] a lot of money? Fuck him."

I usually don't like women who say these sorts of things too easily (becasue I wonder how they got there and I envy them) but it sounds like a boatload of fun to talk like this and make money for it when I overhear men doing it. Let's say I'm seventh wave feminist instead of saying I'm sexist.

I can't believe I'm letting this idiot dude make me feel bad. Just another fuckin power play--- as soon as I cared even a grain's worth, it was going to be he wins - I kinda like him but he's just not a nice enough person. Saw it coming for miles. Oh well. It hardly ranks. :)

A

Just listing; you shouldn't pay attention

I do however like the double-meaning for listing... works for today.

Anyway, um

1. something a little strained/pulled in the ball of my right foot.
2. These "stay-ups" pantyhose decided to do everything except that.
3. I spent my whole, usually, acclimating-to-wakefulness commute pulling them up... and once I got to the walking portion this was something like every 15 steps -- I mean trying to find some kind of corner to hike up my skirt and pull my "stay-ups" up against every 15 steps... and if I got to 16 that meant every eye I met was on its way up from my knees where my hose-tops were hanging.
4. Last night I had grand plans, but since I haven't gone home to my house after work in days I was tired and did nothing (neither wrote nor cleaned) but talked to that guy from work. I neither really have to end it nor don't really have to end it. Makes me angry/feel bad as often if not more often than it makes me feel good. He says maybe the reason I get involved with people who yell at me is because I'm really infuriating, "Did you ever think of that Alexis? [smack lips noise] Yeah." God he's annoying. Almost everything he says! I was annoyed from the outset because I'd asked him out for tonight and he misread the email so he thought I was saying NOT to come out w/ me tonight... okay... but I was like... oh who cares... anyway, he was like "What, your father always gave you whatever you wanted and that's why you're like this?" Then when I get super annoyed by these million and one less-than-respectful statements, he says I have no sense of humour about myself. Oh, and if it weren't for my pathetic self-esteem, they wouldn't bother me. What an asshole. What's the point. He sure likes it when I look good and tells me so though... End end end. Time to end. Watch this space for more on this boring story of me and a dude. OH -- and he said If I were less sensitive, I'd be a better blogger.... except he hasn't read the blog. So he just gets me all mixed up. Just when I'm sure I have a point and deserve respect, he turns it around on the head of a point from left field to make sure I know it's really about me being hypersensitive and fucked up.
5. The subway was SO PACKED, I kept falling into the arms of strange men. They were all of them really nice but it still made me angry (not at them; at life) the fourth and fifth time.

Write me today. It's miserable in these hose with runs falling down and the world's least sutiable lover and no evening plans. :( :( :( My shoes are so beautiful people could conceivably die from laying eyes on them. First day out for white leather t-strap 2 inch heels.

XO
A

Diagnosis culture

You already know this.

I met a lot of people this year. Probably about 6 of them told me within some very quick amount of time their diagnosis -- 'I am ADD' 'I am OCD.'

Remember character? No me either but I've heard about it.

Parents, don't get your kids diagnosed! They'll diagnose themselves... but at least it'll be unconfirmed and they'll maybe examine it.

I should be the world's mother. Go to your room.

love
Alexis

You cannot live on caffeine alone

I'm here to tell you.

Obsessions

In list format I assume.

Because God knows I don't want to bore anyone here. But here comes a break where I chat w/ Eff Gwazdor for a sec.

*Eff - A) I tried to post to the Extended Pizza -- what we talked about --- an opening scene to a play I've lost interest in... I could find no way to attach a word document to a blog post. It seemed as if I had to create a website to link to or something. I don't know... meanwhile I was so close to doing it mainly because I saw I was logged on to the Pizza as you, Gwazdor, on my li'l apple... so with that much accomplished already, it seemed worth it. Anyway, now I'm back to square one, so we're gonna need to discuss how it's done if you really think I should get something up there.
B) In this whole private v. public discussion I think we're missing a key reference, at least as it applies to my kinds of qualms and that's a v. important book called "Harriet the Spy." Back in the day there WAS a problem with people discovering how you saw them when you were keeping track for yourself. The finding and reading of journals is a good place to start a discussion of public and private as it relates to me. How do you treat people's words? How close are they to the person? .)

So, obsessions. Really good point from a writing class on character was "you have obsessions... you must give your characters obsessions too."

Some of mine
A) The subway.
B) "Your feet are tired sweetie? I'll carry you..." <--- This today from a guy doing I have no idea what in the driver's seat of a truck outside Radio City. As always, I couldn't understand what he'd said til I was 25 feet past but then I spent the rest of my tiny trek thinking about turning around to say "Actually.. I'm sweating buckets under this jacket, these bags are weighing me down, I just felt a gush of blood rush out of me from within, this coffee cup is burning my fingers and yes, my feet do hurt.. I knew these shoes were the wrong size but I just couldn't find others in a rush this morning and me and the dude I shack down with now and then argued and he said I have massive self-esteem problems and called me a bitch and mimicked me really unflatteringly all becasue I said he didn't know how to handle a woman but that was just becasue I didn't think he'd walk me to a taxi and I don't think he understands how very much he should walk me to a taxi when I've slept at his house. You'll REALLY carry me?" Et Tu, Alexis? In your heart of hearts, do you really want a thug? Maybe. Seriously maybe. I don't care if he screws around. I am fascinated although not obsesssed yet I guess, with the "sweetie, I'll carry you" concept.
C) shallow discourse re: celebrities, designer stuff, feminine maintenence, money, etiquette.
D) Sexual objectification
E) Did I say the subways?

This list functions poorly and was really an excuse to write about B) but I want to keep you all here in my world as effectively as possible you know. That's why the blessed blog anyway isn't it?

So crazy. :) :)
Love you to death
A

Don;t you miss it don't you miss it some of you people just about missed it

Alors, I'm posting mostly because I want to move yesterday's post out of the limelight. I was fatigued. Two guesses. (clue: and my back hurt.)

New York is a place that has a meaning of its own, unlike Pennigton, New Jersey. Like, in Pennington the people who live there don't really know if that's Abbey Rd. like the girl's name Abbie, or if it's A-B like the first two letters of the alphabet. If someone was calling me on my cell coming to rescue me by car from some kind of Christmas day dramatics at the homestead for example, and she said she was lost on Abbey and said it one way or another, I'd still tell her... "See that elementary school up ahead? Turn right." By contrast, if my brother called to tell me he was bleeding out his eyes on Houston Street and pronounced it like the city in Texas, I'd surely go "HOUSE-TON! What's wrong with you!?!?!"

You fair correspondent here has been implicated by others from time to time of some kind of falling prey to something when it comes to New York... that's how the accusers make it sound. And all your fair correspondant said was, "New York is the only city." What?

Overall I guess I just want to say haters are jealous, whatever they say. Not envious. They may not actually want to live here. They may actually like what they've got where they are. In fact I assume they do. But when people "just don't see it" they're right and that makes them oblivious to something to be seen. New york is 8 million people in a relatively small space at a time. So when you're here, you're coexisting with a section of 8 million people all the time. Some of them could mug you, because out of 8 million, some certain number are desperate muggers. Some of them will glare at you because they are having a very frustrating day. Most of the people you see every day are on their way somewhere. And even people who live here and have for years look up in the street when there's something really cool to draw their eye there. But the reason they mostly don't look up is because they have to do something today and they don't want to fall and you've got to know what's happening south of the knees.

Anyway, trying to co-exist is one of the most interesting things people can do, in my view. It's interesting in cases of cohabitation (but let's not forget incredibly stifling sometimes) and it's interesting on the large scale too. New Yorkers are hyper-stimulated. But they're not here for the glamour; this accusation is so silly because who do you think would be the first to notice that it's far from glamorous in the day to day --- you know, duh, the day to day residents. It's hustle that's glamorous to people but you've got to get the chicken and egg thing right there. Scale makes the hustle, the hustle reinforces the scale. Escaping the hustle has cache too... I mean even languishing in New York takes on a little special something becasue New York's outside the window. I didn't make the rules about all this.

XOXOX
Alexis

Oh man

What a weekend. Gwazdor came to town and expanded my mind but not before we filled our bodies with poison. (His word.) We really fiugred out good ways to say some stuff and other times we had to settle for his conclusion, which I think is astute, that most things are so incredibly complicated, esp. most things about communication, that making the best sense you can will get you too no sense, closer, but still so far. There aren't words for everything. Later on the subway, I sat and he stood. I said "I like how much we drank last night. It was fun." He said, "I can't hear you." like he'd never seen me before in his life. Then he said "I don't know you. do you always talk to strangers like that?" It had the desired effect of being embarassing.

What I'm thinking about now is how I sleep when I sleep in Pennington New Jersey. When I sleep in Pennington New Jersey I wake up in the night aware of mortality. I fall back asleep fine and I think that must be why it's called a "comforter." It's something though -- how much more likely I am to feel this back home with my family sleeping in the other rooms than in my studio apartment by myself. What is it about my family in the house that pushes inescapable death so directly to my conscious mind?

I have to go. This is a weird one. Delete later maybe. Busy.

XO
A

I’m happy

Last night I talked on the phone for hours with E. He may or may not get evicted and when he does, his outstandingly f-ed up credit will most likely mean he can’t rent another place on his own. I think the word for what he was doing is “whining”…

Let me break for a second because this is what I think I’ll write about and then post; and I don’t think it’s right to get too deep on the internets about things you know about another in all intimacy. E. knows about le blog. I really like how it’s not a big fucking deal to him actually. He doesn’t read it avidly like the two of you + 1 not using the internet for addiction reasons right now… not that I can tell anyway. And when I pried as to why he wasn’t hanging on my every e-word, he basically said he looked at it and it was cool and he actually had hoped to see more about himself. So anyway, if it provokes a crisis for him, which I think is very unlikely, he asked for it. In the instance where I was all e-exposed, I guess that was a whole other story… because the person doing it was a lunatic…and me, a bastion of right-thinking in a misguided world! So this is all cool.

Anyway, he was whining and I was arguing with him about it like Sally Sunshine and he was trying to prove as usual that his life is miserable ruined and awful and we got to the “Sorry, I can’t do this, it’s too absurd” point and the conversation turned to depression in more general terms, and evolved at least a little to include me in its themes and how it includes me is that depression makes me angry… What I mean is, I get tough-love about it and if that doesn’t work then too bad sayonara basically. For my part this reaction probably has to do with my mom and also however long I spent teaching. There’s just not time enough in life to argue with foregone conclusions (eg. “My life is ruined.”) E. calls this “A little simplistic” and I’m sure that’s true, but it’s so great when you find something that you can be a little simplistic about and not get burnt by the complications… “I’m not getting dragged into someone else’s depression” is one of those.

Talking to E. did sort of show me how depression is a disease though, like others, but weirder. Not that he’s got it like late-stage cancer... just that he needs a good dose of chemo at Sloane Kettering.

And as usual, the most important thing is friends. Why don’t people talk about this more?

Love
Alexis

Now I've lost all Faith

When you have a problem with yahoo mail do you know what those fuckers try to get you to do? ASK OTHER YAHOO USERS THEIR OPINION IN AN ONLINE FORUM... or pay a customer service representative $30.00 for assistantce for the next 3 days. Nooooooooooooo... that's not what I want, Yahoo, neither of those things, but most of all NOT THE ASSISTANCE OF OTHER YAHOO USERS who literally "vote" on the answer to my question... which I promise you is so riveting I expect they'd all be e-lining up to answer. I can't even direct my anger here... I'm angry at yahoo for suggesting that anyone would want to vote on answers to my question about their email service and I'm just angry at THE WORLD if anyone would. (whisper in your ear, readers: my "search email" function ceased to function. I finally managed to send a normal-ish seeming service request form out into the inter-ether so if you love me, don't tell me what you think the problem is... I'll come begging tomorrow or the next day if Yahoo, the resposible party, doesn't pony up some answers.)

Leave it to parochial floater who gets paid, like, double my slary, to explain to me that this is just a case of me not understanding -- you can do this for everything! : how to break up with a boyfriend, how to cook a Turkey. Me: I can understand the Turkey.

Hello young lawyers whoever you are, I know you just love cocaine...

Alexis: Hel...
Lawyer on phone: Hi Ro... Hi how are ya.. Hi. Maybe you can hel...
Alexis: Alexis actually, She's out sick today...
L: Oh well, that's fine, that's fine. Now maybe you can help me... maybe you've seen.. can you tell me if you've heard of this...see I've got this document here... and see.. I'm the attorney.. now do you know... have you ever heard of attorneys using the letterhead of the client... These guys are asking me... I'm drafting this document for 666 Xth avenue and these guys are asking.. can you put it on the 666 letterhead? Do you have that? Is this something you've heard of I mean... using the letterhead? Does 666 have its own letterhead, you know?
Alexis: I don't know. You're the attorney for that property?
L: Yeah. yes.
Alexis: Well, I don't know the first thing about it.. I mean I can give you the number of the Property Manager at 666... and I have [our company] letterhead here...
L: Sure sure.. No I think I have that. No that's okay. But I mean in your experience, have you seen that? I mean, do you know what they're saying?
Alexis: Well... you're the atttorney?
L: Yeah.
Alexis: And this document is for...
L: The Insurers.
Alexis: Well, I'm a floating administrative assistant you understand...
L: Right, but do you know anything about this? About using company letterhead for the properties...
Alexis: Well I guess all I can say is you're the attorney for this particular [our company] property... why would you have any letterhead but your own? It doesn't follow. As an employee of [our company] can't you use your own letterhead on behalf of us, your client who's employing you? Why would you have any letterhead other than your own?
L: Yeah.. that's good... THAT'S what I'll tell them.
Alexis (hangs up, turns to Debbie who hasn't spoken to her for three hours since she told A. that she's eating just fish and spinach today since eating ice cream and toblerone yesterday): I love it Debbie.. the people calling and asking you things... this Lawyer just called asking me what I knew about letterheads and business practice...
(Debbie turns to Alexis and stares into her eyes. Turns back to her computer screen wordless.)

Blog entry

Well I’m back. I assume you missed me in the internet.

I don’t know what to blog about because I’m so busy procrastinating making my ideas into anything of-a-piece… meaning I am checking my empty email inbox every two and half minutes… cooking up a different scene/ story first-paragraph every ten minutes in my head.. about to buy a really pretty purple button front shirt dress online. I don’t know where I get off with this stuff.

News of the vacation:

It’s much easier to relax on vacation in Florida, but only if you promise yourself with your best attempt at honesty that you won’t let yourself relax on return.

It’s a slower pace down there. Like floating through life. I prefer the hard way. It’s dangerous in Miami because the way not to be bored would probably be to party and party and party. That’s kind of empty and good. When I do finally go to a psychiatrist though, I wouldn’t want that to be the story --- like, “I’ve been filling my body with the most fabulous pills and a gallon of alcohol a day for the past ten years. I have lots of beautiful stuff. I don’t think I can ever stop taking these pills.” Yuck. I’d want to tell myself to shut up and give me $200, you know?

I think Spring will come this year. I’ve seen the sun and it really does give you a boost!

XO
A

R.D. Lang I am not

But anyway, here's that old post I erased where I listed out a bunch of things I've heard preople refer to or referred to myself as "crazy." I'm pretty sure I was high when I read it over and erased it, thinking, "Doing this will be used against you at your commital." or "They're gonna fire you when they find out this is what you're thinking about at work." Reading it now, it's just not that interesting! Add to list: PARANOIA. (oh it's already there. I knew it was exhaustive!)
------
If I can get this post down right then maybe I will never need to write anything ever again because this is the thing that preoccupies me most of all...

It's the word "crazy." People use this word to stand in for a lot of things. I do. I want to make a lexicon of crazies. I have not even taken Psych 101, yet behold:

I think it's best to start with Depressed. Lots of times people say "Crazy" and it would do just fine to sub in "Depressed". So let's start with kinds of ways of feeling depressed:

1) Genuine grief. Definitely not crazy and no one calls it that. Time eventually dulls this which is a lot like healing it. You do everything you can to make time pass in the most effectual way for you.

2) Like I do sometimes! How I am crazy! This would be, a little fatigued with it all already... life's full of obligations that can wear you down. And then add to this fatigue any old crush to the ego... say you find out your boyfriend you're living with is actually more bent on destroying you than supporting you and doesn't actually know you at all somehow, nor you him... or falling for someone stupidly (getting swept up, bitten by reality,) or you accidentally hurt someone's feelings; they accidentally hurt yours... and you were tired already! You examine your life as objectively as you can (difficult!).... but you feel sad and think you must be CRAZY to feel sad. No one's ever going to understand you. If you get fatigued, sad, cyclical, like this, and you can't shake it off by your best efforts, you get to be officially depressed. But maybe you ususally avoid it through some methodology you've developed somewhere in-between consciously and unconsciously. If not, i.e. you can't avoid it try as you might... add extreme wit and you're like Dorothy Parker. Add intensive hemorraghing the first time you have sex and keen awareness of the 1950's role of wife and you're a Sylvia Plath - sorry! Add rockstar and congratulations you are Janis Joplin. Boys, if you sleep with someone like this, (even one of the crazies who does generally dust herself off) try not to tell her she's "crazy" too often, or at least not more than once when she's waking up, because she'll A) get mad and/or B) might spend the day feeling teary/ wondering if she's crazy.

3) More specifically the fatigue much harder core, like too fatigued to get out of bed and by corrolary even more despair, increasing and increasing. This would be the hopelessly depressed. This would be the kind where you think "maybe altering the brain chemicals with drug therapy would actually help." This is Depression. These people probably aren't usually even called "crazy." I've heard it happen though.

4) Personality Disorder Depression. I believe we're still talking about different kinds of depressed. (Seeing as this can often be called "crazy.") It's starting to get a little dicey but bear with me. Personality disorder types are the people I personally probably call "crazy" the most. For example a friend might say : "My landlady insists that I scratched her car last week but I wasn't even in town and now she's leaving increasingly strongly worded notes on my door." and I'd say "That's because she's Crazy. Have you ever heard of a landlady who wasn't Crazy?" I still say this is a depression though -- a depression complexly morphed into a disorder that we can call crazy. People's bi-polar sisters are typically this kind of depressed, often called "crazy." Instead of feeling sad-bad, these people just go on with their bad selves when a delusion makes their roiling feelings feel justified. They don't know where their strong emotions are coming from -- strong emotions are scary -- so they decide, maybe just in the moment, that it's because of some immediate person or thing or obstacle -- such as not having a $10,000 drum set. This is also the kind of "crazy" a mom goes when she suddenly smacks her kid becasue he's there. If this is consistent behavior, congratualtions you're bi-polar I bet, or at least disordered. If you add Crystal Meth you're "crazy" just like many people residing in Hollywood .

5) Schizophrenic. Like the above but with voices and hullucinations. Can't understand difference between what people generally agree is transpiring in reality and what you perceive is transpiring. Leading possibly to homeless.

6) A depressed that's really into the alienation/hostility side and creeps people out. Maybe this is your "sociopath." Not good at the social stuff. Brooding, quiet, into metal. Maybe you're a 14 year old boy. Maybe you never stopped being like you were when you were a fourteen year old boy. Columbine, among other things, gave this "crazy" a bad name. It would be nice if there was a clear determinant which people like this were serial killers and which were just this odd-ball crazy, not good with people, don't want to make friends type, love the pain. (I've never met the serial killer kind I don't think.)

7) Needy. Everyone's somewhat needy. I start saying "crazy" when they go to the dark side, myself included. Obviously subjective.

8) Somehow empty. Also depressed. Rich. Stuck in childhood. Stuck in general.

Moving out of depressed crazy, here are some other things that get called crazy.

1) Dumb as dirt. Often called "crazy."
2) Very Shy
3) Very Loud, Raucous
4) Creative and paranoid

There are more. But this has been very satisfying for me.

Intrepid / Eastern (opposite of Eastern)

There's a Taoist proverb where there's this farmer and he's got two sons. One year the crops all die and the whole family practically starves. Some neighbors bring over a little feast and look around at the wasteland and say "Oh that's bad" - but the farmer says "It's not good or bad." The next week raping evil tribes come and kill the neighbors because they had food on their farm. Again, someone tells him, oh that's bad, but good for you man. He again declines to weigh in with opinion. Then his son has a son. ("Good!" "It's no good or bad.") Then his other son dies. Then they win the lotto; then they lose it all becasue they're morons. I don't know.

I think I live a tiny Taoist life cycle getting to work when it's this cold and snowing.
* Last night - oh shit my ipod's broken. Damn just in time for vacation. Let me get on the internet...
* This morning - oh shit it's so cold I can't possibly leave this bed. Email from NYCipoddoctor - press the middle and menu at the same time for 10 seconds. The ipod is restored.
* Perfect - it's freezing, but the laundry downstairs should have my dry cleaning ready.. I'll just wear all of it at once.
* The laundromat is not open yet and you should be on your way the hell out of Queens once it is.
* Oh fuck.. I have to go to the 42nd street office today.
* Oh great... so I can wear the same clothes as yesterday!
* It is brutally cold but I have long johns from the last time I was stranded in mid town cold beyond cold and threw myself at the feet of retailer with open door who presented long johns.
* Oh fantastic.. I missed a train full of empty seats but SURELY another train will come in the next 20 minutes and I'll get a seat on that one.
* No.
* God, it's too crowded to even reach into my bag to put the ipod phones in my ears.
* I'm alive another day on this bizarre amazing earth. A lady is taking me to the room of this office that has bagels. She is telling me that half the people in here are AUDITORS eating OUR BAGELS.

XOXO
Alexis

Hi

So I'm back at work. Last night I commented on my last post and it called me Hillary. This must have occured because sometime earlier in the weekend she checked her email on my computer and then later in the weekend I went on her bridesmaid blog. Maybe it's not so fascinating to you but I thought it was pretty unexpected. Anyway.

Oh anyway, I was not reading carefully Eff; you did say you wanted to come out to see the place.

My thoughts are the usual right now. The New York MTA is an amazing system just like the ecosystem Earth and the planetary sprawl. But it is a cyborg system because there's humans at the helm of its ships. Friends are so good and life renewing.

I'm going to Miami on Friday. My grandmother called this morning. She lives in Sarasota.. nowhere near Miami, but she really wants to see me. So do I cut my trip short and drive to Sarasota somehow eventhough I can't really rent a car.. unless it's true that Hertz lets you use your debit card? If I write to the ethicist with this question, I will be mocked & scorned on Gawker so I won't. Plus he wouldn't answer in time.

BORING!