Tuesday, August 28, 2007

things

Tomorrow is writing night: play moving in direction of knives, sleeping outside, sex. Mustn't forget these important places to go in rest of 2nd act.

Today, I took myself to the library to write after work. I'm completely out of $ til payday thanks to massive security deposit. I'm getting around on the subway with change for single ride cards and should make it through the next two days close to fed as such. I got in an hour of writing, which was about as much as I was good for, before I got on the train to come home and realized my housekeys were in my pants in my "office" at work (i musn't wear jeans in the supply room where I work - recently chastised) - which I didn't have access to since I forgot my swipe-y thing. Got the keys with a security escort. Ate Hilal on a treeless bench area on 50th and sixth.

Fascinating isn't it?

J date an intersting scene you are welcome to discuss with me on the phone.

why can't I sleep until 1 am. Everyting will change in my new apartment.

My houseguest didn't make her bed or take out the trash - when it had food in it -- while I was gone, and I was up for hours my first night back listening to a mouse literally nose-dive into the garbage pail repeatedly. While I screamed. Until I stood on a chair, got a broom and threw the trast into the hall without having my feet in the area.

aiugh.

love
A

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Farley says to post

I broke him down - tell tale heart style - posting my last and then posting no more. What wins the cold war? - detente - not aggression wins the cold war.

I just got back from a bridal shower weekend that was a blast. I'm looking forward to the wedding big time and my friend the bride to be is a one of a kind wonderful friend - so fun to celebrate. She's nearly a doctor. Sick, no?

What to talk about-- how frightened I am of airplanes - who cares. More interstingly, perhaps, there's how often I cry on airplanes -- not hard crying now; I'm not a freak-- But anyway, there seem to be plenty of people who get to 32000 feet (or whatever) and do not feel like they're at the funeral of existence itself. Enh, they can have it their way. I consistently take my air-travel hours to accept death.

Ta-da - this is my post. more soon.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Eff you fuckin suck. Your blog is in the lame bin at the blog store. Someone even asked me the other day if I keep a lame ass stupid blog and I said I did actually but then I described it and then they said oh - not blogs like that - yours is Awesome. And I said, yeah but take a look at this one, and I showed them yours and they said "that's just what I'm talking about. These people make me sick; i mean I'm puking." That person was former Secretary of State Madeline Albright.

Happy happy. Absolutely lovely barbeque last night w my friend M. French people. Who knew i could like French people so much! American Irish catholic new wife of Frenchman also outstanding.

Beofre the wonderful bbq of which I best recall the bottle after bottle of really good wine, M and I were talking as we walked and bussed there --- she has separated from her husband - the one whom she followed to to the USA- I said "good." She didn't know about that. But we attempted commiseration about "dating" so to speak. She is committed to falling in love as soon as she falls in love and going for it whole hog. This is the French way. I asked, "So is it like the movies? You people are always pushing eachother up against walls - in love- over there?" The answer is yes. If there's one thing M. is always amazed about in American women, it's the regulation of the dating ritual, the attempt to control our destinies, the Appolonian approach we take to what is obviously a deluge. Meanwhile, she'is intrgued by our idea that you "have to get to know someone". I also think that won't change her and I realy really like her. The french are stubborn. And when they agree they sound like they're arguing. This is an easy affectation to pick up and I love it.

-A

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Quiz - what is cool?

At a party:
A) Drinking
B) Drinking Moderately
C) Not Drinking

If Drunk:
A) Telling your secrets
B) Asking other people about their secrets
C) Hiding
D) Making fun of people
E) Fighting
F) Punching that guy who's too drunk and ruining things in the face
G) Not punching that guy who's too drunk and ruining things in the face

When Dressing:
A) 80's baby
B) Glam Rock baby
C) Plenty of Black baby
D) Plenty of Pink baby (baby pink)
E) Plenty of Pink baby (hot pink)
F) That touch of thug baby
G) That touch of mink baby
H) Just make sure the hair is in some condidtion other than would be great for scrubbing the floor baby
I) As many converstion piece items as possible baby
J) Nothing you wear should be a conversation piece baby
K) You know, like, American Eagle, maybe canvas shorts, and a v-neck with a pattern perhaps, and a nondescript bag but maybe it's got some embroidery, baby.
L) I'm so cool I even think option "K" is cool, baby.

When embarassed:
A) Never happens
B) Everyone knows; I can't help showing it
C) No one knows when I'm embarassed or not

ANSWER: Hey we're all different. Cool is a really ambiguous thing. Oh, but at a party, A is cooler. And when drinking, B makes others uncomfortable although is not necessarily uncool. Depending what you did with "When dressing."

God I love this blog

The best part is how people don't know about it.

I'm in a great mood. It's the day after playwriting hangover. The cute guy in that class finally went for a beer w/ me and the instructor. This had the (wonderful! highly recommended!) effect of making me feel like I'm not too frickin aggressive for people which, you know, I've never found fair (not that anything's ever fair) but I mean I'm really not that aggressive at all in my opinion so my A#1 pet peeve has always been when guys seem in any way scared of me. There is nothing scary about me at all. I get pretty upset b/c the closest thing I can see to me being scary is me being opinionated and just leave it to men to be scared of that. R they kidding?

Anyway, point though is, I can scratch this guy off the list of guys who don't want to drink a beer with me just because I never shut up. Jeez. :) Anyway, right, point is, good mood - validation from random literate cute boy - not too high voltage for. Oh and I realized the reason I resent him is because he's got money - he doesn't have to work!!!!!! So he's always bringing in good plays for us to read every week (often featuring a histrionic mess of a female character) and add to that the seeming a little scared to get a beer and I was all "I resent that!" But wait --it's all clear enough. He's just rich. It's all very simple.

I want to write more in the spirit of always writing when I have a hangover at work, but I've got nothing to say. Or nothing appropriate to say. But I can talk about dick with my office-mate (heart her) so I won't push that on you.

I need to clean my apartment. Last night I broke a glass playing with my multi-purpose speakers playing Amy Winehouse and drinking beer after beer after beer after I drank the one beer w dude and instuctor -- 2 beers after that w instructior -- forgot to eat anything - went home and drank more played with speakers broke glass and thought -- hmmm.. there goes a glass.. shattered... I'm not going to do anything about that... damn I'm sexy.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
X
O
X
Alexis

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Why does it have to be like this?

Just when I'm ready to just quit my job, all "what have you done for me lately?" (besides lead me into depression and anxiety and a truly terrible attitude and questions like, "why was I ever even born?") I'm also moving and can't quit.

You can't imagine how many clerical tasks I have before me. My boss pretends she's going to talk to me and never ever does. The girl who is on her maternity leave that I replaced for said leave is apparently not returning til NOVEMEBEr although all the bosses have been telling me August. I'm onto their lie and try to confront but no one will talk to me.

There is so much i want to do. So much. I'm so ready for my real life to start - in the apartment with the rooms - with the things i want to write and the places I want to go. And the furniture I want to haul from dixsparate places to my new one... the flatscreen TV, the desk, the bookshelves, the leather couch, the kitchen table... oh it goes on and on and what a joy it will be but I just can't get there and I don't want to create one more spreadsheet or extract emails from one more spreadsheet or go on living if I have to continue doing this crap.

I just need this job to end. I'm going to call out tomorrow. This is the best solution I can come up with.

XO
Alexis