A Christmas Story

I can blog to procrastinate. Being unemployed is still great. I've calmed down. I need to work and I'm blogging but perhaps I also need to consider my beliefs and my life. What a serious girl. Serious is my crazy.

The holidays are something I have to compartmentalize. It's not because I'm Jewish - it's because I had such a complicated childhood. I mean, I think that is why I'm so analytical. Anyway, most people are really into Christmas it seems. I approve the most when there is a lot of baking going on (and wine). On my step dad's side there are some close families. At Grandma Betsy's we'd stay with all his brothers and sisters and cousins in Springfield, Illinois, Land of Lincoln. We'd sing and bake and some grownups would go to Midnight Mass. Seriously, his tall gorgeous sisters would sit up late Christmas Eve by the tree singing "The Lemon Tree." One year it snowed three feet of perfect packing snow, but I was sick. As a result of Grandma Betsy's compassion for the awful injustice of that, I got to eat cocoa puffs 'round the clock. I remember hearing jokes from my aunt on my Mom's side about my stepdad's Episcopalian family times vs. our Jewish dysfunctional disasters- which is a Woody Allen bit from Annie Hall and pretty on-the-money.

A friend of mine recently assumed that I forego Christmas somehow, or wouldn't know about Christmas or something, because "You're Jewish!" (My response: "You think I'm a Communist?") In reality I had many Christmases with my stepdad's family in Illinois, and encouraged my younger cousin bed-sharers to listen for hoofsteps and all this. Santa was big in my life for a time, even predating my stepdad's entrance on the scene. (As was Jesus - thanks to Ted Turner and a Sunday cartoon called "Superbook.") Anyway, I wasn't being raised religious, so you have to give a Jewish kid Christmas if they're in public school for goodness sake. I imagine it just happens. :-) I had a lot of questions about the big man and Mrs. Claus, but I got funny answers - "A big telescope." "They try to match the paper a family is using." "Well, really, it's more like Dad and I are his elves." (I could read the writing on the wall but liked the imagination belief inspired.) My step dad relied on Santa heavily as a negotiation tool with my younger siblings which is sort of sick and funny. He relied on two things, sarcasm and Santa, for the discipline of his children and it really didn't work at all. They'd hit each other and scream bloody murder about it. He'd yell: "Hey! Santa is WATCHING" and laugh.

He employed this sarcasm with me too. When he married my mother, I was five. He made a lot of jokes about "Okay that's it; Go get me my belt," and stuff (His father said such things in seriousness back in his day in what I picture as Tom's "A Christmas Story" childhood). Tom would NEVER have hit me with a belt but I was five and didn't find his humor at my expense so funny at all. There was one day I was punished in the Cafeteria at PS 158 and made to go stand on a perp line with BAD 6th GRADE BOYS for a shaming before hundreds. His delight at the humor of this and support of the principal and her methods was not very understandable to me. When we moved to New Jersey and I hated it, I was unhappy with him. We did a thing called "Indian Princesses" to improve our relationship.

The main way he drove me crazy was that he devised this punishment where I couldn't talk at the table for half an hour or something. And I would basically cry and that got a lot of headshaking disbelief and delight from him. "Crying!? It's been five minutes!" I don't know why I'm thinking about myself as a child so much. I guess it's unemployment and clearing my mind. :-) This Indian princesses story is funny though if you want to bear with me. (why?)

So we do this Indian Princesses thing. He is Tall Timber and I am Little pine cone. Girls and their dads go around town doing crafts at eachother's houses and wearing feathers. Pretty fucking cute.

And then there is a winter retreat weekend to Camp Mason in Blairstown. It's the statewide Indian Princesses gathering and our tribe are all sharing a cabin. I am seriously pissed at one Tom, my stepdad. Children aren't as hard to analyze as adults. I'd say this retreat must have been timed with my first winter in New Jersey and a seven year old's grasping sadism towards Tom was born of not liking NJ one bit and taking his jokes very personally. I hated New Jersey and it wasn't funny!

So the first afternoon we have to rehearse a fable play that we'll perform at dinner that night for all the other tribes. There is a wart hog on the character list. "That's you." I tell my stepdad. "You will play the wart hog."

I didn't like, really, to be so mean. Deep down I felt the same heat in my person that would come with welling tears. Tom and the other dads were good about my (completely Tom focussed) sneering. The other dads laughed it off with Tom. So it was fine. I continued to be just bitchy enough that we could move on with things.

I think I thought it was a pretty big deal. My attitude. Now I realize a mean seven year old is a lot funnier to an adult than she is powerfully scarring.

So Tom played the warthog and I ignored him in the cabin. The next day was so much fun. We went sledding. I was not angry at Tom that day, but I was obsessed with sledding. I ran off with Aaron who was there with his Dad and his tribe of Indian Princes. He wanted to show me another hill. Tom freaked out when I didn't come back up the hill, so he ran down it, falling, and seriously breaking his arm. Well, I felt terrible. Aaron's dad took Tom to the hospital and I went back to the cabin with the other dads and girls.

I wouldn't have been surprised or felt anything but the guilty and deserving party had they then commenced an inquisition into how I had broken Tom's arm. I imagine I was probably asking Jesus and Santa to forgive me even though neither were real. I was trying to steel myself to confess the kind of terrible person I knew that I was to the assembled cabin of community fathers and girls my age with dignity and without tears, but I think I failed, and cried incoherently, unable to explain what I had done - making him the wart hog and hating him yesterday and now he probably thought I didn't like him, as he was screaming out in pain at the hospital.

I broke Tom's arm.

The other fathers assured me this wasn't true. He would be fine. They distracted me and I had the finest night I've ever. So much hot chocolate and such a grand party we had in the cabin.

Tom came back to the cabin around four or five and told me he was fine and I mumbled a little about how much fun we had while he was gone.

His arm was in a cast and a sling and we were dropped off. I ran up to the door to explain things to my mother. She was absolutely horrified.

A Christmas Story of everbody dealing with everything in the holiday spirit. :-) Sometimes people do right. Life has charms.

It's 5:00 am.

A cab ride to Queens at 4:30 is... at 4:30am New York is so... manageable. I mean not quite. That's not quite true. It's only how I feel. Every building still has lives beyond accounting in it. Nothing has changed. Only the time of day. Of night. But from lower west to chelsea to drop off Jen over and up 6th and then over to third moves so fast and quiet and there it all is There's old midtown, a cold, arted place, empty squares, loose snow, and we're over on third now and here is the start of the bridge. Cocaine, you have me lucid. Hello New york. I've done nothing wrong.

Everything is good right now, for what it's worth, which I suppose is very little, but drugs are okay once a year, once every seven months. i like to be lucidly able to feel that all is alright right now though. I don't feel it's bad.

I do feel a revolution of some kind must be near. I do wonder why it can't be like the sixties, not that I was there, but i am fascinated. But I don't find mushrooms. I find theater. I find this endless trying... that is theater in New York. And I like it - i don't care. Does that make sense? i don't care that it asks me so little. No free love. No anything. Just we know. That we are trying. to be a thing that can't be nostaligic or fails.

Oh wow - nonsense I write. Yoda I am. :-)

I look real pretty in the mirror. I am my own everything you know. I don't have good steady sex. I have hot baths and lying on my back. I have home at 5 am, look in the mirror, I'm pretty. I really have everything to give. I really am all of it myself. I feel unafraid now. I feel I'll put it in plays. I feel I'll put it in effort. I feel I will try to moisturize and this package i am will survive. Something terrible could happen. Any time. But I'll just keep having fun. Seeking out what New York is being me, living not in manhattan and not in Brooklyn, partying the theater party. Loving who reaches out and asks, lighting design nerd or beautiful Nick B who I will never because he has a lovely girlfriend.

And with a little of the non-sixties drug, that's alright. it's not falling into a heap of love. That's not the spirit of the times. It's staying out as late as we can. It's putting the sloppy drunks in a cab. It's being happy to get out of corporate. Writing. Applying. Lazy and beautiful and able to write. Big eyes and able. Tonight it's all alright. We deserve to know we're alright 21st century disaster children.

X

Wow

Some real shit goes down upstairs about 1:00am-3:30am some nights. I paced around listening to their argument last night. it was monumentally stupid and upsetting. Now that it's 12:38pm and lots of coffee in my system I feel sorry for the poor girl. " Kept awake, I was pretty mad at her too for letting this fellow know where she lives. They go: "Look at you!" "No, No Look at you!" They hit each other last night. I wasn't sure, but later they were arguing about who hit whom. But from 2:00 on it was the man doing this horrible working himself up sobbing "Don't do this to me! Please please..." I believe it was "don't go" She's on the lease though so WOW SO DYSFUNCTIONAL AND KEEPING ME AWAKE.

I guess I buy earplugs because I'm not comfortable going up with a cup of tea? I don't know this person at all. My neighbor tells me she's divorced and she's Spanish, so when she met her when she was moving in she was with her whole family. That's all I know - and the upsetting "Get off me. Get off me. Don't touch me." content of her terrible fights with her ex-husband? Is this her ex-husband - poor thing? "I've helped you more than your mother ever has!" Man, I want her to get a restraining order. I wish I was going up there with a cup of tea and advice for a restraining order? Does anyone have any suggestions?

I really do feel bad for her. She's got to get rid of him for our sleep.

Pop Culture reporter cont.

Johnnie Walker Black print ad on subway:

"We only shake hands. We call each other once a month max. I still think you're adopted. And although I'd rather streak across a crowded stadium than tell you this - you're a great little brother."

The idea is that you can give a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black and say this to the giftee in so doing.

A) I would really really appreciate if you would say maximum instead of max, asshole.

B) Let's imagine that this is the dialogue of a character. This character is on "In Treatment" - because he has issues. (Or she. She would be interesting. But let's just keep this literal. The character is a subway print ad. the ad itself is gendered by our preconceptions, but in fact has no gender, is an ad.) "Why," asks Paul "would you prefer to streak than to tell your brother that you think he's been an excellent brother to you?"

"Dude" says the subway print ad.

"Wait- let me just make sure I'm clear about what you're saying," says Paul, "Would you like to streak across the field in front of a stadium of people?"

"NO man!"

"Alright - that's what I presumed. But that would be quite a sensation wouldn't it? I mean how would that feel?"

Subway print ad smirks. Finally,: "It would be embarrassing."

Paul: Ah. What I'm hearing... correct me if I'm wrong but I'm hearing that you'd find it terribly embarrassing to streak across the field but even more embarrassing- am I right?- to tell your brother he's been a great brother. Now... bear with me if you would, you say you and your brother talk at the most once a month, and that you only shake hands. Would you rather express affection with something more like a hug... would you prefer to speak with him more often... do you imagine that you could speak with him about... well, you tell me, what would you like to talk about with him if you could?

Subway print ad: I've gotta go Paul - sorry man. Early tee time. But I've gotta say - sorry man- but people are supposed to want to be like me. I'm an ADVERTISEMENT.

Paul: So what's the point for me then? What am I doing here - we're now aspiring to be unable to express ourselves, embarrassed by affection for even our literal brothers, looking for gifts that say I'd rather go to jail than talk to you but I do sort of like you enough to give you a gift? Boast our distance from our feelings. That's a way people think it's cool to be- is that what you're saying, Advertisment?

Advertisement: Isn't that, like, the definition of cool? Like cooled off- like not warm - warm is goopy, disgusting.

Paul: But look at the world, look at the headlines. Isn't distance from one another the last thing anyone needs? Not to mention it is literally very cold out there...

Advertisemnt: Thus, dude, JOHNNIE WALKER BLACK. Be cool, stay warm.

Paul: My goodness Advertisement -I like that: Be cool, stay warm. Clever and so inoffensive.

Advertisement: You just don't get it.

Paul: Right. Right. Assholes. Life is about becoming a cool asshole. That and money, max.

Advertisement: (sigh) It isn't you Paul.

Paul: I know. i'm going to kill myself tonight.

Advertisement: DUDE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY THERAPIST.

Paul: Hold on a sec.

(Paul unzips his pants and wags his penis in Advertisement's face)

Paul: I like exposing myself. I feel so alone.

Fin.

Pop Culture reporter

MTV has a show called When I was 17.

It was my intention to joke about how all these people were just 17 yesterday but no--- the episode I just clicked to is actually all old people like myself. People more than 10 years past 17.

Um, Melissa Joan Hart's mom took her to the Limelight. Rapper Flo Rida named himself Flo Rida - and it was perfect because that's a place he likes, Florida, and he flows and was ridin' on all the people - perfect, and Sammi from Days of our lives fell off a horse while exhibiting and got a very small back eye which was gone a week before her audition for Days of Our Lives - perfect.

When I was 17, Advanced chorus had to go sing at some competition near Six Flags Great Adventure. While we waited to perform, Megan and I tried to guess numbers and colors we were thinking of using telepathy. We had enormous success at this and I kept on shrieking at our extra sensory feats of perception. Later, back at school, maybe a week later, Mrs. Corelli told the class, the class called "Advanced Chorus" we would not be asked back as we were too loud and obnoxious. Yet she did not seem to know who was too loud. I don't know if it was true, don't know what the nature of this chorus competition was in the first place, do not think we really weren't asked back. I don't know though, because I was a senior.

When I was 17.

My procrastination

oh it is so monolithic; it is so epic. I also think it's still, just for the next five hours, within the realm of allowable. I mean to blog now. As if you care, I think I'll kind of ponder quirks of my personality.

And yes, first, what is personality?

Understand, I've been using "okcupid" as my means of procrastination.

Online dating sites tend to feature basically, the Meyers Briggs personality test, but now extended to infinity.

I'm pretty sure I'm like, extroverted, thinking judging feeling or something like that.

but... we've talked about this before. We've talked about everything before. "Which is more romantic: kissing in a tent or kissing in Paris?" Um. Kissing in an airplane when you're scared because of environmental anxiety and anxiety and romance turn out to be a heartbeat alliance. See.. I'm supposed to be at work on my play. :-) but I didn't make it to the coffeeshop. ;-) Dating sites and blog you get!

Enh whatever- I'm just telling you about my life right? Valid. So anyway, I've been real sucked into okcupid and some people are so funny and clever and dark and insane. I forget that I'm looking for love in these internet places and inspect the details of people that are CRAZY.

The crazy people, haha, they implore you: why not? Isn't your mind free? Isn't life LIFE? And my answer is, oh baby, I'll read about you. I don't want to meet you but WRITE. Tell me more Chancellor Foodreallyisn'tthatinterestingtome-Isubsistmostlyonbread. I appreciate that you don't think I should quit smoking.

How weird the internet. I'm not writing to the Chancellor, or Brick_Nipples as he goes by. !

But what I've been doing is turning thirty, home for the holidays, a party hosted by a blog/blogger I'm obsessed with and I was too drunk at (and then so hungover, and now have a cold), thinking about memories a lot, and generationally a bit and therefore I just wanna say, Wow- the internet.

I feel like the answer to how old I am is my step dad worked for Cern and then Fermilab. So when i was five or six I went to Rockefeller University to visit Tom at work and heard the wild "eep" sound and some other sounds and that computers could make noises seemed amazing and like the future. My life was amazing when I was five. Dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum and IBM green-screened machines supposedly telling the scientists data to explain the behavior of sub nuclear particles.

It's a very difference sense of a computer than I have now. I'm not talking about me - I'm talking about the world. I just got a new Macbook Air. It's so light. I can carry it everywhere. I can carry the internet everywhere. It's not a member of our family. But members of our family can show us what they like on it. And there are so many smart people lost in there with you. What I mean is the internet is some big deal stuff. It is science fiction come true, a bit more that the moon landing I think. Brazen statement? I think the way that day to day in America we interect with this system
has a more complex and futuristic meaning than we sent people to the moon? Wait. They're both pretty big deals. Oh god what a genius you have here writing to you. :-D

What if I ever had a point peeps? Hold that thought.

love

Fantastic Time

Funny that my last post was "musta done something wrong" as I just had a weekend that was a real "must have done some things really right."

Speaking of which, it's really important that I write. Today I'm just feeling good and smiling about the trip. I meant to get it all together today theoretically but I might get my excercise by procrastinating writing hours dancing to the cd I got from the street band. Gym n errands tomorrow.

If you're getting real neurotic in New York, I recommend New Orleans.

love
Alexis

Okay

I actually did something very wrong in my life and there is a punishing force. As I was finishing that last post a cockroach fell from the ceiling of the kitchen right past my head and he's HUGE and when i stood up going oh my god oh my god it ran away and as I looked for what to kill him with I lost him. AAAAAAAAAAAAA It was huge!!!!!!!!!!! Oh my god oh my god oh my god. :( :( :( !

Using the blog as it was intended

I'm a bit out of sorts. It feels a bit off limits to be worried and sad right now, to write about it, given the extent to which I was convinced and it seems made efforts to convince who might listen that the only thing between me and Happiness was my stupid job, now having been let go.

But lemme tell you I had a hell of a nice night and day after with than handsome smart guy at the bar. And he literally disappeared. He texted over a week ago that he was going out of cell reception for the weekend but still had me on his mind. Since then it seems his phone has been continually actually off. I'm sorry folks but it's a little trying on my spirit. I mean, is he okay? This is why I guess it's good to have a blog. I can do what I want. I can ponder the options*: * He said he was bipolar a bit. Is this his downswing? Completely Off. This is the most likely I guess.

So I should be Glad we had what we had for a night.

The problem with that is, you know, just take deep breaths. I'm lonely and - what's nice right now, typing - is I don't feel *that* bad. I'm trying to tell you how I feel sad, but there is a persistence of happiness in here, in my head I mean. Like I kind of am glad we had what we had for a night. He made me feel beautiful. The sad creeps in when it comes to me being picky. He made me feel beautiful but it's so rare that I let my guard down. It's like I require such a cool charmer. I worry, my friends. I worry there aren't enough of them and the ones who do it well are wont to vaporize.

Thank goodness it's been perfect fall days. But the more lovely the days the more I wonder what happened to him- my international man. We met because he was getting a drink after picking up the last of his stuff from his apartment across the street from the bar. He's just moved, you see, to an apartment which he's renting for $530 a month on the upper east side. He said he'd been to 40 countries. He is having a bit of a crisis because he's 33 and his identity I take it, was something like rockstar world traveller - now he's thinking it might be time to save some money.

So these gorgeous fall days, I've tried to snatch up a few dates from the internet. But... you feel me? Instant chemistry is such a rush. You can't get it again for a little while. Not when it winds up feeling like loss not too long after.

And I know it's dodging a bullet. I know I know. I am attracted to this. It's a pattern and I apologize to the great god of psychology, esp behavioral psychology about that. There's a kind of charisma a guy with an imbalanced repulsion from commitment can do. I'm weak for it. They can go hard with listening and pleasing, smiling and kissing, touching ways of phrasing gratitude. When they leave, you have no idea where they're going. Even if they said it was the upper east side.

I've made him a they. I'll be back on my feet if I'm even off my feet. But, you know, just to whine my whine, the hurt I'd like caressed, soothed, is that it's a real change of shit- no job, days full of potential. I'd like a boyfriend but after "just hitting it off", dates are kind of taxing. I miss the guy I told my life story to who vanished. I can feel it literally taking a lot of energy, telling a date what my plays are like on the way to the wine bar. He's perfectly nice and touches my hand a lot while we both praise Wine for it's ability to aid relaxation. I'm a little out of sorts though.

X
Alexis

Last Thursday

I had amazing sex all day. Sex that makes you speak from the heart lying on your back. Kisses. Sweetness. Body having. Body loving.

Now I want to sob from my eyes to my stomach. Unemployment is so much potential. I am overwhelmed. I shouldn't have had coffee late in the day as I did. I'm awake at 2:30 am and I want to sob til I'm exhausted. I feel the fierce pressure to make the most of this and I feel like letting go. Can I let go?

In a week and two days I'll fly to new Orleans to celebrate my 30th birthday in style. Right now it doesn't feel true. What feels true is I can't sleep - some local craft beer doesn't sit well with my stomach and "everything is good" "everything is good" Everything is everything, my stomach is churning and where is my community? I need to find it because I feel a little ill with self.

I will find it. I will do everything. I'm doing my birthday with my dad and carol tomorrow. So some anxiety. Everything and nothing to prove. I want to never go back to corporate. I want to be with my friends. I want to cry til I sleep, not look at the tv. Jeez, I don't want to talk about what I'm going to do now with my parents. I expect everyone can understand that. :-) Now sobbing about nothing - come to me... ?

I am laid off with severance. Um, delight. I get to live in my house. Astoria is cool guys! (Just kidding but living in your house is amazing.) I worked for it. Blog is testimony to how it killed.

Sexiness is a powerful thing. Haha - so go the thoughts! Have you ever thought about how being sexy makes one kind of an advertisement for her lifestyle. People want to be sexy y'all. I know you come here for the truth. ;-)

Hopefully my writing gets better. :)

Love

Of montreal

is too good to me. I intend to write out their songs to you - I am as good a transcriber as the internet- and I will also tell what they mean when I hear them - and I'll do some word-based describing of music. Yes.

So one of the early songs on the album is coquet Coquet and it starts off guitar shred, driving guitar rhythm, with drums and hot drums embellishment and then the song.

Coquet Coquette... and so on, and then rising guitar hook

to really hard driving rhythm drum cascades driving rhythm

with these lyrics

With you I can only see my blacklight constellations
and all the shit
I don't think I have a language to say

I don't wanna catch ya w some other guy's face
under your eyelids

something must be wrong
you give me emotional artifacts that can find no purchase

and then they go back into the coquet coquet sing song part
la la "my teenage lust for you is so beautiful"

and then back to the blacklight constellations

and the best part

I don't wanna catch you with some other guy's face under your eyelids.


This guy takes knowing you really personally. I love him.

Then soaring glorious electronica.

The next song is great too.

It is called "Godly Intersex"

italics means i have the lyrics wrong, dunno

It's an eighties dance groove, with a clap clap, sort of Joy Division-like electronic mellow comes in but higher in the range

echoey stuff gabaa gabba gabba go

too high too fast
gonna break our necks
everything about you
screamed of godly intersex
nothing of verbs
ber dash
no human tracks
the new forms were germinating
I saw your aureal wax

we dance for victory (most amazing, like just-pinched "ooh!" - and reverbed) we dance for man's misery (might be "Miles' misery) "wooh!" We dance for miscarriages, we danced in robber fuel

you
everybody's stoned about you
everybody's thrown about you
everybody's stoned about you

yeah-haea

repeat

oooo ooo ooo

repeat

a lot of bowiesish piano and beautifully mad style and lyrics detailing singers personal life and feelings

we get to this lyic "can you excuse me from your archetype"

everybody's stoned about you
everybody's thrown about you
everybody's stoned about you

Reaction Time:

How I love them? ha ha my stereo's moved on to the next amazing song and how it says "a zombie's licking your window/ for black body radiation HMMm" and goes all beautiful starlight song with pure meoldia., and says "par-ti-cle wave duality"

Ah so my analysis so far. Darn. I ran out of wine at the wrong moment! The next two songs are the best (on Earth right now) so I should do those, and then the analysis really. the song "Like a tourist" is literally a wonderful drug.

XO

I think I figured it out...

What you need to know is my Kindergarten teacher at PS 158, Mrs. Berg, had us listen to Bridge Over Troubled Water every blessed day at snack. And God Bless America in the morning.

Back from the wine store

So the other thing I did today, I assisted such a very rich man. I can't tell you what he owns but think of something from New York. So I did a very good job printing out all of his email and reporting to him on it. He likes me actually and finds me competent so at the end of the day I find him easy to move on from. One thing I really don't agree with though - as in a thing that is happening and is undeniable but I disagree with it: it's easy to see it's not a good idea for people: is the hyper development of these certain areas of Israel. I think plenty of Jews don't. I've seen orthodox rabbis protesting against it on 5th avenue. Zionism. I don't support one people including my people taking things as much as you can from another people.

I suppose it's extreme religion that makes that conflict. But this very very rich person's huge commitment - it's not commitment to the religion - it's to Jews. For them to live in Israel in areas where people already live. It's all so tied up in some policy. I mean people commit their money to it - you should have seen this fund. I mean I am erasing this from my blog shortly.

So that's what I mean about power. This is why I don't argue that hard against conspiracy theory - because it's just one little nuance away. As far as I can tell somehow you don't *need to* conspire. People with a like agenda don't have to talk about it. They're similar and they want the same things. It's money. It's totally weird but true. As much as I don't think money is everything - I just need lots of it so I can never think about it, they love to think about it, feel powerful and strong, get more. This can make some conspiracies very very understandable. It didn't need to be talked about. My point: it's systemic - when things benefit powerful people they happen. The military industrial complex has lasted a while now, since before us. (and nearly all history has had it.) What a great way to send orders - in secrecy.

So tonight I am Glen Beck. I didn't really mean to go there really. But the Israel thing, damn. It's all money if it's all money. That's all I was saying. Do you think I'll ever move to the woods with their money? Why do they not pay me twice as much?

Love
me

Thoughts

All the time. I need to work on the pilot I found this week but work! - I mail merged and did so many labels today. Computers are amazing. You can fight with them for their knowledge. As I did and discovered the key to an elusive merge. Work! You know what's funny about work lately. We're understaffed, I'm doing awful things. I so need to be challenged though that it gets the energy going in a new way. I never stop thinking. That's why drinking. Drinking makes thinking more fun.

On that note I have to go buy some wine. I've had tons to blog about but the labels got my hands. Ah, to think you could have gotten to know more about my childhood ! and technology! and how we, as in humanity approach knowledge haha maybe after wine. Tomorrow I have to be early! (Seriously though work, and power and money - I could just a write a book if you wound me up and gave me wine. Now wine store!)

XO

Oh

and any readers, you can be voters! Can you start an admissions essay: "Man oh man do I certainly care about the Arts." ?

I'll find something better... in fact I have an example excellent essay to read right here on tonight's to do list, but haha.

Good morning

I'm cheering up. (it's no longer the morning) I woke up with strange sad feelings. It is September 11th but that's not why. It was more self involved and same old and Alexis than that. I woke from dreams of my LSAT tutor I crushed on so hard in the Spring. I knew that here it is Saturday and I am meant to get lots done and be happy now. It wasn't working.

In the dream he came down the shore with me but although we had lovely makeout sessions, he never wanted to do anything fun with the rest of us. I found his personal word documents on his computer. Short paragraph - something about his brother. It was a violation so I felt bad about that. woke up.

A few things I want to do here. I want to retire this blog possibly. I'll have to make a new one. It would be called Allergic to pinenuts. It will probably only be about pine nuts.

If I am retring the blog, I will want to write a post of summation. The reason to retire it is that it is nearly four years old and it's not only a blog, it's a blob. I re-read parts of it often. It was more fun at the beginning I believe - I mean it had a cute voice and funny and I was struggling in a mid twenties way. Now it's updates on strange not-entirely-comfortable feelings. How will I review it before retiring it? I don't know yet.

Check out this uncomfortable feeling:

Last night in New York was something called Fashion's Night Out which I think is STUPID. I had to work it though - i.e. pass out gift bags. It was poorly organized and i was annoyed. Free gift bags in rockefeller plaza? How about hands in my face. I was in no mood. People were disgusting me.

See- this is why the blog has to change? This is a long story and as usual what I want to tell you is EVERYTHING - not just last night - the whole week- the whole everything. I recently read a book with this epigram at the start:

If i could, I'd do no writing at all here. It would be photographs; the rest would be fragments of cloth, bits of cotton, lumps of earth, recordsof speech, pieces of wood and iron, phials of odors, plates of food and excrement.... A piece of the body torn out by the roots might be more to the point. -James Agee, Let Us Now Praise Famous Men

I don't know. The past week i've been feeling great. my applications are going to require a lot but my thought is that if i can just be sure to be home and not go out and keep the house kinda organized, it'll all happen and hooray for holding a job and just keep on keeping on I am blessed - don't fall prey to all the ways to feel bad. To thine own self be true and do your applications essentially.

Work events confuse the fuck out of me though. concerning success and celebrity I always felt this cool way that I was realized beyond that. Even in LA - and then a lot of people were always telling me I was "real." My last night feeling wasn't a new feeling honestly. I've always felt this way when work forces me too. Terrible! About all the shit. And the grey area.

I AM INARTICULATE.

Like one of my cowrokers band played Rock Center for this Fashions night Out event. That's a big deal - right in front of Prometheus. I had so much fun earlier this week hearing these incredibly loud little boys play in a shanty bar in Williamsburg. Other coworkers were saying things like that they were proud of him. And someone said "I'm going to cry. It's great to see people doing what they're supposed to be doing."

In short: I can't enjoy Rockefeller Center. I've always sensed that said kid/coworker thinks I'm weird and stupid. Yes! the indy kid. the adorable weirdo of work. I don't know. See- I can't write? What I mean is that I HATE events and I HATE work relationshps and I AM UNFIT for acquaintanceships. I felt so weird standing alone with a drink listening to his band. So many issues. The lights look nice but I was feeling transcendent and then standing in the fucking rink I felt alone and music felt like nothing to me.

It got better. I got a meal with my one co-worker C and I think he might be a-ok. I'm forever going to be paranoid that my coworkers think badly of me. Seriously its a dynamic i can only compare to 7th grade. Then I think - is it because I'm beautiful and the coolest person in the world and it's jealousy? And I still have no idea! And that seems slightly implausible. More than slightly.

Ultimately, my point is (HAHA can you believe I would even SAY THAT) I am dismayed that I still have sad feelings like exclusion and the back and forth of "ah yes, everyone is admiring me" and "oh God - no one is even thinking about me at all" PLEASE! I am old now!

So I wish I'd written earlier in the week when i was writing in my head these lovely poems about the noise and the faces at rockmusic bar. Instead i am writing on this tired blog lamenting the tired feelings of work is so empty. Boo!

Honestly, so glad for fall - i'm feeling pretty great and so happy with most things and only mildly confused and I'm still in love with that tutor who didn't write back to my email about inception and is 23 or something? haha, no.

Humanity-wise we have no excuse not to be becoming so amazing. Oh- I have to write to Lewis Black today! that's right.

Sorry for this! XOXOXOXOXO
A

Who

could possibly want to know what's going on with me? Lots of people. I just don't want to tell you how I am. You must figure it out for yourself gentle.

It's time to write. It's time to revise. And get in shape- smoke less and work out and start buying food from the weird health mart. I'm really counting on Fall. You all had best be available for wine. Love.

Life is good

If they could, all the messages, they'd have you believe that it isn't okay to stop for a second. And this is probably for a good evolutionary reason? Well I don't know. But the bills will build up and family will call! :-)

About two weeks ago I wound up going to check out a hotel for my birthday (which who wants to plan that expensive occasion? But it will be fun... wonder if I should proceed?) with the chatty and somewhat kindly defensive accountant at the cubicle nextdoor during an accounting office week. What an entirely predictable disaster/ moment- and surprising somehow anyway in the moment when I realized his view of life included Damnation for the sinners. And then, much drunker at the first available dive - not evolution.

Woah there evangelical. It shook me up a little. I had nothing to do at work following and availed myself of youtube videos about evolution, atheism and agnosticism, cosmology, and my old favorite Richard Feynman.

I never took Physics. I am unfortunately impaired at operations which move in several, and, especially, opposing directions. And I was never great shakes at arithmetic in the first place. The problem was probably my great tendency to laziness, anything but disciplined thought. :-) Still my step dad is a physicist, chemist, computer scientist genius and when we moved in with him he had Feynman books about how Feynman learned everything fixing radios, and also had to turn his room of radios and other circuits he was working on into my bedroom when we moved in.

God, you start thinking and you just can't stop. :-) That's what I came to (just now, but these last two weeks of thought [and trying to be in the human world too].) I'm in one of those moments where everything feels relevant. Tourists gave me their unlimited day train passes on my way home.

Me: Are you sure?
Dad and Mom with stroller: Yeah...
Just Dad: we're done.

Ha- it was about 98 degrees today...

Ah anyway, everything's a mess. I picked a fight w D, A wants to take me shopping. I want to quit smoking soon. I want to say to Christopher Hitchens that I don't think he spends enough time with mothers with his women-aren't-funny-for- evolutionary-reasons schtick- mothers are the most hilarious people on earth for, I think it's obvious, very good evolutionary reasons- like not losing it because you've got kids -silly thing to overlook. Having an amazing sense of humor is the exact same thing as being funny, silly. Men are idiots so it's kinda something that when I need some discourse coming at me from the Technology Entertainment Design world, I'm relying on them. Someone needs to invite Julie Taymor to that conference.

XOXOXOXOXOX love
Alexis

One

thing I do, maybe more than I do just about anything else, is watch HBO documentaries. I caught one on HBO family a couple weeks ago that was truly one of the most beautiful and moving things I've been exposed to. It was called "A Century of Living" and was simply interviews with people over a hundred years old who had been alive for the change to the year 1900 from 1899 and were looking at 2000. It was from before 2001, so I think that led to more optimism from them toward the end when the interviewers were asking them how they felt about the future of mankind and so on. If you can find it, watch it - I cried much and I wasn't hormonal. They found really beautiful souls who spoke with great honesty, and the subject was really the heart of the matter of living.

Last night I watched one called "Lucky" about Lottery winners. Do you have enough opportunities to yell 'IDIOT!" at your TV? If not, watch this.

Suffice it to say, if I won the lottery, I would know what to do. Sure sure sure - big change- I'm not in the same milieu anymore sure sure sure. (A couple that escaped Vietnam in a boat are touching and save this documentary... or rather, save you from breaking your television, ironically emulating the idiots who fuck up winning the lottery [or are just so boring it's tragic]. I'm exaggerating. There's also an innocent intelligent homeless man who stays the same but it's so much better how he isn't suffering. And a nice mathematician.)

Herewith, what I would do. With, let's say 22 million.

IMMEDIATELY, I would hire three assistants. These should all be roughly 26 year old females who I never met before interviewing but connect with and severely like.

Each is going to start at $75,000 a year with a review in one calendar year. Benefits hell yes, and 15 vacation days, 3 personal days, 10 sick days. I intend to hire really excellent girls and have their backs forever if indeed their excellence is real and they weren't fudging it early on.

Within the first week of winning, I'm going to find a furnished west village one bedroom to rent, or just move into a well appointed downtown hotel.

I want my 3 assistants to report to work at what was my apartment in Astoria. I will continue to rent this place for a long while. Why in the fucking hell not.

(Oh by the way I quit my job. This will have absolutely no effect at all on my self identity perception. Yay.)

So this is a really great work environment the girls are happy about. There's still a bedroom so the girls can pretty much crash there if they have to or want to at any time. I buy three new apple computers, a better broadband service, and a full service color printer copier scanner fax so the girls are hooked up. Two more desks I suppose as well. I guess I have to give away the couch. :-(

Basically for the first couple months, every day I take the train, or fuck it, maybe a car if I oversleep, to my place in Queens to meet my girls. Their workday starts at 9:30 or 10:00. I meet them out there at 10:30.

from 10:30/11:00 to 12:30/1:00 I work with, hear from:
Assistant A- her job is to do everything related to buying my house in Italy.

1:00 - 3:00
Assistant B- her job is organizing my creative writing and sending it out, networking within the writing and theater communities. She is also doing my MFA applications. This is a very special girl whose performance could mean a big bonus at year's end. Her first couple weeks are going to require some overtime. She's the one who it really matters works out of my old place becasue she and I are going to be going through boxes of writing and talking about writing. She's going to have to get familiar with my work, really know me, be a creative person herself. Assistant B has her work cut out for her.

3:00 - 5:00
Assistant C is basically for everything else- handling my new life as a rich person, dealing with requests for my money basically, and all my general scheduling including with my family. This person should have knowledge of finances - she worked for a hedge fund of something, she understands and keeps track of statements from investments and knows I expect briefings if not daily then close to it.

WINNING THE LOTTERY SHOULD NOT BE A PROBLEM. PEOPLE ARE IDIOTS.

Love
Alexis

Inception - spoiler- and thoughts

I have scoured the internet and meh- people not talking about what I want to talk about and I will be seeing it again and making a big map aof possible trajectories on all levels like an lsat game but i don't know when.

So here are some things i will be checkin.g I would have remembered this better if I'd done it right after.

* Is it possible that the first scene, the first wash up to the shore, is not a flashforward to the end? I thought it might be cool to think it wasn't. The next thing that happens is in the same asian castle-y place that is in the end/ limbo spot for Saito. So maybe they've all been to limbo before. Just saying. I suppose it can't be though because they get picked up to another dream out of there. I am confused on this point. It seems you go straight all the way back up if you die in limbo? Is that right? I need to know this. (which is sort of the point of the movie. Pretty much the majority of the point. At any rate, the hallway scene is tops. That kid needed a three piece suit more than anything in this world. World of difference!)

* Did people seem to have nodes on their wrists (saito on the train)? Ellen Page in her ear. Were these how they kept their totems on them?

I guess that's it. But no one else gloamed on to these particular things.

I want to erase my last couple postings so no one finds my blog and has feelings hurt. Stupid intimate thoughts blog.

XO
A

BLOG

Enrique Iglesias is performing out in the Plaza for the Today show this morning. My thoughts went like so:

* "Wow- imagine traveling all over the country going 'AIAIAIAIAIIIIIIII can't go on -just wanna be with you' - wow - that would be awful. Poor Enrique Iglesias."

* "No. Wait. Not Poor Enrique Iglesias - he stays in gorgeous hotels, is paid extravagently, is a 'heartthrob', dates Anna Kournikouva. That song is pretty easy to sing. Opposite. Opposite thing...."

* "Jeez though, hmmm. Wow. We should really make pop stars with songs like that travel around like prisoners, tortured prisoners. It would be so much more apporpriate to be saying "oh poor Enrique Iglesais". These girls screaming much louder than the music would make a lot of sense to me - if they were looking at a beaten broken man singing this for his mere survival. "AAAAAAAAAAA POOR ENRIQUE IGLESIAS! HE HAS TO SING THIS SONG ALL OVER THE COUNTRY BATTERED AND MAIMED AND PENNILESS!! AAAAAAAAAA!!! AAAAAAAA!" Rend your tunics, and all that.

So that's that, and not what I was going to write about.

I was going to write about my sex life.

I am sleeping with the sweetest and nerdiest boy in New York. If you ever meet him, the extent of his nerdiness is going to blow your mind. OMG but I LIKE HIM. It's insanity and it's nice.

Well I don't know where to start. I don't know whether to start with how sweet or how how nerdy. Okay: nerdy: He is very interested in NY geography and the battles fought wherever you are during Revolutionary Days.

And excitedly. I mean he is into stuff really excitedly.

He's kind of jumpy- with his facial expressions and his actual body.

In fact sex-wise for some reason there's like this jerky thing going on too! He told me he is "in five" - I was like "could you give me just some even half notes for a minute?" He sort of couldn't? It didn't matter! In the end the jerkiness wound up getting me off absolutely fine, better than fine!

Oh Jesus. It's too much information. And seriously, the nerd alert is too much information. I could go on all day. My life is really like a movie right now because I'm fairly smitten with a huge nerd.

XOXOX
A

Everyone

could take a tip from the boy I went home with last night.

Listen to me talk and tell me it's interesting and you like it.

"You look even more beautiful in this light in the morning"

I'll take it. You, sir, are smart yourself. There are rewards to being awesome in this way, and I suspect that they are the kind of rewards you boys want - you really want them so act like this guy!

Sometimes I wonder if I got to have a penis for a day if I would be able to score and everything, things being what they are, and wondering if for all my smarts I'd have any game.

Then I remember: It's easy to be a man. You distinguish yourself when you're not a self defeating asshat.

XOXO

A

The thing about Snow White is

I remember her so perfectly in my mind's eye. Iconic. Michael Jackson, also iconic. Both of them, fucked up about sex and love. Really though.

One of the first books I remember reading is Snow White. I remember that "vain," when I read it, was one of the most interesting words I'd seen.

Anyway. My apartment is beyond. I need to somehow take a sick day to address the kitchen and the trash. This is your pre law school drunk, signing off in Astoria,

I have got to get

away from the screen... hard to quit smoking when it forces me to the stoop. It's real life out there, dads and kids, crazy locals on the phone yelling about the higher ups in this company!!!! Oh I wish we could throw them all out our windows and keep it that way for a little while. You can keep your iphones if you gots em and that could be the reorganization for a while - (I can go stay with my brother- he has a really nice apartment and car and is great with the iphone). But computers out the window and televisions too. Take the man to task about that spill in the papers. Je reve, I dream.

woo

I'm all turned around and happy. Days at the office with nothing to do baffle me. The World Cup is my kinda game... but, having returned from the hippy festival with siblings, it continues to somewhat surprise me that I'm not drinking a beer - hey sportsy real estate guys of the company - they fucking tryna rob us and we still win. I should be wrrrrrriiiiiiiiting....

I am getting high!

Oil spill, hunh? Florida beaches - gone for a while. Is sarcasm a cheap trope? - well..., nicely done. I am going to do my best for the things-fall-apart era of the Empire. I think i can bank on le capiltalisme for a little longer. And plastic bags can be my enemy and you know, I'm going to do my best... excluding taxis... but I'll move to Manhattan maybe. Babbling.

I was reflecting earlier and I'm postponing my reflections. In some ways I am a little old world and I like that - so I think personal thoughts and I want to write but the blog can seem so apart compared to... what was the old thing? writing in private and trying to publish?

So it's hard to segue to how serious I was being in my thoughts. I remember something I've "always wanted to write about" or rather thought of when thinking hard about my life because it feels good. Boys who died. I dunno - I'm not gonna write about it uniquely. No. But in my town there was a boy who died riding his bike a year after I moved to that town. I didn't understand death and reacted to it like it was a story about life. My 3rd grade teacher chastised me for the letter I wrote his mother for the memorial book - I just made up a soap opera feeling basically. I had his mother as my English teacher in 7th grade. She told me at the eighth grade dance that she had waited to meet me. She said he talked about me all the time. I prayed to him for a while after that. We weren't even in the same class. I had spent second grade crying.

So personal.

My idea moved on to this: art and loss and the universal. There's no way to live without experiencing loss and loss is so huge. If you experience it young, it nonetheless comes back later like a tidal wave, as meaning comes to take shape in your strange crooked brain.

I mean that empathy is tha process, in a way. I mean that I saw precious, and my god, I never lost so much, but one day - this is what universalism is - you'll have an inkling, you will. And I thought of how I know that elephants feel it too. Elephants mourn did you know that? They stop and mourn if they pass a space where one of them died.

I thought on from there to the great romance, the death that's come with some of the romantic love I've felt. My vanity, and watching Snow White with A and M a couple moths ago, writing M's Match profile, such a good night of wine and ABC family but lemme tell you a little something about Snow White...

XOXOXO times one thousand
Alexis

Allow me to reintroduce myself

I like to blog in bullets. once every four months or so. This is the reinvention.

* You know how I sometimes refer to a religion I'll create whose dogma is to love what I love. AIRCONDITIONING.

* I like to date more than one person. That's how I like it. So far. I'm not returning to therapy. I'm just working it til it doesn't work anymore.

* Anyway, i'm way too busy. I possibly haven't studied enough for the LSAT but I have 5 more days or something and I will every day and I can't wait for it to be done with. Also, the way to remain calm and not riddled with anxiety eventhough you hardly even need to particularly "have anxiety" to be anxious about a test of such a very determinant nature: "you need three more points to go to this school - you need four more points to go to that school. Get all the answers right! Get them right! and fast! FAST!" - right, well the way to remain calm is to realize that if you have to go to a lesser law school at least you can choose one somewhere like San Diego or somewhere and get a convertible or something. Staying relaxed this week is key.

AIRCONDITIONING IS SO AMAZING. It's like this every year - the first night of aircon and the first morning - and then it lasts, it is the only bliss I know that lasts and lasts, what is this happy HEAVEN? Where had it gone? Don't dare ask why it allows me its grace each summer.

If you thought I'd talk about my vacation last week and seeing KFR for the first time in 11 years, the joke is on you.

XOXOXOXOXOXO
Love
Alexis

dream analysis

Erotic is not always sex. I think it means the insanity of the way things feel in dreams. Have you ever had one where something else insane is happening to someone else and you're helping her? And feeling deeply, but not anxiety, more like sympathy - and you feel great? The other character has the anxiety. That was my dream this morning and it was so intense... I've had this crazy feeling about it all morning. I really want to tell you.

My boss (you know - I guess she's my boss - you know how that is.) had just realized that she was pregnant. I guess she must have known - she was eight months- but it had just hit her ESP. because the father was possibly the executive she initially assisted. The office looked crazy of course and the soaked sky was being wrung out of rain. I stroked her feathered sweater collar and told her it was going to be okay and that I was sorry for what she was dealing with. Her sister will be arriving for her to tell her - you know - it's clear that that is going to be something of a sob scene. My boss is really worried. I tell her it'll be fine and I send her to the opposite side of the office from the boardroom. Someone arrives and she's clearly the sister. So I run up to her to direct her to where her daughter is. But the woman says no she's her mother. I say "Really?" and she says yes and it's true. They meet up with one another - it is dramatic. Afterwards my boss seemed much much relieved. She's very teary but feeling much better. She also tells me that yes that was her mother but she does laughingly concede that it is very strange how she looks not a day over 30 and that she was wearing a wig - that is the one thing she has to do.

Kungfuramone says I should make my dreams one sentence but how could I do that?

I think it's funny because I know that people in dreams can stand in for other people who make you feel the things you project on that character. All the synapses twisted- I love it- but anyway the part that's "erotic' by my new definition is where the feelings you have in life do sort of overlap and you get that middle of the venn. That part sticks with you. That's the part where you wake up and your mind's a little blown. As for wishes fulfilled? Really? That's also a mind blow- because I didn't know my wishes could be so creative.... wigs?

XOXOXOX

also, Working Girl. Ha! Watched after that dream of all dreams! -HBO! Yup- I love the eighties - an abundance of movies that succeed wonderfully when they get it SO RIGHT - (she's cleaning up the Park Avenue house in a hurry in her underwear with the vacuum because that has been plotted and we need to see that!) and SO WRONG - she calls from her window office and the entire secretarial pool is jumping and cheering as we pan out to "Let the River Run".... Let me be frank. I loved it.

love,
Alexis

Oh my God

A Spring Day off!

I have to make a list and get it out of the way - this is for me-

- Bills
- + Census
-mail
-dry cleaning
- call realtor to ask landlord to come tomorrow to look at ceilings collapsing from insane pipe leaks that (luck on my side coming up...) I have never been home for - they happen when the steam heat's pumping and it's raining outside. (Tomorrow: try to explain this to Angelo. Jesus)
- walk to PC Richards about a vacuum!
- wait for vacuum
- try to get out of date
- party tonight

more long term-

-weekend writing generating party days - I have a really specific idea about this that it's annoying I haven't already implemented which- At least for myself I want the writing prompt to be stolen plots from shows who send plot summary in their reviews. oooooh blog secrets.

It is such a beautiful day! Spring is my god/ goddess. Autumn is my totem. Winter is my wraith.

XOXO

Old

There is a party I should go to. But I am feeling very content at home - it's not really that messy, I've been tidying. Just need a new vacuum. Old one broke.

Old and I live in Queens.

I make quite the life of it! - but today I took a prac test at 24th st. (55 minutes away) from 11 - 4, I am feeling content, and also like waking up with a fresh start on my day tomorrow, which includes a 3 o'clock meeting on 24th st. So here we are at 10:45 and even though I should really go to the party, I know- it would definitely be fun, I do feel just a little sick - and the house in question is on 34th st.. I am an adult, I want to stay home, and wine will have to be my friend. Also I got my copy of The Executioner's Song back from Adam. I am so old and so lame. So old and so lame. repeat. ha ha. fetishes. fetishes are the next frontier. ways to stay at home and keep it interesting. Oh God - do I have a fever?

XO

Alexis

When it comes to the LSAT...

... sometimes I am a little in love with bad reasoning in the arguments. I believe I know it isn't quite right, but bad reasoning... ah, it can be so charming that you (I) entertain it. I should think of the LSAT as an extremely coy obnoxious man. When it comes down to two choices especially. I need to practice that thing. :-) Haha lol.

When I was in third grade I had

a nanny named Jill who lived with us. She was the second Jill. The first Jill was when we lived in the house in New York, just my mother and I. I liked her I think but I don't think I had her (I had her?) very long. But the strongest memory I have of her is a time I stepped on her toe and she had an "ingrown nail!" and she cried and screamed at me, so I guess first Jill may have been a little mental no wait - i also remember watching snow fall in big flakes for the first time with her. She had pretty art in her room. She bolted in the night leaving a note about hating to leave, but she had to, but she loved me, just like Maria did in The Sound of Music. Second Jill, a lifetime later (everyone remarries! moves to New Jersey! has babies!) was the best nanny a girl in third grade in New Jersey with a sort of blobbish-age baby sister could have. We were in love. Jill made any of the lie-bragging about my mom I had ever done come true times a million. Jill made me scavenger hunts for when I came home with clues to the next thing all over the house - ingenious clues, sometimes picture clues, - the library was often a trap. While I did the hunts she made a snack of something in an ingenious shape. She sent notes in lunch. Once she made red sweatpants for me with ribbons and buttons and a decorative pink & white patch. She put them in my room and she told me not to confuse them with play red sweatpants which I immediately did and ripped a huge hole in them that day, that instant , just about. When she went back to Wisconsin for the holidays she left a note in the box under her bed for me not to spy on her things -she knew me too well. She was magical like Mary Poppins - from Wisconsin - who went to such a cool youth group church that we rode for miles to to pick her up from. She would tell us about the coed Jesus trivia games they played wearing bathing suits(?) in a Jello filled swimming pool. Cool.

It is true, I think, that she only ate buttered popcorn. I was told that and I think it bore out. And it's true I'm sure that she had an emotional side I didn't see. She left though - and I think my mom fired her. She was gone and my mother talked to me about how she was mentally ill, anorexic, and kleptomaniac. I just thought of her suddenly talking to Jessica on the phone. She was telling me about her mom these days and I don't know - it took me back - even though I hadn't met Jessica when Jill was my nanny. What a sad story. My mother didn't know how to be kind to that girl. I talked to the school counselor about it. He had a special room where you could look down on the people in gym class from two stories above through a tiny hidden door - those happy kickballplaying suckers didn't know the secret perspectives revealed to those as weird as me. I repeated to him what I'd been told - she only ate popcorn, she stole my mother's pin that she got at her promotion party at her firm - and people only steal things like that when they have a fixation with the person it belongs to - it was personal. I remember telling my friend Meredith about it. I loved telling her the dramatic things about my life - they impressed and excited her. It's strange thinking about Jill. It just occured to me too that I could look her up. Facebook being what it is. My mother told me that she went to an institution and that's what I told Meredith dramatically in the hallway - we had been getting pretty good at leaving class at the same time. I missed her badly - after her came Angie, a sweet mormon girl, I was purposely mean to- through with nannies and all this best friends let's hang out and talk. She left soon enough, homesick - back to Utah (I did warm up to her. Asked her now and then about the Bible.) But my attitude was that Jill was the best, what was there to gain from Angie... I just wouldn't commit ;) Then someone came and calIed a suicide hotline the third night of living in our house, Jolie (accent on the "Jo"). Then came the era of Indra from Trinidad Tobego, who just stopped showing up one day, and then Emma from Belize and Stephanie got some discipline at last (and someone told poor sixth grade me that it wasn't weird if my mother made me cry - she had that effect.) Emma was mos def fired. it was right after my step-dad had some kind of heat stroke and was lying on the couch and she said "Well she's finally done it- she's finally killed him." Emma was a blog of her own. I wonder what really happened with Jill. Maybe she wasn't fired. Maybe I'll try to suss this out from my drunk mother the next time I have the chance.

We all know

what "freaked out" means. Memphis just freaked me out. Why was i just in Memphis for twenty four hours? A guy named Steve I met three weeks ago so drunk and delighted after a night at Mike and Wendy's in Westchester with Kelly in a bar by Grand Central Station flew me down. He lives, at the moment, in Arkansas. He is drunk and sweet and a little passive in that rich, so sweet, and it's all been too easy way. (But of course somehow no one has it really easy - because women are never easy... [people are never easy - love is impossible] but I digress... )

Would anyone have wagered that Memphis would turn out to suit me? (it doesn't - It is a freakout!) Hicks are scary! Or anyway - they are a freak out. Don't you agree?

I find that Southerners have a common weirdness about Jews. Listen, hicks scare me, but tolerant one that I am, when I think about it tolerantly, I didn't understand that Jewish is your ethnicity, religious or not, and it's about bloodlines that are traceable and that is what a tribe is until, I don't know, my junior year, when I joked with Megan and my Dad that the big new Polish boy in Math class would surely ask me to prom and it would be great how we're both Polish and my Dad was like "What's your problem? You're not Polish." It was much like the time I explained to him that the Fourth of July is The Statue of Liberty's birthday long after I should not have thought that. Blame NJ. I do. - and that is just how I blame memphis for how those crazy chilling accent nutty scary people are!

more soon.

It turns out

God Help the Girl is the main guy from Belle and Sebastian and the female singer is a newcomer. Anyway, it's so good. This song "Musician, Please take Heed" is a real sing to the hairbrush song... "I thought I might just write a letter / anything to stay away/ from books and lessons today/ Besides it's part of my induction/ into the literate world/ I am a literate girl!"

The internet couldn't understand the following lyrics from the bridge but I got em all!:

I'll kick this mood off with a change of scene
I bought a leotard and go to the gym!
I couldn't get away with wearing it last summer
but I've lost a lot weight
I think it's down to leaving meat
out of my diet
as a rule
I won't buy it
'cause it's cruel

So hilarious and wonderful. Sounds like ABBA if ABBA were more wonderful by a power of ten and the songwriters knew counterpoint.

I have taken off work today to listen to an album too much.

Oh and then:

And if the nighttime threatens me with pain
I will give in to lust
I will do what I must!

Sick day for mental illness. I wish they were all sick days for mental illness. I learn about the puzzles for the LSAT from 7pm-9pm tonight.

XOXOXO
A

The song

is Act of Apostle by God Help the Girl. It's Won't get therapy. Will talk to computer set to beautiful beautiful song. Honestly. She is my heroine.

Okay okay

It is the morning and I feel much better but I'm well over due to tell you all the shit of lately. I had the perfect sex dream to feel better so thank me, me.

I'll come back to the horrible date and insert it here. It's over a week ago now. who bloody cares.

Remember I slept with a guy from my work, not just once, and then he avoided me and could even avoid my most bald pleas to just tell me what was going on? (He isn't the person whose blackberry thumbs were incensing me the other day incidentally. The world of my work is part, certainly, of this pie chart of Saturday night tears and properly prescribed sexdreams. Did you know I am starting a religion? A cult - yeah- no one's gonna be forced into it or anything - just really right-on tenets and objects of worship. .. more on this later...) and I realized on my own that he must be seeing someone else seriously. And his whole personality was right wing arrogance, but it made me laugh while I smoked joints and told him I had more to tell him about the world than vice versa and he agreed with that and tested if I could really not subtract like I said I couldn't and, well, of course I could subtract. He gave me very even numbers though.

Anyway I had my ways and where it was left was that he better not fuck with me - like at all - and for a year and a half we have been not speaking- not one word. Friday was his last day! Hooray! I guess he left for a competing organization and everyone hates him? I know a little about this I think - I mean I can piece the rumors together a bit but it's not important. Anyway, all that really mattered was he's gone. How lovely for me not to have that stomach drop anymore.

After he left the building though I went ahead and googled his name and his fiance's together. He's been engaged since last Spring-ish. You know that story about Pandora and the box I assume. I was curious. Their wedding page. My God. It's just exactly. I've had a really shitty week. And reading this wedding page it was like God. He said something I can't remember about how-to-live sometime about 15 months ago hanging out at my place. And I said "Wow - It's so simple!" and he just smiled and nodded. He proposed to her fifteen months to the day after they met and started dating. So, isn't that lovely. I can subtract that well too. But here's the rub: If you are really simple and keep the peripheral world out while golfing instead of considering, then you can have exactly what you want. That's what kills, a little.

They have side by side lists of things about themselves. T chart. And at the bottom beneath the T chart, some little facts about their life as a couple. Here's some stuff from his side (from memory). "First conversation with Kirsten's brother: 'Why the fuck did you buy Archstone at a 3.4% cap?' 'What are your intentions with my sister?'" Does the world we live in not hit you in the heart like a brick sometimes. I see me and Ayn Rand in a room and I'm crying on the floor, inarticulate, and she's saying "You know that I'm right." and I am just like "cry... but art... but struggle" and she rolls her eyes and says "What's so great about struggle?" and I say "Don't ask me - why are you asking me? I had a REALLY BAD WEEK." Oh yeah, in this brief t-chart he also says he does not like fiction. Just so you know. Just so you know - no fiction. It's a thing to brag about you see. It isn't accidental. He holds this stuff in real contempt. It is a way of life. And it works.

They like to make bets, says the wedding page. For example, he bet Kirsten that she couldn't score under a hundred on a really tough golf course. She did and thereby won a scuba trip from him. They like to bet Scuba trips, Ski trips, or Gorilla trips. Once a week they discuss either a winery or a current event. I am not making this up.

I don't know. It's a fairly complicated feeling I have about all this - and that in itself is kind of the heart of it - me and my complicated feelings. They don't help anything - they are just who I am. I live negotiating always with being who I am and that I can do things without a partner that are true to that and get me to places I want to be. Yet, I would feel more like I was laughing at the wedding page and less like it was laughing at me if I had a love right now, who was loving who I am. This simple girl - what does she do for a living? She "sells people things they don't need!" Same reaction I had to him I have to her: "It's so simple!"

I'm going to have to go to fucking law school if I want to go on a gorilla trip. I'm jealous. I want to go on one now. And, maybe this bothers you, I don't even know if it bothers me: I probably would have been alright with this incredibly-selfish-person betting me things I could definitely do like some paternalistic figure cum lover if he had been on board. I mean we did not even really go out. But I was somewhat alright with Mens Health being his Bible and whatnot. I thought it was a game he needed to play to live his life. No one could really think that. No one smart could ever think the best thing to do is to never consider any fiction and treat Mens Health like the Bible. So in my fantasy, which might have some reality in there, he knew that it wasn't just a silly choice of mine, loving well crafted fiction, searching for meaning. I say "might have a little reality in it" because this person did feel compelled to seduce me before proposing to the girl who fits so perfectly. They like playing soduku, gin, or backgammon and discussing a winery or a current event once a week and she likes reading the wall street journal while she blowdries her hair in the morning. Kirsten presumably never gets drunk and chainsmokes as a pasttime. Well I pity her that. As much if not more than he thinks of mens health as a Bible, I believe drinking and dancing beats the shit out of backgammon. Even if sometimes my way of living finds me so lonely I can barely take it. Contrast can really be a bitch though. Believe it readers, believe it.

Well boo hoo. That alone wouldn't explain my abject misery last night. i shall bullet some other last week things that'll help you understand that I can't even qualify it as self-indulgent. There was no way to feel but sad. Now I need to get my hair blown out though. I love you.

More soon.

Alexis

light cry

Boy do I feel lonely. Thought maybe I'd tell you about today. I mean I really feel awful though. Or just so silent and empty. More that than awful.

I am not going to tell you stories for now. I'm going to be a little dramatic. Dramatic and yet plainly true. I want and I need at the moment. I need the phone to ring and for it to be someone coming over with I don't care what and open arms and I'll lie in them and just feel like they're here and I'm here and feel fine.

It isn't going to happen though. Cried a little admitting that and feel a little better already actually. I don't know. I need that good feeling to come around soon. It will.

I promise to blog to you about what's been going through my mind - I can't access my blog at work but that's no reason not to write myself an email for posting later while I'm at work on Monday. At work is a good place for this stuff. I'm pretty commited to sitting in silence right now it seems. Anyway this is quite the experience, the human experience, in which you can't just ask people to come hold you - it must be your turn. Ouch I have a headache. I already took two advil. I guess I'm already starting to feel a little better.

love
Alexis

I've been out of it

A real space cadet.

Today, Monday, I was apparently supposed to show up at work at 7:30am to do front desk, and it was "on the calendar" last Friday - Friday I was unassigned and came to work, found a desk, and cried a little in the morning and read articles and watched Kathy Griffin on youtube in the afternoon.

I mean the point is I got here at 9:00am today because although I may have ... technically... like eyes may have seen... seen this on the calendar, I was in a mind to chop off my hair methodically with a jackknife, eyes locked on the mirror a la Legends of the Fall last Friday. I predict that there will not be any consequences to this slip up here though. Except that asking for a raise will have to wait a couple months. Which I thought it would anyway. And I won't get it anyway. But be honest, even if I waited two years, she, my boss - who I'd describe because she's somewhat just-so and in that way very likable to me, but I don't wanna start with describing bosses on my internet blog, but who perhaps should have sent me an email if I had to come in at 7:30am on a Monday, will still bring this up. When our old boss got laid off and they threw her, her new assistant, in out of the blue, she took it to heart, she really did. But she's a good girl and I like her. I consider her smart. Knowing who pays you is smart - always has been- but it's so non-negotiable nowadays...

Anyhow - a koan for you - what is more awful than someone standing in front of a closed elevator wearing a tie, head bowed, typetypetyping on his blackberry oblivious to how awful he is? Nothing. Nothing is worse than that. Let me break it down for you. There's nothing wrong with a man in a shirt and tie waiting for an elevator, whether he be distracted, thoughful, lost in thought, aware, smiling, frowning, looking up, looking down - none of this appraoches awful; all of this is fine. That same man staring at his own fucking thumbs held juste, juste a peine above his own sad belly button a tap tappin', a tappity tappin' thumbs - completely consumed by those big thumbs, that little screen. Awful. Just... Awful.

I went on this really terrible painfully undermining date on Thursday. It made me cry Friday. And by Saturday the emotion had morphed into one that was oddly affirming. (not for nothing - this was with a little help from my friends. Friends called Kelly and GREY GOOSE - you know I am going to tell you everyting in a minute and am just working up to it - bit by little bit - the butler just brought me coffee and I'm supposed to never tell anyone ever that he did so. Oh cry oh weep life is sad and good.) Yesterday I took a pretest LSAT. Gee I feel like I could cry this morning again. What weird gyroscope of feeling am I in? Suppose it's called late February early March and is always like this.

Well let me say this before I tell you about the date because I guess that's the assignment. I still love Mad Men. I mean a lot. I can't believe how broad it is in terms of story. It's is the kind of thing I'd write --

I have to come back to this later. :) XOXO

If I were a stripper...

I'd strip to MGMT's weekend wars. other than that, not an mgmt fan. But that's pretty high praise.

All's Well

We had a blizzard. I have a million things to do tomorrow to get ready for Miami Friday afternoon to Monday morning baby! XO

Well

romantically it can really be just ironically awfully bad. Remember I wrote a post a year ago about how wonderfully smart I was to not be caught up anything with a person name Josh who told me he rated his (now ex) girlfriend a 6.5. I messed around with his friend and he hoaxed me that the friend liked me when I asked about him (the friend.) Josh seems like a pathological liar/ sociopath anyhow. I still feel asinine because I got a little fantasy world on it. The fantasy was simply a museum visit and more sex with said friend. But anyway, all you need to know is that over the past week I was fucked with in my head and it's not fair and tonight I am feeling sorry for myself. I could use a good cry, but, as 62% of me knows it's silly and nothing to bother being upset about, the good cry is close but so far.

Everything is fine- just me being me - getting a little tripped up, understandably sad to be just fucked around with when I'd thought I was making a new if maladjusted friend in terrible Josh. I mean anyone would have a sad night realizing they were being fucked with, not awesome to death in everyone's eyes like they were being led to believe.

Poor me!

XO
boo hoo

love
Alexis

I am

midway through this book, Netherland, that is made for me - the narrator is an intelligent but lost financial businessman in New York, and the book is being called the first great September eleventh addressing novel of this our post 9-11 era, and Obama read it and recommends. So, how interesting is it to read this passage knowing Obama read it and loved it? :

(This is after the narrator's wife tells him she won't come back with their son to New York from London by employing an intense political argument, and calls him Conservative, )

"... I should have seen Rachel's telephonic outburst coming, not least because the imminent invasion of Iraq had stimulated an impressive and impassioned opinion in practically everybody I knew. For those under the age of forty-five it seemed that world events had finally contrived a meaningful test of their capacity for conscientious political thought. Many of my acquaintances, I realized, had passed the last decade or two in a state of intellectual and psychic yearning for such a moment-- or if they hadn't, were able to quickly assemble an expert arguer's arsenal of thrusts and statistics and ripostes and gambits and examples and salient facts and rhetorical maneuvers. I, however, was almost completely caught out. I could take a guess at the oil production capacity of an American-occupied Iraq and in fact was pressed at work about this issue daily, and stupidly. ("What are you saying, two and a half million barrels or three million? Which one is it?") But I found myself unable to contribute to conversations about the value of international law or the feasibility of producing a dirty bomb or the constitutional rights of imprisoned enemies or the efficacy of duct tape as a window sealant or the merits of vaccinating the American masses against smallpox or the complexity of weaponizing deadly bacteria or the menace of the neo-conservative cabal in the Bush administration, or indeed any of the debates, each apparently vital, that raged everywhere-- raged because the debaters speedily grew heated and angy and contemptuous."

For my part blogsters, I've been thinking about intimacy. I've written about this before, but intimacy is wonderful. In my life as it is, it takes its best form as talking after sex - I did this last Friday and my was it fun. I am personally unfamiliar with intimacy's seeming apex, Marriage. The heart of it, I find, is the numbers - being listened to and listening. Concerned with the concerns of another and having your concerns being concerned with by them. Funny that I get the best intimacy in funny bust up sextimes. I keep trying to dump my therapist and he won't let me. He has no sense of humour (compared to me). I think it's hilarious.

I'm feeling really happy. I guess something must be wrong. :)

I have made the comments registered people only. When the comments were these crazy japanese ... or were they chinese? things, I was frightened that they were a terrorist cell communicating by code. I saved them in a word document, I was so concerned about that. That's my deepest confession. But I don't think I'm paranoid - it was just very strange and then there was that person who said he was going to bring my writings to his class? It was strange. I'm not crazy.

I love you.

Alexis

So freaked out by my comments

move to wordpress? how?

Hi blog

I feel like writing. Jeez... one would hope! - I asked my friend with the painting biz to hit it and she did and sitting around in the living room is really nice. Plus full-spectrum lights - did you know about these?

Talked to my sis who needs her MCAT study guides sent to her friend and, more importantly, needs to move out of the house. My mother is no kind of person to live with. My mom used to have a bedroom completely mauve and ostentatiously. Mauve venturing to pepto. The carpet: wall-to-wall of course - bright pink-mauve... The bedding: patterned like one of the wallpapers - one of - there were four different, all reflections on mauve, and purple with a dash of light blue flowers vines, dots, and wavy lines. The ceiling was light pink mauve, the blinds of the skylight, remote controlled, the same mauve but deeper. Mauve curtains like one of the wallpapers, pinker variety, on the bay window across from the bed with those same mauve blinds, mauve patterned chaise lounge under the window. Tonight while I looked at my tasteful multicolored living room, I called my sister, to remind her to get the fuck out. She thanked me for the reminder and has been on craigslist - so that's good news.

But she's full of memories - she doesn't need me to tell her anything - except that hearing from eqachother is obviously relieving ;). Sisters are great. Poor Maddie. She's doing her college applications and, word is, also going nuts / impossible to talk to. In possesion of my step-dad's credit card for her applications, she is running up a tab at Abercrombie and Fitch. Don't ask me how, she makes those clothes look cool. Anyway she is having her senior year complete with the screaming, and refusing school. I remember it well. (I went though - oldest - it's different.)

So my mother is an actress now - did I tell you? It is like she's joined the circus sort of... apparently she's got herself a pied-a-terre somewhere - maybe downtown? and just stays in the city to take her classes, do her shit. Oh God you guys, the best part - for her main class she's been assigned the mother in "night, mother". fucking perfect. Mother drives daughter to suicide. It's actually hilarious. Carrie Fisher quote: "If my life weren't funny, it would just be true, and that is unacceptable." But anyway... OF COURSE my mother is getting some kind of Meisner technique where she stands with props in rooms of our house repeating single unconscionable lines that would drive you to suicide repeated constantly - like something about "eat[ing] the last snowball sugar." I'd love to meet her teacher.

And then Steph tells me that our mom cut the dog's bangs and was saying "I am the greatest. I am just the greatest - look at what I did to his eyebrows? I am so great." (She did this exactly to me once by the way, plucked my eyebrows and congratulated herself on being so wonderful. That's the kind of thing that only happens once, wouldn't you say?) and then she asked my step-father "How do I feed him?" I said this is what really got me - the helplessness. I don't like it in my conscience. I told Steph "She is really remarkably self-involved" and Steph said "Yeah, I told her - I don't even mind selfish people. They know there's other people and they say 'yes but I'm selfish.' She doesn't know there's other people."

It's so fitting that the Smiths have come on my itunes. William, william it was really nothing... lol

i don't dream about anyone except myself

Morrissey!

Well - I have to think about walking to the supermarket. No uniting theme tonight. Paint job, my crazy mother. XOXO

All the news that's fit to print:

Good thing: I had sex last night. Omgosh it was great. It was with Ryan. (This post is so far in the style of the guy that writes the "I'm a guy" column in Glamour magazine, but I'm not a writer anymore - everyone knows that ;) so it's no big.) Yeah, gosh it was just great. He was also very very pleased. GOOD SEX. WHERE IS MY BLUE RIBBON TODAY?

When Ryan called Christmas Day I said "Well I guess you could come to New Years Eve at my house and be my weekend boyfriend." I thought this was a pretty benign offer since Ryan lives in Montreal (when he's not driving all over the place - picking up craigslist riders, camping wherever he finds himself) When he called a couple days before and said, yep, as long as I agreed he was getting in his van in Montreal and heading down on New Years Eve itself, I felt somewhat apprehensive about him coming. I kept saying "Well I hate for you to drive so far" but he was glad to.

My apprehension in all this, which was outweighed but existed, is that Ryan and I are different in this way that feels very essential, elemental... However, with reminders to myself to chillax, it was possible to recognize that he knows that and thinks that's fine so I should know that and think it's fine too.

Ryan loves Burning Man. Ryan loves cuddling. There is a sticker on his van door that says "wanna cuddle?" and it's funny because yes, this must be a big phrase in his life. There are also all these stuffed animals on the dash. He said at Burning Man last year he didn't take many drugs because he was working at that Burn. 'Working" here means preparing and giving away 3,000 plates of poutine - for free! Whenever he describes Burning Man, I wind up saying, really just from my brain straight to my mouth, "Why would you want to do that? Why do people do it?" The answer per Ryan is "expression' and "community" - one year he built a huge tower for people to climb up and sit on. Last year he made and gave away all this poutine. So that was an expression of "generosity." (the quote marks are for his having said this when I asked what the expression was.) He laughs at how he's invited me repeatedly to the Burn, but I've never shown any interest. I explain and he understands that I get two weeks of vacation from this job thing I have and by God I'm staying in a hotel when I take 'em. He's stalked my facebook and he gets it he says - the vacations look nice.

Let's get off the topic of the weekend boyfriend who comes to visit, which I think is intriguing but feel like leaving and coming back to. (It is like I am endeavoring to be a lecturer today and the topic of my lecture is life, being me, good things and bad things. I hope you have a pen and if you don't please see if you can borrow from the person next to you and be prepared next time.)

Bad thing: Winter. The cold. Oh Jesus. As you can see I spent the period of preChristmas to New Years basically freezing and either alone in my house or (for three days) at work at a desk where the phone never rang. 'Twas existential - lemme tell ya. Then was New Years Eve. This was a somewhat impromptu very little party where we drank absurd amounts of champagne, didn't really watch 2001 A Space Odyssey, mostly played tunes and were all (remaining) mututally black out drunk from about 12:30am to 3:00 am. The tragedy was that MyfriendH was able to come with the intention of not overdoing it at all, as she had work at the hospital at 8am, but couldn't even lightly partake until around midnight-ish as planned, because she got sick, maybe from her dinner at a restaurant with her husband, whom she told to stay in spite of her sickness and have fun and who did and rocked our jams as is his party wont. But I must admit I was inordinately sad about that. However, there's supposed to be this rager coming up at my place in a couple weeks and if all the stars align we'll be able to party together then. I hope it makes her feel good not bad that I miss her. :)

None of that is the point really but it all adds up to the point which is that it's too cold, I drank so much, I saw my dad's family, I'm ashamed how addicted I am to cigarettes, it's too damn cold.

Right - so New Years Day Holly and Micah stayed all day to watch 2001 which blew my mind as it always does. Micah left and Holly stayed to watch Kathy Griffin episodes and Kathy Griffin is my new Gore Vidal. We think the same things about everything just about. We both know you're not supposed to say 'retarded" but think it's such a great word the world is just going to have to deal with us doing the wrong thing on that count. Ryan had a lot of fun watching Kathy. He doesn't know anything about pop culture. Not his thing. When he drove me to NJ the next day, we stopped for a beer before he dropped me off at my Dad's and we got into the foreign-ness of our lives to eachother. (ultimately they're not so foreign actually) I told him that he has the soul of a true hippy and he had to admit it was true. (I wonder to myself if I have the soul of a true neurotic but if I think that it is probably the cold and the sleep schedule and who knows what thinking that because what I have is, as always, this blasted grounded-ness and then my own dose of expressiveness - I just exist and I don't need anybody except I do but I can tell, luckily, that it's all going to be fine.) Ryan also doesn't seem to have any bone terror going from watching 2001 which I do because I'm not sure the days between Christmas and new Years watching tv and checking facebook this year were all that different in existential affect than the ride to Jupiter with HAL. (whatever.) Into my house and the family gathered around the counter with the digital photo album of the trip they just returned from to Patagonia. Ella and David are over and taking in the slide show too. Ella: "And what are YOU doing Lex?" Me: "Oh-- looks like going to Mexico for my 30th and then going to Law School." Ella: "I was a single woman until I went to Mexico - be careful- that's where I met David!"

Then last night I came back from New Jersey, sex, and you're up to speed except that I haven't told you about waking up in the same old freezing cold this morning (ryan made coffee and walked me to the train. I thought about how winter is a reality that I wisely don't think about til it's here because what would be the point but it is funny how I forgot it would be so cold that I wouldn't even be able to get myself to go out for presents!) and it seems I'll just never get into detail about family. One day we can talk about how different the two of them are. At that point I guess I'll be writing a novel on my blog.

At any rate the combined effect of being cold all the time, being really awfully alone for a long stretch, getting blotto with a small group of greats, recovering and confronting the infinite and my own personal most bone chilling terror-from-sound-and-image (2001), seeing my family and having no presents for them eventhough they had presents for me with the lame excuse that I meant to but it was too cold (true) coming back, ah, sex, and then not really enough sleep and a cold cold walk to to the train to come back to work is one of confusion and fullness that can't be qualiied as happy or sad. I have the taste of not enough sleep but eye-opening coffee in my mouth and its presence in my stomach. My eyes are a little tired but I'm up. The environment is forbidding. I'm looking forward to reliving last night's climaxes when I get home tonight. I think the part of the vacation where people came back to town and I convinced some of them to come be my friend at my house was a really good move that kept me from just fucking giving up in a pile of my own dirt and bedding watching cable and never thinking another thought again. Nonetheless the forbidding outdoors is sure to make a patina of this way-of-life linger in my consciousness through the season. But overall, reviewing this now, I think we can call me happy today. GOOD WORK.

love
Alexis

My heart is sorta heavy

I'll try to tell you about it tomorrow but for now happier to attribute it to the ceaseless frigid cold and Sunday night's enduring ethos.

I haven't, recently, been able to blog at work but if i can't tomorrow i'll send it to myself in email and throw it up later.

Have you ever wondered if happiness feels exactly like sadness. Or if that is only on Sundays. Or only the holidays. Anyway more soon and it's poosible that I'm really really HAPPY and there's just a little confusion somehow. Anyway more soon.

XOXO
A