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