And so, the holiday ends....
Today is tidy day, finish out what has to be done, pack up my belongings, and schlep back up to the crack house in the projects.
Last night, C came over from Brooklyn... with her kids gone for the summer, we finally made it to a play, something we've discussed doing together since January.
Granted, I've already seen it, but, she wanted to go, so... I used my last season ticket and went again to see In a Dark, Dark, House with her. We were seated in the second row at first...not my favourite place to sit... still, good seats. The young man next to me was thrilled to be there, he was a huge LaBute fan, and he and I started discussing the play while C went to find new seats.
It wasn't the seating, it was the man next to her who smelled as if he'd lived on the F Train platform on 6th for around three years.
We were moved back when a couple were willing to take second row seats and StinkyMan in exchange for their rear seats and clean air.
Perhaps it was knowing in advance what was going to happen that allowed me to sit back and view it from a different angle. The acting was superb... I was again gutted by the content, those crystal sharp words.... however, I was able to distance myself from it this time, and not be overwhelmed emotionally. C, like myself, was able to put the pieces of this Neil LaBute (shhh, don't say his name more than once...odd people write you really strange things) puzzle together in the first act. Walking out, we heard others discussing the play, and how they were still questioning points. One girl kept asking her companions about something that was so clear over and over to where I wanted to turn around and say, "He stole the car because....". That is the beauty of a good play, when people walk out and are still talking about it.... and that is what happened both nights I saw this work. It was the last show of the run... I'm glad I saw it again, it was the same play, different point of view. And, I still say he writes about love.
And, this time, there was food. Someone to discuss it with, which always adds to the enjoyment of a good or bad performance, and food.
Greek food.
Lovely food.
So, even though I was waiting for C at Union Square and she was at Washington Square because I had the wrong train line in my head before the show... all's well, blah blah.
The Jarhead has sent me his email address... he's on the ship now, headed for points unknown until he reaches his unknown destination. I woke up at 5A yesterday, at the exact time they were casting off.... they've already changed his return time from the beginning of December to mid January. He had called me Friday night, before they shut his phone off. We spoke for a bit, and his friends wanted to tell me they would all be safe. Oh, and they weren't in a titty bar, no m'am. They never call a Mom from a titty bar.
Nice to know that bit of information.
Here I sit, nothing to do, really. I'm sure I'll nap at some point...it is in my genetic code to do so. The tourists were out in full parade at 10A when I walked the dogs... some in heels. I don't understand doing a full day of being a tourist in heels. I don't understand wearing heels at all anymore...but, then, I don't have to if I don't want to, so, there.
I am eating what is possibly the worst muffin in the world... there are three dogs snoring.... I am babbling about nothing of any interest.
I love me my Sundays.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Saturday, July 7, 2007
The Popular Ones
I've come to realise, I'll never be one of the cool kids.
Of course, I never was one, so, to expect to suddenly blossom into one now is rather silly... still, we inept folk sometimes secretly harbour a wonder at what would it be like to wake up and being part of the in crowd, the sleek, the chic, the sought after.
It never happens.
We are the tech people, the fringes of any gathering, the silent ones who offer an occasional observation.... those who look in, but never quite understand the makings of what creates a popular person.
We can be beautiful, smart, talented, wealthy.... it's that unknown something that just isn't there.
Those who have the aforementioned adjectives attached to their person are often swept up into the parties, the clubs, the circles...however, you can still spot us. We look inept. We are awkward with a drink in our hand, uncomfortable in evening clothing, our eyes dart to the door, wondering how long before we can make our escape. We do not sparkle or sizzle and our minds aren't always on what is happening at the event we are attending.
While there is a certain envy of people who can do those things, while we live in a vicarious way by reading and listening and feeling great joy in the outings of friends who are the cool ones, and a slight puzzlement over how they manage it all...I would be exhausted, and never able to keep up with the texts and the people and the places. I am impressed, to be dead honest...yet, the 'me' kinds of people really are content in our own niche. I issue a sign of relief when I no longer have to worry about saying the wrong thing or dropping something or wondering if I'm in the wrong shoes or dress or place. Knowing I don't fit in.
As much as I enjoy the few hours I spend away from my flat in the projects, I'm as happy to be home, sticking to my pleather sofa, reading away or writing something that will never be seen.
No, I am not one of the popular ones. Most of my friends, however, are. They know that they are, and I'm not...
We're all good with that.
Of course, I never was one, so, to expect to suddenly blossom into one now is rather silly... still, we inept folk sometimes secretly harbour a wonder at what would it be like to wake up and being part of the in crowd, the sleek, the chic, the sought after.
It never happens.
We are the tech people, the fringes of any gathering, the silent ones who offer an occasional observation.... those who look in, but never quite understand the makings of what creates a popular person.
We can be beautiful, smart, talented, wealthy.... it's that unknown something that just isn't there.
Those who have the aforementioned adjectives attached to their person are often swept up into the parties, the clubs, the circles...however, you can still spot us. We look inept. We are awkward with a drink in our hand, uncomfortable in evening clothing, our eyes dart to the door, wondering how long before we can make our escape. We do not sparkle or sizzle and our minds aren't always on what is happening at the event we are attending.
While there is a certain envy of people who can do those things, while we live in a vicarious way by reading and listening and feeling great joy in the outings of friends who are the cool ones, and a slight puzzlement over how they manage it all...I would be exhausted, and never able to keep up with the texts and the people and the places. I am impressed, to be dead honest...yet, the 'me' kinds of people really are content in our own niche. I issue a sign of relief when I no longer have to worry about saying the wrong thing or dropping something or wondering if I'm in the wrong shoes or dress or place. Knowing I don't fit in.
As much as I enjoy the few hours I spend away from my flat in the projects, I'm as happy to be home, sticking to my pleather sofa, reading away or writing something that will never be seen.
No, I am not one of the popular ones. Most of my friends, however, are. They know that they are, and I'm not...
We're all good with that.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Money....Never Enough
Money.
It's a drag.
Between now and the end of the month, I have to come up with a gazillion dollars.
I've a wedding to help pay for, a dress for said wedding.. and not just any dress, but, the Mother of The Bride dress, a plane ticket for both myself and the terrier, spending money while I'm in the land of Utes, spending money for my side trip to L.A. to visit my brother, D and his lovely wife, my bills, shoes to go with the Mother of The Bride dress, oh, yes, and food.
Now, if I forgo the last item, that will put me into a smaller dress. It will also make a nice show when I weave down the aisle faint from hunger since I'll have consumed what body fat is left in my ass.
I am not the gazelle like creature I wish I was. My daughter, HRH,
the soon to be bride, is swanlike, with perfect proportions, having taken the time upon her conception to pick and choose the strands of DNA that she wanted. No, I am no gazelle. I am more on the musk ox build, short waisted and difficult to fit when it comes to dresses....especially those dresses. You know, the Mother of The Bride dresses.
It's a 6P wedding, so, not afternoon, not really evening. I can go short or long on the length of the dress.
It's finding the dress that's killing me.
They all seem to be made of polyester, in pastel shades of pink or lavender or blue or some particular green that makes me heave. They have little jackets with sparkly things on them, short sleeves that make my white arms look a bit like a mutated thin veal sausage. I don't like polyester. I firmly believe that polyester causes cancer (oh, wait... I have that) and rickets. The poor underpaid migrant workers who pick polyester out in the hidden fields in the wilds of South Dakota are riddled with diseases caused by touching the untreated polyester plants. You find colours not found in nature rampant in polyester materials. All of them hanging in Macy's, with a woman who coos at me, saying, "You'll look stunning in this!"
No, I won't.
No, I don't.
I tried Century 21. I'm still laughing over their selection. First of all, I'd have to walk to Utah after paying for it, and secondly, well.... I'd kind of like it to look like a real dress, know what I mean?
The upside is, it's July, so, all the winter fashions are in the stores, and the summer frocks are going on half off...I may find a bargain somewhere.
Now, if I can only find something that's cotton or silk, not in an odd shade, and that doesn't make me look like a musk ox in drag.
It's a drag.
Between now and the end of the month, I have to come up with a gazillion dollars.
I've a wedding to help pay for, a dress for said wedding.. and not just any dress, but, the Mother of The Bride dress, a plane ticket for both myself and the terrier, spending money while I'm in the land of Utes, spending money for my side trip to L.A. to visit my brother, D and his lovely wife, my bills, shoes to go with the Mother of The Bride dress, oh, yes, and food.
Now, if I forgo the last item, that will put me into a smaller dress. It will also make a nice show when I weave down the aisle faint from hunger since I'll have consumed what body fat is left in my ass.
I am not the gazelle like creature I wish I was. My daughter, HRH,
the soon to be bride, is swanlike, with perfect proportions, having taken the time upon her conception to pick and choose the strands of DNA that she wanted. No, I am no gazelle. I am more on the musk ox build, short waisted and difficult to fit when it comes to dresses....especially those dresses. You know, the Mother of The Bride dresses.It's a 6P wedding, so, not afternoon, not really evening. I can go short or long on the length of the dress.
It's finding the dress that's killing me.
They all seem to be made of polyester, in pastel shades of pink or lavender or blue or some particular green that makes me heave. They have little jackets with sparkly things on them, short sleeves that make my white arms look a bit like a mutated thin veal sausage. I don't like polyester. I firmly believe that polyester causes cancer (oh, wait... I have that) and rickets. The poor underpaid migrant workers who pick polyester out in the hidden fields in the wilds of South Dakota are riddled with diseases caused by touching the untreated polyester plants. You find colours not found in nature rampant in polyester materials. All of them hanging in Macy's, with a woman who coos at me, saying, "You'll look stunning in this!"
No, I won't.
No, I don't.
I tried Century 21. I'm still laughing over their selection. First of all, I'd have to walk to Utah after paying for it, and secondly, well.... I'd kind of like it to look like a real dress, know what I mean?
The upside is, it's July, so, all the winter fashions are in the stores, and the summer frocks are going on half off...I may find a bargain somewhere.
Now, if I can only find something that's cotton or silk, not in an odd shade, and that doesn't make me look like a musk ox in drag.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Who is That Boring Woman? Oh, it's ME!
After the whirlwind cavorting of Tuesday night, which included the train trip home at midnight...and this conversation:
Guy on train with dredlocks and white cane: I DO NOT BLAME GOD FOR MAKING ME BLIND. I AM THANKFUL TO GOD FOR MY SECTION 8 HOUSING AND MY FOOD STAMPS AND THE FOOD PANTRY! I STILL NEED HELP! ANY ONE CAN GET HELP IN THIS CI....
at this point, the guy next to me dressed in all black with Yankee's logos on his clothes said,
"Fuck off dude, can't you see I'm on the phone?"
I'm not sure what was funnier... the breaking in on the rant, or the "...can't you see" part. Either way, I got the giggles.
White Cane man moved down a few seats....
"....TY ISN'T TRYING. I AM STILL ASKING FOR HELP..." his voice trailed off as he deftly moved between cars, something I've yet to try.
Since the terrier had a sleep over at her best friend's house, I sprawled over the bed with no one to hinder me all night long. (What? You were hoping for something different? Again, wrong journal... as if I'd say otherwise even if....kids, don't read this part of Mom's journal), and was wide awake at 7A to gather my things to trek downtown for my holiday in Tribeca.
With all organised here, it really is pretty much a holiday. I've had a couple of errands, the rest of my scripty notes to send to the Film Editor...it's a struggle on some, since I wrote in the dark...and I've played the Lady of the Manor, with food from the streets, a take out and three dogs to keep me company and who fight over who gets to sleep on me at night. Sadly, the pit bull usually wins, so, once I'm settled, I'm pinned down with his head on my shoulder all night long, snoring away.
My friend, C, came over from Brooklyn yesterday, we did the Century 21 thing, and then decided to get Vietnamese food. I did at least, she went for the Noodle Shop. Thankfully, I stuck with my decision for some unpronounceable item with spring rolls and fish sauce. This is said with a smug look for one reason; as she dug to the bottom of her bowl, she found a free garnish... a fried cockroach.
This was not as ewwww as the owner's reaction....a bland look and an offer to make up a fresh meal. Sure, I'll have another try for Noodles and Cockroach, thankyouverymuch. Can you toss in some silverfish, too? Or, is that extra? We aren't talking an itty bitty cockroach either, we are talking something from Men In Black.... and I don't mean it looked like Vincent d'Onofrio. If it had, well... C could have gone back to Brooklyn, and I'd have dealt with the issue alone. *cough*
Today's wanderings brought me back to the bar area, a possible new job working as a P.A. for the shop owner where I had to return things for The Boss, and a Chipolte burrito for my meal. I thought life was almost perfect, when the manager threw in chips and guacamole.
Free.
We'd been chatting away, as I'm prone to do with strangers... I'm inept with people I know, strangers I can talk to for hours... and slap bang, free chips and guac.
Home again, dogs thrilled to see me, it's cool inside, I've fruit for dessert, a film to watch, cable on demand, a play to see this weekend, WeatherMan will call later on, an email from someone I admire and respect complimenting me on one of my six sentences.... and I'm blathering away on my journal about me.
After re-reading it, I've realised I'm a boring bit of shite.
Live with it, I do.
Guy on train with dredlocks and white cane: I DO NOT BLAME GOD FOR MAKING ME BLIND. I AM THANKFUL TO GOD FOR MY SECTION 8 HOUSING AND MY FOOD STAMPS AND THE FOOD PANTRY! I STILL NEED HELP! ANY ONE CAN GET HELP IN THIS CI....
at this point, the guy next to me dressed in all black with Yankee's logos on his clothes said,
"Fuck off dude, can't you see I'm on the phone?"
I'm not sure what was funnier... the breaking in on the rant, or the "...can't you see" part. Either way, I got the giggles.
White Cane man moved down a few seats....
"....TY ISN'T TRYING. I AM STILL ASKING FOR HELP..." his voice trailed off as he deftly moved between cars, something I've yet to try.
Since the terrier had a sleep over at her best friend's house, I sprawled over the bed with no one to hinder me all night long. (What? You were hoping for something different? Again, wrong journal... as if I'd say otherwise even if....kids, don't read this part of Mom's journal), and was wide awake at 7A to gather my things to trek downtown for my holiday in Tribeca.
With all organised here, it really is pretty much a holiday. I've had a couple of errands, the rest of my scripty notes to send to the Film Editor...it's a struggle on some, since I wrote in the dark...and I've played the Lady of the Manor, with food from the streets, a take out and three dogs to keep me company and who fight over who gets to sleep on me at night. Sadly, the pit bull usually wins, so, once I'm settled, I'm pinned down with his head on my shoulder all night long, snoring away.
My friend, C, came over from Brooklyn yesterday, we did the Century 21 thing, and then decided to get Vietnamese food. I did at least, she went for the Noodle Shop. Thankfully, I stuck with my decision for some unpronounceable item with spring rolls and fish sauce. This is said with a smug look for one reason; as she dug to the bottom of her bowl, she found a free garnish... a fried cockroach.
This was not as ewwww as the owner's reaction....a bland look and an offer to make up a fresh meal. Sure, I'll have another try for Noodles and Cockroach, thankyouverymuch. Can you toss in some silverfish, too? Or, is that extra? We aren't talking an itty bitty cockroach either, we are talking something from Men In Black.... and I don't mean it looked like Vincent d'Onofrio. If it had, well... C could have gone back to Brooklyn, and I'd have dealt with the issue alone. *cough*
Today's wanderings brought me back to the bar area, a possible new job working as a P.A. for the shop owner where I had to return things for The Boss, and a Chipolte burrito for my meal. I thought life was almost perfect, when the manager threw in chips and guacamole.
Free.
We'd been chatting away, as I'm prone to do with strangers... I'm inept with people I know, strangers I can talk to for hours... and slap bang, free chips and guac.
Home again, dogs thrilled to see me, it's cool inside, I've fruit for dessert, a film to watch, cable on demand, a play to see this weekend, WeatherMan will call later on, an email from someone I admire and respect complimenting me on one of my six sentences.... and I'm blathering away on my journal about me.
After re-reading it, I've realised I'm a boring bit of shite.
Live with it, I do.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
A Fast Take on Last Night
Late night.
Early morning, as I'm back downtown for a few days dogwatching and enjoying my time away from the Bronx.
Last night was a delight, I have the scoop on a number of bloggers, and will be glad to spill the beans on any and all for the right price... sadly, none of it is worth any bribe money as they are all a hoot.
Oh, and Cajun Boy exists....the rumours that he is a rumour started by someone...umm..that would be, ermmm, me.. are wrong.
I found a wife for Jarhead....NYCPonderings will fit right into the family.
I owed Midwestern Boy an apology, which he was kind enough to accept.
E.V. Idiot can't tell the time faster than I can.
Irish is very funny.
Oob and HaHa were their usual cool urban selves, and as always, encouraging to me.
Lots of others that made me laugh, lots of off key singing... I have no idea of the song, the singing was so bad, you couldn't tell what the lyrics were.
Sally Tomato....a gem.
And Todd... well, Todd is one of a kind, in a great way.
I rode the 4 home at midnight, as usual wondering who the hell all those other people were... and for me, at least, a good time was had.
woot.
Early morning, as I'm back downtown for a few days dogwatching and enjoying my time away from the Bronx.
Last night was a delight, I have the scoop on a number of bloggers, and will be glad to spill the beans on any and all for the right price... sadly, none of it is worth any bribe money as they are all a hoot.
Oh, and Cajun Boy exists....the rumours that he is a rumour started by someone...umm..that would be, ermmm, me.. are wrong.
I found a wife for Jarhead....NYCPonderings will fit right into the family.
I owed Midwestern Boy an apology, which he was kind enough to accept.
E.V. Idiot can't tell the time faster than I can.
Irish is very funny.
Oob and HaHa were their usual cool urban selves, and as always, encouraging to me.
Lots of others that made me laugh, lots of off key singing... I have no idea of the song, the singing was so bad, you couldn't tell what the lyrics were.
Sally Tomato....a gem.
And Todd... well, Todd is one of a kind, in a great way.
I rode the 4 home at midnight, as usual wondering who the hell all those other people were... and for me, at least, a good time was had.
woot.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Tonight's the Night
Within an hour, I shall be lifting a drink or two with some of those who share the joys of internet journalkeeping with me.
Since I tend to stick to tonic water and the rare shot of tequila and they...well, we've seen videos of how they end up....I'd suggest any and all who read the ongoing adventures of the many people who are linked on my little bit of blah blah to turn to me for what really happens tonight.
Photos will be sold along with any and all versions of the truth.
Trust me, I'm mature, I'll be sober, and I can be bought.
Since I tend to stick to tonic water and the rare shot of tequila and they...well, we've seen videos of how they end up....I'd suggest any and all who read the ongoing adventures of the many people who are linked on my little bit of blah blah to turn to me for what really happens tonight.
Photos will be sold along with any and all versions of the truth.
Trust me, I'm mature, I'll be sober, and I can be bought.
Monday, July 2, 2007
The Weekend
Saturday~ sleep until 2P, then a walk down to Fordham with the terrier. Some idiot rode his bicycle through a red light, causing a man on his motorcycle to have to lay the bike down and slide through the intersection.
The terrier and I were standing on the corner by the papaya shop, where they are still bragging about bringing back by popular demand either the full meat hot dog or the .50 hot dog.. I'm still not sure which it is...the idiot on the bicycle slams to a halt next to us, looks at the motorcycle lying in the street, cars honking their horns and people shouting and says,
"What happened?"
"Um, you ran a stop light and that guy almost killed himself missing you."
"Mamii...you sure?"
"Yes, you fuckwit. I'm sure."
"Damn. I am a fuckwit." And he took off.
The guy on the motorcycle was okay, no statement were taken, as his bike wasn't insured... I brought the terrier home and then went downtown to meet my friend C for dinner, pick up movie candy and we went to see 'Once' . Brilliant film, lovely film, a film of love and music and hope and... it's a film you should see. I'll leave it there. Then, there was.....oh, right.... more sleep.
Sometime during the day on Saturday, a notice from Gateway via my email that my battery is fubar'd, and to call in to have it replaced. Great, except most of the time, I can't start my computer because THE BATTERY IS FUBAR'D. Thanks for the email, though. The recording when I called offered to bypass the long wait on hold and log in at www.gateway.com. I would have done that, except THE BATTERY IS FUBAR'D and I can't log in. A new battery is currently on the way. I find if I plug in the system, and tilt it to the left.. I swear this is what I have to do... it works for a bit.
Sunday~sleep.
Oh, yes, and a date.
I. Had. A. Date.
With a very nice man who turned on his air conditioner even though the weather wasn't that hot because I love cold air...who let me nap because I was that tired....who had my favourite juice...who gave me a backpack to carry the laptop and all my assorted and sundry items so I wouldn't have to lug two bags around anymore... a funny man who continues to be a very dear and sweet and who allows me to give him a hard time about his Weather Man voice. Level, calming and deep.
Yes, Sunday was a good day.
Yes, I was home before ten.
Yes, I napped alone.
What, you were expecting something saucy?
Wrong journal.
The terrier and I were standing on the corner by the papaya shop, where they are still bragging about bringing back by popular demand either the full meat hot dog or the .50 hot dog.. I'm still not sure which it is...the idiot on the bicycle slams to a halt next to us, looks at the motorcycle lying in the street, cars honking their horns and people shouting and says,
"What happened?"
"Um, you ran a stop light and that guy almost killed himself missing you."
"Mamii...you sure?"
"Yes, you fuckwit. I'm sure."
"Damn. I am a fuckwit." And he took off.
The guy on the motorcycle was okay, no statement were taken, as his bike wasn't insured... I brought the terrier home and then went downtown to meet my friend C for dinner, pick up movie candy and we went to see 'Once' . Brilliant film, lovely film, a film of love and music and hope and... it's a film you should see. I'll leave it there. Then, there was.....oh, right.... more sleep.
Sometime during the day on Saturday, a notice from Gateway via my email that my battery is fubar'd, and to call in to have it replaced. Great, except most of the time, I can't start my computer because THE BATTERY IS FUBAR'D. Thanks for the email, though. The recording when I called offered to bypass the long wait on hold and log in at www.gateway.com. I would have done that, except THE BATTERY IS FUBAR'D and I can't log in. A new battery is currently on the way. I find if I plug in the system, and tilt it to the left.. I swear this is what I have to do... it works for a bit.
Sunday~sleep.
Oh, yes, and a date.
I. Had. A. Date.
With a very nice man who turned on his air conditioner even though the weather wasn't that hot because I love cold air...who let me nap because I was that tired....who had my favourite juice...who gave me a backpack to carry the laptop and all my assorted and sundry items so I wouldn't have to lug two bags around anymore... a funny man who continues to be a very dear and sweet and who allows me to give him a hard time about his Weather Man voice. Level, calming and deep.
Yes, Sunday was a good day.
Yes, I was home before ten.
Yes, I napped alone.
What, you were expecting something saucy?
Wrong journal.
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