Saturday, February 23, 2008


I have many heroes. Today in the midst of 5 hours at the library I got an email from one of them, agreeing to an interview this Friday!

He's Mark Gorton, creator of LimeWire, founder of The Open Planning Project, publisher of Streetsblog, the single largest donor to Transportation Alternatives, champion of the livable streets know, coolest guy ever. Though I don't know if the fact that he attended Harvard, Stanford, and Yale impresses me or nauseates me. That'$ a $hit ton of $chool.

I'm so excited he agreed to be interviewed for our rinky-dink little magazine!

Oh yeah, I have another hero, too. I saw this guy's installation, Jeroen Offerman, at the SF MOMA last year. He sings Stairway to Heaven melodically and phoenitically BACKWARDS, (recording it in front of St. Paul's in San Francisco,) then plays it forward. Can you imagine how hard that is? He keeps asking people (quite politely) to not post the video online, but it's not like you can get it anywhere else, certainly not on his website or through the magazine who sponsors him. How can he not want everyone everyone everyone to see it? It is mind-blowing.

In other news, I had a really fun day yesterday, even though it involved about 6 hours in the computer lab after only 4 hours of sleep. It had a lot to do with the half-bottle of tequila I'd drunk the night before, and being in the company of some others who had drunk the the other half-bottle. We were just silly.

I've been so busy that I've (almost) effectively forgotten about Kid and the fact that he hasn't called me. What bullshit. I made the executive decision that I would not call him this week. Maybe next weekend. But I don't really want to be chasing around a Kid. Shouldn't he be calling me?

Thursday, February 21, 2008


Howdy world! I'm feeling so much better after being so sick for so long. It is a world of difference to not have your head and eyeballs throbbing with snotty pain.

I had a farr-bulous day yesterday on my first day of feeling back like a member of society. Lemme tell you all about it!

First off, I made some stops downtown on my way to an interview for an article I'm writing. I stopped at a health food store to buy some bulgur wheat for the vegetarian chili I was making. I've never used bulgur wheat before, and it was well worth the stop. When you add it to chili, it gives it a consistency much like ground beef. Next I stopped at Knit for some cobalt blue yarn to make a requested beret for Beauty. I love this store for their amazing selection of Noro yarn, and they sell coffee and tea there as well.

Next I headed off to my interview, which I'd had to reschedule from last week due to snotty illness. I was kind of nervous because (a) it's been a few years since I did anything journalistic, (b) I want to eventually work for this organization, which is sort of why I chose this piece, because obviously I want to work for a place I admire, and (c) I was still pretty out of it.

I was early and he was late, so I bumbled around the West Village for a while in the cold, stopping for a timbale and tea at Bonsignour on Jane and 8th Avenue, and feeling happy to be living in The NY, where bumbling around can be considered a legitimate pasttime.

My interview was with Aaron Naparstek, the editor of Streetsblog, a blog that is currently transitioning from being more of a DOT watchdog to being one of the many epicenters of the livable streets movement. He was a great interview because he is just a really fucken cool guy, but also a not-so-great interview in that he's so humble and softspoken. If you're looking for any killer pocket quotes, you're going to have to listen hard. It was a great time. I rested a little easier because Neighbor lent me this kickass Belkin recorder that fits right into my iPod, and it worked like a charm. I fit our hour-long interview onto my nano easily, and it didn't kill the battery or anything.

I loved getting back in the journalistic groove. Being a writer is great in that you can just call up anyone who you think is interesting and ask to talk to them. Streetsblog is published (i.e., funded) by Mark Gorton, the developer behind LimeWire, who I can't wait to corner for a little chat someday.

The great news is that halfway through the interview, he brought up that they are looking for writers, and asked if I knew anyone in my program who would be interested in writing. Uhhh....yeah? I told him I would definitely be interested, and when we circled back to that topic in the end, he told me to pitch him some ideas and he'd pay me for the stories. It all played right into my master plan so perfectly that I felt stupid when I left...stupid happy!

Happiness is knowing what you want to do, and being able to do it.

Next up was our vegetarian dinner party, which was wicked fun. My favorite new tradition in this old tradition is our post-dinner dance, where we rock out and get stomach cramps.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Date 13:2

Earlier today I was feeling antsy about my date, and I posted on my other blog about how important love is to me, how everything else in life is just a feeble attempt to distract myself from not being/being too in love.

But neck-and-neck with being in love, is loving what I do. What a fucken concept. I ultimately just want to love life, which usually means loving your job, or loving everything else so much that your 37.5-80 hours a week of work don't really matter.

Kid loves his job. He went into work today, even though it is President's Day. God, I am so envious of people who love what they do and want to tell me about it. It's just so attractive, and I mean that in a literal way. I am so drawn to people who love love love what they do. It's like I think that their enthusiasm for something will rub off on me, and I will become shamelessly enthralled by something.

So far that's only worked with smoking.

I got up early and baked scones with fresh blueberries and dried cranberries. I ate about a dozen of them throughout the day while I waited to hear back from Kid to see what was going to transpire today. We met up and ate falafel and played pool. I don't know how that lasted four hours, but it did. I kept thinking I had snot on my face and it made me nervous, but that is the danger of going out when you are recovering from snotty head syndrome.

He is kind of quiet, very gentle-seeming, and I like him. I hate wondering if someone likes me too. At this point in my life it is always jarring to suddenly realize you wonder/care what someone else thinks about you. Luckily this doesn't happen very often. I think it would drive me fucken crazy.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

i'm in love

I'd like you to meet Alessandro Nivola. I saw him in the movie Junebug last week. I have no idea how it got into my Netflix queue, but it was surprisingly good.

Well, in the very opening scene, these two main characters fall in love. It is such a cute scene that after the movie was over, I went back and watched it like four more times. He has this incredible little smile. Just look at it!

This movie is hard to describe. It's kind of sad, kind of romantic, kind of's a little bit of everything. It's like life, I guess. You should see it sometime. The soundtrack is done by Yo La Tengo.


I am on every anti-congestion drug known to man. I went and bought a bunch of everything, including the real Sudafed, not that crappy Sudafed PE that I have. In Illinois, if you want to buy real Sudafed (pseudophedrine), you have to sign a methamphetamine register. They're not fucking around there.

Kid called me today. It made me happy. He asked if I wanted to come over and watch a movie and I just said, flat out, "No." It was kind of weird. But I was feeling so shitty. We are going to hang out tomorrow instead. So, our second date, will likely be me going to his house and hanging out. Like high school! I love it!

Friday, February 15, 2008

sick sick sick in the head head head

I'm so sick of being sick. I've spent the week wondering (a) if I'm sick enough to stay home and do nothing, (b) if my headache is due to extreme sinus congestion or not enough nicotine, and (c) why the hell Kid hasn't called me. Wondering...was all that in my head? I pretty much considered it a done deal that he'd have called me by Wednesday. Then Wednesday came and went...and Thursday...and Friday... I gave him until 3:30 today to call. And I don't believe in text-messaging.

Being sick sucks. Wondering why someone hasn't called sucks even more. So finally I bit the bullet and called him when the deadline came and went. Turns out he's been sick all week too. (This is what I was secretly hoping.)

Yaaay, he said he'd call me back tomorrow to firm up some plans, and see if we're feeling better.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

uh...yeah...that's not a joke.

A few days ago, in the midst of that drunken night where I ended up running away from two guys I didn't know, I picked up an issue of The Onion. I was with this guy from Afghanistan, and I had to explain to him the value of fake news.

Today I saw him and he was asking me if I've ever heard of this other fake paper, some journal or whatnot, and I said I hadn't. "Well, it was really funny!" He told me. "There was this story about Bush giving everyone $1,000."

"Um..." I said. "Yeah...that's not a joke."

He thought I was fucking with him. Again.

"But..the fake news..."

"No, that was real news."

"But it was so funny! I thought..."

"No. That's really happening. Bush and Company really think that the way to boost our economy is to give everyone $1,000."

"'re kidding, right? You're joking."

This went on for about ten minutes. But, I mean, check out that photo! It really does look like something The Onion would run.

Read about this stupid-ass shit here. Who knows, maybe they're onto something. Well, at least the $100 billion will be spent on crappy clothes, processed foods, and booze rather than the war.

And while we're talking about The Onion...even they're behind Obama!

Poll: Bullshit Is Most Important Issue For 2008 Voters

Monday, February 11, 2008

whoa my god

So, I feel like an asshole...

I left Kid last night with some not-so-great feelings toward him, and then I agreed to meet up with him today anyhow, not remembering anything about him except that feeling that I was going to throw up in the end, but not due to anything that I had put in my body. Maybe it was me rejecting the thought of casual sex. I wasn't going to go, but then I was talking to my little brother and I was like, "I don't think I'm going to meet up with this guy. I think he's only 22." And Little Brother said, "I'm going out with a 22-year-old today! What's wrong with that?"

But whoa my god, Kid is really sweet! And he looked older today. He must be at least 23. Or 24. That's not so bad... But I had a really good time with him! We have a lot of common interests, and he's really down to earth. And we both think our little brothers are the coolest people in the world. The only big "red flag" for me is that he seems like someone I could push around. Like he's a vegetarian and he told me a story about a guy who he didn't like but lived with him and pretended to be his friend anyway. He also has the same name as my first boyfriend, which is funny because last week I was saying I wanted my next relationship to be more like my first relationship. Which would mean I would end up with kind of a pushover guy who made me feel like a crackwhore--not because he was demeaning in any way, but just because next to his pure white ass, I felt like one...and then I started to act like one...I'm not sure how related these two developments were though.

Troubletown...But hey, what a surprise! I hope he calls me this week.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

More New Years

I love the timing of the Chinese New Year because it kind of reminds you that yep, you had some high hopes for this year, and here you are pissing life away as usual. Now think about them again; celebrate again. More pissing, but with renewed focus.

My forecast for this year of the rat says I'm going to have an "excellent" year, which makes me happy. It says I'll have some awesome "social times" in August, November, and December, which gives me plenty of time to rest up. It's been real...

Dicey, drunken, who knows. I forced My Friend to have Chinese New Year dinner with me, after which we got tremendously drunk at a lame grad student's event. The funnest guy I met there was a physicist. There was this other funny guy but he was wearing these pants that you can pretty much interpret in one way:

I am so cool that I can wear the most hideous things imaginable. In fact, were I to try and look good, I might be so unbelievably awesome that it would frighten you. So, I try to make myself look like an asshole, to protect you from my awesomeness. You can thank me by pretending not to notice my ugly pants.

We left the lame grad students to go play free pool where My Friend lives, at the International House. I was drunk and speaking freely about my (current lack of a) sex life, and my confusing fear and love of men.

After about 12 beverages, I found myself Friendlessly walking to get food with two guys whose names I did not know. That's when I ran away. It was kind of under the guise of catching a train, but there was no train. When I woke up the next morning, there was a Happy Meal in my kitchen.

Last night we celebrated keeten's birthday. Muffin made a delicious dinner and then we got all sweaty at Love. I haven't danced in forever, and it made me happy. I've known us for a while now, and there aren't many other people with whom I'd rather spend an evening dancing and playing toxicology.

I love weed because it's so communal. Even if you choose not to directly partake, it hangs in the air and creates a shared scent, a shared space, and now that I don't smoke it constantly, it mellows me out immediately. I love booze because everything seems a simpler when you're drunk. While pot renders most decisions and procedures extremely complimicated, questions of morality, loyalty, and price are much more manageable after several drinks. The only things I don't like about booze is this gut it's given me, and my tendency to overindulge and have a horrible next day. But this is why I love coke. Not only is it so easy and transportable, but you can tell almost immediately if you've had too much, and it's such a clean high, little residue to eke into the next day...

The weird combination of all those substances in my body...particularly the coffee and the 45 minutes of cab-induced anxiety, put me in a fabulous mood. It was a good time, and there I decided that it was time to pop my NY hymen with the non-threatening kid who was dancing with me after spilling my drink. I went to meet up with him after we all kind of disbanded. He was a sweet guy and waited for me outside the club he was at, and there I kind of checked him out in the street light and had the familiar thought, "Oh god, is this going to be like fucking a child?"

I don't know why I am initially so attracted to younger guys, if I just don't want them in the end. I actually feel physically repulsed when I imagine having sex with them. We were outside the club, waiting to get back in, with the idea that we would have another drink or two, keep our dance on, and then go back to my apartment, but suddenly the thought of fucking him sent this nauseating wave down through my gut and stayed there, and I stepped out of line and took another $30 cab ride home. He called to see if I wanted to hang out today. I don't remember anything about him. Probably not. How bored am I? I guess I just worry that I will meet up with him and leave feeling like an asshole. But that's in my control. I should just go, have fun.

I'm not trying to understand this. All I know is that some nights, like last night, I dig out one of my favorite shirts to sleep in, one of my Ex's grey Hanes undershirts, and I fall asleep thinking of him.

Things were so much simpler when I knew that love was enough of a reason to make things work.

Sunday, February 3, 2008

drank o'clock

I don't understand this new function of getting older where I am pretty much unable to sleep past eleven a.m., no matter how drunkenly and late/early I collapse into bed. Then I wake up drunk, wanting simultaneously to both go for a jog and eat everything in sight while systematically doing a sobriety check for the previous evening's events, to make sure everything lines up in drunk vision.

I got off on a cradle-robbing foot earlier in the day when I saw a cute boy from one of my classes in the library. I asked him if he was an architecture student like the most of them, and he revealed himself as an undergrad. This revelation put me on edge for some reason. When I got out of the library I called Ex, the original younger man. I hadn't talked to him since the half-assed cocaine intervention, and I miss him. I miss him more when I am in these schizo moods.

After killing time playing the accordion with Beauty, we went down to the Lower East Side, where I spent the next several hours wandering around with a bottle of Sauza, alienating most people I came into contact with. My Friend showed up to this school-people gathering with a girl, putting me in this ridiculously insecure mood of hostility and urgency to become drunk. I became absorbed with the task of making all the food at the party in order to decrease the risk of me being a complete asshole. Then I left the party with My Friend, his female friend, after towing out a fellow student, who then wondered if we were being assholes by leaving. Then he felt bad, so he left us leaving, and went home.

Ask me again why I hate the group dynamic.

At Library I lost track of My Friend and had one of those long, enthusiastic drunk conversations with someone that you wouldn't ever be able to recall in a million years after getting up to go to the bathroom. That's when I met a cute boy, in the bathroom line. When I emerged from the stall he asked me if I wanted to go get something to eat, so I left My Friend and his friends, and joined new guy...and two of his friends.

It wasn't until I encountered his two friends that I realized how young this lad was who had picked me up in the bathroom. These days when I find myself surrounded by people who are closer to 20 than 30, I either want to sleep with them or give them some milk and cookies before sending them away. I had wanted to sleep with the original boy, but after some French toast and some QT with his milk-and-cookie friends, I found myself in a happy, sexless state. And that's when I wanted to be with My Friend, who I had haplessly ditched earlier in the night. Sigh.

Oh, Girlfriend, if you're reading this...I gave him your phone number. Yours and someone else's. He's going to San Francisco for something and doesn't know anyone there. He's a nice guy. His name was Bill. He probably won't call, because he'll be embarrassed to be under 21.