adam did a show last night with a little satelite group from the sketch group he's in, and jerry stiller and ann meara were in the audience. THAT stiller and meara. jerry asked him for a cup of coffee.
mmmmmkay.

her mouth curved in a smile, is it punishment or a reward to live in this body?

i have love in my heart.
so that's good.

can somebody get me a bagel?

man, i am really slacking on this.
i don't have any brilliant thoughts, just these:
my desk is infested with tiny red spiders that make an orange smear where ever you squish them.
i have an audition tonight, my pieces are slapped together even though i could have been working on them all these many months. (one old standard of mine from The House of Blue Leaves, and another from As You Like It.) it just doesn't make sense to me to work on audition pieces when you aren't auditioning for anything. but you should, for the times when auditions are announced two days in advance. i guess, technically, it does make sense. how motherlovin' boring am i?

i'm all messed up about the improv group thing. we always fight and then make up like brothers, but this time i have some real issues. like peter stealing gigs off the website and doing them himself. like, getting out half an offer before i get drowned out by the other guys, like halfassed opens and closes, like playing games becuase half the group is too scared to do open improv . . .i have to sort it out so that i know when i have issues and when i'm just bitching.
i'm not going to go tonight, and i feels real weird about it.

the dormitory authority is a half a block from our offfice. in that short convenient walk, an old drunk man refered to me as "Joyce" and threatened to kill me. at the dormitory authority, a large and debonair man chased me down and asked me out to lunch. it was four fifteen. he talked so fast and it was starting to rain, add to that the threats of violence, i found myself saying, "ok, yeah, i'll call you." then a couple (dressed in the stonewashed pinks and yellows of 1983) asked me if i knew where they could find their lawyer.

i also want to keep the door to our office closed, but no one will let me. it get's "hot" and "steamy" and begins to smell of "body" when the air isn't circulating. our office is at the end of the hall, and the other offices in the building are filled with happy morning people who, when they come near the elevator, feel it necessary to have small talk with me. i hate small talk. and if they catch me yawn it's "hey! are we keeping you up?" yes, you are. keep it down. and pull that door shut as you leave. what's the word? thunderbird. you don't think it's funny, but it is. and if you were going to get so pissy, you shouldn't have asked. what is it we do in here? we provide a service, and i can guarantee you can't afford it.

gah, i'm intense.

I'm not going to retell the whole story of last night again, so i'll just copy the email i sent my brother this morning.

so, we had a show where a lot of people showed up and apparently didn't know english, because they didn't laugh at all, just sat and smiled. it was, a "bad" show. we were being funny, but then we got mad and tried to just make each other laugh. then, the show ended, and the yelling began.
don was pissed off because we were making noise off to the side of the stage. he sarted talking about it and we could tell by the tone of his voice that he wanted to get into it. it was just the wrong time to start with us, really. we were licking our wounds plus todd isn't capable of keeping a cool head in these situations. don yelled, todd got defensive, don yelled louder and kicked a chair across the room, todd quit and stormed out of the room. i stood at the doorway, hesitantly, with all of that heavy breathing and flexed muscles and said "let's cool off, shall we? we all have hurt feelings, and this isn't the time to turn on each other . . . so i'm gonna go." don said "thanks!" and i was out of there.
todd cooled off after a few minutes, i said "let's get drunk", so we went to a gas station and got a bunch of beer.
none of us have spoken since last night, so i don't know where we're at. todd and i gave up. how many times are we going to have this conversation?

kicked a fuckin chair, man.

finished reading the bluest eye, it was wonderfully written and horribly depressing. i'm finally going to read The Mists of Avalon all the way through.

i am appalled at the flagrant misuse of apostrophes i see everyday, everywhere i look.
its not used to pluralize.
its not used to pluralize.
its not used to pluralize.

chip's- 99 cent's!

i am boycotting the apostrophe until people in this country make an effort to learn what it represents.

tavie- i would suggest "revolver", mainly because nobody else would, on it theres a little treasure called "tomorrow never knows" which the chemical brothers redid as "let forever be". (ok, not officially, i dont think, but they sound very similar.) it depends on what youre in the mood for. the early freakbeat stuff: Help!, abbey road has a "wings-y" appeal. and yellow submarine is uneven, but i like it.
im not into the beatles, though. todd is.
ask me anything about star wars.

are you working there, buddy?

Well, my life has become enormously tedious, henceforth i have nothing to blog about.
it is raining really hard right now, on the skylight over my head. i love it. it's quiet in here and the lights are off in some of the little rooms.
we found a rinkydink townie bar around the block from dave's new house. it's in a plaza with 2 pizza places. the beer costs half what it does at our regular place. it's walking distance from a place to crash. this is dangerous.
i'm kind of sick of just drinking and sitting around talking. i have nothing to talk about. what do people talk about? do you complain about your job? i only work 25 hours a week, and my office is cool. i used to think i was shy, but now i'm realizing i just don't have anything to say.
last night i woke up at 4am and couldn't fall back to sleep until 7. then i slept a weird sleep, my dreams were odd. i had a cool bouncing dream, where i jumped down a long flight of stairs and bounced really soft and way up high. it was great.
it reminded me of the way i used to sleep in high school. i can't quite explain it or define it or describe it any better than that.
for high school i went to a private school, we could call ourselves in sick. my sister and i found this out and did it quite often our last two years of school. one time, i got up early, called myself in and went back to bed. i dreamt that i was floating in a lady's kitchen. it was totally and completely real and vivid, i could feel the cupboards on my back. it was as clear as regular vision and life. it was very odd and wholly useless experience. i had messed up sleep patterns in high school. i used to sleepwalk.

"thief!"
"sonambulist, ok?"
"adopted!"
"i wish."

ohgodi'msosickofansweringthephone.

hey! guess what? my life savings is up to three whole figures.

i enjoy lunch. it really breaks up the day.

wtf, blogger?

so this is what i've been trying to tell you.
wednesday was from god's day planner. i hung out with cara, and taunee and her girlfriend, and met the dumbest guy in the world, and wore a sleeveless sweater for the first time and felt the odd intimacy of people's breath on my shoulders.
and all of it was with jeweled intentions . . .

it amazes me what passes for conversation these days.

not to get all debbie matenopolous-- but my hair smells really good.
i went hom eon lunch and took a shower and improved my productivity at least a thousand percent. two good girl products i thought i'd share:
vitamin c absolutes creme. bleedin expensive, but actually quite worth it.
pantene: the new formula. i can't stop smelling my hair.

also, i have no respect for ganga or what it does to the personalities of people i used to dig.

okay, you wanna do this? let's do this. go through any of the posts from your
last stint in this group and find where i "wronged" you.

ohgodiloveamy.

there's nothing quite like make up sex . . .

i will have to blog later, at home where it's safe, about bitch and animal. so fucking good.


god, i smell like church.

i have the smell of insence and lavendar in my nose and the smell of the night is still on me, "sniff". why do they have to have good bands come into town on wednesdays? i stayed at cara's place and walked to work.
1. cara's shower wasn't working
2. she doesn't own a hairbrush
3. i didn't have any sleep over stuff with me.
i feel so nasty, like i'm in my pjs.

nr: the bluest eye toni morrison

oh man. sabres, man.

like . . .come oooooooon.
i had a bunch of crap i wanted to talk about, but now, not so much.

to tread this fantasy/
openly/
what have i done?

i forgot how frigging good this album is. i am making the world's greatest mix tape for amanda because she needs a song to dance to for a recital at the school where she teaches. (i did that on purpose, now class, count the number of prepositional phrases in that sentence.) i'm pushing for "from the morning" by nick drake or portishead's "glory box ".(just give me a reason to love you/ give me a reason to be-heeeee/ a woman/ i just wanna be a woman . . . /) and i just realized i have "lust for life" on one of those cheezy compilation cds i got with a gift certificate to sam goody. p good.

it's time to move overoveroveroveroveroverover-
i'm so tired/
of playing/
playin' with this bow and arrow/
i'm gonna give my heart away/
leave it to the other girls to play/
for i've been a temptress too long/
just
give me a reason to love you/
give me a reason to be/
a woman.

oh yeah, i'll write out the lyrics for no reason. try to stop me.
and if you can think of a good song for amanda to dance to, email me.

np: portishead-roseland

i am a waste of good oxygen. at least, that's how i feel from time to time. and how i've felt since about march. every few months or so i go through a period of time where it's too much to even make conversation. i'm not very gregarious to begin with, but now i'm just plain boring. i used to get like this a lot. i call it my "larval stage" where i'm no good to anybody for about six weeks, and then something turns me around and i'm peppy and a little more grown up and creative again. the problem is, i don't know how to snap out of it. i've snapped out before, i just can't remember how. i have to keep a better diary or something, so i can pay attention to what my brain is doing, and how to make it stop.
(* i know it sounds like i'm bi-polar, but i'm not. it's not depression, it's an absence of creativity. i hit these little plateaus when i'm not working on a show or writing something when i feel useless. all it means is that i need to work more. or some. or, at all.)

i smell just like my mom. that is the stupidest thing to inherit from a parent. i couldn't get her irish good looks, or her thick wavy black hair, i just get her skin smell. todd says it's like a cabbage patch doll. i don't see it. he smells like a delmonte fruit cup. i can't tell him that without him getting offended, even though it's really not a bad thing.
(well, at least it's my mom's smell and not my dad's. my dad constantly smells like motor oil.)

i just concluded and evening of revelry that began with drinks at the "club" [founding fathers, a pub three blocks from the office.] stimulating conversation with some fantastic upandcomers [my friends since college] and a rousing squash match. [we played goldeneye until alex and jess kicked us out] a good time was had by all! [i'm pretty sure dave's friend fister was pissed off that we watched the world's scariest places instead of using that time to play video games. well, maybe that and davenever showed up]
TGIF indeed! huzzah!

i have a theory. my theory is called "thing lately". the theory goes like so:
we all have a "thing lately", that thing being something we do or think about or have or enjoy that we are totally into all of the sudden and can't get enough of, like kayaking or reading sam shepard plays or drinking sobe or writing in a certain notebook with a very specific pen. my current "thing lately" is tv's ed and cinnamon mentos. (i'm also trying to learn how to cook vegan, but it's not my "thing". there is a difference. i am going to have to get a grant to study this deeper.)
there are also "things used to be". my thing used to be listening to smashmouth (fratboypseudoskacheese but i like it) and walking my neighborhood for hours. my thing used to be shaun cassidy. my thing used to be stephen king novels, hard rolls and water and brushing my hair. my thing used to be writing scary emotional shit and drawing fucked up pictures in my oprah "remembering your spirit" diary. and nick drake, nick drake, and nick drake. these things are no longer my "thing".
but-- the best part of "thing lately" is, there's such a thing as a "thing next". that's the thing that, in a day or twelve, is going to sneak up on you, tap you on the shoulder, and be wonderful.

i'm not myself lately/ i'm not even sure /i know me

there are some gorgeous people in the world. i bet they don't even know it. :) i enjoy.

i feel like i should blog, even though i have nothing interesting to blog about. nothing is going on in my life at all at this moment. i am looking forward to 30 minutes from now when i will leave this place and go to founding fathers for the world's best burger and much beer. i had a migraine at work today, i almost went home. but then a girl gave me meds, and i went to wendy's with todd and dave and ate fries and a frosty and the world was better than all right.
( on tuesday we went to the pizza place and had to sit at this awkwardly placed bar with disproportionately large stools and eat our slices in front of a mirror. dave got me laughing really hard and i watched myself turn a scary red and pop a family size blue vein out of my left temple. not so pretty.)

i have a strict no-whining policy in effect, so i will only say this:
in reaction to a severe and traumatizing shame spiral, i have decided to henceforth refer to by body as "the abbodanzza." (and i'm sure that is misspelled, merely giving the shame sprial momentum.)

i wish i was busy. i get little things to do here and there, but no big pro-jects. i'm just skipping around looking at fan sites and feeling mildly disturbed. there's a whole "fanfic" movement that i can't get into. i guess i can, it makes sense if you plan on being a screenwriter. i can be good practice for the young writers, if it didn't feel so icky.

Just talked with Amy. Next summer we are going to move out of our apartment and find a new place. The three of us might be able to swing a spacious two bedroom apartment in Astoria for who-knows how much.

suddenly, the world around here looks pretty pale.

hmmm . . . . been a while, eh?
miss me?

sometimes, telling people that they look nice is absolutely redundant. i, on the other hand, look like a house. a brick---------------hayowwwwse. it's going to be 80 today and i'm wearing black corderoy overalls. if it sounds like i'm just a big idiot, well . . . .fair enough.