i guess this is part of being an intern

It's not that I can't sleep. It's that I won't get into my bed. I'm anxious.
I'm going on some sort of "blind" date tomorrow. I use quotations because the internet has allowed me to see what this person looks like. My friend Alexi, over at IMBOYCRAZY set this up. She told him not to take me out for Indian food because that's not sexy; she suggested Italian instead. I'm always up for a risk (ie. possible stomach pangs and diarrhea) and told him that we should in fact get Indian, being how I like it so much and all. I've been thinking about all of those date questions and how I'm going to answer them. Which has lead to me thinking about myself (yet again), how I see myself, my goals and how I would like others to perceive me.

Lately when people ask what I do, I tell them that I am a Muse. It's the only truthful answer I can give these days. I hope to inspire the cycle of creativity with every outfit I wear, through the conversations I have, and for everyone I meet- because it is art and artists that inspire me the most. I can't think of what I love anymore. I don't know what I am passionate about. I hear that this is what most people go through in their early 20s, but I beg to differ, in addition to having a strong desire to not be apart of a group called "most people." I'm envious of my cohorts in pursuit of their dreams. Though there paths may change later in life, they are walking on one nonetheless and this is something I am not.

Or at least I don't view myself on a moving path. To the contrary: I feel so stagnant.

I'm excited about the date. I think it's always nice to go out in an outfit you've thought too much about, to ride in a car to a restaurant and sit down for a meal paired with good conversation. I have no expectations, which is the best part. Well I guess I expect for it to be enjoyable, or disastrously humorous. Or humorously disastrous. I feel like they have different connotations.

If I could be anywhere in the world right now, it would be a darkroom.



it ends with bart simpson.

i'm not feeling much for words right now.
But at the beginning I looked (and felt) like this.

ended up here (this is where I wish i could make that Scott-biting-his-forefinger- "Ghllll" sound).

saw some concept art from "Where the Wild Things Are"

then i met matt groening. THE END.


freewrite #5

spilling water over the edges of crates
seeped through the slots and i don't regret it
it fell my from grip, as it was made to
can't hold your graces for too long,
fore we'll all fall from that soon enough too.

things may appear closer than they actually are.
a warning to be heeded. you can't touch those stars.
you hate it when i do this, when i go off on these tangents.
but i can't help but tell the truth at all costs
he left me to be raised a liar. a failure from all sides.

who is that strapping young lad strapping her down?
he must've brought those shackles in with him
haven't sold those in years. i can't stop him.
this sounds like a metronome or a heartbeat
synonyms to those i admire.

sleep with me. i want to know what you think
through your dreams i'll know your thoughts of me.
was it strange? full of fantasies?
i better make this quick.


postage marks

Le Sigh.
I let today slip right through my fingers.

A few things occurred to me as I walked the dogs today. I really don't understand how young people have children. Getting up in the morning solely to take care of something else, that will otherwise shit/pee all over the floor, is not my idea of a good time. Cleaning said poop up off of a neighbor's lawn is not attractive. (Today I saw a charming guy and just as I bent over to pick up a pile of steaming shit, he said "Eyy Brah" into his bluetooth- thankfully. We had mutually murdered our chances for each other anyway.) Babies are also like dogs when you're trying to teach them their name- I guess when you say the same thing over and over to a creature it'll figure out that you're talking specifically to it at some point.

Urth cafe was blasting "Jump In The Line," just as I was thinking about how much life out here looks like that graveyard scene from Beetlejuice. I took this as a sign that I was right.

I keep thinking about home. I'm really excited to go visit. I don't want it to be a visit, but I don't want to give up on my mission of making a life somewhere else. I'll be back I promise. I just have to know that I can do this. I absolutely have to.

The other night was really wonderful. I wasn't at a super awesome party/club/bar. I was on a porch with 15 kids drinking beers and talking. The lighting came courtesy of a low-lit lamp and some flooding light from inside the house. I could barely see some of the kids, but it somehow didn't matter. I could hear them, and I knew that they were there.

That's all I ever want really: To know that someone is there.



you pro ba bly should n't

hey boy... why you didn't call me? i waited for days. i can't believe you didn't call.

Oh boys. men. gentlemen. hunks. bros. plaids. Hotties. What is it about these creatures that turn me into a maniac? Is it because of Cher Horowitz's tactics of getting attention at all costs? Ty's obsessive concern over why Elton didn't call her back? Should I have stayed away from Popeye's Olive Oyl who showed me the perils of loving two men at once? Oh, and how hard it is to leave an abusive relationship / how easy it is to date a sucker who will fight for you no matter what / how hard it is to respect someone like that?

This entry was going to be about something entirely different, but now I just want to look up Olive Oyl and Popeye things.

This sums up her loyalty pretty well:

I thought that this was very sweet and if she had any interest in really pursuing being in love with Popeye, she would see how amazing this is:

Instead like most ungrateful, disinterested girls, she's just pissed on Valentine's day for not getting what she wanted. Sometimes it IS in fact the thought that counts. Maybe he wanted you to eat the spinach and punch Bluto in the face yourself for shooting at your ankles and telling you to dance.

Finally Popeye, you've found a woman you can connect with. Who loves you for you and is a boxer too! Will Olive Oyl do something about it??

The part where she turns into a rabid cat and kicks this girls ass is the best part.

So what was the point of this? I'm not sure any more but I've been thinking a lot lately and well, women are crazy. Have you ever noticed that when guys do the things that girls do that make them "crazy girls," they are considered "creepy dudes." Thank goodness, because I rather be crazy. Crazy often denotes a positive connotation, see "Crazy-delicious" and "That shit was crrrrrazy." But creeps are always creepy and nobody likes them.

Girls stop googling people's names after you meet them. Even if it is their fault that there is so much information about their lives on the internet. I need a job. Working decreases my creep factor significantly. I meant crazy, my Crazy Factor.


windows to my soul

I tend to have at least ten tabs open at any given time. Currently they are:

- 4 Craig's List job listings that I will probably never get around to applying for.
- Wooster Collective
- Maui & Sons
- Street Carnage Boners
- Gunshow Comics
- Dickbutt
- Brian Setzer Orchestra's Tour dates
- YouTube for the "Good Hair" trailer

I was going to move back to NY then my friend asked me to help him with costumes for his short film. I'm also going to intern for IMBOYCRAZY.com Living the dream.

UGH it is so hot.


cold cement.

when we did this show, we (the "models") were told that cameras were not going to be allowed on the premises. Then where did this picture come from huh? HUH?? In this digital age no one gives a shit about rules anymore and aims to bend/break/work around them on a consistent basis. Even if it means exposing someone else naked body on the internet.
Not that I care or anything.


look mom i'm famous.

I'm totally in both of these videos. Watch closely for my cameo.

p.s. I'm lying about one of them.