Made: A Mellow Mix

It seems I am going through this phase were anything I do that is remotely reminiscent of my past strikes me as pure nostalgia and prevokes the dormant emotions I once associated with the people, places or things I re-experience.

Before college ended, he made me these mix cds. I titled them in my itunes as
Name Made: _________, filling in the blank with the appropriate theme of the disc. I'd asked for them before I broke up with him, and asked him to follow through with the mixes once I did. I wanted to know what the thought of me, through music, while we were dating. Music was the only way I ever knew what he thought. He wasn't a creator; he was a listener. He was passionate about what he could not do. I saw myself in him this way.

It was months before I ever listened to any of them. I'm sure I was being cruel- abusing his time on purpose... but I can't really say what was going through my mind at the time. He loved me too much, too soon and I didn't know what to do with it. I certainly didn't know how to enjoy it. I never copied the summer mix to my computer; I lost it somewhere in my travels. I gave the hip-hop mix a few gos, but never quite stuck... but once a month the mellow mix creeps in.

He never gave me the playlist information, so I listen to these songs blindly- confident that every song will flow into the next as it's maker intended them to. I'm convinced he's telling me a story through every one's words but his own. I don't listen to them until Track 4.

night creature...
night creature...
when will you come home?

it coos to me. he speaks to me. It's been two years and every time I get the craving to hear that song, I have to look up the lyrics. When I see the band name, I remember who made the cds for me. I realize that, contrary to how naturally the cd flows, it has been masterfully crafted for my ears.

Track 06
My little woman causes me a lot of trouble sometimes
she worries me so bad i dont know what to do.
I take a walk, figured the rolling of my feet would come to ease my mind.
I just go away and wont know where I'm goin

i won't know where that i am goin to
cause she bugger me, she bugger me
man she'd bugger you

I'm with you in the morning baby
till the break of day
I know you won't take my heart
you tryin to make me go away

Track 20

make me laugh, you make me shiver
Isn’t that a fabulous scene?

this is when I start to hear him again.

I saw you in a daydream
Now I'm a jealous guy with aches babe
I lied to mom about that
You're dealing with a boy girl
And I'm stepping forward in pain
Come home now, freak me out

You make me laugh, you make me shiver
Isn’t that a fabulous scene?
Don’t be here now don’t be here anytime
I’m much wiser now, that’s how we walk

It ends this way.
I miss everything, late at night, when I'm alone.


whatever, anne yao

I met her in the dark, crowded space of CBGB's in 2001. I didn't know anyone else who loved the Distillers the way that I did, so I had opted to go to the show alone. I spotted another black punk and wandered over to ask if she knew my sister. She looked like she knew my sister.

Hang on. I can't write in this silence.
That's better.

Turns out this woman knew my sister. As we were talking about our linking acquaintance, She leaned over to interrupt us. "Can I just say.. I love black punks." I'll never forget hearing that sentence. It's on my list of the most honest/random/organic things a person has ever said to me. We didn't stand near each other for the show, but I never lost sight of her. After the set, I looked for her and offered to walk with her to 14th Street. She was taking the L. Like the Distillers show, I needed someone to accompany me to the Warped tour. None of my then current friends were trying to venture to Randall's Island with me. She agreed to join me, and gave me her number.

A few weeks later, I bumped into her just in between Bang Bang and the 8th Street Lab, on 8th Street in the West Village. She seemed embarrassed. Apparently she was on her way to work, at Bang Bang, and if you've ever been there, you know why she was embarrassed by me spotting her. She thought that we'd never see each other again, and that I wouldn't have ever called her.

She was a Chinese girl, who claimed to love black punks. Why and how could I say no? A dynamite dynamic duo such as this should never be denied.

I think I've spent more time on the phone with Anne Yao than anyone else I've ever met. We talked almost every night for all of H.S. I grew up during those conversations. She picked me up from Fashion; I met her in the overpass at Hunter. We went to every Warped Tour 3 years straight. There was one year that it sold out so we got drunk on Malibu instead. We rode the ferry just for kicks, relaxation and to go to our secret spot. I was her only friend who'd met all of boyfriends; she was my only friend that had met my mom more than twice. We had photoshoots everywhere we landed.

her first trip to Purchase

Our first trip back to CBGB's for our 2nd Anniversary (we saw Kimya Dawson that time).

College passed. I moved back to Brooklyn. I moved to LA. She dated a *edit*. She edited *edit*. We talked whenever we could get a hold of each other. I stopped meeting her boyfriends. The last time I talked to her was the week before Christmas, which had been the first time since I was waiting for a bus in LA. We decided to go to Macy's to meet Santa and take pictures on his lap- a fitting reunion for the two of us. But the plans fell through.

I call her like a hopeful, creepy ex-boyfriend, sometimes just to leave her long winded messages remeniscent of our phone calls about nothing and somehow about everything. Today I googled, "Anne Yao, film" to see what, if anything would arise.

I miss that laugh more than I can really say. If you see her, tell her I said "Yello?" "Yurple" and "HowDoYouDOthatTHINGYOUSOWELL?!"

she'll know what they mean.


memorie boxes.

I keep absolutely everything that touches my spirit. Tidbits that people give me, wrist bands, free mix cds from Scion...

I've been going through my memory boxes/crates/bags and I just found this list. It was aptly titled:

Things That Make My Happy
1. Food
2. Friends
3. Music
4. My journal
5. Yurple and $350 fines
6. Honesty
7. Beaches
8. Stars
9. Desire, Passion, & Serenades
10. Red eye shadow, and good hairdays
11. Passenger Seats

I remember making this list and hanging it on the wall as a reminder of sorts. 5 years later, and not too much has changed. I think I shall remount this beauty.


pitter patter goes my heart

The one thing I've learned about women over the years is how to shut up. The things they imagine you are thinking are far better than anything you could come up with on your own. -Earnest Hemingway (via Vice V10/N3)

I couldn't remember why I'd stopped reading VICE magazine, when I did a brief stint interning for their marketing company my senior year of college. I picked up an issue and it seemed about right: snarky/sarcastic/elitist humor, politics, fashion and music... it was all still there. But after a provocation led by Street Carnage's' Twitter- I decided to pick up a few of my "archived" copies (in search of these photo's of Lil Kim before she was famous with horrible razor burns on her bikini line, shot by Terry Richardson).

What VICE is missing these days is the beloved (by me) VICE A-Z Guide To: ______. This issue's list was for "Being Totally Crushed Out." Highlights include:

B: Borrowing
Borrow a book or a movie just so you have the excuse to see him again, or even conveniently leave something like a sweatshirt at his house. This is a no-fail plan, because if he sees your sweatshirt lying around, he’ll have to think about you and be reminded of your charm (plus you left pheromones in it). Forced thinking is good, even though it’s commonly known as “mind rape.” Of course, the plan backfires if you decide you don’t like him. Then you have the annoying burden of meeting up. You could then decide in a Zenlike way that it’s “just a sweatshirt” and leave it as a relic for him to pine over forevermore.

M: Mix Tape Alert!
Do not make a mix tape for someone you have not fooled around with yet (said in an “emergency, emergency” robot voice). If she has a boyfriend and you are just courting her, she will put on the tape and they will lie in bed listening to “Ne Me Quittez Pas” and laughing their fucking asses off. You know that Grant Hart song “All of My Senses”? Imagine her and her boyfriend toking a one-hit and killing themselves when he goes, “Without you I’m abuuuuuusing, all of my sensee-eees.” You might as well have a hidden camera in your toilet that broadcasts to Times Square.

and last but not least-

R: Recognize
This is the doozy. The whole article could be about this, but Lesley always wants to do the A–Z thing so we have to stick it here.

Getting seen and seeing your crush is 99 percent of the game. Stopping by his place of work looking hot and casual like you didn’t know you’d end up there. Talking on your cell phone and pretending not to see him. Walking around in his ’hood is exciting and a lot more fun than jonesing for him sitting at home. It multiplies your chances of “accidentally” bumping into him (“Oh hey, what’s up?”). You just happen to be freshly scrubbed, with subtle makeup and the perfect cute outfit that is way hard to put together (usually involves Chuck Taylors and tight pants that make your ass look juicy and pert).

Of course, if you go to a bar where he’s supposed to be and he’s not there, it is a fucking bum-out. You wasted your cute look and you can’t use it again.

Boys are funny when they have a crush and she shows up at the bar. He’s not paying attention to any conversations because he’s looking at the door and then he goes, “She’s here!” when she walks in, like his friends are commandos and they’re going to start getting into position to help maximize his chances. What does he think they’re going to do, flank her? They don’t give a shit, you boob.

oh wait!! T: Telling Everyone in the World
This is fucking stupid but you do it anyway. Sometimes the obsession is too out-of-control, and once you’ve told one person you’re not really great friends with, you may as well tell them all. This might work because he likes you too and how would he have known if people hadn’t told him? It also may blow up in your face, because (and I know this is weird) sometimes a crush is best from afar and you don’t want it to be true. Like catching a lightning bug in a jar. Wait a minute, lightning bugs are cool to look at in a jar.

That one is really my favorite. I can't get my lips shut about anything and I'm okay with that. Secrets are damn near useless.

I've definitely been listening to Good Charlotte for hours. Reading these copies of VICE that I acquired in high school, and subsequently finding photos of myself from high school wedged in between the pages has me in a state of nostalgia. Sweet Saturday.

the full VICE article can be found Here.



I've always had a strong desire to communicate my thoughts with other people. The cramps in my fingers tell me that this still holds true. Twitter lets me "talk" for the sake of talking, regardless of whether or not anyone is listening. I refresh in hopes of a response. I've been experiencing shooting pains in my left arm and tension in my right wrist; I'm talking through my fingertips too much and I need to shut up.

The song I was just listening to, by Panda Bear was called Taking Pills and sounded like water. I miss the ocean. I'm "loving" all of the songs on Devendra Banhart radio on my Last.fm My job used the wrong account number on my direct deposit, so I was not paid. Somewhere between anger and tears my co-workers managed to cheer me up just by being in the room. I really love the people I work with. We went out to a far overdue Holiday Party-funded dinner at Naple's 45 tonight. It was an order-what-you'd like dinner and it was delectable.

I really wish they hadn't screwed up my check; I was going to buy myself a bed.

I recently broke up with (I'm using the term loosely, as we were never an actual "together" to really "break-up") someone that made me dizzy in the brain and weak in the knees. I've known him for sometime; we briefly dated last winter, around the same time we rekindled this winter. Although I love a good swoon as much as the next girl, I could no longer ignore the core of all of "our" (read: my) problems: He's in his me-zone right now. However, I could not be more thankful for meeting someone so... interested in their personal success. Not to say that he was/is self centered in the least- this is certainly not the case. He was just at the top of his list. After a secondary attempt to gain the number one position on his prioritized agenda- I realized the problem:

I need to be number one on MY list. Only when I am number one to myself, will I be worthy of the position on anyone else's list. When he played a show last week, I did not attend, as I had work at 7:30 A.M. the following day. I stepped into his shoes. If the tables were turned, he would've apologized for his absence and went to bed on time. You should learn from every dating endeavor you pursue. This, the me-zone, was my lesson.

I want to be disconnected for a while. I want my fingers to feel limber again. It's time to settle into these bones once and for all. They don't seem to be going anywhere. I need to be able to answer the question, "What's new?" with an anecdote that doesn't involve 3 dudes, disappointment and my job.



windows 93

When I get to the point of having more than ten tabs open in one window, I like to do a small inventory of what they are.

Ikea Bookcases
Third and Delaware A Roseanne based fashion blog.
Facebook (which is always opened, grr.)
Last.fm User: ohjoneses if you want to know what I'm listening to
Sex Avec Dulce A blog written by Aileen Awesome who also writes for Street Carnage's Blog on occasion.
Sorry Mom (I bang the worst dudes). -A blog about just that.
Un-Legit somehow, I became "close" with this lassy on twitter. she's from LA and sometimes I even miss her. She recently updated with some photos that I really love.
OkCupid Quickmatch I'm really unsure of what the obsession people my age/social grouping have with this site. All of the dudes are busted and really... there is no need to meet people online. BUT the questions and tests are ├╝ber funzone. This started out as a joke...
Eyeglass Boy I'm helping a chap find some new frames and I'm thinking about stealing his idea to buy these, for myself. My current reading specs are way out of style.

And last but not least:
The Wiki page for author, Philip K. Dick's bibliography. He penned such sci-fi classics as A Scanner Darkly, and Counter-Clock World and wrote short stories that would go on to inspire the Hollywood hit Minority Report. (nerd alert!)

Now you're up to date on how I choose to spend my time on the internet. I hope that one of these things changes your opinion of me.