she keeps passing you by

There was a hatch, in the kitchen that lead to your room. When your parents decided to move to Pennsylvania, you had a going away party. About 40 of your friends showed up, 45 actually, I remember counting. They smoked weed and I left the room. You had a friend in a TOOL hat out front, and I sat with him. We poured salt on a snail and I listened to "Hooker with a Penis" for the first time. I felt guilty about the snail and I loved the song. Somehow watching a directly harmful action turn into a directly harmful result stuck with me. I realize this now, but I'm sure I realized it then. When I went back inside I learned what a contact high was. It was always strange to reemerge from the hatch- I never knew if your mom would be there, your younger brother, your sister. We were in a different realm.

Before THE party, there were parties. The thong pinned to your walls. You were the cool kid. You drove. No one in Brooklyn drove. Forgive me for remembering you as though you don't live, but I don't know you anymore... so you must expect me to consider the you I knew as gone. The only seventeen year old with a sex tape. You were a legend beyond your own years. When it finally happened, you looked right at me and said, "you're not even here, are you?" You were right.

.xx.

It was briefly after September 11th. I was in the shower and I lifted my ponytail in the shower and cut it off. My phone rang, the one with Snake on it- a Nokia. My best friend was calling to tell me that she loved me. "Warning" was playing and it was the first time she'd told me that, also the first time I'd heard it (from someone I wasn't related to). Not that I hear that song often, but I think about that moment in my mother's bathtub every time I hear it. I think of her often, as I don't let go easily. In the video, which I haven't seen since that year, there's a girl who screams in silence and shatters glass. Was it near September 11th? Or did she just call to tell me that she loved me? I remembered the important part nonetheless. The love.

Rewatching the video, she didn't shatter the glass at all. Memories are really over fantasized/falsified versions of reality after all. (But I loved the hell out of her too). I'm flying to California to touch a face I love. It's not the smartest move to make- but as I read the other day, tell someone you love them... to their face.

Remember life, can be, will be, is, good.

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.

16=7//13=4

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.


xx.

mia's big foot-popping kiss.

I've been trying to figure out what I'm supposed to write about for weeks now.

But here are a few things:

- My least favorite question, so far, has been "So. How does it feel to be back?"
- My family is amazing. I just never tell them so. The word have always felt too weak.
- After convincing my nephew that her name was not "Jeffrey," Jess hung out with me for a bit at my sister's house. She told me that she'd finally invested in an air mattress... So that I can come and stay at her house whenever I need to. That's love. That's why I came home.
- Taking the train is so great. I really took it for granted.
- My nephew Brandon is my new favorite person. I now understand the appeal of children and dogs. They are still in the same category, though. That's the second step I guess... separating the two.

This happened to me:


I got warm, dizzy, and felt completely euphoric. That's also an accurate description of being on drugs. Now I have a cold. THAT's what I get for believing in crushes.

xx.

Rule #1

Chances are, if and when I decide to leave my toothbrush at your house, our "relationship" is about to end.

Maybe it's because I've begun to spend enough time with you / sleep at your house enough to say, "fuck it, I'm just going to pop this in the medicine cabinet... for tomorrow." Or maybe it's because when you see it, you're so freaked out by my (sometimes rapidly) increased comfort level you decide to stop answering my texts and calls. Or maybe I'm just making all of this up. Either way it happens, and it's happening. This occurrence has left me singing The Mighty Mighty Bosstones' "Where Did You Go?" for the last two days. Great.

I'm moving to Atwater Village soon, which is this quaint little neighborhood near Los Feliz and Glendale. It's half a block away from where I work, which will cut traveling expenses and increase sleeping time. It's going to be really nice to have my own space again, as I've been sharing since the glory days of Alumni Village. I can't wait to come home, close my door and play my music.

People have told me that it takes about 6 months to become acclimated to living in Los Angeles. It took one month for the excitement to wear off; two more months for the homesickness to bottom out; one month of counting down to a trip home and one week in NY to make me realize that memories are fantasies. I move into my new place, officially, on my six month anniversary- which, coincidentally, is my birthday.

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.

xx.