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.
Showing posts with label strangers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label strangers. Show all posts
14.7.09
i li k e wh en t hi s happ ens.
Tonight I went to Natalie Portman's Shaved Head at Spaceland in Silverlake. On my way there, I Silverlake Blvd. split and I wandered in the wrong direction. Because I'm getting better at getting lost, I was able to catch this mistake about 6 blocks in. Around this time James Rubio, unaware that I'd moved to Los Angeles over a month ago called me. If I'd been in NY I'm sure I would've missed the call.
Once inside Spaceland, I began to nervously drink while I waited for NPSH to start. NPSH comes on. Before they play Sideways Pony Tail, I squeal and run up front. I sweat until my clothes are see thru, a girl named Jess (oddly enough) invites me to her house next week because she only wants fun people who are going to dance to come over. She is nice; I forget to take her number. The set ends. I miss Jess (my Jess, not this stranger Jess).
Turns out they were not headlining, but second in command to Andy Clockwise Spaceland's resident band for the month of July. I am sitting on the (my) right-edge of the stage as the begin. The first song bores me, but during the second song Andy begins to release this stage-fury and begins to strut.
I went to this show on the solo. It was during this strutting phase that I became nervous that he would notice me and start pointing at me- as I'd already witnessed him doing to other patrons. As he inches closer I realize it's too late. He's holding my hand. It's pressed into his sweaty chest, with this black button-down shirt serving as some cheap veil between me and his man-mane. He moves my hand higher, to his neck, so I pressed my forehead to his and tried to resist mouthing words to a song I didn't know.
It looked something like this:
*courtesy of a stranger with a Blackberry
When he was done serenading me, he held my hand in the air, briefly, before sassing away. In a strange way, I needed and highly appreciated that moment. Sidenote, their drummer Stella Mozgawa, ex-drummer from my friend Nick's old band, MINK, is a fucking animal on the drums. A-N-I-M-A-L.
In other news, I caught eyes with a tall, salt and peppered (in an early way) beau, who soon after asked my name. I introduced myself before mentioning that I was on my way out (the walk back to the metro was like 6 blocks). The entire time I walked back, I repeatedly paused to turn and look back at the bar. Complain complain about men not approaching you Jones, and then scurry off when they do. An endless battle, this one. Plenty more fish.
Band Myspaces:
Natalie Portman's Shaved Head
Andy Clockwise
xx.
Once inside Spaceland, I began to nervously drink while I waited for NPSH to start. NPSH comes on. Before they play Sideways Pony Tail, I squeal and run up front. I sweat until my clothes are see thru, a girl named Jess (oddly enough) invites me to her house next week because she only wants fun people who are going to dance to come over. She is nice; I forget to take her number. The set ends. I miss Jess (my Jess, not this stranger Jess).
Turns out they were not headlining, but second in command to Andy Clockwise Spaceland's resident band for the month of July. I am sitting on the (my) right-edge of the stage as the begin. The first song bores me, but during the second song Andy begins to release this stage-fury and begins to strut.
I went to this show on the solo. It was during this strutting phase that I became nervous that he would notice me and start pointing at me- as I'd already witnessed him doing to other patrons. As he inches closer I realize it's too late. He's holding my hand. It's pressed into his sweaty chest, with this black button-down shirt serving as some cheap veil between me and his man-mane. He moves my hand higher, to his neck, so I pressed my forehead to his and tried to resist mouthing words to a song I didn't know.
It looked something like this:
*courtesy of a stranger with a Blackberry
When he was done serenading me, he held my hand in the air, briefly, before sassing away. In a strange way, I needed and highly appreciated that moment. Sidenote, their drummer Stella Mozgawa, ex-drummer from my friend Nick's old band, MINK, is a fucking animal on the drums. A-N-I-M-A-L.
In other news, I caught eyes with a tall, salt and peppered (in an early way) beau, who soon after asked my name. I introduced myself before mentioning that I was on my way out (the walk back to the metro was like 6 blocks). The entire time I walked back, I repeatedly paused to turn and look back at the bar. Complain complain about men not approaching you Jones, and then scurry off when they do. An endless battle, this one. Plenty more fish.
Band Myspaces:
Natalie Portman's Shaved Head
Andy Clockwise
xx.
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