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[Sunday 27 12
11:25] |
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Waiting in some room in Palm Harbor for a massage can't move my neck or turn my head or get up to ask what's taking so long. It's a Sunday I wonder how obnoxious I look. There are women on pilates machines too bending themselves in half. I can do these tricks too. Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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| she is bawled up on the couch |
[Saturday 26 12
09:40] |
My neck has been perpetually out for days while everyone around me coughs up what's left of H1N1 and I pretend I am in the movie "Outbreak" I pretend it's Chapter 3 of The Stand. I learn (just like I learn annually) that you can never really go home again, that you will always be replaced by some girl that looks too much like you or a circle of friends that hits the repeat button when the button really says "rewind". I could write him an e-mail and articulate all of it so properly, I can hear just how it would go but I'm sick of writing e-mails so I'll send out psychic signals to the universe with my half broken neck and all the promises of the golden Land. I'll think that maybe in time I could write like that and until then I just can't write like anything.
I face the facts: I arrive in Florida and allow a woman to cover my face in acid for fifteen minutes.
None of this bothers me and no, the acid on the face is not related to the head ache.
My parets cannot get off each others backs on Christmas morning so I make them drinks and clean the kitchen. We put on Troy and they fall asleep and I keep saying that Hector doesn't kill Menealus because he goes to Egypt and then Telemachaus sees him with Helen. And everyone is asleep thoguh mom wakes up briefly to say that Paris and Helen end up together and I wake up briefly to explain how I am either the reincarnation of or direct descent of Homer.
I am Homer, guys.
My face stops peeling off and I think a lot about maps and bank accounts and how you pack suit cases with a broken neck or tend to guests or don't feel homesick.
And I wish I was in Ohio. And I want to cry, I desperately want to cry but my mother is crying at the kitchen table. I've made her crying and she asks me to remember things that I cannot possibly remember. She asks me to remember when she shopped at Macy's 8 months pregnant and I was in utero and did not like the musicians playing so I began flipping around in her belly and she could see my little foot my little hand and it was Christmas 1984 and I was born January 1985 and well, do I remember? And I nod my head because it seems accurate enough.
Everyone tells me I have to start using organic deoderant or I wont be fertile and I tell them that I already started using chlorine-free tampons to which most people respond "there is chlorine in tampons?" And I try so hard to give a shit to recycle. To make long distance phone calls to give advice even though I don't know when Sal's voice changed and I can't see Nicole driving so I mainly miss Ohio.
I put my head in the hands of Randy Phoenix and I beg him to change my hair. To baptize me in the color bowl, to make me anyone else.
"Jackie O on a bad day"
"But that would just be you sweetheart"
And I stop calculating money in my head or weighing myself or vomitting and I am scared of Alex and California and the way strangers say "Hi" or that the planet is vast or that black holes exist in outer space and it is all just like turning 10 when you realize you're in double digits and time is running out.
And a new camera and the west coast and better hair and hospitality, they will all save your life. Even though you've known from the get go that they do not plan to. They have not even considered it.
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| slouching towards Bethlehem |
[Monday 21 12
23:07] |
1.
I keep reading the same essays and falling asleep in six different rooms. I wake up and try and walw to my room but then I remember I don't have one. My Brooklyn room. My New York that I love so much more when I am not there. Now I am marathon watching Jericho, some TV show that was canceled.
2.
Parents have H1N!. I am trying not to double catch it but I feel like hell. I ordered so many movies off of Amazon because of their $5.79 movie deal.
Head pains. Maybe it's lice. Lice of the brain.
3,
This post is not real. Just like me. Sorry team.
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| Improved Christmas lyrics |
[Monday 21 12
20:00] |
I don't want to turn this into The Ultimate Music Bolg (though I probably could do, bearing in mind how weak some of the competition is. It seems like anyone with a computer suddenly thinks they're Smash Hits! Terrible.)
Anyway, here's a festive edition of the classic parlour game, “Improve Song Lyrics Off the Cuff”.
And, of course, I'm using “festive” as a euphemism for “Christmassy-themed at Christmas”. I'd really like to lead a campaign against people who deliberately avoid causing offence to non-non-Christians by only saying “Christmas” once in titles. Twice at least, Shirley!
An easy one to start with: “Mistletoe and Wine” by Cliff Richard
Christmas time,
Mistletoe and pies
Cheel Dren singing “This doesn't rhyme”
“Last Christmas” by Wham
Laaast Christmas I gev you my heart
But the very next day you gev it away
Thee's year, to sev me from tiers
I'll give it to someone expensive.
“Stuffing in the Name” by Rage Against The Machine
Some of those who were forkless
Are the same that slurped gravy
Some of those who ate courses
Are the same that scoffed roast spuds
Some of those who poured sauces
Are the same that made poor sprouts
Some of those who wore pape'* hats
Are the same that mushed torkeys
* I had to shorten “paper”; Sorry if it spoils the quality of the rhymezz
(Doo, da da DUNN, doo, dada DUNN, doo, dada DUNN)
Stuffing on the tay-ble!
... Stuffing in the manger!
(DA DA, DA!) And you chew what they told ya
[repeat this line 18 times in an unusual extended version]
Those who fried are just afraid
Of makin a mess in da kitchen place
You're just a guy, makin pies
Just tryin not to burn-a ya face
You need a guide to rectify
The fact that your brandy sauce ain't quite white
The cook then sighed and stepped aside
To let me set tha Christmas pudding alight – come owuun!
[instrumental break]
...Er, after that I suppose I would plump for “Fuck you I won't chew your tagliatelle”, but I could really go either way. Whichever path ends in insanity, that's the one for me.
I did actually write that Rage stuff spontaneously in the last 20 minutes, you'd never know it! Looks like it took years of panning (Sorry, I'm still thinkin of food-based puns, cannat switch off)
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| I'm so tired of crying, you'd think I was a Siren. |
[Friday 18 12
18:02] |
The wind is howling or a dog is dying-- I can't tell. Maybe a dog is howling and it is the wind that is dying. My face is literally peeling off and have I ever told you how much I love shit like this? The actual metamorphosis? I am not telling you I'll be a butterfly in three weeks or however it goes, I am much more like an average snake but I love when it finally gets to be literal.
Like the day I sat in my room and they were remodeling the house and no one thought I was home so men with sledge hammers just started knocking down the walls. It was one of the lowest points of my life-- summer '06 (early edition) and the walls were literally crumbling around me. It is like for two minutes God tells me he'll be fair and appropriate. So I'll let my face peel off; I'll let the walls crumble.
I'll tell you the truth because you don't believe it anyway. Mom's still mad at me. Gregg disowned me. Alex sends me the same text message. It's a dog not the wind. I want to go save it. I will take it. Randy fluffs my hair and I try and justify that I am fine through broken sentences and the people in the mall that stare at me. I cannot tell if they stare because I am pretty or because I am ugly or because I am just plain loud and stupid. Louder than you, that's for sure. For sure it is. It's 6 and the sun didn't even set yet. Randy runs his fingers through my hair and I keep telling him to cut it off. I can feel poison leaking through my brain and it was not man made.
Now look, I am going to steal the neighbors dog. Look everybody, look at what you've done.
Shirley was working at the pharmacy at CVS and she said Ilana was just in and I didn't recognize her-- Shirley not Ilana and she said something about another baby and Matt being in school and then I slowly had to reconnect who was who and remember high school and laugh that Ilana and I are both buying anti-depressants a week before Christmas.
Later she is going to come over with some movie that is based on a Tennessee Williams play where someone maybe Joan Crawford watches her family get eaten by cannibals? Do you know what I am talking about because I sure as hell dont. I bet Miss G would know. I bet they all have real names underneath.
Randy did my hair but just cut it. He cut so much off and so much was still there. In a new salon that I didn't trust. I bought Dior Addict and Marc Jacobs Hollywood and some Mac red lipstick and some OPI pink nail polish that is only for my toes because my nails are red for life. I tried on a pair of purple boots and when the woman working was taking to long I dropped them on the floor in front of her.
Nick asked "what have you been doing" and I don't think I responded. I just think I tell him about Disney World and call Chase bank crying. Call NYU crying. Ask him for three paragraphs crying. Think about kidnapping the neighbors dog. Wonder if my mom regrets hating me after I leave Florida. She loves me so much when I am gone. She laughs so hard at all my jokes but damn does the woman hate me.
She looks at me like I ripped through her skin. Not anything beautiful but more like the scene in Alien I am the alien if you didn't get it.
If you didn't get it-- any of it-- then maybe you weren't supposed to.
You don't even say "I love you" without having to think about it so don't lie to me. It takes one to know one-- hey! go ask all your friends. I am sure they have a great answer. And the magic between my thighs and my voice like that of a siren must only be good for so long before I just start eating flesh-- that's how it goes right?
You better get some wax for your ears. You better tie yourself down with this ship. You better have somebody tighten the ropes, Spike. You better have somebody cast you to the mane Ulysses. You better learn the difference between "LOL" and "FML" because I cannot make this about literature. Not from lack of trying.
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| I wish someone would saveee-eeee meee. Why won't you save me? |
[Friday 18 12
08:42] |
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When I am away my mother misses me terribly, loves me desperately and calls me frequently. When I am in her physical presents she forgets that she gave birth to me, half raised me or has even met me. Today she straight up hates me because I tried to change MSNBC to NPR when Anthony Weiner (D) NY, was on the television. She then also told me she had never heard of NPR and does not understand why it would have a television channel if it is a radio station. After screaming that I ruined her time with legislators she has locked herself in her room.
Father is ill. We all went to the doctor yesterday. I had Dr.Sabala examine my throat but she was more interested in my face after I asked for a prescription for Latisse. "How about a refreshing chemical peel?" My answer of course was "yes."
"It's going to hurt,"
"Doctor, don't worry about it."
"We can do a regular glyocil peel or Jenneiserssserssdsrnendsskfh something something which is stronger."
"Stronger."
"You will look 40 when you are 50"
She applies acid to my face for fifteen minutes while writing out a Latisse prescription while my parents lie coughing in the next two rooms. We talk about New York. I like her a lot. The last time I saw her was three days before I left for Cambridge, it blew my mind because she gave me a pelvic exam making sure I had contract no STDs during the summer of the slut, prescribed me xanax for the plane and wrote me a prescription for Benzaclyin. Now this may sound like common quackery to you, but Dr.Sabala is old school. She is a do it all doctor. She weighs me (upon my request) and measures my height. At 5'6 (and a half) and 134.6 pounds I feel kind of like a fat girl who is waiting for her face to melt off but what the fuck.
Father pays for the chemical peel and all four of my prescriptions at CVS. God, I've missed CVS. Mother tells me what my face will feel like in three days and for a moment in the car she loves me again. She loves me until Glen Beck is on book covers and Keith Olbermann is screaming and look I love Anderson Cooper as well, mother, but all I am trying to tell you is that there are more resources to go to for news and that you are getting yourself in a hysterical fuss. Wait 48 hours. Go shopping.
I want to say to my mother "how about a nice refreshing chemical peel?"
The words themselves just seem so twisted and fuck it man my face feels fine. It turned white then red. I have a hair appointment at 6:15. My Big Ol' refund check from NYU has not cleared yet so after dropping mother off at work I will proudly stomp myself into Chase Bank.
When the power of positive thinking and the law of attraction cannot be brought into my physical realm I walk into banks hysterical. Beside myself. It's all sincere. I don't trust the banks. I start hyperventalating. I wonder if I will look like Samantha at Carrie's book release party. I have to have these matters taken care of before 3 PM because that is when Ashley will return from having the lapband put in and I have a fantasy about feeding her baby food.
This is what Florida is like. This is what Florida is like.
Nick wants to go to Disney World, I have six tickets because The Gaylord Palms gave them to Florida for Christmas and this is what Florida is like.
It's raining so damn hard outside that I can pretend it's a hurricane.
God, I am pretending it's a hurricane. If you didn't know the difference you wouldn't be able to tell so for the sake of the story let's name the storm Samuel and wait for him to blow down the doors. They say he could be a category 5. No one says I'm three or five months too late, because I don't say this to anyone aloud. If I have to say it to anyone, I'll say it to the man in the bank.
I'll say it while sobbing about Direct Deposit because I am the kind of girl who makes cups of Thera-flu and will let someone put acid on her face without a moments hesitation.
When it comes down to it I am clearly a product of this city. My biggest dilemna right now is whether I should wash my hair or try and get my mother-- the one that gave birth to me and forgets that she loves me-- to come out of her room.
She wants an Anthony Wiener bobble head for Christmas and I am almost positive this doesn't exist. When Ilana walked in the front door the other day my mom immediately dragged her into the backroom to show her the "tea baggers" on television. I was changing out of shorts in to jeans.
Upstairs with the Daily Show on Ilana and I tell mom about balls to the face and a mouth full of testicles, but my mother already knows.
"Isn't it funny?" she asks and we stare blankly but we also tell the truth, we bobble our heads "yes, yes it is."
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| always anywhere but anywhere |
[Thursday 17 12
21:22] |
I have stuffed gauze in my ears because my mother is blaring MSNBC and my father has Fox News on full blast and even though they are supposed to be sick and in there own respective wings of the house it's still ratting my head. Always anywhere but anywhere, right?
I've written the e-mails and I should probably write on paper before I really freak myself out. I should do that probably right away but maybe not. It's still early it's 9:15 and even though the sun sets later in the evening, everything closes earlier so it's kind of like it's later. Do you break up in some kind of way like it will salvage their friendship? How are you supposed to be the bigger older person? How are you supposed to trust or even believe in state lines? It's the same as believing in men I guess. All man made.
Where are those pills to forget memories? They don't work right. Where is my best friend? Less than half a mile up the road. But I don't know what. I really don't know what.
It's chemical peels and longer lashes and whiter teeth and tanner skin but no one will stop slamming the doors and I should e-mail-- I will e-mail my psychiatrist because you know you aren't supposed to make drastic (or any) decisions in Clearwater, because it's kind of being like at Disney World when it rains and all the lines are long any way.
That is exactly what it's like.
This is one of those parts where I try and make the right decision and everyone is slapping the lap tops shut and stomping down the stairs and I really want to scream "shut the fuck up" at the top of my lungs, but this time someone would actually be there to hear me. Happy Holidays.
I have a hair appointment tomorrow which is kind of sedating and uplifting at once and I'll be dropping my mother off at work and then driving her weird kia car that is kind of like a half SUV. This gauge in my ear is probably not the best idea.
Once I got the cap of something stuck in my ear and Ilana had to take me to the emergency room where there were just a few elderly and no gun shot wounds and the doctor on duty don't tell "Don't stick anything smaller than your elbow in your ear."
That should have been the entire moral lesson of 2004 "Don't stick anything smaller than your elbow in your ear."
But you know me, that's all I've been doing five years since.
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| it's the place that you have come to fear the mosttttt |
[Thursday 17 12
10:05] |
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Today everyone is being mean but I am trying to still be kind, to still be upbeat. To still appreciate stuff. Santa shoulda saw right through me. I told him I was rotten all year long but hey. You see through me right? I don't know if you can see me behind me down the hall bust the cupboard toward those voices, and if you could, I don't know what it would change.
Now I am listening to death cab for cutie. Why does this happen here in regression land? Man guys it gets bad. B-A-D.
I need you soooo much closerrrrrr. Sooooo comeeee onnnnnnnnnnnnn.
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| let's get a silver bullet trailer &have a baby boy (pt.2) |
[Wednesday 16 12
23:17] |
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Our moms still want to remind us that they were prettier. Thinner too. Can't say that they had better hair. But prettier, thinner. Married already. Babies already.
I want a baby. I also want a Golden Doodle puppy. I told Santa who didn't listen to nothing kept telling Ilana about Dr.Pepper.
I forget-- no no no I remember-- but I forget how easy it is here. It could be so easy. Can't we just do that? the place by the water until the hurricanes come. I could be barefoot and pregnant with some view of the ocean and the sand that doesn't through the grinder. The real sand. Not the clearwater beach sand.
All the girls from high school serve you lunch at restaurants and everyone complains about the economy and I try and explain that they are a lot nicer at the sephora at International Mall then they are on Broadway. $100 can be like $10,000 it doesn't mean you get more. It's a shopaholic thing where you think the people selling you product are your friend. That's why I was so good at selling shampoo. I sincerely loved you. I was sincerely going to save your life.
You needed that nail polish, you needed that conditioner. You were going to be fine.
Do you want to have a party at my house or maybe Karlen's house or a dinner or a Christmas thing? Can it be a craft thing too? Can I just say this publicly cause I'm into it?
Today we watched Precious and ate at the Olive Garden and I cried because I am lucky and full and I love my mom and my best friends in the car and some people are your best friends for forever and there are benefits for knowing people for a long time.
Ilana says that to me. We are being tacky and commercial, she breaks bread and says "that's a benefit of knowing a person for a very long time."
And Stacy kind of acts like she can't make it to the mall. I wonder why she drives so much and then I miss everyone.
Everyone is Ulysses. I watched three hours of Rome with my parents.
Wishes:
-Mark Antony stops raping everyone
-a golden doodle puppy
-a silver bullet trailer
Presents:
I made a comprehensive wish list stop bitching at me
Buffy could kill Edward in a lot less than six minutes. Real vampires don't sparkle like princesses in the sun. GOD.
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| & heaven will smell like the airport |
[Tuesday 15 12
07:14] |
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I had half a sedative and half a donut in the fancy jetblue terminal five. It all feels like the future but I gotta remember that it's the now. 20 minutes until boarding. The thing I want most other than the other half of my donut and to win the Pulitzer prize is a massage. I have 3 dollars in my wallet. I was really tempted to sit with the business men because they will get you drunk at 6 AM and buy you cheese and crackers but I'm all into being the good guy. Angel is playing on TV and I will quote Faith "are you the bad slayer now? Wow am I the good slayer now?" Rainer Maria Rilke ruined my life. Randy, when you do my hair on Friday I want a combo of Bridget Bardot, Jackie-O, Penelope Cruz & Faith circa Buffy season 3. I am now going to stare blankly at my copy of Elle. Britney Spears is on the cover & she is the celebrity I relate to the most. Why is Angel on tv, Alex? See you soon, sunshine state Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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| oh goodbye, babylon. |
[Monday 14 12
12:09] |
 
I have had a relentless headache for days. It is particularly strong &takes turns rushing down the back of my neck and over my eye balls. Eventually I puke &it's all real glamorous.
I am gathering notes for a presentation, making copies &half packing to leave for Florida all at once. I have started doing every task on my to-do list and stopped part way through. The bed is half made the clothes are on the floor the papers are scattered all over the place and coffee is spilled on every counter top. I need to make note cards so I can give this presentation but luckily for me (if you havent noticed) I'm pretty good at blabbering and I really don't get shy in front of other people. Alex helped me with everything anyway while I helplessly held the phone to my face and he talked about California like it was map. All I keep asking is "are we really going to California?" Like "is it really 2010?" and do I really leave for Florida in 12 hours and Portland in 3 weeks and then back to New York but there can be the Salinas Valley and wait that hotel is haunted or am I riding a book? Welcome to my brain. Scrambled eggs for breakfast.
I am real excited to see Ilana and my mom & I feel very sick so I've thrown some clothes in a suitcase and plan on sleeping on the couch. I have to go into the city for therapy and to give this presentation and I need to remember to buy paper towels and I feel like I am not packing properly but I am trying to pack lightly as I assume I will do quite a bit of shopping. I cannot stop yawning and I think I should stop taking melatonin because it kicks in during the wrong parts of my life.
All my dreams are too real and my mom keeps telling me about all these people we can go see and they are psychics or they stick needles in you or bend your legs in weird directions and I am pumped about all of it but mostly I want to go to 7/11, I kind of want a burger from McDonalds, I want to bitch about the ocean being too cold and time standing still and complete my favorite activity where the sun bleaches my brain.
I am in one of those moods that only comes along when you realize you love another human and you are very tired and New York is very large and "naps" becomes the best word ever and is always plural. I am sure that makes perfect sense to everyone. Yep.
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