home is when i think of you: June 2005

awkward dog robot

my first opening night was full of nerves and votive candles and hundreds of ridiculously small glasses that need much refilling. you grin and bear it because you're a fucking intern and you smile and charm and do the shitfuck work and after three weeks, THREE WEEKS, they offer you a job for the fall. fuck yeah, fuck ya'll. the pictures underneath are from twelfth night opening. it was a must be at event.
i drank a whole lot of belgium beer at astoria and andrew harriss told me how he's living his dream etc etc bla bla bla ooh more beer then a keep away game with some boy from the navy. ew don't tell him i don't like boys in uniform. shhh
listen i'm not fucking anyone if i have to buy a metrocard to see him. i got a lot of potential effort and it won't go wasted on anyone in this godforsaken, beautiful city. it's like the museums. stay behind the line please. unless its a border. then you can sneak across and pretend to like me and take me to the ballet. i will save my unrequitedness like pennies in a jar for a huge trip someday for a kid who'll make me fall. i thought boys would be much more efficient in manhattan just like everything else in manhattan. dense, more like it. i'm so glad that my carefree, capricious nature is not turning into complete idiocy. its just too hot to fuck. eat popsicles and fry eggs and throw some ice up your skirts. (and leave me the fuck alone!)
alex came into today with some nice ripe dime sized hickeys on his neck! i'm so glad he'll talk about the death of theatre and then get mad when i bring up his love marks. he stopped trying to massage me so that's good. ew. must have got neck burns from his straightening iron. i hope when he get's into crazy sex the muzzle is the first thing to be strapped on.

ok we need to discuss my temporary roomie for a second. jessica poludin (please refer to the american eagle model picture below) makes me silly. she laughs at my jokes more than anyone and it makes me feel like rice pudding inside and i just want to jump in a ball pit with her. I don't know of anyone who appreciates my ridiculousness more. i like who i am when we giggle together.

nick 456 hair. thanks for taking care of me all over queens after all that silly belguim beer.
arf
arf
arf?

a.

aesthetic (i did it)

vino (i poured 2/3rds of those )

lobbying

votive

fuschia gels

staircase

its not christmas

lights parachutes

sun on fire off the 6 train uptown

i'm just a curbside prophet with my hand in my pocket

i'm 22 now and its double the fun but double the work.
to make money i gotta be doing 2 places as once but its a good thing i don't have the two faces cuz then i'd just be really tired and much more confused with myself.

party party picnic was pretty much fuckin' picturesque i look at all these people in my life and i realize i must've done something pretty karma-friendly because they are damn fine and their personalities pretty like punch and in the end they'd take a bullet or a punch in the face for me, even if it messed up their bone structure permanently. i have this constant fear that i'll never be able to show them how much i truly appreciate the grand capacity they all have to put up with me but i think my intentions are well placed and satisfactory.
pictures are up below and i made them tiny but feel free to click to enlarge especially to see the inside of bubbles or nick's mamacita bandana.

lotsa other stuff some bubble tea mmm strawberry and astrology discussion i'm in love with this polish saxophone player i think and a few french bulldogs holy shit they are beautiful the lower east village is dirty like your mom after a few margaritas and i cannot stop eating sushi. its getting serious.

i want to boycott all mexican imported beer but i can't until all the domestics stop disappointing me with their banal nature, their benign attitudes, and their puppy love low carbohydrate awkard bullshit. damn imports raised my standards. i shake my fist at you and feign uppereastside haughty indifference.

oh so this is funny i have a bourgeous mp3 player but my proleteriot laptop refuses to cooperate so i'm stealing friends' music and bc i can't figure out the damn program i took all of jess' kids songs accidently so my playlist goes like this

duran duran
outkast bombs over baghdad
oh holy night
joss stone
the farmer in the dell.

think about that shit.

a.