no laboring today.

was supposed to go home for the fair. full car. lack of motivation. lack of funds to spend on air brushed shirts, whack-a-mole, the himalayas ride, wine slushies.

it was always better in the 80's anyway. a "family" picture. me in cut off denim short shorts, the acid washed purse, (i bought it in bloomingdale's on my first trip to ny the week before christmas in sixth grade with my grandma to see our irish cousin in port washington.), duran duran pin on the purse's strap, white tennis shoes, pre-perms but bangs were there, already perfected scowl that would become a staple. the summer before 7th grade.

when summer ended and school started i would begin to hang out with the headbanger chicks who wore too much wet n' wild black eyeliner. and would sneak to the mobile station across from clary and somehow convince the workers to sell cigarettes to a 12 year old. we'd stand in the woods, between where our school was and where the ice rink and baseball fields were. i never smoked. can't even remember the first time i tried it. probably a field party in high school? a lifetime of mom smoking and all the irish relatives who were chimneys. the habit held no real fascination for me. but still i would stand with these metallica girls while they smoked.

7th grade is probably where i went one way instead of the other. "gifted" classes. (what are these gifts? i'm still waiting. let's make a deal...) isolated from my elementary school friends, who just became faces passing in the hallways. a different socio-economic bracket. growing pains. trying to fit in. soccer team. band. advanced art classes that counted toward high school credit, so i didn't even have art at all in high school. it was music or art. not both. mutually exclusive.

went to my ten year reunion. beacuse of bad planning it was an eleven year reunion. typical. not very well attended. all but four people still lived up there. the other three besides me that got out all had kids. two live in north carolina. one in michigan. not major cities.

waiting in line for the bathroom, wishing the event was a little more grosse point blank than just a big blank. one of the aforementioned metalhead/eyeliner chicks from middle school was in line with me. she's a mom. and lives in the burbs outside syracuse. her baby's daddy was a year ahead of us in high school. the hot hockey team guy.

sarah looks at me. (i swam in a vast sea of sara(h)s and jennifers.) she smiles. and says, a bit drunk: "i always knew you'd get out. i always knew you'd do something cool."

that simple statement meant more to me than she will ever know. and she probably doesn't even remember saying it. such is life.

for o.r.p.
i hope i can be as strong as you when i'm your age.

post script...

"the first sorrow of autumn

is the slow goodbye

of the garden who stands so long in the evening

a brown poppy head

the stalk of a lily

and still cannot go

the second sorrow

is the empty feet

of a pheasant who hangs from a hook with his brothers

the woodland of gold

is folded in feathers

with its head in a bag

and the third sorrow

is the slow goodbye

of the sun who has gathered the birds and who gathers

the minutes of evening

the golden and holy

ground of the picture

the fourth sorrow

is the pond gone black

ruined and sunken the city of water

the beetle's palace

the catacombs

of the dragonfly

and the fifth sorrow

is the slow goodbye

of the woodland that quietly breaks up its camp

one day it's gone

it has only left litter

firewood, tentpoles

and the sixth sorrow

is the fox's sorrow

the joy of the huntsman, the joy of the hounds,

the hooves that pound

till earth closes her ear

to the fox's prayer

and the seventh sorrow

is the slow goodbye

of the face with its wrinkles that looks through the window

as the year packs up

like a tatty fairground

that came for the children."-t.h.

and i need this more than you will ever know

april in paris. my favorite thing from the musee above. beautiful, yet missing something. but it appears complete. haunted. mysterious. it wouldn't have the same draw without the vacancy. at least i don't think so.

postscript...
when you know the place where a song comes from it ceases to be subjective. time goes by and you might look at it in a different way. but the images are still there.

angels. bed time stories. that bat cave in austin she told me about but i still never made it to. distance...

"people like you and me never felt the breeze
people like you and me will never know the easy way

i scream into the wind and laugh
as the words slap me in the face
i would gladly trade a lifetime of convenience
for an honest day or two

it's just not the same when you're staring
into a perfect golden sunset
and thinking about how you sold your soul
to send the rain away....

i'd really rather lay here and pretend
but people like you and me never get that peace
it comes from denying that everything is so screwed up
it's so screwed up

i stand on a building and throw up my arms to the sky
i swallow my pride and admit
that it's not always best to understand the reason why"

irish blood, american heart.

sometimes a 33 minute phone call to ireland in the middle of the day is worth its weight in gold. no one can give you as much insight as someone who's family. who has walked the same streets in ny in her 20's. who had a marriage fail. and faith tested. and didn't pack it all in to move home.

everyone tells me "welcome home" when i visit. and it is. even if i don't know the names of the footballers, the politicians, the hurlers. last year i was asked time and time again if i could see myself living there. time and time again i said "only when i'm old".

i'm staying put for now. but i'm reserving the right to change my mind. dual citizenship may be where it's at...

but ny still needs tackling. there's always that aer lingus buddy pass when i want to go home.

post script...

i related better to guys growing up. even when i started wearing dresses, heels and makeup, i kept my list of female friends short and sweet. few and far between are the cds i own by female artists. but i've been on a kick lately. the old me would've mocked this "lillith fair" type music. but it's really nice to hear a female voice that speaks to my experience...

"drink up, baby down

are you in or are you out?

leave your things behind

cause it's all going off without you

excuse me

too busy you're writing your tragedy

these mishaps you bubble wrap

when you've no idea what you're like

so let go, jump in

oh well whatcha waiting for

it's alright

cause there's beauty in the breakdown

so let go, just get in

oh, it's so amazing here

it's alright cause there's beauty in the breakdown

it gains the more it gives

and then it rises with the falls

o hand me that remote

can't you see that all that stuff's a sideshow

such boundless pleasure

we've no time for later now

you can't await your own arrival

you've 20 seconds to comply

so let go, jump in

oh well, whatcha waiting for

it's alright cause there's beauty in the breakdown

so let go, just get in

oh, it's so amazing here

it's alright"

lost in translation.

need to learn spanish. badly. wondering why i chose french over it? when everyone told me that spanish was more useful.

it is. it was.

when i was a lifeguard the kids would pretend not to speak english when i yelled at them. so i learned how to say sit down. and i learned all the words they would curse me out in before any real words. at least then i could say "i know what you're saying about me!!!" not that anything stopped them...

firma was my word of the day. but unlike pee wee's playhouse, there is no screaming.


"call on the fates
this'll take a second
while I fall on my face
like everyone else...
counting all my relevant friends
well this keeps coming up again and again
if everybody knows how it's gonna end
why doesn't someone stop me...
we're all about the same
a bunch of slaves to fashion
who are tall, dark and scared
and just praying for some action
how am I supposed to know what makes this happen?"

gawkering.

conversations i've overheard recently:

"i never got into the beatles. there's just way too much music to listen to!"-coworker

"you know what's good to drink when you're thirsty? water!"-my friend's old roommate

talent person: "i got the hyatt!" (new work client.) 

coworker: "that sounds like a disease. i think the nurse has some topical ointment for that!"

company nurse who's standing there waiting for coffee to be done laughs. 

"whoever is drinking kool aid has aids."-little kids on my block in bushwick. 

i wonder...will it take me under?

i don't know.

for the first time, in 3 years of her living here, i ran into my sister in the city. after boxing. in union square. statistically really unlikely since she lives in the bronx and usually goes out uptown or in the west village. we were walking toward each other. she was dressed up for dinner out. i was a sweaty, red-faced mess from training. i stand almost a foot taller than her. people are really confused about if we are related or not when they see us together. different, but the same.

even though she's technically my half-sister, we've always had this weird ESP where i'll pick up the phone to call her and it'll ring from her number. or vice versa.

even rachel, eternal pessimist and atheist, believes that if you think about someone enough who you haven't seen, they will cross your path.

it's worked for me in the past. and on a super low day when i was wandering around the upper east side i ended up running into an old friend who made everything a bit better.

i flip to a page with a number that is meaningful to me in a well-loved book while organizing my shelves:
"when you are young, you always expect that the world is going to end. and then you get older and the wold still chugs along and you are forced to re-evaluate your stance on the apocalypse as well as your own relationship to time and death. you realize that the world will indeed continue, with or without you, and the pictures you see in your head. so you try to understand the pictures instead."-d.c.

one of my journals. dated 3.13.2000:
"i feel as if change is on the horizon. good things are in store....after 21 years, i'm finally getting comfortable in this skin. college kids used to scare me. "grown ups" used to intimidate me. now practically no one does."

(3.5.2000 was the dc breakup date.)

post script...

"days are shorter
nights are colder
feeling like life is over
these snakes strike like a cobra..."

tennis, anyone?

this is fitting since the us open is now going on down the 7 line from my old apt.

life is really getting a little too "high fidelity" to deal with. 

looking back at these posts, i realize that it's an autobiographical way to organize my record collection. how i got from record a to record b. and i remember a lot more about shows, bands, song lyrics than i do about high school or college.

haven't been seeking out guys i used to date, but sorta end up running into them anyway. that i can play nice and have a conversation without all the old antics i used to pull says a lot about my maturity level. i can be happy for them, their wives, their kids. and realize that they weren't "the one" for me. (if there is a "one" is another story...) 

try as i may to put myself in scenarios where i am hypothetically married to any of these guys, i just can't. when i was part of the country club set in dc, every fiber of my being wanted out. wanted more tattoos, to dress how i wanted, not how other people wanted me to, to go out dancing, to hang out with my friends that were deemed "bad influences". ultimately to have a drink without becoming a functional alcoholic! 

it was a learning experience. knew myself and who i was not a lot more at the end of things. that i didn't want to try so hard ever again in life. and at 21 that's a big lesson! 

for m.r.b.

for always being there when i needed you.

thanks for letting me borrow jawbreaker, seaweed and the descendents during that freak dc snowstorm where everything was shut down and i had to work. life changing.

thanks for teaching me how to be me.

sorry i never learned how tennis was scored after all your matches i watched! 

no thanks for skipping the promise ring on my 21st bday after i went to see madball how many times??? hahahaha. 

oh and i like journey now, despite all my resistance back then...

post script...

"sent a letter on a long summer day

made of silver, not of clay

i've been runnin' down this dusty road

wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'

i don't know where i'll be tomorrow

wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'

i've been trying to make it home

got to make it before too long

i can't take this very much longer

i'm stranded in the sleet and rain 

don't think i'm ever gonna make it home again

the mornin' sun is risin'

it's kissing the day..." 

united? untied?

two shows. two friends.

buffalo. syracuse. 

on tour bus. listening to the new no doubt cd. in syracuse. some dudes i knew since i was 15 or 16 came on the bus. obviously the only reason a girl gets on a rock tour bus is because she's hooking up with someone! 

ugh. constant battle. i think the guys in syracuse all must list "when harry met sally" as their #1 favorite movie. cause they honestly believe that girls and guys cannot be friends. that their female counterpart has to be younger, dumber, less worldly. has to place them on a pedestal. make them feel like they are the smartest, coolest, most innovative thinker. 

it's not just syracuse. it's the scene. the culture created by putting a bunch of guys in constant competition. for a limited pool of girls. that is, until blink 182 got popular. and green day. then it was socially acceptable for the cheerleader to date the guy with the mohawk. and every boy who wouldn't have gotten a second glance years before was out to find his diane court. the floodgates were opened. 

at what point did i pigeon hole myself into a subset of a sub-genre? i was telling a friend at work party, who's an ex-hc dude, married to his h.s. sweetheart, full sleeve tattoos, same music collection as me, that it is virtually impossible for me to date someone who likes the dave matthews band. he just shook his head and laughed...

post script...

"another quarter mile

we can't stop running

must be on time

holding the lost files

a drop off coming too soon for us

this is the switch

one day 

one far from we're in now

one day 

we'll look back and laugh

if we make the checkpoint

all our worries will be gone for some time

a stolen suitcase full of your secrets

soon will unwind 

this is the switch

play innocent

we're innocent

i wash my hands...

we'll move to a foreign town

in argentina, if you're down

no one will recognize us

spending with our new disguises on...

if only the switch will come." 

this is the beat of a new generation

watching the democratic national convention for hours with my dad and my sister. the idealistic younger sister who still views the world through wide eyes. the stubborn irish father who's been through it all, but still manages to roll out of bed in the morning with a spring in his step, while whistling a tune. all three of us excited about the same candidate, the same potential for change.

i lived in dc from 1996-2000. watched the inaugural parade of bill clinton. worked at urban outfitters when chelsea clinton would come in to shop with her security detail in tow. 

i went to dc to save the world. to study environmental science at 17. to work for a non-profit or the EPA. not knowing how the political machine worked. how life really worked, for that matter. came out knowing the ways of the world. 

right this second, for the first time in a long time, i'm optimistic. 

listening to michelle obama talking about her dad's battle with M.S. i realize that the list i made myself of "ways my life could be worse" should probably be taped to the back of my bedroom door. so when i face each new day i am thankful for what i have, not sad about what i don't have. 

"this is the pulse

this is the sound

this is the beat

of a new generation

this is the movement

this is the rhythm

this is the noise

of 

revolution"

post script...

the guy in the photo above is my great great great uncle. Edwin M. Stanton. he was Abraham Lincoln's Secretary of War. upon Lincoln's death he said: 

"Now he belongs to the ages. There lies the most perfect ruler of men the world has ever seen." 

this quote is even in my webster's book of quotes. 

i've given up dreams of being a big time writer. along with a lot of other dreams. the positive feedback i've gotten from old friends after they read this blog thingy is really the only accolade i'll ever need. 

maybe i have made a difference after all, if only a small one. maybe i got someone to think outside their comfort zone for once. maybe i got someone to remember a band or a trip or a day that made them smile. that's enough for me. 

float like a butterfly...

sting like...this guy? haha. 

this ad made me laugh. despite the fact that t-mobile is the worst service ever.

i showed up at a halloween party/show last year in full costume, full makeup. in the pouring rain. was livid that i wasn't told no one else was dressed up. 

october was the beginning of the end of the old me i've decided. 

post-script...

"don't call it a comeback

i been here for years"

from queens to kings

i haven't been to a baseball game in months.

called home to wish my dad a happy birthday today.
(he's not the kind of dad you go to baseball games with.)
interrupted a family bbq that i didn't know was going on.
got to talk politics with my drunken irish family for 5 seconds.
wished i was there.

the grass is always greener...
the astroturf is always greener...

i better go to a game before shea closes.
my sister will be down to oogle david wright with me.

she'll be here, along with my dad, in 12 or so hours.
back for her last semester of college.

let the countdown begin...

for n.r.
you better wear a mets yarmulke at your wedding!

"we need to take

a few steps back back back back

yeah

soak in all these half-truths

half used by our eyes

we need to find ourselves

again

i wouldn't feel so tattered

in a less important place..."

life. love. regret.

long before i knew what industry i'd end up working in...
before i imagined there was a reason that i lamented mtv and vh1 taking the director credit from the corner of videos...
before figuring out that what i studied in school would really just be a jump off point for what i'd eventually study in life...
prior to all that i was just a girl who had an uncanny memory for and love of music videos.

the best, in my humble opinion, was for "true faith" by new order. the year was 1987. a lot of my favorite music was made in this year. a great vintage. fruitful growing season of sorts...

either my freshman or sophomore year of high school i purchased the record, vinyl, pictured above. had no idea of the new order/joy division connection. didn't know who the band was or anything about them.

looking back now i've figured out what drew me to this record. the cover art.

it looks like dozens of pictures i've taken on vacations. and, hopefully, hundreds more that i'll take in the future.

for j.a.b.
survivor.

post script...
"i've not got much to give
we're dealing in the limits
and we don't know who with
you may think that i'm out of hand
that i'm naive i'll understand
on this occasion it's not true
look at me i'm not you..."

stolen bikes ride faster

today was the perfect summer day.
slept in a bit.
but not too late.
went out last night.
but didn't feel it in the morning.

went to rock-rock-rockaway beach with my roommate. beautiful weather. you could see all the way to your feet when in the water. not too hot, not too windy.

got in a conversation about bikes on the way home. i remembered why i stopped riding, even though my dad has always been an obsessive bike rider, going 50 miles one way during his divorce when i was living at my grandparents. buying a one-way ticket to bike around europe instead of going to college.

my first day of sixth grade i got hit by a car. riding my bike while my grandma and sister were walking a couple blocks behind me. it wasn't bad. my bike basically bent in half. i was still on it. bruised and totally shell-shocked. the woman driving said she ran the light because she was "on her way to a funeral". classic.

my uncle lived around the corner and happened to be driving the opposite way down the same street. saw me and the lady arguing just after it happened. my grandma still hadn't caught up to where i was. uncle sean mediated the situation. i was really shaken up. and pissed my pink huffy bike with flower decals was all screwed up. the cops were called. insurance claims. blah blah blah...

i got a lecture on bike safety. this was before making kids wear helmets was standard practice. at grandma's later my friend sherry came by to "see if i wanted to go ride bikes". needless to say the answer was "she can't!"

and i couldn't for a year after. they, (my grandma, dad, stepmom and mom), collectively decided not to replace the pink bike that wasn't really "me" to begin with.

got a new bike a year later. was petrified to ride it.

just like years later i would be terrified to drive after getting in a head-on collision ending with me being cut out of my horizon with the jaws of life.

my point is...if your kid, or hypothetical future kid, crashes her bike, replace it the next day.

let her ride the bike, drive the car, whatever. giving her time to obsess over why she crashed and why she's going to crash again just builds up the fear of trying new things. and fear of repeating whatever activity caused the accident.

i'm currently trying to decide what kind of bike to buy...

for my uncle sean
for being my dad's cooler little brother.
for saving me from that mean lady who rammed her car into me.

post script...
"this is a time
in my life
where everything
is falling apart
and at the same time
it's all
coming together"

and to the brink i will rise

when i was home over the weekend i ate a bunch at my friend joel's new cafe, strong hearts. he picked out a glass for me to use and decided on the one pictured above.

i had to look up what x-men character it was, even though i've seen all the movies. figured that she has red hair, i have red hair and that was why he selected it. joel told me that she was the "most powerful" in the series.

a bunch of my friends are comic book geeks. i never really paid attention to the storylines, besides the movies made from the comics, all of which i have seen. when i looked up this jean grey person i find out that she died and then was reborn...

that i can relate to.

for m.r.c.

geek supreme!

post script...

"through suffocation

dedication i will rise

through the heartbreak

through the sorrow

let it pass by tomorrow

yes the city breathes

still you run

harm yourself

from yourself

still we crawl on this wall

faces pale afraid to fall

as we plummet as we plunder

we learn a lesson that lasts forever...

no more compromise!"

really sad i missed that show.

really glad i didn't miss the wedding that same day.

drop out of my league...

my first trip to richmond was a "date". to see sick of it all. 

i was wearing my old school adidas pants that i'd basically gotten in a fight with a girl about at a salvation army on west genny in syracuse in 1993 or 1994. 

was always, since 3rd grade, a huge beastie boys fan. this was before that crappy korn band ruined adidas for me. i was more in the run dmc/b boys school of thought.

the girl was shorter than me. easily duped into thinking the pants would be too long. 

last night in brooklyn felt like fall. took the train clad in those same pants, which fit again, and a hoodie, flip flops. felt like i was 16 or 18 or 21. 

the only reason i remember what i was wearing at twister's was because my ex's best friend called me "sporty spice". i was insulted. (half my photos from my first trip to ireland are of me wearing these same pants.)

richmond intimidated me. hell, EVERYTHING intimidated me back then! 

eddie introduced me to the ex, mike, at burritoville after a hatebreed show. was with carrie jo and erin. it was right before my 19th birthday. 

carrie and erin were out trolling for boys. i was not. ended up being convinced to give my phone number to this guy who i had a 2 second exchange of words with. eddie got my digits. so high school! 

my strongest memory was that of being in a car, headed to richmond, listening to barfight and being like "what have i gotten myself into??? my other dc friends would not approve." 

they didn't approve. at all. but it wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last...

a couple years later, eddie's car, driving me to college when he woke up on time. bad brains on the tape deck "don't blow no bubbles". cause he KNEW i hated that song! ugh. anything to stir the pot... 

for c.e.d.

for always having my back.

for knowing how to piss me the fuck off like no one else on this earth.

hasta luego? 

post script...

two best shows i've ever been to:

1) avail in richmond

2) hot water music in gainesville

you always gotta give it up for the hometown heroes. 

"blue ridge" is my all-time fave, 

but this fits. 

this time.

this me. 

"...for the mean time

i am older now

but i feel the same

i missed my prime

and from now on

i'm looked down upon...

i've tried everything

and i wonder why

i feel the same..."

you're not in kansas anymore!

grocery shopping in my new hood. the guy in front of me at the store is only purchasing malta and pork rinds. i am completely not kidding. it rules! 

vegan friends, cover your ears...the smell of popeye's in my new neighborhood is intoxicating! this is a bad, bad, bad thing. why can't i smell the dunkin donuts over it??? t-r-o-u-b-l-e

i feel more comfortable here than in my old, lily white, homogenized, gentrified, stroller set area. even if my ghetto fabulosity doesn't show though...there are always those 5 magical words that, when uttered in conversation, give me full street cred.

ask me sometime if you want to be in the know.

post script...

i seek out rap chips on the streets of dc. they are collector's items as far as i'm concerned. an empty bag is now on my new fridge in the new apartment. luckily, my roommate is familiar with said brand and finds it equally amazing. 

used to wander the streets of SE dc completely clueless in '96 and '97. really lucky nothing ever happened to me or one of my cohorts. my friend sara and i used to pick a metro stop that "sounded cool" and just go there. not so smart. but super fun! 

for r.l.b. 

my "other" dad. 

i am tomorrow...

you find out a lot about yourself when everything is in chaos. 

how deep you can dig to find strength. 

your limits. 

how far you have to be pushed before breaking. 

that you are, in essence, unbreakable. 

maybe your body can break, but your spirit can't.

you can bruise and cut and batter yourself, 

not intentionally of course, 

but you soldier on. 

that's me. 

my auto-pilot kicks in.

i do things as if watching from above.

asking, wondering...

"who is this girl?"

"who is this woman?"

stronger than i ever thought.

tougher than ever before.

tapping into a pool of resources that i never knew existed.

when the chaos swirls around me

i don't curl up into the fetal position and want to die.

i want to live. more than ever before.

the coma has lifted.

the cobwebs have been brushed from my eyes.

stagnation is done.

i'm ready to take it all on.

knowing full well that i may lose.

but i've lost so much before 

that i'm ready to risk it all. 

always. 

for j.e.m. 

you are truly outrageous.

truly truly truly outrageous.

post script...

"i am tomorrow, or some future day, what i establish today. 

i am today what i established yesterday or some previous day."-j.a.a.j.

extinguishing the fire of our workaday life

i went to my second yoga class on saturday. the first was years and years ago. emily dragged me at 8 am under the guise that lorie was teaching. she was not. but she ended up coming along with us.

it was an intermediate level class. i am clearly a beginner. threw on a striking distance shirt and these old navy pants that i somehow inherited from katy after crashing at her mom's place once forever ago. sat in the way back, next to lorie. watched her like a hawk to make sure i wasn't totally screwing up the moves.

i did ok. my muscles were still really, really sore from personal training two days before. and my knee was a massive bruise from falling over with a medicine ball doing some crazy lunge thing. i can bruise from someone looking at me wrong, so it wasn't too alarming.

a coworker who's addicted to yoga warned me that it's really intense and a lot of people cry. i figured the only crying i'd be doing was if i pulled a muscle. but i'm still pretty flexible, despite how out of shape i let myself get.

the instructor's voice was really soothing. at times i could barely hear him. things that he said resonated with me in a way they wouldn't have 6 months or a year ago.

"live life voraciously" was my favorite.

for l.p.b.

my own personal guru.

post script...

"truth has been spoken for all mankind

and if you search for peace then you can find"

went to see shelter play at the lost horizon on my 16th birthday. remember it stinking of incense. i was a bit taken aback by the whole thing. didn't really know anything about krishna. saw it as a cult. but one with music i really liked...

years later the shirt i sleep in is a moz hand-me-down from one of the members of the band. on my 16th birthday i would've gotten more of a kick out of that than i would've from being on that ridiculous "my super sweet 16" mtv show that all the kids love these days.

but i know i'm on a losing streak...

"cause i passed down my old street"

it's really overwhelming when you walk into a place and you are bombarded with a ton of memories and images from your life. 

when people who don't really know you anymore think they know you through and through based on who you showed them at 16, at 18, at 21, at 25. who you tried to be. 

like that old tv show "this is your life". but in my case most of the cast of characters that are still around have only been friends since syracuse round 2. 

a bunch of people i know from home have totally "reinvented" themselves. they live down in ny now. when i see them they are a bit standoffish. because i knew them back way back when. 

i'll go to reunion shows. my musical taste still hovers around the year 1996. i don't live in the past, but i don't turn my back on it completely either. annoying as it is to be reminded of the first boy you kissed or the fact you owned a doughnuts poster at one point, that's me. no denying it. 

in syracuse i...

realized how much stress is cause by being friends with rival factions living in the same city.

bought some 7"s.

went to j michaels.

took photos of now abandoned buildings where i used to spend a bunch of time. 

got dragged to yoga at 8 am. i rarely see 8 am on weekends. 

attended a wedding for someone i hadn't seen in 12 years. he's the same. that made me happy. 

danced and danced and danced after drinking too much wine and eating dinosaur bbq salt potatoes like i'd never have one again in life.

went to coffee with my parents. sitting in between them on a park bench. so nice. the calm. seeing how i'm both of them. and neither of them.

post script...

"all this talk of getting old

it's getting me down my love"

i didn't pass down my old street. any of my old streets. 

but i can appreciate my hometown. 

in the summer, especially. 

the south has spoiled me.

years spent below the mason/dixon line.

the first time i saw chamberlain, (the artist formerly known as split lip), was in ny at brownies with nicole. we were supposed to go see texas is the reason, but the show was 18 and over. since it was october, i was a month shy of legal. we ended up at the other show instead. no idea who went with or if any other bands played. but chamberlain is embedded in my memory.

white v-neck t shirts, tight jeans, cowboy boots. country twang to them. would've fit right into williamsburg 2 summers ago! i liked it, even though it didn't mesh with the other crap i listened to at the time.

another show at american university. no stage. i feel like it was the day we got back from somewhere? detroit fest maybe? no, i missed jeremy enigk at the black cat that night due to exhaustion/lack of funds. still regretting that to this day.

i refused to call them "chamberlain" for a long time. if someone asked me about them, i'd reply "who?" always split lip to me.

a compilation tape from my friend j.d., made during high school, had split lip and falling forward on it. he'd go on to listen to gangsta rap a few years later while at SU, trying to make the movie "kids" into real life. haha. now i think he's a hippie. no one's kept track.

the tape was made after much harassment. i was still new to the scene and didn't know what to buy, so this was a sampler of sorts.

jeremy, jd and i would hang out around SU. sometimes with will, er bill, sometimes with pat. always at sunspot and everson and oliver's. then they'd go to true value on westcott to attempt to steal spray paint with which to tag later. i sat in the car for that part, too much of a goody two shoes to be a silent partner in crime. also skipped the mall when they'd wedge stacks of banana clothes between their backpacks and aluminum foil.

"indi(ana) rock." a shirt the guy who ruined my back with the jailhouse tat used to wear. and i used to covet. maybe i'll see if doghouse online has them. or see if bryan can score me one...

-mjm

for n.c.k.
who is always the angel over my shoulder,
the voice of reason,
my most patient friend.
glad you saw something in a 17 year old kid
that she didn't see in herself.
love always.

post script...
"maybe we no longer know who we're supposed to be"

"fate's got a driver" has been in constant rotation for me over this last month.
contemplating if i'm the one behind the wheel of my own kismet.

coming to you live from the 315. ha.

"get thee to a nunnery..."

(one hour early.)

above is a page from my zine called kismet. i wrote this gem when i was 18, but the sentiments within ring pretty true today. 

when i wrote the above that i had a pretty horrendous relationship with my dad. as all girls with "daddy issues" do, i became way too involved in gaining and keep male attention and affection. all these exploits were pretty PG-13, but catholic guilt got the better of me time and time again. 

at 21 i moved back to syracuse and ended up repairing my relationship with my dad. if i got nothing else out of the years "wasted" back home, (while i theoretically saved money for a move to nyc), a friendship on an adult level with my dad was worth the wait. 

and what became of the boy i wrote such glowing things about, you ask? he broke up with me, in essence, by not returning my calls. since we were long-distance, that was that. 

if we hadn't been geographically separated i don't think we would've lasted as long as we did. it was a romanticized, trumped up relationship between a barely 18 year old and a 20 year old. emails, 8 hour phone calls, (who the hell has that much to say?!), mix tapes, postcards, et al. crazy intensity to maintain over time and miles. 

he drank and partied. i did not. he came from an urban area. i did not. my 6 month exposure to dc didn't make me able to carry on a romance with someone who was leaps and bounds ahead of me on every playing field. 

but i'm proud of myself. didn't drink or drug because he did. i stayed pretty true to who i was and what i was about. he couldn't even get me to like the smiths back then! 

after years of not speaking i found him on an online social community. ha. he was mean at first and then he wasn't. now we're great friends. the kind that never actually hang out. how modern!

he understands me and is able to put me in check when i need to be. gives great advice, even if following that same advice isn't a path he chooses. 

i think at the core, i'm still that same 18 year old girl. wanting to be idealistic. wanting to believe the best about people, no matter how many times she is proven wrong. wanting the world to be a better place. putting others before herself in small matters, but sticking to her guns when it comes to the big stuff. 

to have someone in your life, who isn't family, who you aren't going to date again, who isn't around for the day-to-day nonsense, is pretty crucial. a sort of mirror. honest, but not brutally so. someone to tell you that you aren't a bad person, no matter how badly things are going. 

validation, i guess? reminding you of nice things you've done before. how you'll probably do many of those types of things in the future. if you don't beat yourself up about the present...

for the one who drove the 7" wooden stake through my heart. 

don't worry, it healed up nicely. again and again and again. 

-mjm

post script...

"o, swear not by the moon, 

the inconstant moon,

that monthly changes in her circled orb,

lest that thy love prove likewise variable"

hope springs eternal. or something. 

 

mama, i'm coming home...

up to the cuse this weekend for a wedding of someone i haven't seen since our friend clint's graduation party, 1996. i'm clint's "date". have been informed that my duties include telling girls how nice he is, what a great artist is and how amazing the house he owns looks. i'm the flavor flav to his chuck d. his hype woman.

my last trip home was a disaster. cell phone died. no car charger. couldn't buy a car charger at wegmans or price chopper at midnight. people looked at me like i was insane for using a pay phone! 

got locked out of my friends' house and, not wanting to wake her dog or her twins, slept in my rental car in the driveway. that was after driving downtown and walking in bars i thought friends of mine should be in, to no avail. it was too late to just turn up on someone's doorstep, even if that someone was related to me.

i have hope for this trip. i think. 

sunday i go see my grandma. she's amazing. 87 years young. the rock star of her "assisted living community". elvira. (not the mistress of darkness.) 

she walks with a walker now. insurance for the place she lives. she's broken and had both hips replaced. but even though she moves slow she still plays piano. by ear. like no one i've ever heard. johnny, patsy, church songs, old standards, you name it. i could put any song on, she'd listen to it twice and nail it. gram played in a jazz band back in the day. she was a piano teacher. could've gone to juilliard. 

but she doesn't regret not being a musician professionally, instead being a mom to 5 kids, being a teacher, owning an antique shop. gram has the most amazing stories. from seeing the brooklyn dodgers play to watching the beatles on "ed sullivan", (my mom got to stay up late that night. she was the youngest.), where she was when the first man walked on the moon, and on and on and on. 

growing up so close to three grandparents who were raised in the depression, who've seen war, real war, not snipets on CNN, has given me a different perspective than most of my peers. 

it wasn't "cool" back in the day to hang out with my grandparents, but now i value that time more and  more each day. when my friends' grandparents have passed away i hear again and again how they wish they would've known them better. 

elvira and i know each other. through and through. her mom lived to be 101, so i enjoy our time together and can't wait til the next visit. 

-mjm

post script...

while my grandma doesn't appreciate the musical stylings of ozzy, i do have a trapper keeper folder somewhere at my mom's. ozzy "bark at the moon". i'm bound and determined to find it! that and my duran duran puffy stickers. i already rescued my wham! shirt. yes, my taste in music is all over the place. 

"i've seen your face a hundred times

every day we've been apart"

my dreams are usually really vivid and detailed. i can remember almost all of them. but not lately. 

remembered last night's dream. for the first time in weeks. 

sleeping in my new bed. i dreamt about my mom. 

for vi. even though you don't know how to even turn on a computer! sometimes i wish i didn't either... 

life as a choose-your-own-adventure book.

when i was little, in the 80's, i had my heart set on becoming a gymnast. i completely ignored that my mom's side of the family is all over 6' tall. a world away from the pixie russian girls i watched in the olympics on the balance beam, my favorite event. 

my dad and stepmom enrolled me in gymnastics. i was in third grade. the school was on the north side of syracuse, easy to get to from where they lived. the back of the building faced train tracks and could be opened up somehow. there was a big open pit of foam that you could flip into or fall onto from the parallel bars. 

the way my birthday fell made me almost a year younger than anyone in my grade. i wouldn't hit my growth spurt until 7th and 8th grade. was still the girl down in front, holding the sign in class photos arranged by height, short and scrawny. 

we had to learn all the ballet positions. which i thought was stupid. at a certain point they had to start adjusting the uneven parallel bars for me, since my feet dragged on the mats after i'd grown a bit. 

i knew these were necessary evils if i were to end up the next mary lou, but i grew to hate it. had begged and pleaded to enroll in the first place, so i refused to tell my parents i wasn't having fun anymore. i think the teacher ended up having a sit down and asking them to take me out. 

years later the same scenario would repeat itself with swimming, minus asking my parents to withdraw me. my coach knew i was a strong swimmer, but not a sprinter. my form was all wrong. he basically had to teach me all over. but i would not give up. i went from being in the slow lane to being co-captain and swimming in sectionals, a lifeguard at city pools and a swim instructor for little kids. all because dave, my coach, wanted me to quit so bad. had to prove him wrong.

that's still me. tell me i can't do something and i'll find a way to do it. not always, but if i am passionate about it. i'll play soccer against all boys at summer camp. hang out at the skate shop when they obviously don't want girls there. major in science because my asshole ancient chem teacher laughs in my face when i suggest it. i'll drive to ny in a blizzard from syracuse by myself to go hang out. cheer for the team my whole family hates. (or worse yet, be completely ignorant about the sports they go nuts over.) get tattoos i have to hide at work...

someone asked me why i was doing this blog thing. i've really only shown it to people i knew would either appreciate the references or gain some knowledge about me through it. basically, i do it because i can. because it's not expected of me, for whatever reason. 

-mjm

post script...

"and that has made all the difference..."

a bit of your favorite poem.

for jean marie.

who passed on to me her love for words and music. 

who taught me to blaze my own trail through life. 

you rock my world. 

verbatim.

11.16.07 journal entry:

"10 days til the beginning of the end of my 20's. 

what if tonight were my last night alive? what would i want to do? who would miss me the most? how would i be remembered? what have i actually done that's impacted anything in a positive way? do i serve a purpose? do i have the capacity to change? would i even want to???

of course i'm not living up to all the potential everyone made me believe i had when i was growing up. 

i definitely still have the capacity to change. change is hard but change is good. if my parents can change at their ages and after spending the entirety of their adult lives in the cocoon that is syracuse, then anyone can change. 

it's easy to get comfortable, but part of something in me, if by nature or by nurture, gets itchy and antsy and craves change every few years..."

-mjm

post script...

"there are fingerprints, 

subtle hints,

there are things you cannot choose.

i can see forever all these things,

they are obvious to me." 

for my two favorite singers. 

both have the initials B.S. 

hilarious, right? 

hours later---fell asleep watching "120 minutes" on mtv2. wake up to the sundays. the next video is the talking heads. 

"here's where the story ends" into "and you may ask yourself-well how did i get here?" two bands, two songs, that i've been listening to all the time. tons of the videos on this show are by one hit wonders or pseudo-goth bands i am completely unfamiliar with. 

i'm wide awake.  

yesterday came suddenly.

saturday night. bruised from boxing. exhausted. 

new train line confusion. going away party. broken buzzer. unanswered cell phones. gave up. about to decide which of my apartments to head back to. decide to get a sugar free red bull at the bodega. finally got a call back. return to the party. 

watermelon cocktails. dancing to tribe called quest. monique in polka dots, as usual. 

trek to LES after. dunkin donuts coffee to try and not keel over. todd dj's. jenny and i dance. free drink tickets. crazy fan girls won't leave. 4:30 am rosario's. 

5 am i almost pass out on the train from exhaustion, not alcohol, for the first time ever alone. but it was all worth it. 

-mjm

post script...

"you thought a different day had come

a day you thought the earth was done.

and if you could have said it all,

i know you would have said it all.

i am the rain.

i'm gonna reign this way again." 

hell hath no fury...

this rant was intended for the first day of this month. but i waited.

i am not good at forgiving. or forgetting. letting go. it can take years. or never happen. i'm pretty unpredictable when it comes to this kind of stuff. 

my best friend and i didn't speak for 2 years once. there was a bunch of drama and it's probably better that we took time off from each other. we're closer than ever now. 

i took back an ex. once. despite my gut instinct not to. he found his way back into my life with his killer charm. and the fact that he was the first boyfriend who was actually allowed into my family life. 

he hung out with my mom and talked about sports. (my mom is a sports fanatic. if we didn't vaguely look alike and have the same mannerisms and voice, i'd think that some soap opera switched-at-birth scenario was likely.) he treated my little sister better than his little sister. interviewed my grandma about her life for some psych project on aging. 

he was there when my stepmom died. and as the only non-family member who knew her, he was the go-to. i washed away all my bitterness to have a shoulder to cry on. well, not cry on, because i wasn't really fond of the woman. more like a sounding board to tell me i wasn't a complete bitch...

before long we were back together and more solid than ever. he'd finished college and had a grown-up job. wanted to get a place together. a ring for me. 

both of us had family chaos. that was our undoing. that and the need of two kids under 25 to see what else is out there. 

but we were like two magnets...pulling apart, then pulled back together by a force beyond us. one look across the room at a show where he was with his new "girlfriend", (there to see my friends' band!), and i either wanted to kill him or marry him. 

i ended things finally. in a really bad way, but i couldn't risk seeing him again. that pull would override my instincts. and then i would wake up at 30 or 35 and look over at him, wondering why i let him in all over again after the havoc he created in my pretty simple syracuse life. 

i'm good at that. 

endings. 

walking away. 

shutting off. 

i guess when i finally figure out that the current boyfriend isn't "the one", as bad as i want him to be, as much blood, sweat and tears as i've put into being a couple, at a certain point it just stops. 

any overtures made past that point fall on deaf ears. too little, too late. 

the roller coaster ride of my syracuse ex finally ground to a halt when i exited stage left for new york. (and the dc ex was shocked when i moved back to syracuse a few months after we broke up.) 

i'm making a concerted effort to not leave new york. there are only a few cities left that i know i could live in. my friends here are amazing, even though with conflicting schedules we only see each other the bare minimum.

i love getting lost in this city and not seeing anyone i know for a whole day. exploring. going to another country, but really only being in another neighborhood. 

my sister gets back to ny in a couple weeks. she'll talk some sense into me after being unreachable in the woods in maine all summer. (great timing j!)

i don't want to be back at square one. square three is acceptable. 

for j.t.j. video killed the radio star. thank you. 

post-script...

"this side i show

but which side is me

lost somewhere in between..."

pretty sure i'm showing both sides. for the first time ever. no hiding. 

-mjm

8.8.08

my alarm was set for 8. i forgot that it snoozes for 8 minutes. i awoke from a dreamless sleep at 8:08 and kinda freaked when i realized today's date. 

an end. 

a beginning. 

i haven't been sleeping. but i've been really functional, which is rare. work is going really well, despite a minor major setback on wed. chose to see it as a kick in the ass instead of a door slammed completely shut. 

lack of sleep means i'm super clumsy, klutzy and easily irritated by the most minute things. this morning it was:

1) my sunglasses are "lost" and have been since tuesday-ish. i'm sure in packing i will discover them. 

2) the blinding light of 8:45 am hit my eyes at the same time i discovered my ipod headphones were a jumbled mess. another mess to sort out. it reminds me of the quote in my old email signature...

"he is meanwhile very busy telling me what a mess i've made of my life but i've heard that from every body coast to coast and i don't care generally and i don't care tonight and this is my way of doing things and saying things."-j.k. 

can't wait for 8.9.08. or 8.22.08. i'll even settle for 11.26.08...

-mjm

path of least resistance?

"The path of least resistance describes the physical or metaphorical pathway that provides the least resistance to forward motion by a given object or entity, among a set of alternative paths. the concept is often used to describe why an object or entity takes a given path." -wikipedia (cause i'm lazy like that)

"The Path of Resistance is a band born of tragedy. In the spring of 1996, the members of Earth Crisis had a terrible van accident which left drummer Dennis Merrick unable to play for months. Hungering to continue their message while their bandmate was healing, The Path concept was conceived. While Earth Crisis had many diverse issues on it's plate (sic-ed) and an expanded sound, the members had always wanted to get back to the basics, both fundamentally and musically." -myspace

i have a unique perspective on straight edge, (sxe for those not in the know), as a female and as someone who started out involved in the scene on one level and then transcended to a whole other level of involvement. 

when i started going to shows i was very not straight edge. i mixed my love for loud, aggressive music with my habit of going to parties in h.s. football fields, at SU and random houses. 

my non-school friends were all sxe, hardcore kids, most vegan, but definitely veggie. cookie cutter mentality. tattoos. piercings. champion hoodies. baggy pants. adidas. XL band t's even if you weighed 98 lbs. being "different" but looking the same.

i became straight edge. (maybe not? "if you're not now,  you never were!" right?) after one night of hard drinking. new year's eve. bottle of rum mixed with cola. then just straight after the cola ran out. there was really nothing behind it. i was with maybe 5 drinkers at a sxe house. my guy friends who didn't drink were laughing at me. 

17 years old. senior year of high school. already accepted to colleges. wait listed for my program at cornell. mulling over if i should stay in the safe, warm cocoon of upstate ny or if i should spread my wings and fly down to dc, like i'd always felt a pull to do. change is scary, but i'd already had so much in my short life. i wanted to get the hell of out dodge!

everyone thought i'd do great things. it was hard not to believe them. 

woke up the day after that rum-infused party in 1996 feeling wretched. new years day. that always meant a huge show in syracuse. loud music, thumping bass and drums. lost horizon. my hungover self went and couldn't bare it. i vowed to not drink for the year. my resolution.

accomplished that year plus some. had my first drink after that upon moving back to syracuse, ironically enough, in 2001. syracuse drove me to drink. especially after living in a real city. cinco de mayo. armory square. i got left by my "friends" and had to beg my friend who bounces for a ride home. plus i lost a brand new pair of shoes! 

you have a path set up for you. a pathway among a set of alternatives. 

why did i take the path i did? still baffles me. 

i had no one in dc. (my stepdad's daughter was there. we never hung out once or talked after my college interview. she's also 15 years my elder.) everyone was in syracuse. it would've been so easy for me to stay, take the free tuition at SU, live at home, walk to school, or get a cheapo apt with friends. 

but i always knew i wanted more. 

i emailed some dc people i found somehow online. (messageboards? searching for people who booked shows in dc? no clue.) i still have 2 printed out emails. one from nicole, still part of my inner-sanctum. one from forbes, a friend who i've lost touch with except through myspace-land.

these random emails to strangers became how i found my niche in dc. PC dischord kids when i was used to tattooed tough guys. 

this was supposed to be about syracuse hc. but i don't know if i have it in me today. or any day. i don't want to make close friends mad. they weren't close friends then, but are now. 

digging up the past you are bound to unearth some bad with the good. 

syracuse was pretty violent for awhile. it has a certain reputation. CNN, MTV, after-school specials. the media painting a certain portrait. and i was SO young and very uninvolved, besides attending the shows, that my take on it differs greatly from the members of Earth Crisis or Path...

those people who are my friends. who i've been to weddings with and for. who have my back despite the fact that i like ink and dagger. and grade. and lifetime. despite the fact i drink and eat cheese. and i love them so much more because of those things. (just not when someone starts humming or tapping "firestorm" around me, i kinda hate them for years of that brand of torture... and the nicknames, oh the endless array of nicknames you guys have come up with for me!) 

i will say this. the boxing gloves above are because i just started boxing. to not want to punch a random person on the street in the face. an outlet. i was never as amped up as i am at this point in my life currently. things that were beyond my control, i've just started taking action on. 

being anti-violence in a very aggressive scene is a strange phenomenon. i watched people get in fights routinely, wondering why. 

the only answer i really came up with was power. people who were powerless over something, anything, in their lives. alcoholic parent, strict parents, religious parents, bully as an older brother. or just to fit in with society's standards of what it is to "be a man". 

i used to wish i was a guy. roll out of bed and not have to do your hair, put on makeup, affect a certain charm, not deal with mood swings, pregnancy scares, getting old and losing your looks...

now i'm so so so glad i'm not a guy! living up to your father's expectations. having to come across as "tough". machismo bullshit. i'd rather deal with melting makeup, stockings that rip, uncomfortable shoes and bad hair days any day!

most of my thug friends have calmed way down. for some it took fatherhood, for others it took jail or the threat of it, still others just got older, grew up. there are a few i worry about to this day. some things/people never change...

-mjm 

for dennis. congrats on becoming a dad! you'll be an amazing father. 

post script...you know that scene in "pulp fiction" where uma almost OD's and then gets the shot of adrenaline to the heart? well that's me. right now. going at a million miles an hour. not sleeping, forcing myself to eat. nervous energy. trying to do everything at once that i've neglected lately. 

i've made enough mistakes for this lifetime.

happy thoughts...happy thoughts...

sitting in economics with kyle at 8 or 9 am. worst professor ever. kyle is super ADD. at one point in the lecture it's blah blah blah "let's start today!" kyle starts singing it and i crack up. it becomes a running joke for a bit. then i dropped the class. kyle switched majors. 

the semester before we take a trip to this distro place and kyle buys at G.B. long sleeve shirt. after stealing my friend kate's sxe coca-cola t. he has assorted weird shirts from his 5 minutes of being sxe in prep school in boston. years later he gets a barfight shirt from me, not knowing who or what it is. starts wearing it to black cat and almost gets in a fight one night. i think. 

i met kyle when i was looking for another person, a kyle from syracuse who knew my friend courtney. he was a raver. he also decided to go by his full name, khalil, once we got to GW. 

kate, (my orientation roommate who became my friend based on a bouncing souls t she had on), and i wandered the halls of the freshman dorm on day 2 or 3 of college. everyone's names were on those lame cut-outs that they always put on dorm rooms first semester. 

we make a game out of finding kyle, floor by floor, room by room. we get to maybe the 6th floor and someone's dry erase board has a message signed "kyle" about a shift show that we missed. the writer left his room number. we hightail it over there. 

the kyle i was looking for i'd met before at a rave in syracuse. (laugh it up!) he's indian and gay. we get to said room and the kyle within is a tall, lanky preppy guy. so not my image of a hardcore kid, based on my limited experience. 

he invites us in, despite not being the "right kyle". he's organizing 7"s on his bed. not sure which ones, but very boston-centric. i'm sure piebald, since he was classmates with one of those dudes, converge, chisel, his favorite. kate and i were psyched to find another like-minded soul. no idea how long we hung out or when we met up with him next, but that first meeting is etched in my memory. 

why isn't it so simple these days? 

for k.d.m. rabbit rabbit. 5 days late. 

-mjm

kyle's version/reply:

"ha ha ha...i wish i knew where those coke-a-cola SXE and barfight shirts went. and i was SXE all through high school. i started drinking summer after senior year. i'm a "tall, lanky preppy guy. so not my image of a hardcore kid, based on my limited experience"? i believe the correct expression is/was "emo". no relation to today's emo."-via email 10:12 am, 8.13.08

touche, my friend, touche! 

on phone lines and letterhead.

a voicemail from sunday night. paraphrased...

(my dad) "i talked to your sister. she told me you were moving. to brooklyn. i hope a tree grows there for you. good luck. see you in a couple weeks when i'm down there. i love you. call me back tonight or i'll call you tomorrow."

i just searched for the cover of "a tree grows in brooklyn" but got "the giving tree" as well. a favorite book of mine growing up. my next thing will be searching strand for books i loved during childhood. "where the red fern grows", "a wrinkle in time", "the wish giver", "a separate peace", "the monster at the end of this book". somehow the latter negates the whole list. oh well.

currently living like a college kid, bed surrounded by books, magazines, photo albums. tearing it all down to build it back up stronger. looking for answers in polaroids, old journals, emails printed from a defunct address. finding myself in relics from the past. not that she was ever lost...but it's nice to know i've always had these kinds of thoughts. a continuity of my former selves. progression, not regression. 

5 hours late for this post. i blame the gym, my new friend who's wise beyond her years, bad decision making skills, too much wild ginger. not in that order. 

my ipod seemed haunted on the L train today. i looked up at an ad that read "the whole truth", just as the voice in my earbuds sang "the whole truth...and nothing but the truth". freaked me out. 

later, once again on shuffle, it happened. same song. different train. i look down and the person seated next to where i'm standing is reading the post. same line. "the whole truth". i look down during it at the paper and the headline is "con ed must tell us the whole truth". 

stone cold sober. high on gym endorphins. running on pure adrenaline. can't see any logic in this. and i routinely skip this whole record. 

ipods as intelligent design? i keep using shuffle mode. and i have a few thousand songs. one day, two different times, same song, same signs. too much.

i'm great at compartmentalizing. my friends who are in bands i like are just my friends. the band thing never comes up. i don't let it. there's a disconnect. i can watch and be the same as the 18 year old next to me with no clue. which is odd, since i came up at a time when you could buy a shirt from the singer of the band after their set. 

to know the voice singing to me, to be on the train to meet up with the most important person in his life when this happens. i am all at once so curious for his take on it, (which i know well from many late night conversations about life and love. and it's tattooed on him.), but i know so well that he hates talking about the band unless it's with the band. do i dare? 

on the L to a house of answers. a place of believers. seeking. i hesitate to bring up the train incident. but they know the tip of the iceberg of what i've been dealing with lately. i figure i have nothing to lose except getting laughed at or eyes rolled at me. 

but there was no laughing or rolling. just validation. "it is possible. we've had it happen. who do you think is trying to tell you something? what do you make of the message?" 

great! just what i need right now. a few more things to ponder...

the truth. it sets you free. it is stranger than fiction. 

it is subjective. my truth is not your truth. 

-mjm

"honesty is not synonymous with truth." 

post-script...

"and i came away with a different point of view,

and i think about him, now and then,

every time i try and every time i win"

for that guy who's name is 3 letters away from mine. 

my all-time favorite rebel. 

  

 

 

girlfriend in a coma.

douglas coupland is my favorite author. 

i used to hate morrissey. 

a house on westcott street in the summer of '97. smiths vhs of videos playing in someone's bedroom. i tried to leave the room. was literally pinned down and made to watch. 

i was still at that stage where everything was taken at face value as far as music went. hardcore and punk didn't, to me, have a correlation to this whiny british dude. 

even though i was a fan of the other melancholy brit, the one with the crazy hair. but he hooked me through the pop efforts. "hot hot hot" and "why can't i be you" are still two faves.

wasn't until i lived in maryland, college park to be exact, and heard quicksand's cover of "how soon is now" that i gave them a whirl. bought "greatest hits disc 1". (i am a greatest hits junkie. poverty in college will do that to a person...) 

then i found a vinyl copy of "the queen is dead" in a thrift store down the street from my house. along with a vintage polaroid camera. i lived in a not so great area. to me this was some kind of wonderful find. the camera i still have, the vinyl got thrown out accidentally along with all my other records.

the more i lived, the more i read, the more that moz made sense to me. echoed my own sentiments. "cemetary gates" has a few lines that are eeriely similar to a poem i wrote in high school that got published somewhere. but his are universal themes. life, loss, love, longing... 

after i moved back to syracuse in 2000, i wandered the public library. wishing for the 80's library of my youth, with its gargoyles, rickety ladders and old book smells. the newer library was all slick and modern, not really the type of place to play amongst the pages of history. 

a brightly colored book beckoned me to a low shelf. that's how i stumbled across douglas coupland "girlfriend in a coma". i got the reference, but i didn't really get the reference. his writing hooked me and i devoured everything of his within a couple weeks and waited impatiently for his next book to be released. 

crazy morrissey fan i am not. but crazy doug fan? possibly. i'm not the type to go to functions alone. side effect of being an only child. his book signing, his movie release, both of these i rolled solo. and happily. no one would get the giddiness i felt. no one that i knew anyway. 

douglas and steven. two gay men, my mom's age, who speak to my experience more than any female author i've read. 

wikipedia, on this new information superhighway thingy, isn't too accurate on some things. but i checked out my astrological sign, after never believing in that stuff. 

a coworker did my "star chart" a couple months back and announced i was in "saturn's return". all i knew was that was the title of a no doubt album where she sang a bunch about not being married. and could care less about not being married. i shrugged his saturn's return proclamation off as hippie talk, but then the gears were put in motion. before i knew it i semi-paid attention to my horoscope. and it was usually right. i'll have to check with tina turner to see if she agrees. 

wikipedia says as a sagittarius i'm supposed to be a masculine persona. which explains this punk rock nonsense, i guess...

"if you must write prose and poems, the words you use should be your own." 

everybody rips off someone else, even if it's on a subconscious level. 

-mjm