Dreamed I was a fireman

coffee and a bagel (always stomachache-inducing, but I can't resist) and a few more pages of 253 and now jawbreaker on the stereo and I'm thinking I'll carry this pile of magazines downstairs to the recycling bin, thinking I should carry these bags of clothes to the salvation army, thinking one of these days I should clean the kitchen,

thinking I'm even better at procrastination than I thought.

I haven't been finding that many forgotten treasures in my piles and boxes but yesterday there was one: an unopened box set of the star wars trilogy on video. the originals, not the gussied up ones of a few years ago. it's some sort of anniversary set my dad was (inexplicably) given for christmas a few years ago.

I'm tossing out a lot of videotapes but those I think I'll hang onto.

I told myself to keep myself in line...

I think I'm going to put three jawbreaker albums on shuffle and see how much I get done with that for inspiration.

I think that just might work.

I want to call you and tell you that I'm a fan. all my friends know better but I can't quite hear them. still for the life of me I can't imagine our home. good things are all I want for you. hold me, set me free is all I want from you. it's sad and it's so true. if you can be the life of the party, you'll be the death of everyone.

and the line that I remember singing on the way home from seeing them at irving plaza with jack years ago...

"my stoooopid hair! is soooo '82 - to yooooou!"

(oh my title for this entry just reminded me: asleep on a couch in warren, pa, I dreamed that I couldn't leave warren. me and ruby and a girl I didn't know whose name was lauren and vin diesel were in a car and vin diesel wouldn't give me the keys even though it was my car. so he made me sit in the backseat behind him where there was no leg room, and I was pissed. it was a very strange dream. maybe it had something to do with trying to sleep in the parking lot. I'm not sure, but I am sure there is more to tell about those three days last week. holy shit, how was that a week ago?)

Crushes, crushes, crushes

perhaps it is good that I see sparkly-eyes so rarely, because every time I do my crush intensifies. tonight I managed to finagle it so that I was sitting next to him on the broken futon, sitting too close, sittingalmostalwaystouching, sitting with my arm half-resting along his leg. sitting so that when I turned to him to laugh and banter he was not so very far away. sitting so that when almost everyone else left I could sprawl across the futon nearly still touching him and want so much to put my head in his lap. he might come to brunch tomorrow. he told me I should come over and watch the south park movie sometime. he told me that if we didn't watch the jasmin live movie tonight - which we did - I could come over and get stoned and watch it with him.

I adore his sense of humor and I adore sitting leaning into him as much as I can and being aware that while I am slouched into the futon, his arm is along the back of it behind and above my head.

he joked about coming over tomorrow for a bad mtv show and I just hope he comes to brunch. he told me to call him. I'll buy him brunch if he calls. he knows that when I make snarky remarks about the most recent james bond videogame being created by a different studio than the last one, I know what I'm talking about. and I think he's attractive despite his not being a skinny indierock boy like I usually like.

I want to get to lean into him all the time. and the temptation to email him and tell him so is not going away.

more in the AMs. right now I am very tired. and wistful. and pleased, in a way. I got to tussle with him for the phone and sit too close for a good portion of the evening, and right now that is pretty much all I can ask for. so it makes me smile, thinking of his side against mine.

Like a favor, like a glance

I keep sitting here thinking about how now that we have our internet access restored and I don't have a lot to do, I should write. but then I keep not doing it.

my stomach is tentatively crawling back into normalcy after I mistakenly fed it calamarI at maxwell's last night. my ears, on the other hand, are still stuffed and frustrating, keeping me off-kilter. we stood too close to the left-hand speakers, like I always seem to do, while the posies went through a set of almost every song I could possibly have wanted to hear, cracking jokes, playing bits from random songs between their own songs, breaking strings, and downing tequila shots. ken stringfellow spit about four times a song and told us how he accidentally connected his lip to a fist in chicago the weekend before. jon auer had an oddly charming habit of giggling at ken mid-lyric and then going right back into what he was singing. the bassist and drummer were just there, adequate, but not the point (though it was entertaining to watch ken tell the bassist what to play for the duration of a song he obviously hadn't learned yet).

they played their version of "I am the cosmos" but not of "surrender", but that's ok. they played "suddenly mary" and "any other way" and "grant hart" and so much more. they decided not to go off-stage and went straight into their encore, and when that was over they did leave the stage. "they're not coming back," adam said. "they don't have any strings."

but they did come back, for what began as "flood of sunshine" and devolved into solos on guitars with two strings, noises, screeching, eventually winding back into a closure for the song but then they kept going. when we left they were still at it, probably breaking things, just making noise. a bit silly, yes, but never seeming contrived. they just seemed to feel like keeping on.

and they get extra points for making shirts in girl-size.

I want to go to the show at bowery on saturday, but I have a feeling after the whole day of sirenfest, I should probably assume I'm not going to be up for it - not to mention that I don't want to ditch my potential houseguest for the weekend at coney island and leave her to make her way home alone! [ grin ] ken stringfellow is playing solo at fez on monday and so I will sate my ridiculous posie requirements with that show instead.

aside: my boss just sent his friend into union square park with golf clubs, to "knock a few around". am I missing something? ]

working backwards, sunday was the erase errata, red monkey, panthers, and q + not u show. I liked the first two bands well enough (particularly the girl from red monkey, with her flying ponytail and mid-song jumping jacks) but not so much that I'd run out and see them again or buy their albums. (when adam writes about the show he will undoubtedly have more to say - and more interesting things to say - about them.)

panthers were fantastic, of course, but didn't play long enough, leaving popgirl and I sweaty and happy but disappointed, chaturbat dancing girls in the middle of the crowd hemmed in by stoic bystanders.

we worked our way up farther for q + not u, during whose set even toby was dancing, somewhere behind us where we couldn't see him. handclaps and angles in songs that veer all over the place in their catchiness - popgirl would tell me about a part of a song "that goes like this" and I would say "but what about the one that goes like that?" and we'd be talking about the same song - all making for something so good you can always dance to it. even if you're like me and can't dance.

"D! O! W! N! and that's the way we get down!"

other than that the lyrics make very little sense - avocados? scissors in bed? something about a signal? - but if you're like me and have to sing along you can just make them up as you go. heh.

before the show I'd spent most of my day cleaning and tidying the apartment like a madwoman, until a cut on my thumb forced me to stop being so damn productive.

and saturday night we went to see jump tomorrow. how can you not love a road trip love story with a crazy frenchman basically playing the role of cupid? admittedly it was really neat to see someone I used to know through friends - someone I'd run into on the street or see at gatherings - in a movie, but it's a winner of a film regardless.

saturday day was mostly spent recovering from a housewarming party in fort greene on friday night. a housewarming party full of friends I hadn't seen in too long, set in a dark backyard where I realized at the end of the night I had hardly talked to anyone, largely because I couldn't see where they were. I said hello to the best friend, and little else, and nothing to the swede. I talked to a friend who's finally leaving the job she's had since we graduated, and I'm so glad for her. and her boyfriend, who is a really neat fellow but who, like her, I never see. I said hello to people here and there that I would have liked to talk to more, like the softspoken friend of a friend who I met in london, who told me last time I saw him that I'm "perky." ("perky is for cheerleaders!" was my response.) I talked to my old roommates (someone took a picture of the three of us, but I have no idea where that is now) and old classmates. I got far too amused when I went upstairs to go to the bathroom and ran into the friend whose apartment it was on the way down. "your couch is covered in insound boys, isn't it?" I asked her.

she looked in and started laughing. "all but one!" she answered. she works there, and her coworkers are oddly identifiable.

it was a good night but an odd one. maybe I'm just not used to parties that are that big. once adam and steve turned up, toby and I and the two of them seemed to form a little circle wherein we only talked to each other, until adam and steve and I left for a surprisingly quick subway ride home (my ranting about the ads for some hideous yellow nikes notwithstanding).

I wore my new sneakers to the party. queen b and I had met for lunch and then wandered around broadway, where I got sucked into the transit sneaker sale as I've been eyeballing those shiny pink pumas for months. and now they are mine.

next on my shopping list: the new built to spill album, the gorillaz album, and a sandman collection or two, as I've finally been talked into giving them another shot. the fact that I adored the new neil gaiman novel so much probably had a bit to do with it as well.

also on friday: drinks with busted! if only it had been sunny at our little table at sidewalk, it would have been perfect. and where were you at the q + not u show, lady?

thursday: movies on cable. wild strawberries, the fabulous short the architechture of reassurance, and the good awful gone in sixty seconds. yes, you read that last one right. it was on. it made me giggle. it's about car thieves. and I'll basically watch anything with a heist plot or with angelina jolie or with giovannI ribisi, so I was set. I'd heard it was just plain awful, rather than bad in the good way, but those naysayers were all wrong. it's beautifully awful. and the cars! ye gods, the cars!

best line: "by the time you get out, asshole, there won't even BE cars!"

it was everything I'd been missing with the just plain awful the mummy returns and the not-enough-action, too-sentimental tomb raider.

and wednesday. nick hornby reading at barnes and noble, check. good, but huge and crowded. adam read biographies while I listened to the reading and tried to keep my eyes from wandering to a nearby neil gaiman display. we didn't stick around for the signing since the line was about a million miles long and we were off to see kristin hersh at the knitting factory.

we missed damon & naomi, but that was ok. kristin hersh shows...they're the same, in a way, but with their differences, and the sameness is fine in that they're always beautiful. she does some throwing muses songs (including "pearl", which made me feel like I was in 1995, driving around with sarah and chris wilkey, agreeing only on throwing muses and jawbreaker in the car), some appalaichan (I just butchered the spelling of that) folk songs, and her solo stuff, very little of which I know but any show that ends with "your ghost" is going to stick in my head as spectacular. she tells perfect anecdotes - one about her four year old coming on stage to demand, "play something I can dance to!" at a show earlier in the month - and stares off into space while she's playing, like she only comes to ground to chat conversationally at the audience and is otherwise orbiting somewhere else entirely. I had goosebumps and my head was in swirls. it was perfect.

and there you have my week. now, I am off to find something to eat, if I can think about food without turning my stomach. oh wait. I can't. what the hell am I supposed to have for lunch?

Blame it on the black star

you know that I'm dumbest on tuesdays, right? you know that wine-in-a-box and buffy and my own neuroses make me at my worst? I think I'm clever and funny and self-deprecating in the amusing way but an hour later, I know I'm not. I know I'm just trying to not feel weird and trying this and that and maybe this thing over here but still I just feel dumb and sometimes awkward. and I'm not sure why that is.

nor am I sure why, at almost one on a tuesday, I would rather be playing the legend of zelda: majora's mask AGAIN, rather than sleeping. I was one mask from the end and I started over. I guess I wanted to feel like I had something to accomplish that didn't involve 50,000 words that didn't get written.

I am at my worst on tuesdays, but in ways that I am comfortable. when people don't smile I think they don't like me, and when weird looks float in my general direction I rehash in my mind the last few things I've said and realize just how idiotic they are. I wish some of you talked more, because I fill up space when I feel awkward. I just do. I'm not good at it but some part of my mind thinks I am.

I want to call in sick tomorrow and play zelda all day. I want comedy night tomorrow to be funnier and more fun than it will be. I want to stop counting days.

earlier today I read steve's page, where he made a list of the three things that were "preventing total collapse" and then asked, "what's keeping you together?"

I thought about that all afternoon.

when I feel more dramatic, there are less things. when I feel less dramatic, there are more. right now it's in the middle somewhere, more than two, more than three, less than twenty, I'd say.

I think these things, in no particular order, are on the list:

writing

friends

the weekend

death cab for cutie, the photo album

a certain cd given to me a couple weeks ago that I feel too dorky to name

plans

did I mention friends?

wonderment

movies like amelie

radiohead

concentration

instant messenger

late birthday drinks

anticipation

it's the last one that I like the best. people apply a lot of meanings to anticipation; they think it means only this sort of thing or that sort of moment. for me it is the art of looking forward. there are arts to looking backward and arts to living precisely in the moment - now that is one I need to practice - but the art of looking forward is what I seem to work at the most lately. forward to the weekend, to san francisco and all that comes with. forward to maybe someday having a manuscript to edit at work. forward to not feeling so awkward. forward to moving, or not moving, or knowing what I want.

forward to knowing what I want.

forward to writing, regularly, again.

forward to not thinking I'm a gigantic fraud of a girl.

forward to a week in the northwest.

forward.