oh, you're a lucky son of a gun.

a long time ago...

2010-10-09T19:00:00.002-04:00

my friend bret wrote this. i understand it so completely well these days:

"there's nothing new about us.

sometimes i think about friends had and lost...it's lame...i just sit here and think about why i was friends with somebody, if i was really friends with somebody, why i'm not still friends with somebody, then it dawned on me:

relationships are about learning. taking and giving. we get ourselves into relationships, be they romantic, platonic, et cetera, to learn, to gain knowledge, to realize ourselves, our goals and our lives better. and once that resource is exhausted in somebody we move on and find the next person or set of people to draw from. it sounds shitty and shallow, but it's the truth. i've gone through countless friends over the years, but only a few have really stuck, and those are the ones i'm still learning from, be it about myself, or them, or some material and tangible thing like biology, or physics...these are the ones that last. it doesn't mean the other ones weren't important, because if they weren't important or dear, we wouldn't even think about them.

it just seems like all we can do is accept the fact that we've learned from somebody, we've taken what we can from them...and hopefully, we've in turn given back everything we could.

when the time is right, or when we're needed, or when we need them...they'll come around again.

i guess when it's all said and done we leave when there's nothing new."

so, no longer will i wait and feel hurt. i will accept that nothing ever really lasts. i will live and continue learning. but, i must admit, we had a good run, didn't we?

i cannot bear...

2010-10-03T17:52:00.003-04:00

...to lose another friend to time and distance. i miss my celestial twin.

november meeting.
january chats.
poem exchanges.
depression.
confusion.
support.
admission.
thoughts.
fears.
freedom.
parks.
fireworks.
cloud watching.
jeep top star gazing.
PANCAKES!
being the passenger.
feeling connected.
new dog.
new friends.
distance.
admission.
sadness.
forgiveness.
waiting.

2010-10-02T19:34:00.001-04:00

To boldly ask someone--a friend, a stranger, a lover--to abandon apprehension is a large request, as with time it seems that we grow wary of others and protective of our hearts (as we should).

But I envision us not as victims or causalities of love, but survivors hoping to find peace.

You are not an experiment; you are a beautiful person and I am not careless. If anything, I err on the side of caring too much.

Bzz, bzz, bzz

2010-09-30T15:48:00.000-04:00

goes the fly around the rotting mango
as I push-pin notes into its supple flesh.

One note reads: I planted a tree in honor of our love!

Another: I had a miscarriage.

You will never read these notes
as we lost touch years ago

and I will plant my paper fruit
next to the tree and pray it offers
strength to our shrine; what we lacked
to keep our love alive.

i have so much to say.

2010-09-29T16:53:00.000-04:00

and never know where to begin.

i will begin with a note that i sent to a new friend, regarding communication:

"one of my good friends has an insane conspiracy theorist father who believes the obama initiative is to make everything electric/electronic, from e-books to cars to information to school systems, so that when he is in absolute control of the nation he can pull the plug so that all can be lost.

now, i think he might be nuts, for sure, but part of me thinks, what is wrong with pulling the plug? i mean how was not only our nation but the world founded...on sharing information through story telling and song (this is the most p.g. part of how our nation was founded, you know what the rest was).

in my day-dreaming utopian mind, i think the world sometimes needs to step back and learn how to communicate again, through words, emotions, touch, music, and feeling.

sometimes we rely too heavily on this electronic medium (i mean look at me now! typing away to communicate thought) and forget the people around us as we facebook and text and tweet and blog.

my conundrum is that i love technology, but yearn for intimate exchange with words but find myself so shy. would i even fair well in my utopian dream of real connections? perhaps that is why i am so quiet in general.

___________

this same good friend, the one with the conspiracy theorist father, also tells me that i hide so much of myself from everyone. and he is right. and here i am wanting friendship and love, but i am so guarded. how could anyone properly love me, or i them?

i want all of you to know i am taking risks, starting with honesty. and i can tell you that it is so freeing, albeit heartbreaking too.

i'm not sure i will get everything out of life that i want right now, but i am not going to give up hope that someday it will happen.

_________

on a side note, i want to share some poems, but i am unsure how blogger or i should take responsibility for copyrights.

jacob (memory list).

2009-03-29T17:24:00.001-04:00

fourteen, fifteen?
hallway, locker.
hair in face, quiet.
parent's room, moment.
walk home.
north kingsboro love.
kingsboro kidding.
over.
chris, (not) cousins.
betrayal, hate.
drive-by "cunt" and cruelty.
josh.
helena.
danny and a mother.
porch moment.
time.
mental letters.
grandfather's anniversary, harold's.
the caboose, sean, linda, and adam.
upstairs, band.
denny, jacob.
chris and girlfriend.
awkward.
mental letters.
six months.
relationship breakdown.
google.
antebellum, myspace.
ratorum, friends.
message (from)!
christmas break, nothing.
january sorrys and spark.
february visit.
end and beginning.
happy.
mental letters, real.
move in june.
house.
new addition (hootch)!
three years, now.

new york menagerie (ongoing memory list).

2009-03-29T17:08:00.000-04:00

will and deva.
mona's for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
freedom on second avenue.
two feet from the ceiling loft.
alone, enjoyment.
georgia peach, target.
croxley's.
black out.
sugar free ben and jerry's pints.
adem.
diva.
guya.
nadj.
model approach.
body issues.
alcohol.
bridge and tunnel, europeans, crackheads.
morning park beers.
alejandro merona, la strega.
paul.
eric.
lauren(s).
lucky strike.
vodka crawl.
bret.
sparks.
court.
danny.
diva sleepover.
paul, crackhead.
richie.
dead cat.
not enough makeup boss.
queen designer.
teaching.
nikki.
adam.
brooklyn.

you know (memory list).

2009-03-29T17:01:00.000-04:00

lipstick and cigarettes.
mona's.
broken (down) car.
passerby.
secret sleepovers.
bus to new jersey.
brother.
pad thai.
over.
random calls.
assassination tango.
benches in tompkins square park.
painting.
macadamia nuts.
battle of algiers.
pizza.
drunk dial.
walk in the west village.
six years?

2009-03-26T20:53:00.001-04:00

i have joined the mm (i will explain this acronym in due time) but i feel like i am unraveling. so, i have turned to writing syllabic poetry. at least i can have control of line structure when everything else feels like it is falling apart.

on a plus minus scale (this made me think of the nickelodeon show pinwheel) this is where my life is at right now:

+ "where the wild things are"
+ "examined life"
+ the mysterious benedict society
+ the low anthem
+ rule of the bone
+ not giving in to bacon urges

- excessive sxsw blogging
- my after lunch dude crew
- rule of the bone (see above)
- bacon urges

Bad Blogger, Go To Your Room.

2009-03-22T16:20:00.000-04:00

I haven't been blogging much and I should be--my head swirls with ideas. Ideas that need to be planted. Ideas that need to bloom.

I'm working on a memoir assignment that I gave my Seniors. Currently I'm reflecting on age twelve and my first real boyfriend [Sean Rector doesn't count--but that is a story I'd like to visit sometime soon, considering he was the first boy I called. And get this--I disguised my fifth grade voice to sound like an Eric instead of an Erica when his mom picked up the phone, ha!]: O.J. Anderson.

I'm a really terrible dancer, did you know this? And, I'm feeling pretty good at the moment, did you know this?

The Great Stuffed-Animal Play Land in the Sky.

2009-03-15T14:18:00.000-04:00

At some point in my early childhood, I acquired a small, stuffed, brown owl. Bernardo. I wish I could remember how he got the name that evokes an elderly, cigar-smoking foreigner with a terrible thick black mustache, but somehow this is what he became: Bernardo. He was the quintessential childhood icon; the toy that went everywhere with me—-from the potty to bottle lunches. Milk-soaked and stinky, he was my friend.

At fourteen, I met Justin. When we broke up after a year, I remember confessing to my mother, whom I never confided in, that I loved him. In hindsight, I view this is as an adolescent conviction that wasn’t really true—-that it wasn’t really love, but the idea of love (something that I wanted to really believe in). In this amorous mania, I gave Justin my beloved Bernardo. At the age of fourteen, the act of giving Bernardo to Justin was like exchanging vows; it was a serious act. What makes it a big deal is not the symbolism it once represented, but what it represents now: the actual loss of something that I miss.

I sometimes think about writing Justin. I’ve constructed at least a half a dozen mental letters. But none of these thoughts have made it to paper until now. How would someone react to letter about wanting a childhood toy? For all I know, Bernardo probably doesn’t exist anymore—-perhaps he is in the great stuffed-animal play land in the sky.

But part of me thinks maybe Bernardo is still “alive” stuffed away somewhere (or perhaps proudly displayed) in Justin’s place of dwelling. And this idea keeps me thinking, constantly constructing those mental letters. The idea of Bernardo being somewhere, someplace tangible, and that he is somehow within my reach, makes me want to make those mental letters real.

It's All Over Now, Baby Blue.

2009-02-17T09:31:00.000-05:00

It took me more than an hour to write a short note to one of my most favorite professors. Writing him filled me with deep sorrow and I know why.

It has nothing to do with him judging my life, the disappointment he may have in my professional choices, or my semantics.

It has everything to do with my professional life that I am unhappy with.

During this winter recess from teaching I have found myself thinking about my non-actions. I’ve come to realize that I have lost sight of the things I really love. All the luxuries of this life that I can now afford come from the stability that the teaching profession offers. But, after five years of this profession I feel I have already hit that disillusionment phase many times over; I am not spiritually satisfied with my job.

I’m at a turning point in my life. The potential to lose my job has everything to do with the states’ economic instability and what my school can afford. So I’m seriously entertaining the idea of selling our house and moving back the city.

Perhaps it isn’t even entertaining, perhaps it is romanticizing.

Is there a difference between regret and non-action? Did I not want it bad enough? And, is it really over because I am approaching thirty?

I couldn’t stay in the game because I am a too self-conscious. I have made too many excuses: I can’t handle the aesthetics of it all, I’m not tall or thin enough, these dark circles under my eyes are permanent, I slouch too much, I’m old.

I’m full of excuses and non-actions.

I have fully convinced myself that I am happy with this life--a house, a generous lover, two canine children, two degrees, a supportive family, a stable income with health insurance. These are the things we are measured by. And if I was happy with my professional choices I would be happy with these accomplishments too.

if we move.

2009-02-16T09:06:00.000-05:00

if we move i will miss the washer and dryer and dishwasher.
if we move i will miss having two bathrooms.
if we move i will miss the yard.
if we move i will miss having two floors.
if we move i will miss the garage.
if we move i will miss the snow blower and the lawn mower.
if we move i will miss wings at doc's remedy inn.
if we move i will miss my mother and my brother and payton and ron.
if we move i will miss the space for all our furniture and decor.

on being a shitty friend.

2009-02-08T11:56:00.000-05:00

I’m a glorified Internerd—I can list off my credentials and show you my nerd badge if need be, but perhaps this is a different tale altogether. The most recent social-networking endeavor that my non-Internerd friends and acquaintances (and students and enemies) have discovered is Facebook. I have recently confirmed friendship with the wife of my former childhood friend Ben. I meticulously study her profile for family-related status updates and pictures and wonder, more often than not, how I became such a stranger in his life. I often think I am to blame; that I have held some unconscious resentment against him, or perhaps against the absolutes of time and distance.

When I look at her page it is hard not to be flung into the time-warp of my life. I remember holding his hand at our pre-school graduation; sitting on my back porch and telling him to “fuck off” in the angry tone of teenage angst when he told me to mind my own business when it came to his family; the honor and embarrassment that came with being his best man.

Our friendship was forced through infancy by both of our mothers, who happened to be best friends as well. When I hear his name, when someone asks me how he is doing (and I shrug), when I see high school yearbook photos and candid shots packed away neatly in my navy blue chest I think of playground play dates, my first grade valentine, his ridiculously large ears that seemed to expand during our pre-pubescent middle school years, our Senior dance…

I tend to lose friends due to time and distance, or perhaps I place blame on these absolutes and when really the blame should fall on my own actions (or non-actions), and this was our fate. Our friendship weakened after high school, rekindled only briefly by his wedding. I haven’t spoken to Ben in almost two years. The last time I spent any quality amount of time with him was four years ago (at a restaurant in Harlem). And those times that I remember so well, are just memories that I revisit when I’m feeling sentimentally nostalgic, which seems to be all the time recently (thank you, Internet).

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just a poor friend, as this trend with Ben didn’t stop with our friendship. The fate of time and distance has disrupted other bonds that I once thought unbreakable: Katy, Natasha, Nicole; the few, the four, who at one point knew me better than myself.

a surgeon with an iron hand, a medieval castle, animals against humans, foot prints.

2009-01-13T17:56:00.000-05:00

here is the start to my ridiculous story that contains the four elements from the create-a-short-story-from-a-chart handout and assignment that my tenth graders and i are working on. this will become a podcast eventually (and a better piece of writing one day):

“Doctor’s Downfall”

Here is the story of Doctor Knight’s downfall.

In the heart of Winchester, England, a hard-working heart surgeon passed his time with his life’s pleasure: giving life to those whose heart can’t handle the weighty woes of the world. But, what was unique about this doctor, aside from his own large heart and dedication to practice (but, aren’t all doctors like this?) was that he lost his hand in The Crusades.

At first an ironic tragedy for the young aspiring surgeon, this devastation bloomed into blessing! How sanitary! How sterile! How mechanical and exact, not fumbling like the flaws that beleaguer simple humans. This anomaly made him famous—the famous Doctor Knight, head heart surgeon at Winchester’s Hospital of St. Cross...

overwhelmed.

2009-01-12T18:23:00.000-05:00

i'm feeling it. you know, it. i almost didn't go to work. and when i was at work all i thought about was home. i did come home to a smiling face, a clean house, pizza, and two happy puppies. it made the feeling subside for a while.

i've been avoiding zoloft since being offered the prescription by a doctor i had seen last spring. i told him that i suffer from what i believe to be social anxiety, to which he agreed and wrote the script.

upon a recent visit for an annual physical, another doctor offered up zoloft to help with all those socially suffocating feelings, excessive sweating, and (believe it or not) poor circulation issues i've been dealing with (even before the blood clot). he said it could also help with the hyperventilation and panic attacks i have after i stop breathing.

yes. i stop breathing (when i'm awake). but, we are not sure why.

but, i'm not sure how i feel about zoloft. something about being medicated bothers me more than all the ailments listed above.

high school journalism assignment.

2009-01-10T16:37:00.000-05:00

i am in my fifth year of teaching high school english. for the last two and a half years i have been working in an alternative education program at a public school in upstate new york.

people have no concept of what alternative education is. most people just think it is another, perhaps politically correct, name for special education. well, it is not (although some students have individualized education programs or a five o'four plan--but, really a lot of kids do, even in general education classes).

so what is alternative education? well, it is different for every school. the program i work in consists of students who have been disillusioned by their home school experience because they have social issues, or discipline issues, or truancy issues, or academic issues, or have blue hair, or are gay, or enjoy celine dion and have been shunned by all of their peers. in any case, they were not finding success within the structure of their home school. so they come to us, because they don't want to drop out or sit for a general education diploma; they still want a high school experience, but on a smaller scale.

some of my classes contain three students. some fifteen. all the students spend part of their school day in the alternative education program, and spend the other half in a career and technical class (i.e. international virtual business, computer networking, fashion, et cetera).

for the most part, all of my students like the program. they even like me (even though i am beyond this: i don't care if they like me, as long as they respect me). the one thing they all have in common: they dislike work, homework and or in-class work.

as a general rule, i try to do all the assignments i give my students. if i end up hating the assignment, i change it and or never do it again. so i try to make my assignments relevant and as exciting as i can make english assignments for those that hate the subject (which is about ninety percent of my students--although, i must say, they do all the assignments i ask of them, and usually do so without complaining, unless of course, the assignment really sucks, i.e. regents preparatory work).

for my journalism class i had them set up a blog (not linked to this one). the following is first assignment that i gave them, which i did as well:

who am I?

five things that define who am i am are as follows:

food.
writing.
my father.
coffee.
music.

well, the first is pretty obvious, if i'm not working or sleeping, i'm stuffing my face with various food prodcuts. mostly cheese and chocolate. i eat the most ridiculously large breakfast every morning before work and on the weekends--mostly because i don't eat at work (they serve lunch at 10:30 and really, the only appropriate foods to eat at 10:30 in the morning is BREAKFAST). when i get home from work i gorge on dishes almost every hour (until seven, when i usually pass out in a food related coma) that must, MUST, include cheese. usually a quesadilla. or a cheese sandwich. or nachos.

writing. i like writing, although i don't fancy that i'm actually good at it anymore.

as far as my father is concerned, i lost him almost thirteen year ago to cancer. i still think of him everyday, as i am filled with constant reminders that trigger some sort of paternal nostalgia.

coffee. nuff' said. what teachers don't drink coffee? if they don't, then they cannot call themselves an educator. it is a standard in the profession to have horrible coffee breath for students to remember (and cringe in the thought) for the rest of their lives.

if you don't like music, then you are not a human. cat power. jose gonzalez. bon iver. tom waits. the hold steady. radiohead. bob dylan. life of agony.

anit-hygiene. and writing.

2009-01-07T15:02:00.000-05:00

i tend to be anti-hygiene on snow days. or days off. or during vacations. during the summer months. and in general, when i can get away with it without people noticing my pungent body odor and bitter breath. i really hate showering and brushing my teeth. well, mostly brushing my teeth. in fact, i'm surprised i have any teeth. i recently had my first trip to the dentist this past summer (it had been eight years since my last visit) and to my own disbelief, but teeth were (are) in remarkable shape.

and this isn't a new lazy development in my life. i can remember vividly, not showering for one week during the summer before my junior year. i enjoyed it thoroughly, even though it look like my hair was full of vaseline and vegetable oil.

so why am i blogging about hygiene? well, i had a snow day today and i'm finding myself very thinky and very writey, sprinkled with a hint of boredom (which has already lead to a few meals in the short span of time that i have been a wake: three meals in five hours time, but i'd rather be bored--and hungry--than stressed and starving at work). and if i didn't have to get blood work done this morning (i stop breathing occasionally) i would have preferred to have avoided the washroom altogether. i was very tempted to bring my odor and all its glory to the bloodletting facility down the block, but embarrassment and shame took hold of the rational corner of my brain and i succumbed to evils of hygiene.

on a different note all together, i would like to participate in the new york state summer writers institute (http://cms.skidmore.edu/odsp/programs/arts/writers/index.cfm) this summer. i'm hoping the school i work for will foot the bill.

twenty.

2009-01-04T16:53:00.000-05:00

i'm beginning to hate family functions, but she makes it worth it.

nineteen.

2009-01-04T16:29:00.000-05:00

Friday, January 2, 2009

oh, time.

it goes by so fast.

by summer 2009, i would like to sell the house and move back to brooklyn with jacob and the dogs. i'd like to find a new teaching job, while jacob settles into school. aside from family, upstate isn't all that it is cracked up to be. i mean, i am settled, but almost too settled. sedentary settled.

eighteen.

2009-01-04T16:26:00.001-05:00

December 9, 2008 - Tuesday

logging thoughts.

I bought Ponaris Nasal Emoillent today, and it was like dropping liquid pine into my nose. I cannot wash away that slick oily feeling that has built up in the back of my tongue.
_______________________

As an English teacher I love words. But words have power. And some powerful words that I hate (when used in a negative way) are as follows: fag, dyke, gay, nigger, bitch, fat, and retard.

And maybe some people use these words in a way that empower, but I am not one hundred percent for the appropriation of words, even though people believe they are turning a “negative into a positive.” These words are (still) hurtful and base.
______________________

I’m even a bad mother to my own dogs.
_______________________

I need a nap.
______________________

Sometimes I don’t feel complete. What is missing?
_______________________

Insane Clown Posse. What the fuck. So bad.

December 8, 2008 - Monday

this is my blog...

for the writing challenge i have been given. some blogs items will be public, and others will be for my preferred list, and sometimes for myself.

6:00AM- i woke up thing about how i really don't have my own spaghetti recipe, and i'd love an easy one to modify and call my own. my mother has what i consider a really complicated recipe (perhaps the process is too long for my sometimes impatient self), which i have never even attempted to make. i eat sauce almost everyday, and it is always from a jar.

7:00AM - (recording) how am i going to write my thoughts down and drive at the same time? seven o'clock hits when i'm about halfway through my commute. and driving and writing don't mix. so i have a recording mechanism on my phone, so i'm going to utilize this application in the moments that writing can be unsafe.

8:00AM - i should be the poster child for vera wang. i would be her best marketing tool as i am wearing vera wang earrings, pants, and blouse.

9:00AM - miserably hungry, it is ridiculous! i didn't eat breakfast today. and i forgot to pack a lunch and snack. and the cinnamon pop tart i purchased from the vending machine i call 'el diablo' has made me even more hungry.

10:00AM - lunch, lunch, lunch. even though i don't have anything to eat, i welcome the break with a hot cup of coffee. i sort of dread lunch at the same time, because it is followed by my third period. and third period is the tenth grade. and tenth graders are ridiculous. i can feel an anxious knot growing in my stomach.

11:00AM - cyanide and happiness cartoons blow. and i'm wondering if it is because i'm old and my sense of humor is just different (or perhaps i am old AND crotchety). i love 'the perry bible fellowship' cartoons (http://www.pbfcomics.com/) and 'toothpaste for dinner'(http://www.toothpastefordinner.com/) but my students are not interested in my brand of online cartoon humor.

12:00PM - fun. third period is sometimes fun (even when they are bad). i should write a book on classroom management class. three rules: no throwing things, no touching, no running around. picture these commands on repeat. but no one listens. they are bad. but, they need to be goofy. perhaps i am guilty of being too flexible, too nice? they need to be goofy sometimes, right? pencil thrown: so what was their punishment? dance out the macarena! and they did without telling me to fuck off. every time they get in trouble, they are going to have to dance!

1:00PM - oh shit. progress reports (are due to tomorrow).

**note: i started working on them as soon as i wrote this down. which is good, because i forever procrastinate when it comes to grading. i'm a lousy teacher.

2:00 - (recording) there is this point in the mohawk river that seems so low. it is a point i can see from I890 in the scotia area. it is so low, i can see long arms of rock from each bank stretching out to reach each other, but they never connect, separated by a few yards (how big is a yard? i don't even know how to gauge it, except from the mental football field map in my head). if i walked down the river's bank, could i walk across the mohawk without drowning, without the water covering my head? how deep is the mohawk at its deepest point? how shallow is the river at its most shallow point? wikipedia? but, doesn't it always change with erosion?

3:00 - consumed with the writing challenge. this challenge is good for me. i complain about how all my thoughts are stuck in my head, and i want to be a writer! in my head, now on paper. the recording device will help me. progress report ugh. and, so hungry.

4:00PM - sitting, typing, listening, full. thinking of the work i have to do.

5:00PM - my toes are so cold, even wrapped up in tights and socks. i know they are purple.

6:00PM - tyler pooped on the floor and ate it. i smelled her poopy breath and wanted to cry. grading is awful. i'm glad i'm not in high school.

7:00PM - grandma is missing jeopardy and her bed time is fast approaching. when will the work end?

8:00PM - tired.

__________________________

food and drink and worst knock-knock joke ever!

kashi crunch!
coffee!
cranberry juice!
hummus and triscuits!
water!
pizza!
milk!
eggplant parmesan and angel hair!
white hot chocolate!

i wish i had some of that whipped chocolate cheesecake left! i'm hungry again.

knock, knock!

who is there?

oswald!

oswald who?!

OSWALD MY GUM!

bada dada doo-cha!
__________________________

for tracey.
Current mood: nostalgic

thank you for being a motivator and a new good friend.

okay, on the way home from a pretty dang good dinner at romano's (and a liquid refreshment break at dunkin donuts--i highly recommend the white hot chocolate, it is fabulous and will make you feel like a kid again) i heard bruce springsteen's cheesy new single "working on a dream" on wext 97.7. as cheesy as it is, i will always have a special place in my heart for bruce. he reminds me of being sixteen, sitting on my filthy pink carpet in my bedroom playing all of my dad's bootleg "bruce springsteen live in concert" cassette tapes. i would sit in my room and listen and cry.

there is just something about bruce's words that echo true in my own heart:

Out here the nights are long, the days are lonely
I think of you and I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream

Now the cards I've drawn's a rough hand, darling
I straighten my back and I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream

I'm working on a dream
Though sometimes it feels so far away
I'm working on a dream
I know it will be mine someday

Rain pourin' down, I swing my hammer
My hands are rough from working on a dream
From working on a dream

I'm working on a dream
Though trouble can feel like it's here to stay
I'm working on a dream
Our love will chase the trouble away

I'm working on a dream
Though it can feel so far away
I'm working on a dream
And our love will make it real someday

The sunrise come, I climb the ladder
The new day breaks and I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream
I'm working on a dream

I'm working on a dream
Though it can feel so far away
I'm working on a dream
And our love will make it real someday
I'm working on a dream
Though it can feel so far away
I'm working on a dream
And our love will make it real someday

December 7, 2008 - Sunday

this is not my real blog (regarding my myspace blog).

but sometimes i'll post things here that i would like to share with everyone. if you are interested in my real blogs, i'll share them with you if you are lucky!

<3,

me

seventeen.

2009-01-04T16:25:00.001-05:00

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

blah.

these lyrics remind me of my previous shitacular relationship that sucked more than two years out of my life:

"she stands with a well intentioned man/but she can't relax with his hands on the small of her back."

and maybe he would have loved me more, but i certainly didn't love him back.

and on the topic of time traveling in memory, i've been thinking fondly of my friend nikki, how i miss her, and how i (and her) struggle to develop relationships with women. it seems like i have been bitching, complaining (and to some, whining) about how i have no friends. this isn't really entirely true, as i have many lovely acquaintances--but what is lacking in my life is a best friend (sorry mom, sorry jacob). i feel the strong need to have another young female in my life--a female that can binge eat sushi with me, watch really awful movies with in pajamas, talk about politics and the hills with.

nikki was my santasend in the city. she was my co-worker slash work buddy, who became a very important person in my life. she rescued me from my failing relationship and even offered up her apartment to tyler and i. i lived, worked, and hung out with her almost everyday. and then when i moved, i felt a loss--a loss i am still feeling today.

if i cannot find a girlfriend, i would welcome a gay male companion too.

sixteen.

2009-01-04T16:24:00.000-05:00

Monday, August 11, 2008

bikes!

i had my wonderful vintage red peugeot serviced at plaine and sons and i want to ride bikes. why does it have to be so dreadfully dreary?

on another note, i bought this domain slash blog to brush up on my creative writing and create an archive of older fiction and non-fiction. but, i have been neglecting it because of jacob's week-long lay-offs slash "vacations" and my newest endeavor: http://stores.ebay.com/Lucky-Son-of-a-Guns-Closet

fifteen.

2009-01-04T16:23:00.000-05:00

Monday, July 7, 2008

on wanting convenience.

i want things fast. i want things with no hassle. i don't want to speak. so, i shop online. i e-mail instead of send letters. i text instead of call. so when i want stamps with no social interaction, i go to the post office and buy stamps out of machine.

so i ventured out today to the local post office to buy stamps, and alas, the post office stamp machine was no longer vending booklets, indefinitely and perhaps forever. wtf. now, this completely negates the existence i want to have. who really wants to stand in line, fifteen deep with people who feel it necessary to talk to me because it is the "friendly, small-town thing to do"? you know what it really is? hell. i equate my personal experiences with these open gestures of "friendliness" to bloodletting.

in the words of salinger, why is this town so archaic and "assbackwards"?
________________________

dog walking.

I'm a responsible, caring person (and teacher with the summer off!) who has owned dogs for most of her life (presently, two Boxers). If you live in Gloversville or the surrounding area, I can provide you with a reliable dog walking service at a very reasonable rate. I do both regular scheduled bookings and an as-and-when-you-need-it service. My availability for the summer months is very flexible, but please note that it will change slightly when the school year starts.

I love animals and will treat your best friend like he or she is my own. Unlike many dog walkers, I won't walk him or her with other dogs unless you specifically request it. I'll ensure that he or she has fresh water on every walk. I can also leave you progress notes at no extra charge.

Because I work for myself and don't have the same overheads as a large company, I can offer a very competitive rate - $10 for 30 minutes of one-on-one care. Add $5 for each additional dog from the same household you would like walked at the same time if applicable. I'll never pack walk your pet with dogs he or she doesn't know.

A regular routine of fun, stimulating walks will ensure that your dog remains healthy and happy. It may also have a positive effect on your relationship with your dog, since adequate exercise may help to improve certain types of behavioral problems. Hyperactivity, destructiveness and house training issues are some examples of problems which may be alleviated through increased exercise and stimulation.

Please e-mail me at erica_the_dog_walker@yahoo.com to arrange a free, no obligation consultation to discuss your dog's needs and take him or her on a free trial walk.

Regards,

Erica

fourteen.

2009-01-04T16:22:00.000-05:00

Sunday, July 6, 2008

born again blogger, not so much.

well, this is not my first blog entry--between livejournal and myspace i feel like i have a split- journal personality.

but in all reality, this blog site will host a few different things--my new ebay endeavors, my writings (fictional and not so fictional), and pictures (of course!).

so welcome, and be supportive as i fumble through all of this.

<3,

erica

thirteen.

2009-01-04T16:20:00.000-05:00

Sunday, April 13, 2008
An old poem.

I.

Today in the bathroom mirror I traced
the outlines of your furrowed visage and (my bleared eyes
brought us back to the living room on Three Kingsboro Avenue:
I, stoned, in that burlap chair.
You, still, on the couch)
the scar that would have been
if your neck had healed.

II.

Today felt like autumn.
Nose ruddy from north winds blowing through Avenue C:
I thought of those silly incantations in October afternoons,
urging drafts to emulsify—vivify
your relics.

III.

Today I read Walt Whitman, in honor of you.
Ruminations of his springs as my falls.
His lilacs, my begonias and grub bugs.
Graybeard's empyrean sky, my garden
where three-quarters of your ashes lie.

[October 2nd, 2003 Notation]

This October marks the beginning of the eighth stanza of my changed life. I am sure I will not 'cease my song for thee' as long as memory persists.

_________________________________________
Erica L. Dow 2003 5:29 AM

Friday, April 11, 2008
in loco parentis.

a colleague of mine has had a pretty rocky year. most are unsympathetic, and by far, the students are the ones who are the most ruthless. why is it, that we as teachers, can be so accommodating and forgiving of all of our students' problems and attitudes, but when we have a "bad" day we are no longer categorized as humans, but as monsters?

how is it that a student can yell at me for something that they did wrong, and not understand the legitimate consequences of his or her own poorly deliberated (and often unhealthy) decisions? why is that my seniors (my favorites), the most mature, the ones closest to plunging into the real world of it all, can be so hurtful?

Monday, April 07, 2008
a funeral.

recently, i read a blog by a talented individual about her experience disposing the artistic extensions of who she was, to embrace the person she is today. her blog made me think about what part of the old me I have been holding on to, even in the latter part of this new decade of age. i thought about whether or not i would have the cojones to rid myself of the only artistic expression that i was once (and maybe still am?) good at, but i’ve come to realize that i could never part with any of my writings, as much of it deals with my own grief regarding my dead father.

i’ve been thinking long and hard about what it is that i would like to bury, in hopes that a new me can grow from the dead weight of the old me. i decided that i would like to bury my silence and submissive attitude.

it has been far too easy for me to be quiet for all these years, silent in my own company, and painfully so in the presence of others. it is far to easy to say nothing even when i do have something to say. and,i do have something to say; i always have something to say. so today i will bury this part of the old me and embrace what it is that is now a part of the new me.

i want to thank this person (and her blog) for sharing her own experience and insight, as it has greatly helped me in discovering that we are all works in progress and that sometimes it is okay to just let go.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008
new goal:

honesty, remix:

i will forever remain misunderstood if i allow my voice to be muted for the sake of other peoples' voiced opinions and or feelings. i will never be heard (or read, in this case), if i let my words fall to the knotted pit of my anxious stomach, only to be digested internally with the occasional flare up of heartacheburn. further, my new goal is not intended for the sole purpose of stirring shit up, or to exercise my right to be a bitch. its purpose is to get everything inside of me, out.

Monday, March 24, 2008
an unhealthy relationship with a blog.

my not-so-secret obsession is lurking profiles and reading blogs. this has been a voyeuristic habit of mine since the early days of livejournal. i don’t know what it is about blogs, but i’m hooked beyond a normal degree. i think i enjoy gaining insight to other’s lives, not to fulfill some empty space of dissatisfaction in my own, but perhaps to gauge my day to day experiences and emotions against another’s and, in totality, gauge my own sanity, or the times there is a lack thereof.

i’m obsessed with a local blogger whose life is an absolute fucking train wreck, and i cannot, for the life me, stop reading this person’s blog (and this person is not a "friend" in the myspace sense of the word, or even in the in-real-life sense of the word). i dislike this person with many fibers of my being, so why is it that i am glued to his or her blog? do i enjoy watching his or her plagued life unfold before my eyes? no, because it is beyond anti-climatic. do i wish ill will on he or she? no, because he or she has enough of his or her own to deal with. does this person make me feel secure within my own sanity? a little. i’ll tell you why i’m hooked: i’ve never been witness to such a disaster of a person in my entire life (textually and literally). never have i had such an experience to meet and read about a person who has so little regard for other people--his or her behavior is despicable, dehumanizing, and shamefully ostentatious.

what angers me the most is that the limits of this person’s lack of tact go well beyond personal interactions on a day to day basis--it is broadcast through online social networking sites. and i may be a hypocrite, as i stand a lesson or two in keeping private matters private, but i pride my self in being honest, careful, and somewhat cryptic in my textual deliveries of my somewhat suppressed emotional states.

this person’s blog perpetuates the severe dislike i already had for this person, so why do i willingly and faithfully read this blog on a day to day basis? because it reinforces not only what is wrong with this world, but makes me appreciate all the rights.

Monday, February 25, 2008
i don’t fit in.

and i probably never will. i know this. and, i am perfectly okay with this.

Monday, January 28, 2008
winter thaw.

a few things, which i would like to type out for my future self's sake:

one. i love the warmth and smell of my dingy dog so much it makes my heart melt.

two. i wrote a poem last week, whilst the students were taking part two of the english regents examination.

three. i hate my job.

four. i'm going to attempt writing a book. it will most likely turn out to be a novella. it has everything to do with item number three, but it will be partially fictionalized.

five. scary mansion sounds like cat power. and cat power's new album sucks.

six. i hate your fucking surveys, so stop, please.

seven. i like to make lists.

Sunday, December 02, 2007
Sometimes I question my profession...
Current mood: calm.
Currently listening : I’m Sorry That Sometimes I’m Mean
By: Kimya Dawson
Release date: 02 December, 2003

..and what i love.

When I grow up I'd like to be a(n):

Radio jockey.
Veterinarian.
Writer.
Cosmetologist.
Social worker.
Massage therapist.
Actor (again).

As for hobbies, I'd like to:

Volunteer for a local pet rescue.
Be a seller on Ebay.
Learn to play guitar from Jacob.
Construct a four square team or kickball team (high school coach).
Knit.

Monday, October 15, 2007
if you’re racist... that scares me.

if you're sexist, xenophobic, and or homophobic, that scares me too.

scares me into being angry at you. and, not liking you. don't be an idiot.

just sayin'.

Friday, October 12, 2007
black francis and the christmas tree shop.

what the hell happened to black francis? captain pasty is THE WORST song ever.

and, i think the christmas tree shop should be burnt down. ALL of them.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007
a deer, i hit.

i was very prepared for a long and eventful day. i woke up at ten of five this morning. i coffee'd, i showered, i packed for the gym, i packed for parent-teacher night. i left at around 6:30 this morning. i and my automobile traveled down state street, through the light that intersects 30A. i drove past hussman, and i drove past the forrester's club. and i almost made it to the sign that denotes the change of speed limit from forty miles per hour to fifty-five miles per hour. but, i did not make it, which could have been my saving grace.

a pack of my favorite large-sized furry friends--a mother, a father, and child--traveled across the paved way through the agragian panorama of mayfield. i did not hit the brakes hard, as the road was slick from a damp night. but in this instance brakes would not have stopped me from hitting the stalwart hind-end of one of the deers. all i saw, in my periphery, was the deer flip, as the other two ran off to the sanctity of the woods.

i just remember shaking uncontrollably, but i was not hurt (thankfully).

this experience made me think about why people hunt. it seems so foolish. i feared that the deer i hit would die (a driver of the local transportation system of gloversville, who witnessed the entire scene told me the hit deer ran off). i felt an overwhelming sensation of grief thinking about the more-than-likely-fatally-injured animal and thought: why would anyone purposely kill for sport? it seems so asinine and cruel.

this entry was sort of tangential. for those of you that are worried about me, i'm fine, though my nerves are shot.

Saturday, September 22, 2007
Hulk Hogan and Bruce Springsteen.
Current mood: tired
Category: Life
Currently listening : Zeitgeist
By: Smashing Pumpkins
Release date: 10 July, 2007

i feel horribly guilty even admitting that when i was much, much younger i yearned for a famous dad. my famous dream dads were: hulk hogan and bruce springsteen. hulk hogan, back in the day seemed so outrageous, yet down to earth. i have recently divorced my dream of having hogan as a dad--his show "hogan knows best" dashed my childhood dreams; he has has become too hollywood and oily (and tan!) and extremely outrageous, to a sickening degree.

bruce, on the other hand, is still unbelievably amazing.

but, neither can compare to the father i lost over twelve years ago.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Working.

Well, I went to work on Monday and promised myself I would return Tuesday and Wednesday. I broke my promise to myself. And here I sit wishing I went in. What prevented me? Sound sleep with dreams of neck biting zombies, sexing snakes, and mentally perverse murderers.

Thursday, August 02, 2007
september twenty-fourth.

[insert picture of laproscopy]

Saturday, July 28, 2007
one of the worst feelings.

at least for me, is to be slighted by loved ones when simple acts of consideration can make all the difference in one's day.

i'm just menstrual, i suppose.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007
new doctor.

i finally got a new doctor, as my last appointment with the previous doctor was a train wreck. bad news is that i pretty much have endometriosis. and my cyst is still hanging around. i have an appointment with the new doctor on the first of august. wish me luck.

i missed the lemonheads last saturday, and a joyce carol oates reading at skidmore on the eleventh.

Thursday, June 28, 2007
blogs.

i read them and now i have gone back to reading livejournals too. thank goodness i will be working on kevin's project soon.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Future plans, summer plans.

So I am opting not to teach summer school, as I told my friend Natasha I believe the abuse that summer school represents could be likened to the torture one would receive in the Malebolge of Dante's Inferno. I hope I get to work the days I put in for at the school, as the pay is hella and it is at my leisure and can be done from home (I love the Internet).

So on this list of summer plans slash ideas:

1. A trip to Animal Land (shut up, I want to pet the llamas).

2. THE MOTHER-EFFIN GREAT ESCAPE AND SPLASH WATER KINGDOM.

3. Field hockey summer league in Gloversville or maybe a field hockey team in Albany (which I might add: the first scrimmage is this Sunday at 6:30 at UAlbany, on the turf).

4. Gym membership or some place that offers yoga. I really want to do Bikram yoga on the regular, but I am unaware of where I should actually go.

5. An all ladies trip to a spa in Saratoga.

6. Lotsa horse-ball and bowling.

7. Fixing my Peugeot inner-tube and blazing trails on two wheels throughout the Kingdom of Fulton County.

6. A summer bartending gig (maybe Saratoga). I did bartend in SoHo for two years whilst living in the city. I am no Tom Cruise from Cocktail, but I am fast and can make a innovative cocktail in a minute.

Saturday, May 26, 2007
On seeing a specialist.

All of my doctor experiences in Gloversville, aside from my pediatric care, have been pitiful and confusing: antiquated tools of the trade, as in ultrasound machines from '84 and filing systems on computers older than I (Commodore); cramped dirty rooms; and megalomaniacal local doctors.

What it is inside me is not known. I have a fourth appointment in a month regarding the size of my (it belongs to me; I have taken ownership of this undesirable abnormal character) ovarian cyst, with free flowing browned blood swimming inside. My last appointment the doctor had a "hypothetical" conversation with me regarding endometriosis and my "potential" issues with infertility. All of which was grounded in speculation, as hard evidence in the form of testing does not exist. His solution to my health issue was to sit and wait and agonize for one more month.

I should see a specialist outside of this area.

Thursday, May 17, 2007
on being tired.

it seems these days that if i tell someone i'm tired, the retort i generally receive is "wait 'til you have kids." hi, i have kids. fifty-six of them to be exact. and last year i had eighty seven, and the year before that, over one hundred and five. the way things are going, anatomically speaking, i might not be able to have kids, so one: it bothers me when people say this because of my recent issues with health; and two: it is rude to assume that i don't know the meaning of tired considering my life, personal, and professional interests have everything to do with children and young adults.

Saturday, May 05, 2007
I’m just a quiet person.

I know some of you think I have been quiet and maybe sort of "off" lately. Maybe you think I don't like you because I don't have a lot to say—this is wrong. I'm just a quiet person.

I've never felt comfortable talking around people; I have never felt comfortable with having friends. For more than ten years I have been on my own, for the most part. In high school I had a small group of close friends, but watched those relationships either fade or disintegrate for one reason or another (college, time, distance damage, arguments, et cetera). In college I had one solid friend, but after graduation our relationship became diluted by our post-college interests and careers. My early years in New York City and Boston were clouded with getting to know these new places—and I wasn't in these places long enough to establish any friendships. The last few years in New York yielded one solid friendship with a colleague and since my relocation to upstate we have lost touch too.

I have Jacob and his wonderful family, Tyler, and my family and I am satisfied with these things—and I don't mind sharing the wealth because each are amazing and intoxicating and their energy needs to be shared with others. But, I'm not ready to share too much of myself with anyone outside these things just yet. I'm nervously shy, complicated (who isn't), emotional, and quietly contemplative; I don't want you to confuse these aspects of my personality by equating me with a bitch or think that I am judging you.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Memento Mori: Loki

Yesterday, almost home, from my tiring hour commute from work, my mother called to discuss and weep, the decision she and Ron made to put Loki down, as he was very ill during the night. She told me he was euthanized at 10:30 in the morning and they had plans to bury his body (as opposed to shipping him off to an Albany crematorium) just beyond the small tree farm, slightly before the wood of their ever-expansive acreage.

I won't spare the details. My mother woke in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and returned to bed. It is customary for Loki to follow anyone he feels the need to protect, even if the distance is a few feet. Both returned to sleep. But Ron woke in the middle of the night startled by a strange smell and woke my mother and they both found Loki lying in a pool of his own tar-like feces. They took him outside so he could eliminate more without embarrassment, cleaned him up, and fixed him up a resting spot in the garage. I doubt if any of them slept.

In the morning my brother brought up his mini-van to transport Loki to the veterinarian. I was told Loki had a large tumor in his stomach and a tumor on his spleen; his blood work was far from copacetic.

We got Loki shortly after my father died. He was the best thing for us at the time, as we no longer could mope about when there was a puppy to look after. He was good for all of us; a good companion that forced us to stop grieving once in a while. He was an integral part of my post-pubescent existence. He was my furry four-legged protector and constant shadow.

After eleven years it is natural for a family to move from one stage of life to other stages. I went to college, moved about the Northeast, settled in New York City for more than three years before moving back Upstate to be closer to my family and to Jacob. My mother found love again, remarried, and relocated a few towns over. My brother has been preserving my childhood memory of "home," found love, and is a loving father of two and a soon-to-be husband. With all the changes in our family dynamic, Loki was our constant—the tangible furry glue of a once three-member family who had lost their fourth. Yesterday I felt like my memories of what used to be, what once was, were gone; that without Loki to remind me of my sixteen year old self and grueling depressive years to follow I would not know what to turn to when memories are needed.

But memories never really expire—the sound of my father's voice faded long ago, but this does not mean I don't remember his words. I will never have that midnight black shadow of Loki to follow me from room to room, but I will never forget him and what he represents in the grander scale of things. But, I will surely miss him; he was a good boy.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007
ge commercials make me laugh.

they sure do.

i have two doctor's appointments in the next two weeks to clarify the length of my life i'm sure.

Thursday, April 05, 2007
ovarian cyst.

this might be too much information about ms. dow than you would care to know. know this: i have a cyst on one of my ovaries. but, i really think my ovary has sprouted arms and is punching me, repeatedly, in the gut. or it is dancing, drunk, wildly, around my fallopian tube.

Sunday, April 01, 2007
Air.

In the very early mornings and in the early evenings I enjoy spending more time in the yard with Tyler. It is because of the air—crisp and intoxicating.

I remember living off of Houston and between Avenue C and D. Waking to the smells of exhaust filtering through my south bound window and walking home from bartending in the wee hours of the morning, disgusted more by the smell of dirty air than the foul sticky smell of dried alcohol and cigarette smoke that clung to my clothes and hair. On Twenty-ninth Street, just off of Fourth Avenue, the same dingy highway-like air made me want to die as my hand griped my inhaler.

Another reason I am happy about my move: air.

Friday, March 23, 2007
also, i like to read blogs.

even if i don't know you. i would read livejournals all day, but now it's myspace blogs. if you have a tracker i'm not stalking you. i just like blogs.

----------

a dream about dying. i had today. and i woke up all tears.

the sequence of the dream images leading up to the "death scene" is confusing, but i ended up in a vestibule of a house, perhaps a rustic cabin. i was accompanied by a host, and at this point it escapes me whether or not this host was human or animal. i'm thinking it was a human, as he (not she) spoke to me in standard american english. i was also surrounded by a grey and white kitten and what i remember to be a rabbit who told me he (yes, he) rode bulls. i do believe the kitten represents the non-verbal communication of love as i was asked to mimic its actions, which of course consisted of nuzzling against me, the host, and the rabbit, whilst purring. the rabbit, who happened to also speak standard american english, told me the hardest challenges he endured in his lifetime was riding bulls. i think this is linked, metaphorically, to the challenges we all have in life (juxtaposed, of course, to what i will now refer to as the "kitten" experience we all long for when faced with tough challenges). the rabbit suggested to me that another good outlet to the feeling associated with being challenged (frustration) is to dance it off. i remember in my dream i closed my eyes and wriggled to a the beat of deep sadness i seem to hold in my heart in my conscious life.

after the lectures, the dancing, and the nuzzling (it happened in this order) my host was about to tell me it was "time to go." i told him i was aware of what was happening (although i am positive he, nor the others, were trying to be tricksy) , even though i did not want to go through with it.

he opened the door to the "outside" world, which of course offered its light to the darkness of the vestibule. i remember i asked my host if it was okay to be scared. he replied that it was perfectly okay to be scared, but assured me there was nothing to be afraid of. i asked him if i would have just as many friends on the other side, to which he replied "of course. you will have as many friends as you need."

before i walked through the threshold, i woke up (crying).

Sunday, March 18, 2007
two excellent movies.

i recommend the following:

brick

and

half nelson

Monday, March 12, 2007
built by wendy.

wendy mullin i love your clothes, but why so pricey? design a line for target.

my wallet hates you wendy.

---------

the tale of the winter piglet. i cannot stop eating. even when i am not hungry i still eat. i dream of ice cream while i eat cookies. of bagels when i eat muffins. food is all i want. all. the. time.

Thursday, February 15, 2007
target and clothes.

when i moved to new york city, four years ago, i discovered the glory of target. i became an avid disciple--namely, for clothes. to this day i still get most of my clothes from target. i am extremely tickled by the the design for all program they have implemented. i have loved all the go designers, save for maybe two (the past winter season selection was disgusting).

i am so happy that proenza schouler is designing affordable (super cheap prices, but great quality) clothes for target. my only issue with them is the season they have chosen to design for. all the vibrant colors make me want to die (save for the purple pencil skirt)--i only wished they designed for the fall season. their fall clothing is amazing (proenza schouler fall 2005)

Saturday, February 10, 2007
mark strand poem

"Coming To This"

We have done what we wanted.
We have discarded dreams, preferring the heavy industry
of each other, and we have welcomed grief
and called ruin the impossible habit to break.

And now we are here.
The dinner is ready and we cannot eat.
The meat sits in the white lake of its dish.
The wine waits.

Coming to this
has its rewards: nothing is promised, nothing is taken away.
We have no heart or saving grace,
no place to go, no reason to remain.

Thursday, February 08, 2007
dog babies and homework.

i was on the couch last night. jacob was doing his homework and i said:

"tyler would be the worst mommy. she'd probably eat her kids."

tyler will never have babies, unless by miracle, which made me sort of sad. maybe she would be a good mother? but, i'm still convinced she'd mouth atleast one of them.

----------

i'm so hungry i could eat ten biggy iggy ice cream sandwiches from stewart's.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Naps.

I haven't been taking them as much as my body yearns for them.

I take them when I am tired.

I take them when I am depressed because I'd rather sleep than tap into hatred.

I take them when I long for company when Jacob is not around. Tyler is warm and snores like Jacob too.

---------

On another note altogether, why do people seem sketchy? Maybe I am paranoid.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007
also, a poem rather, an excerpt:

what are words, i want to ask you, what
is clarity and why do words keep burning
a century later, though the earth
weighs so much?

from "a talk with friedrich nietzsche" by adam zagajewski.

--------

antigone. i'm going to watch this movie in the absence of my other half. then i will gouge my eyes out in reverence.

Thursday, January 11, 2007
My Chelsea students...

I just want to say these things: I miss you all (even the ones who drove me nuts--you know who you are) and I am proud of you all. Class of 2008, you are the best group of young adults, ever.

Friday, December 29, 2006
shaking hands with a genius.

i went to applebee's and had kettle (tavern) chips smothered with cheese and bacon. i wish i invented this dish.

Sunday, December 17, 2006
my heart attack.

salmon wrapped in bacon topped with cheese. best. dinner. ever.

atleast today ended on a good note. this weekend was abysmal.

--------

for mary... your profile makes my computer freeze:

[insert absent image of dancing robot]

Saturday, December 09, 2006
friend.

you know, it has been about seven years since i had a good best friend. i had natasha, but after college we grew apart and now she lives in scotland with her husband and dog. i became close with nikki in brooklyn as we lived together, briefly, and co-taught together for two years at chelsea. and here i am, in this bleak town and i feel pretty lonely. maybe that is why i liked living in new york: i was always too busy to be lonely. here i have more time on my hands than i can actually deal with and i find myself sleeping a good chunk of it away because i'm so blah (minus the time spent with jacob).

Saturday, December 02, 2006
esouh.

i want to puke all over myself.

Monday, November 27, 2006
crap carp prac parc arcp

Last night I zoned out during the shittiest movie ever, "The DaVinci Code," and for moments I truly thought I was a clairvoyant, as I seemed to see clearly into my doomy future where I only wore sweatpants, ate noodles with butter, and lamented to Jacob that shampoo and soap should be separate showering entities and or luxuries.

This house shit has my brain on the fritz and I wonder if we can really do this without going stark-raving loonie. I think to myself: "I have to do this; I am twenty seven. I have no babies, I cannot rent forever..I am an adult, right?"

What if I had stayed in Brooklyn? What would it have been like? The traveling would tear us apart. Now that I am here will our obsessive-compulsive, fixative habits make us want to bounce off each other like walking padded rooms, or will we just stick together like glue and have our insecurities co-mingle in an emotional tick-oriented bliss?

I can speculate about what it would have been like to have stayed in Brooklyn, but what I have learned is that love is worth more than a twelve-grand pay cut and feeling severely uncomfortable, socially, in this insular town--it is transcendent.

Friday, November 24, 2006
I should have stayed in Brooklyn.

Sometimes I think this.

Sunday, October 29, 2006
Slang.

One thing I miss about being in the city is slang. Someone used the phrase dead-ass in class the other day (in an awkward manner no less--it sounded less like one huffy fast deadass and more like dead-pause-pause-pause-asssssss) and I felt like telling him that phrase is so beat these days. But how would he know? What is hip here was hip more than two years ago down there. I don't even want to get into music or the style of clothes.

Yes, I used the word hip. Shut up.

Friday, October 27, 2006
On Walking Dogs.
Current mood: annoyed
Currently listening: Mule Variations
By: Tom Waits
Release date: 27 April, 1999

Walking dogs should be done, always, with leashes. Aside from my roommates' dog that happens to be the most docile and oblivious dog I know to date, all dogs should be walked with a leash. I will even say that any dog walker walking a dog without a leash is full-fledged moron. My case in point: yesterday afternoon, after arriving at my apartment to pick up some things for a night of grading at JV's while he was in class, I witnessed a small dog (a size-challenged breed I personally abhor) being attacked by to unleashed dogs. If it wasn't bad enough watching a small dog being mauled by some feral-looking, hick-bred dog, compound this image with a wire-hanger abortion scream coming from a young girl still holding onto the leash of her small dog. Then to add to the chaotic cacophony of hell-hound barks and anti-orgasmic screams, picture the potential hick-breeder, but most certainly hick-owner, of these ravenous, feral-looking dogs yelling out commands and kicking about like a Nazi war solider, all of which the dogs did not respond to. I mean, I will admit it: I hate small dogs. There is no room in our Darwinist society for small dogs, but they do exist, sadly, and they should have at least the minimal right to be walked around in a safe environment by owners who should wear no fear against unleashed animals. There is also no room in our Darwinist society for morons, especially those specific types of morons who own dogs and choose not to walk them on leashes. Sadly, these morons exist and I have no solution to remedy the error of their moronic ways, but I sure hope someone does and perhaps their fate will be in the form of some Hades-like Malebolge that awaits them in after-life.

twelve.

2009-01-04T16:12:00.000-05:00

Sunday, June 25th, 2006
Subject: tyler.
Time: 10:34 am.

tyler is the most excellent travel mate. she doesn't even need to stop to use the restroom on a five hour trip (it takes five hours on friday afternoons, go figure). she nevers asks "are we there yet?" she has been traveling with me for the last four to five weekends in a row and i must say she has adjusted well in her new environments. she loves running around like a chicken with his or her head cut off when we visit my mum (who happens to live in the boonies with a ton of acreage). she adjusted well when staying with jacob when nikki's kitchen ceiling decided to leak (more like a biblical deluge). she liked forty seven south kingsboro, but my roommates and i did not, but i'm sure she will love litauer place as it has a backyard too.

i've been wrestling with the idea of leaving new york for good, which has everything to do with my salary increase and potential to save more money here in new york city rather than there, upstate. pay is poor in upstate, even with a masters. some areas do pay well and it is those areas which i will be calling this week to check in regarding my resume and for interviews.

if i stay here in brooklyn i sacrifice my sanity to certain degrees at the expense of amassing my income for a move the following year.

why do i want to move back upstate? general peace of mind, my mother, a house, aunt duties, tyler, new and old friends, teaching kids who want to learn (socio-ecomomics are the same, cultural diversity is not), a certain ten year reunion (not what you are thinking, yes, i'm being cryptic).

why should i stay here? job stability, tenure, ten grand pay increase, teaching what i want (i think they are bribing me), friends.

i'm leaving this thursday. i'll be back here and there throughout the summer to visit.

Friday, June 23rd, 2006
Time: 7:22 am.

+job interview
-poor pay

+donated hair
-no ponytails

+new summer rental
-old slumlords in bleeker

there are more good things to list than bad, but because my ocd is symmetrical i cannot continue this list.

Wednesday, April 19th, 2006
Subject: sometimes...
Time: 7:14 pm.

quiet people get loud. sad.

Wednesday, December 7th, 2005
Time: 5:51 pm.

bitter cold days make me yearn for long naps.

Sunday, November 13th, 2005
Subject: erica, wait and see what the vet says, your not a doctor
Time: 9:18 am.

so, boxers are prone to vaginitis, for a myriad of reasons. tyler had a bout with vaginitis after her spay surgery, as a result of a possible mild infection, or a reaction to foreign objects within her body (dissolvable sutures).

tyler has had great difficulty with healing properly from her spay surgery, as the sutures are not dissolving as they should (for some dogs, not just tyler, some sutures never dissolve and need to be removed). one month ago a blister developed on tyler's spay incision site and the vet popped the blister with a needle and removed, with her fingers, several sutures.

now, it looks as if tyler is on the verge of developing another blister, atop of a knotty area (scar tissue, hematoma whatever) on her incision site, and we are taking her to the vet, again, to see what's up.

i believe she has an infection, as her vaginitis has returned. for the last two weeks tyler will wake in the middle of the night to lick her hind end and the sheets to which her hind end discharged some liquids. and the presence of a strong ammonia scent exists. and i notice the presence, during the day, of a greenish-whitish goo on her female bits :(

with vaginitis can come incontinence. licking her rear and then cleaning her groin area might have caused a mild rash in her groin. and i wonder if this rash is a urine scald.

i'll kept you posted (did you want to gag a few times?)!

love,

dr. mom

Friday, November 11th, 2005
Subject: hi.
Time: 1:57 pm.

today, i have off.

and i'm sitting around with tired tyler. with dirty hair and yankees hat. in four days i will be twenty-six. i'm unhappy, still, with my place of employment. and as i tyed that previous sentence i felt my jaw clench, teeth grind.

i'm reading this young adult text, crank. it is very interesting.

i bought my dog therasticks with st. john's wort and i would like them to arrive so i can try one. as i feel a need to gnaw and chew to soothe.

twenty six! where does the time go :(

also, lately, i yearn for bologna sandwiches with yellow mustard.

help me find the origin of my last name, would you?

i miss some of you.

Sunday, October 16th, 2005
Subject: i have a new i book.
Time: 9:01 am.

it's nice to travel about the house again with a little companion. i fear tyler jumping about it, so i've been walking around cradling the white mass like a newborn.

so i'm pretty excited about the new depeche mode. shut up.

also i secretly like david gray. any comments from the peanut gallery?

i have to think about what i'm going to do next year, because at this point i want to quit. maybe i just need to teach at a different school?

this summer, though, i'm going to participate in another theatre intensive and i WILL get some headshots done (how many times have i said this?).

over and out for now lovies <3.

Saturday, October 15th, 2005
Subject: :(
Time: 9:39 am.

Pure Nerd
65 % Nerd, 47% Geek, 47% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.

A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.

A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.

You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.

The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.

Congratulations!

Tuesday, September 27th, 2005
Subject: i hate.
Time: 4:40 pm.

people who feel that they are the object of prejudice, who are prejudiced (and project it loud and clear) too.

Monday, August 22nd, 2005
Subject: I HAVE A NEW DOG.
Time: 10:05 pm.

FYI.

SHE LIKES TO DROP THE HOT PRETZEL FOUR TIMES A DAY.

Sunday, July 31st, 2005
Subject: i hate philosophy.
Time: 6:09 pm.

because of the logic and illogic.

Sunday, July 17th, 2005
Subject: i have been at my mum's since wednesday.
Time: 10:44 pm.

and i'm leaving tomorrow. i have had a pleasant and relaxing time. with her. and loki. and allen's dog andre. loki was very protective of me the entire time, and jealous of andre as well. it only makes me want a dog more. there is nothing better than running around with dogs on summer days, and lounging on carpeted floors watching the news on a dog's back as a pillow.

my mum says to me : "erica, if you get a dog, how will you travel?"

good question. i need to research amtrak policies for transporting animals.

i really didn't do much other than relax, write papers, and take in clean upstate (humid) air. i will miss it when i leave tomorrow--but i have someone i need to come home to.

Tuesday, July 12th, 2005
Time: 2:03 pm.

meat cleaver and peach trees.

and a new old bike!

Sunday, July 3rd, 2005
Subject: oh, some things.
Time: 7:22 am.

I have a friend by the name of Carlo. My mother fondly refers to him as Carlos. Every time I hear that s, I grow a new white hair. I know she is not trying to offer any disrespect to Carlo’s name, she just has a penchant to pluralize nouns. For example Wal-Mart becomes Wal-Marts and Hannaford becomes Hannafords (it is a supermarket upstate).

I thought about how she does this and decided that maybe she is right: singular nouns are useless in most cases; nouns are much better when there are more than one. For example cake should not be cake. It should be cakes (who doesn’t like more than one cake…I’ll fight anyone with one leg and arm tied behind my back).

Here is a running list of nouns that should be permanently pluralized (more to come):

Cheeses
Puppies
Unicorns
Blue Cheese Dressings
Naps

Thursday, June 30th, 2005
Subject: summer of fun.
Time: 9:05 pm.

i am so going to win at life at pete's candy store and matchless this summer.

join me.

Sunday, June 26th, 2005
Subject: o! i am a girl.
Time: 9:27 am.

i have two more days of work.

list:

house.
a dog like roxy or lilly.
wardrobe exclusively jessica ogden.
field hockey club.
running.
biking.
louie g's everyday.
a new hair style.

Monday, June 13th, 2005
Subject: will i love laundry service?
Time: 9:54 pm.

i will tell you when i get the bill!

Sunday, May 29th, 2005
Time: 8:04 pm.

what are you doing up, human league?

Tuesday, April 26th, 2005
Subject: i'm watching bruce.
Time: 8:46 pm.

that pink pool of a rug with hair and crumbs swimming about. laying in starchy shorts with dry knees and elbows, t-shirt, bad hair cut, age ten, mute to most anything except for the occasional conversation with myself, in front of a hand-me-down stereo system with two tape decks, one for playing, the other recording, staring at these black tapes.

bruce springsteen live, 1985? 1989?

muffled masculine voice similar to my father's (not his singing voice, because he could carry a tune like i can carry a two hundred pound man) coming through the old speakers. muffled because the tape is worn, without a cover (for ages?), muffled by cries from the crowd.

and i've been watching bruce on vh1 classics for the last four hours. i just bought his new compact disc. and i can only think of my father.

Sunday, April 24th, 2005
Subject: school has made me.
Time: 2:40 pm.

serious(ly).

[insert erased flickr image of me with a serious face]

hungry.

[insert erased flickr image of adam and i in a subway station]

eleven.

2009-01-04T15:59:00.000-05:00

Monday, March 28th, 2005
Time: 8:45 pm.

horizontal rain won.

Saturday, March 26th, 2005
Subject: e-mail.
Time: 5:36 pm.

yo ms d whats good its ralphy i was just wondering if u have n e work i can do to atleast pass your class with a 65 if you do holla at me ight

Friday, March 4th, 2005
Time: 7:40 pm.

Cold was the night, hard was the ground
They found her in a small grove of trees
Lonesome was the place where Georgia was found
She's too young to be out
On the street.

Why wasn't God watching?
Why wasn't God listening?
Why wasn't God there for
Georgia Lee?

Ida said she couldn't keep Georgia
From dropping out of school
I was doing the best that I could
But she kept runnin away from this world
These children are so hard to raise good

Why wasn't God watching?
Why wasn't God listening?
Why wasn't God there for
Georgia Lee?

Close your eyes and count to ten
I will got and hid but then
Be sure to find me. I want you to find me
And we'll play all over
We will play all over again

There's a toad in the witch grass
There's a crow in the corn
Wild flowers on a cross by the road
And somewhere a baby is crying
For her mom
As the hills turn from green back
To gold

Why wasn't God watching?
Why wasn't God listening?
Why wasn't God there for
Georgia Lee?

Saturday, February 26th, 2005
Time: 10:44 am.

vacation is almost over. school is almost over. less than four months.

please recommend any cheap vacationing spots for two, for the summer months.

Wednesday, February 16th, 2005
Time: 7:32 pm.

NEW YORK—Teach For America, a national program that recruits recent college graduates to teach in low-income rural and urban communities, has devoured another ethnic-studies major, 24-year-old Andy Cuellen reported Tuesday.

"Look, the world is a miserable place," said Cuellen, a Dartmouth graduate who quit the TFA program Monday morning. "All people—even children—are just nasty animals trying to secure their share of the food supply. I don't care how poor or how rich you are, that's just a fact. I'm sorry, but I have better things to do than zoo-keep for peanuts."

Just one of the 12,000 young people TFA has burned through since 1990, Cuellen was given five weeks of training the summer before he took over a classroom at P.S. 83 in the South Bronx last September.

"I walked into that school actually thinking I could make a difference," said Cuellen, who taught an overflowing class of disadvantaged 8-year-olds. "It was trial by fire. But after five months spent in a stuffy, dark room where the chalkboard fell off the wall every two days, corralling screaming kids into broken desks, I'm burnt to a crisp."

Cuellen said his TFA experience "taught him a lot about hopelessness."

"The cities are fucked. The suburbs are fucked. The whole country is fucked," Cuellen said. "And there's not a goddamned thing you or anyone can do about it. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something. Or trying to get you to teach kids math."

According to Dartmouth literature, as a member of the ethnic-studies department, Cuellen learned "to empower students of color to move beyond being objects of study toward being subjects of their own social realities, with voices of their own."

Teach For America executive director Theo Anderson called ethnic-studies departments "a prime source of fodder."

"Oh, I'd say we burn through a hundred or so ethnic-studies majors each year," said Anderson, pointing to a series of charts showing the college-major breakdown of TFA corps members. "They tend to last a little longer than women's studies majors and art-therapy students, but Cuellen got mashed to a pulp pretty quickly. It usually takes ethnic-studies majors another year to realize that they're wasting their precious youth on a Sisyphean endeavor."

Continued Anderson: "Of course, we don't worry about it too much. Every year, there's a fresh crop to throw in the grinder. As we speak, scores of apple-cheeked students are hearing about TFA for the first time."

According to Anderson, a small portion of these students will lose interest after hearing horror stories from program alumni.

"But the majority of them will march on like cattle to the slaughter, thinking that pure determination and hope can change young lives," Anderson said. "I can hear their footsteps now, marching toward our offices like lemmings to a cliff. And believe me, we're ready for 'em."

Cuellen said he applied to TFA in search of a "character-building experience."

"I knew that teaching in a severely under-funded inner-city school would be challenging, but I wanted to get out into the real world," Cuellen said. "Well, breaking up fistfights between 8-year-olds all day long, I got a real ugly view of reality. Do you want to know reality? Look at a dog lying dead in the gutter. That's reality."

Although Cuellen quit the program early, his mother said he was with TFA long enough for it "to crack open his bones and suck out the marrow inside."

"Andy is a ghost," Beverly Cuellen said. "Those [TFA] people beat the idealism out of him, then they stomped on him while he lay there gasping for air."

TFA regional coordinator Sandra Richman said it is common to blame the TFA employees for the organization's high plow-through rate.

"Should I have said something to wake those kids up sooner?" Richman said, crushing out her seventh cigarette. "Probably. But listen, no one can tell you that you can't make a difference. It's something you have to figure out for yourself."

"You can only do so much," Richman added. "After a couple years of trying to teach our applicants about how difficult and depressing their lives will inevitably be—no matter what they choose to do for money—I just got burnt out. In the end, you've gotta resign yourself to failure and move on with your life."

Saturday, February 12th, 2005
Subject: is wangster a word?
Time: 10:24 pm.

wow. so i was hired and trained to teach this ninth grade ramp-up to literacy class, which is prescribed to almost every junior high school and high school in new york city. if you have not a clue as to what it is, it is a course designed to "ramp-up" students to higher reading levels. if little jorge joins the ninth grade community with a fourth-grade reading level, my job is to get him to a higher reading level (not necessarily that of a ninth grade reading level). our mantra is the seven habits of the proficient reader: activating schema (text-to-self, text-to-text, text-to-word); creating images/visualizing; asking questions; making inferences; making predictions; monitoring for meaning (using fix-up strategies); and summarizing, synthesizing, and retelling.

with this mantra, i am to read-aloud, yes, read-aloud to my youngsters as they follow along with their own copy of whatever text i push on them.

so.

i've ditched the program for a bit to teach my little flowers poetry and the fundaments of writing a research paper.

i've created a "poem a day" project for my little roses, and boy o'fucking boy do i have some neat poems to share with you in the days to come! here is a little sample:

(background info: theme, individuality (me, myself and i). purpose, to inform. audience, young adults. mood, serious. form, eight lines with some sort of rhyming pattern)

i like math class
alot of girls got fat ass
i am the master
anything he write i do it faster
i sometime get in trouble
but i always have a double.

Monday, January 31st, 2005
Subject: this just in.
Time: 10:04 pm.

i hate english teachers.

Saturday, January 22nd, 2005
Subject: HA!
Time: 10:41 am.

[insert picture of young ashley judd]
[insert picture of young erica dow's acting i.d. card]

Friday, January 21st, 2005
Subject: i just want to say.
Time: 6:43 pm.

i'm one lucky gal.

Saturday, January 8th, 2005
Time: 6:23 pm.

i felt better! i went back to teaching. but now, i feel shitty again. i cannot shake the heats. i'll blame the kids.

adam and i forfeited a trip to peekskill because of the weather. so today was full of naps and mopping. as he tinkers around on his computer, burning away copies of cds, i am getting my sunday work load in now.

guh ( i'm pretty backed up in grading.

save me.

Wednesday, January 5th, 2005
Subject: delirious.
Time: 2:33 pm.

is it the flu that makes me feel this way? or all the medicine.

Wednesday, November 17th, 2004
Subject: Patience, and lack thereof.
Time: 7:00 pm.

That is my summation. I feel like my patience is waning because it is perpetually tested every week, day, hour, minute, and second. Where once I found myself pliable I now find myself stiff, somewhat hardened to the environment around me. Sometimes I can hear my own bones creak and my hair shooting at the root freezing to white.

Today I asked a fellow art academy teacher this:

“Do they get better?”

He replied as follows:

“No…”

Followed by the longest, most dramatic caesura I have ever encountered, and then:

“…but you will.”

Gah! That’s not what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that my students would eventually yield, that they would lie down and play dead at the demands of their teacher. What the hell is this anarchy?

Is anarchy so pure that those that possess the quality therein don’t even understand the meaning and concept and history? What the hell do they need to rebel against? All I’ve shown them has been tough-love, tolerance, and guidance. And what do they do? They make me feel sad, too often, at the end of the day.

Will it, if not them or I, get better?
_________________________________

I will refer, again, to the time when a colleague told me, flatly, to “Just stop caring.” And later in the day hearing a similar resonance of fucking idiocy from another peer: “Teachers aren’t going to change the world.”

Fuck you. Fuck the both of you. Fuck your dim-witted lack of ideals. Why the fuck are you teaching? Leave the miserable to wrestle with the ethic and morale of teaching and get a fucking telemarketing job if you don’t care. Push papers across desks if you don’t want to perpetuate change in the world of [academic] complacency.
_____________

If this is the disillusionment phase, I have hit it. And hit it hard. I think some good teas and a nice Thanksgiving break will pull me out of this sluggish lull of the winter blues and the poisonous waters of my buckled patience.

Monday, November 15th, 2004
Time: 5:33 pm.

in my twenty five years i have never experienced a day like sunday. i mean it when i say it was the best birthday that i've ever had. sugar-free chocolate cheesecake with sugar free whipped cream. beer and wings at croxley ales. photobooth pictures at seven b. ballooned kitchen floor. shiny birthday banner. they say it's your birthday. on repeat. unicorn plates, napkins, cups, and mostly importantly, hats. pin the tail on the donkey. kerplunk.

sound special? it was. and so is he.

Sunday, November 14th, 2004
Subject: merry christmas!
Time: 9:12 am.

[insert broken image of something i don't remember]

Saturday, November 13th, 2004
Subject: also. this is fucking amazing. hello wallpaper.
Time: 12:27 pm.

[insert awesome perry bible comic indicating unicorn power]

Time: 11:33 am.

yesterday was the sort of day that made me question just about everything in my life.

i stepped away from it all with a cigarette in the rain.

why does this kid* make me angry? how does a child make me angry?
______________

this always makes me feel better:

you're the pincard, you're
the lifeguard, you're the
information guy, but things
look much bigger on the
knees, on your knees.
miss the signal, miss the
signpost, lose the access to
it all. and all of a sudden
you are one with the freaks.

Tuesday, November 9th, 2004
Time: 6:29 am.

chan marshall, you make me want to die.

Sunday, November 7th, 2004
Subject: owned.
Time: 9:40 am.

[insert image of lacoste dunk type sneakers called turbo]

they are a smidgen too big. but my feet are happy. my wallet on the other hand...

Saturday, November 6th, 2004
Subject: a list. edited. and updated.
Time: 10:19 am.

hi. built by wendy.
old school (cheaper) ipod.
cheap ass digital camera.
pedicure.
paul brown nike air trainer ones, size seven.
target gift certificate.
adopted boxer.
hi black and gum nike air force ones, size six and a half or seven.
built by wendy vintage demin jeans, wrangler edition, size twenty seven or twenty eight.
underwear, size five, small, or extra small.
socks, with strips. three, not two.
mittens with the finger flap.
arm length mittens.
unicorn earrings.
bird wall decals.
unicorn bag.
cheap ass all-in-one printer.
nike lucky sevens. size seven.
simply basic lotion from wal-mart.
peanut butter and company peanut butter.
yankee candle. storm watch.
monday.

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2004
Subject: Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher...
Time: 7:27 pm.

ALL you are doing and saying is to America dangled mirages,
You have not learn’d of Nature—of the politics of Nature, you have not learn’d the great amplitude, rectitude, impartiality;
You have not seen that only such as they are for These States,
And that what is less than they, must sooner or later lift off from These States.
__________________________________________

WHY reclining, interrogating? Why myself and all drowsing?
What deepening twilight! scum floating atop of the waters!
Who are they, as bats and night-dogs, askant in the Capitol?
What a filthy Presidentiad! (O south, your torrid suns! O north, your arctic freezings!)
Are those really Congressmen? are those the great Judges? is that the President?
Then I will sleep awhile yet—for I see that These States sleep, for reasons;
(With gathering murk—with muttering thunder and lambent shoots, we all duly awake,
South, north, east, west, inland and seaboard, we will surely awake.)

ten.

2009-01-04T15:54:00.000-05:00

Tuesday, November 2nd, 2004
Subject: secret to teenage acne:
Time: 7:57 pm.

high schools clog your pores!

Sunday, October 31st, 2004
Subject: pardon the typos.
Time: 6:21 pm.
Mood: gah.
Music: notwist. neon golden.

to distill this week into paragraphs. what a tricky thing to do.

i've built a community in the classroom. both classrooms, to be exact. it took me awhile to crack period four five. but i did. they are immersed in a program called "map for life" where every thursday a guest speaker joins the class and maps out his or her life (o, what a clever program name) via a chalk and talk as the children fill in the veins of a workbook with the plasma, blood cells, and platelets of information about the speaker. it's an interesting program. i had had my doubts. but now that i've witnessed the sound of silence filled with only breath and a sniffle here and there, i am happy the program has been implemented. how is it that they can stay so silent for so long? it makes me want to dress up as a new person everyday--dress up so they won't recognize me, and then, maybe, just maybe, i could get through more than ten minutes of a lesson.

i mapped my life out for them the following friday. you know those lunatics thought i was teaching for the money?

"miss, you make a hundred dollars and hour."

i had to turn my head away when i heard that one. i felt like saying "zelda, if that were the case, don't you think i'd be in ireland or dollywood soaking up the culture?"

i told them about how my father was an english teacher as well, and as he worked on his masters and worked full-time at a juvenile facility he fell ill and passed away. and i was fifteen.

"ms. dow, do you teach because your father taught."

i didn't have to think. the word just flew out:

"yes."

it took until that moment to realize why, i suppose, i'm truly teaching.
__________

[we'd be leading slanted parallel lives if he'd grown younger and healther as i, older and increasingly unhealthy (thank you bacon and coffee).] <---- i need to work this part into a syllabic and slanted poem.

_________________________________

i thought about my father all week. i cannot wait to go home and exhume graphic organizers from nineteen ninety three.
____________

on a shittier note. my handheld was lifted from the faculty bathroom. isn't that lovely? i had finished a mentor meeting and ran upstairs to de-chalk before another class. i placed the cased gadget on a sink counter. and ran out the door down to two thirteen. as i paced around the room taking a mental status of the class, i looked around for my handheld to mark attendance. and realized i'd left it upstairs on the sink counter.

i'm a fucking idiot. really. i am.

i grabbed a passing teacher to monitor my room as i ran upstairs. i fully expected to find the gadget sitting, still, on the counter since only ten minutes had passed. it was gone.

strangely i feel as though part of me has died since wednesday. how can this be? people have functioned years without a handheld. teachers still get by using a pencil and a log book. why can't i?

what saddens me, other than the fact that i'm an oaf, is the fact that a faculty member has taken my little electronic 16mb heart. fuckers. why? i hope it dies on them and they are too ridiculously incompetent to figure out what sort of charger they need to revitalize and eventually pawn off to their little cousin as a used birthday present. because christmas for bid they walk around the school sporting technology they never would have ever used until they laid their little beady eyes on that sink counter i will bust at the seams until they see green and tattered jeans and the spitting image of dr. david bruce banner's alter ego.

i'm pissed. wow. it feels good. it feels better than this shitty i hate myself feeling i've been carrying around for days.
________________________________

the parent-teacher festivities on thursday evening and friday afternoon were interesting. i was nervous only about whether or not the parents would think me very young looking and take me less seriously than if i was old and tweedy (because really when i think "teacher," i think of my own--and they were old and tweedy). i had my inclusion co-teacher with me, the one that works with my period four five. we had a ball. sang mister sandman during the dull moments, and begged mr. cerny (young and tweedy) to buy us a round of flan from the student bake sale downstairs (yes, flan. weird. i know). thursday left me a tired egg for friday's early class schedule--a half day followed by more meetings with parents and guardians.

i did not make it to happy hour. i knew if i had made it up the block for a beer and game of beer pong, the sticky tables of down the hatch would have become my bed for the rest of the day.
__________

i took adam to a play at the opera house on arion place. hamlet. it was amazing, what i saw at least. adam fell ill fifteen minutes before intermission. i met him outside and we traveled back home. this summer i will do theatre. and with lisa's helpful friends (i watched her movie today, swimming, and thought fondly again of acting) maybe i can get some head shots done.
_________________

all in all i had a weird week. i wish i could talk more about my father, but those feelings, still, don't have words, even after nine years.

Subject: i need to have a dance off with this girl.
Time: 9:07 am.

http://home.comcast.net/~subtlelikeatrex//...orage/dance.avi

i'll write later. it's just too early. and i've had only one cup of coffee.

Wednesday, October 27th, 2004
Subject: i hate.
Time: 6:01 pm.

myself when i lose things.

i feel like an idiot.

two people have made me feel a little bit better. thank you joanne. and thank you adam.

Tuesday, October 26th, 2004
Time: 5:01 pm.

today was a not so great day.

Sunday, October 24th, 2004
Time: 4:00 pm.
Mood: positive.
Music: the pharcyde. passin' me by.

I sort of dreaded sitting down and logging all my goods and my bads of this week. It sure felt hectic. I felt unprepared starting the week. Having worked the weekend, leaving me little time for planning, I was sure the work week’s motto was going to be “sink or swim.” But I was okay.

I survived the week. And it wasn’t that bad. Sadly, Ramp-Up to Literacy leaves little to no room for creativity. Well, it depends if you follow the model. I do, pretty much, to a certain degree. I ride the wave of twenty to thirty minute independent reading time, fifteen minute independent writing time, fifteen to twenty minute mini-lesson and homework review, and a fifteen to twenty minute read aloud session. By the time the class is settled into surfing through the motions, the class is over. Ramp-Up is what you put into it, I suppose. Ask me three months from now if I’m still riding this wave—chances are I won’t be. It’s boring, but I’ll settle for it, as I settle into teaching. I’ll change it around when I feel the urge to jump out of our classroom’s third story window.

Between professional development, mentor meetings, academic meetings, meeting with this so-and-so artist from this gallery for a trip (next spring no less), last minute paper grading, student participation and general assessment write-ups, and class on Thursday evening, I was able to breath, eat, plan (minimally), sleep, and relax. How?

This is a profession of balancing duties and working under pressure—two things that I do very well. This is how I made it through college. It reminds me of a survival of the fittest game. I can see how people burn out. But, summer—summer is my recuperative time. I’m sure I will be busy with class and maybe teaching summer school, but everything will be moving at a much slower pace, affording me all the rest and relaxation needed for the second year.

I think I might have found my calling. It just feels right. I can deal with all the politics, and paperwork, and poor behavior (of students and colleagues, alike).

I’m not in the disillusionment phase of teaching. Though there are weeks, days, hours, minutes, and even seconds that I drop into that phase—but I move in and out of all of them on a moment-to-moment basis. I feel a range of emotion that has been vacant in me for some time. It makes me feel alive.

I sound crazy, don’t I?

I feels like a good crazy.
______________________________

My nine-ten block can see right through my feigned meanness. They tell me I’m no good at being mean. I’m okay with it. I’m strict, and that warrants me respect. I’m fair, and that warrants me respect. I give one hundred and fifty percent of my attention to my students when they need.

So I can’t wear mean. I knew that already.

I just don’t have it in me, and they respect that too.
_______

After bubbling in all my marking period grades and comments, journaling, and lesson planning for the day, I need to run to the market for chocolate chip cookie ingredients. Tonight I will bake, as a few of my students and I will be having a cookie luncheon in the afternoon (thanks for the game idea Carolyn).
______

I’m nervous about parent-teacher night. I catch myself giving speeches in the shower.

Wednesday, October 20th, 2004
Time: 6:40 am.

three three?

guh.

Sunday, October 17th, 2004
Time: 9:00 pm.
Mood: anxious.
Music: yankees.

As for a long weekend and a short work week, this felt like the longest week ever. It might have something to do with the fact that I worked the high school fair at Brooklyn Tech both Saturday and Sunday. The assistant principal of our academy had approached me on Wednesday. He said to me, “Ms. Dow, are you available Saturday and Sunday?” With the mantra, imbedded in my head from the Fellow’s program; from the unwritten rule of new teacher hood; and from the advice spoken directly from the academy’s assistant principal, I said, “Yes.”

But it was on Friday I truly learned what I yessed. It had been a long four days…all I wanted was a good game of beer pong at Down the Hatch and good napping sessions over the cold weekend:

“Ms. Dow, you are available both Saturday and Sunday, from ten to four?”

“Yes…but what will I be doing?”

“You’ll be promoting our high school and its new art academy. You are exactly the right person for the job!”

I thought, right?! What? Are you sure?!?! I was somewhat flattered, but then I thought that maybe I was just the only one available and willing.

When I stepped foot in Brooklyn Tech, I was overwhelmed. I felt like I should have had my mother by my side. Half of these eighth graders looked older than I. And what the hell did I know about Chelsea? Certainly not enough to field the first hour of questioning by students and parents alike.

This weekend work can’t even be considered a shitty end to a shitty week because tomorrow I’ll wake up at five in the morning and continue this steady stream of going through the motions. I’ve never wanted a weekend off so badly. I cannot what until Friday.
__________

I browsed my handheld notes and realized the only thing I noted was the poor behaviors of my students in both my blocks. Most of the notes where filled with foul and swear words and racial epithets—anecdotes to shove students into our main academy office where they had the opportunity to sit and brood over their juvenile behavior.
__________

Some of these kids are so vacant. They won’t look you in the eye. Where is the respect?
____

I feel like I have to work one hundred and fifty percent harder than a lot of my colleagues because I’ve been stigmatized as looking twelve indefinitely. I think the crappy vernacular of the student body tends to slip out more in my presence than it really should. Sure I make them write, “I will never say (this racial epithet, foul or swear word) ever again” one hundred times…but does it sink in? Does sitting in the office with the dean register any remorse? Am I fighting the wrong battles? Does the idea, the threat of, suspension phase the majority of the teenage population? Why the fuck is it so goddamn different down here than anywhere that I’ve ever seen?
__________________________

I really did some much deserved drinking on Friday, and as much as I tried to avoid conversations related to work, they just kept on sprouting up like unwanted weeds in a slightly kempt garden. Yes, I like to commiserate…its healthy once in a while, but situations like these make me want to run. Far. Far. Away.

I really should take up skateboarding more seriously. Or yoga.
_________________________________________________

One major obstacle I dealt with all week was -----. That kids just loves to push my buttons. I had two informal meetings with him in regards to his poor behavior and failing grade, and he was cool one to one. But there is something about the classroom…it becomes ------’s arena where he is the master of ceremonies. He just wants to get in trouble. He loves to drive me insane. And it drives him nutso when I don’t punish him immediately. It irks him that I take notes on his behavior during the class and don’t do anything with them. Yet. I will. I just need to really observe him now to see what he really needs, rather than give him what he wants. I’m too tired to chase ---- around all day, to battle with him ever other minute in the classroom. He’s not that special to deplete the little energy I have, day in and day out.
_________

Oh, to be thirteen again.

Monday, October 11th, 2004
Subject: a letter to a friend made me think.
Time: 7:24 pm.

that maybe i haven't been explicit:

alas, my graduate class is a joke thus far. can you imagine thirty new teachers in one room? can you imagine thirty new teachers drinking in a bar together? you could only imagine what they bitch about in and out of class.

we have good literature to read for the class, yet we do not discuss it. the assignments, these in-task course assignments, spread out over our two year track at pace, are but a one page joke. to most. but i put my best effort forth, and squeeze as much thought on one page (believe me i stretch the margins, something, as an undergrad, i would have never done).

i look forward to classes with more content and less student venting. maybe this is what the course was constructed for. and academic hug for those teachers who are not getting hugged enough in these formative stages.

teaching though. wow, it's amazing. it's a career that you can not not care about.

in one day two people said to me," erica, you just have to stop caring. some of these kids don't care, why should you?" the other spoke something equally profound, "you can't change the world by teaching."

both phrases are a crock. i wanted to say to them, "well maybe this job isn't for you." but working hard, and sleeping less hours prevents me from saying a lot of things. i've harbored the art of censorship, indirectly.

i love teaching. but i can understand the short-lived careers of others. you burn out. you give and give, and receive, what some would say, very little.

all i know is this: this is first job i've ever cared about. i don't ever question why i'm doing it, and because of that, i know that i'm a good point in my life.

the theatre lingers always in my thoughts, but my classroom is my stage, every academic calendar day.

Subject: sorry for the typos.
Time: 4:23 pm.
Mood: lazy.
Music: fan humming.

This week I approached daily journaling by not journaling at all, but rather committed myself to taking notes on my palm pilot through the day to see if I could pinpoint a common theme threaded throughout the week.
____________________

I logged on Monday, October 4th at 10:47 am: “No one likes to read. Why?” Has the routine of the Ramp-Up to Literacy program lost its novelty in only four weeks? Are my students raging a fight against turning into procedural drones whereby they absolutely hate walking into class silently everyday, filing to the back corner of the room and picking up their silent reading books, silently, and silently returning to their seats to silently read? Any dip-shit could have told you that this sort of thing would be a battle from day one. Petrified and unprovoked, students for the first week didn’t mind (in the sense that they struggled less) the prescribed procedural nonsense of rotating a block period into twenty minute disjointed disciplines of study. At 10:47 am, seventeen minutes into my first block period, it became acutely clear that this battle would be a tiresome one, filled with zip its, shushes, be quiets, and stop staring out the windows.

At 1:24 pm, I logged, “Shoot me. Ugh. I have a dry throat. Chin told me I would not like him after he gives me my formal observation write up.” He has such an odd sense of humor. He said it with a half grin. What the fuck? I remember feeling then, as I do now, dead tired and full of sniffles. The last thing I wanted was some bizarro ambiguous comment from my boss relating to my teaching styles, especially after a fair post observation meeting. With a clear mind, a comment like that would have seemed congenial and witty. Then, I secretly wanted to cough and sneeze all over him.
_______________________

For Tuesday, I have nothing logged. Which makes perfect sense considering I did not have an ounce of time to myself between meeting with two mentors and fully revamping the planning I had done all night for my four five block. There will be many days like Tuesday, and many planning periods where I frustratingly tear up my plans for my block four five because I cannot seem to adequately plan for their learning needs.
_______________

Wednesday, October 6th, 2004, I logged, “Kids can’t even swear properly.” As I was descending the stairs to the front door of freedom, I heard some kid utter “That kid almost shitted his pants.” How about just shit? Can we just say shit? Can we just learn how to say something right? Because when you say shitted, it sounds like you have a speech impediment. Does shit even have a past tense? Does it even posses any merit to warrant any other tense other than present?
___

On Thursday at 11:50 am ---- alerted to me that the word shit was, in fact, not a swear word (after he blurted it out right in front of me). Whereas this once might have seemed funny, I felt no need to stifle a laugh. I looked at him and asked, “Since when?” This was intended as a hypothetical question, though with his response I gathered that he didn’t see it as such. I ended our conversation by saying “Right, it’s not a swear word, and I live on an island with gnomes, fairies, and rainbows. I’m going to write you up.” He looked at me puzzled, and I walked away.

2:24 pm, “Call ----’s grandmother!” Did I? No, and I should of because all I got the next day was more lip and more sass.

Seriously, what is with the mouths?

But this e-mail made my Thursday:

Dear Erica & Nikki,

It was a pleasure to meet you and your colleagues today. Your Assistant Principal and I discussed the program after our meeting and both feel that since you can both work together on the program it will be a great fit for your class. I'd like to schedule a time to meet with you both and discuss some curriculum links and give you a timeline for the spring semester. I am in on Tuesday, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, please let me know over the next week or so when would be a convenient time to meet. I look forward to working with you this year.

Best Regards,

Dina

The Drawing Center - Drawing Connections Program
___________________________________________

The common theme for the week has been swearing. These kids have terrible mouths and no sense of censorship. Friday, 11:31 am ---- shouts out, “Fucking faggot” across the room. I escort him down to the main office. This is the third time this week that I’ve had to deal with his mouth. Tuesday the principal caught a whiff of ----’s foul mouth during a presentation he (the principal) gave to the class about credits and the importance of the freshman year. Wednesday it was “Fuck you ----, you fucking bitch” where I escorted him down to the main office.

What happened to the art of being sly when being deviant? When did it become fashionable to be so overt when displaying poor behavior like swearing and passing notes? Has the art died? What are they trying to prove? Do they enjoy getting in trouble? Has getting in trouble become some masochistic art form?

Wednesday ---- got up from his seat to pass ---- a note, to which ---- promptly showed me. The note was a caricature stick drawing of both ---- and ----. Stick figure ---- says, “No don’t kill me!” and stick figure ---- says, “You are going to die bitch!” ---- wanted to show me the note, wanted to get ---- in trouble, even though she might not have been threatened by such a juvenile drawing. Her mother happened to be visiting the school that day and she wanted to show her mother the picture. I went for the note, because it was obvious she wanted me to have it, yet she struggled to let it go…giggling and squirming as ---- pointed at laughed.

I wish I majored in Psychology. ---- has been suspended.

To remedy this growing disease of foul language I have threatened my students with writing the epithet or foul word used one hundred times following the format of “I will not use the word _____________ ever again.” Collectively, our academy has adopted this archaic mode of discipline. I will follow through. No more suffering in empty threat syndrome.
_________

Does this weekend have to end?

Time: 1:45 pm.

often i wonder if people in the world get up as early as i do, or perhaps they are just going to bed, and at rising, or just before falling, they eat a grand display of foods--peanut butter, cheese, ice cream, and pickles--and after doing so they return to, or turn to, slumber and dream of folks living in empty grocery stores; teachers yelling at students to remove their hats; and small children with pumpkin heads riding on unicorns.

i know i do.

do you?

Wednesday, October 6th, 2004
Time: 7:06 pm.

bathing ape sneakers are nasty. what the fuck are you thinking?

i want the nike golden lucky sevens hi.

also, kids can't even swear grammatically. christmas.

Sunday, October 3rd, 2004
Time: 4:32 pm.

i did heed the advice of not planning on saturday. but i must admit, i'm lacking some motivation today in regards to planning for the upcoming week.
___

i feel a tickle in my throat. also, i love wal-mart. i miss upstate. i should go home for october break.
_____________

listen, i love you fellows, but i can't keep up with the babble. i do miss my fellow's advisor. it was nice to see her on friday evening. i mean, i have mentors up the ying yang, but atleast collen can talk to me like an adult.
__

is it because i look twelve? because really, i feel like i'm all seventy-six, bedtimes at eight, and flat shoes for comfort.

Thursday, September 30th, 2004
Subject: frustrated.
Time: 10:58 pm.

frustrated at the idea that my block ----- is not an inclusion class. that it is tracked, most likely. and that my general education students are hiding under the guise of this title due to the fact that they've slipped through the cracks of testing. and how come no one told me until today?

____

what should take one day, takes three. and strict discipline doesn't work. someone suggested prizes. pencil sharpeners and bookmarks. but i feel like i don't even know how to teach this type of class. it seems so unexpected and sudden. i've got to figure out something fast.
_____________________________________________________

also coverage teachers are a joke. i think it's great that they pay considering the amount of misery we experience.

Wednesday, September 29th, 2004
Time: 7:35 pm.

i'm incapable of planning or working or studying this evening. i read about eight pages of alfie and realized that i didn't digest any of the words or ideas.

my observation went well. the only criticism i received was about the negative sarcasm i bring to the classroom environment (yes, i pick on them for not eating lunch and sleeping during my class). i was told to try teaching without the comments, because what purpose do they really serve? he told me i was lucky that they were even coming to my class, considering it's the last period of their day. he said they want to be there, or they wouldn't show up; that they like me and want to be there.

at first i thought, what is a classroom without sarcasm? but today i taught without the comments, and it still went well. but, i did bite my tongue here and there.
___

my students are overwhelmed by all the visitors. and i am too.

Tuesday, September 28th, 2004
Time: 5:16 pm.

blargh. i feel like i'm just going through the motions, trying to keep awake and afloat in this sea of tired.

how come my kids didn't know the definition or purpose of revision? i feel like i'm not just the ninth grade teacher, but a sixth, seventh, and eighth grade educator as well. i have a lot of work to do.

Monday, September 27th, 2004
Time: 6:41 pm.

i felt pretty good today after a full sunday of preparation. i was happy to learn that i did not have professional development this afternoon (it's every other week erica), but i still came home later than i wanted after an academy meeting after school. i'm to be observed tomorrow by the art academy assistant principal.

also, my students don't follow directions well.

Friday, September 24th, 2004
Time: 7:39 pm.

i have no entry for thursday.

by the time i got home from pace all i wanted was bed. my head hurt. i could feel my eyes becoming watery. i didn't even accept a hug from adam, and i blamed it on the germs.

i felt pretty awful today too.

i didn't get a coverage today. i was pretty happy about that. i've had two already. my first coverage was a disaster. each academy is on a different bell schedule. they assigned me for another academy's period which they thought fit within my school's bell schedule. and it did not. i sat in the coverage class. no one showed up until five minutes before the period was up. five minutes before i had class.

a veteran gave me attitude. and i stuck up for myself. man she was snotty. i was to consult her for work students could do during that period. she looked at me (with disdain) and said:

what?!

i'm here to gather materials from you for my coverage period.

well, how many students are in there?

i don't know.

what do you mean you don't know? did you not go the class to count?

i've come a half an hour early to gather the materials. as i should. so, i don't know how many kids will be in there.

man, she was a bitch. pardon my phrasing. but just because i'm a new teacher it doesn't give anyone the right to treat me like a twelve year old in front of colleagues and students. and just because i have young face, it doesn't mean that i'm naive. it doesn't mean you are going to walk all over me.

i think she was surprised, and most likely angered, by my age appropriate and professional mannerisms.

---- showed up before the period was to end. for me. apparently it was to begin for him. i took him to her office. i told her there was a scheduling problem. she picked up the phone and told me it was not her problem.

i stayed in that room until she addressed me again, where i said calmly: as you know, i can't leave--we can't leave children in the classroom without a teacher, it's illegal. i cannot be in two places at once. i cannot check four floors down about scheduling issues. i cannot stay in the classroom if i'm to teach my own class within five minutes. so, they will have to stay with you.

and i left.
_____________________

today i broke it down to my ninth and tenth period classroom that i did not want to battle with them all year. i'm their teacher. and they have to deal with it. i told them i don't want to butt heads. i don't have the time nor the energy. i told them i don't want to bring the drama home, because i have a life too. i have dinner plans, and party plans, and relaxing plans too. i told them it hurts my feelings when they talk out of the side of their mouths, because i can hear it. and it's not cool. i told them if they are here to learn, they will. if they feel like they are forced to be here because of their parents, they are not...and if they don't want to be here, then don't come. but if they cut, and i call home to the parents (especially the onces that "force" them to come to school) how is going to make their situation better when their parents are going to be more upset at them for cutting?

i tried to problem solve with them today. they feel disrespected, not necessarily by me, but in general--i don't know if they mean by other teachers, administrators, or the school. they feel that they are being treated like third graders. and i asked them why they are treated this way. and they all admitted, in some way, that they are not disciplined enough to be treated like adults.
___

my ---- made me cry today. i didn't cry in front of them. instead, i cried in the women's bathroom.

Wednesday, September 22nd, 2004
Time: 3:54 pm.

i feel the germ creeping up.

my co-teacher spoke to ----. it went well. he admitted to copying. he's going to do it again. now, if we could just get him to pay attention in class.

i have so many mentors it makes my head swirl. board of education mentor. pace mentor. literacy coach mentor. lead fellow mentor. english department mentors. and i'm collaborating up the yahoo with matt (who never received ramp up training), two other english teachers from another academy (for ramp up), nikki (for english period four and five), the academy's science teacher (for advisory), and the literacy coach.

my head. it swirls with everything i'm to do. thank goodness i have this palm pilot to log everything. i just have to remember to use it more.

Tuesday, September 21st, 2004
Time: 4:32 pm.
Mood: concerned.
Music: van morrison.

i spent hours last night reading about the artist cam'ron. if i never have to read another article about cam'ron, i will die happy. ---- handed me a questionable paper on monday. questionable in the idea that what he wrote was most likely written by somebody else. either the entire essay was plagiarized. or bits and pieces. in any case, i know that cam'ron didn't go to his house. and cam'ron didn't get caught with drugs at his house that lead cam'ron to his heavy possession charge.

how do you approach a kid? a kid who definitely has some learning disabilities, and some emotional needs. how do you not embarrass him? how do you tell him that what he did was wrong, and have him process it?

he didn't show up for class today.

he obviously wants to do well in class. he obviously needs one on one attention. but i have nineteen other kids to manage.

note to self: start bringing lunch. or leave the building. erica why do you trap yourself in these walls?

nine.

2009-01-04T15:48:00.000-05:00

Monday, September 20th, 2004
Subject: hi. monday.
Time: 7:47 pm.
Mood: again. tired.
Music: cat power. in this hole.

no matter how relaxing. how long. how refreshing the weekend was. i'm tired all over again. it might have something to do with the one hundred and twenty minutes of professional development with the academy. which left me crawling to the train with a twenty pound back pack during rush hour. also. i didn't eat lunch. smart move erica.

Saturday, September 18th, 2004
Subject: this e-mail sums it up. sorry if you see it twice.
Time: 2:46 pm.
Music: tara jane o'neil. without push.

dear sir,

it's been insane. in the best way. i love it all. i feel no stress. maybe sometime soon, but the first week was lovely. better than i ever expected.

it makes me want to be thirteen instead of forty-five.

how are you?

you know, i could do without the graduate class though.

teachers are nuts. and they are heavy drinkers. i, though, am not.

what else?

nothing too new. and you sir, how are you?

regards,

erica

Subject: he said.
Time: 1:53 pm.

would you be friends with me if my teeth were shaped like little penises?

Wednesday, September 15th, 2004
Subject: holy smokes.
Time: 6:57 pm.
Mood: accomplished.
Music: matt pond pa. grave's disease.

the shit hit the fan today. i was so amped to get the day started, riding off the previous days' energy and general well-being of my classes.

then i had advisory with another teacher and her advisory class. since we lack room, it looks like we'll be sharing the classroom all year. which is nice. i like the idea of team teaching. my problem is: advisory. what is it? seriously. soho art academy was created about two weeks before school started. chelsea high school had to accommodate about one hundred and fifty extra students that could not, to my knowledge, fit within the other existing academies without going over the classroom cap limit (all assumptions, of course) so the soho art academy was created. and within the small academy we were blessed with advisory, which a lot of small schools and academies are dealing with too. we've had no training for the advisory program and we are piggy-backing off of the other academies and their loose curriculum plan through december. advisory has the potential to be brilliant. really. the kids could learn a vast amount whilst receiving their health credit as well. but as i see it, our academy has no game plan--and in a week, the kids will see right through advisory, and mark that forty-two minute period as a joke. we sketched faces during that period, and wrote about it (hi, art fusion).

and then i had my block period -----. holy crap. this class holds another team teaching opportunity, which is new to chelsea high school. i love it. i think, two brains are better than one. i team teach with a special education teacher (known as master teacher? or that crazy lady that follows them around all day to all of their classes?--they don't know she's the special education teacher, which is rad). well, she is there because that class is an inclusion class, where half of the students need differentiated learning. but, i learned today, that she is not much of a disciplinarian. she has a different patience than i. i asked her about her method of discipline--she simply stated that the class hasn't pushed her buttons yet, that they aren't misbehaving, they are getting to know each other, and that usually causes extraneous classroom activity that delineates from the learning environment. she told me that she does have a temper, and will discipline when needed (she gave me the example of her disciplining method in her old school when kids would throw books and relieve themselves in the classroom waste basket. i thought, do i have to for those types of circumstances to discipline?! what? no way). well any way, i became the bad guy during that period. raising my voice several times to remind them of the respect that needs to be going on in the classroom. it was the most awful feeling. to stand there and discipline, while the other teacher just watched.

i felt miserable for a good chunk of the day. no one wants to be the bad guy.

block nine and ten. they are brilliant. they made my seemingly awful day much better.

i have the first week under my belt. everyday will be like the third day of school, filled with positives and negatives galore. i'm glad we have a four day weekend. i need to re-group.

Tuesday, September 14th, 2004
Subject: tuesday.
Time: 3:37 pm.
Music: the flaming lips. the strange design of conscience.

okay. another day under my belt. today went surprisingly well too. i share a classroom with mr. cerny (not sear-knee, but cheer-knee, it means black in polish, so says he). we feel comfortable enough to stay in the room while the other teaches. it's weird. but a nice weird. i'm glad that i get to observe another fellow (peace corp, not teaching) and their teaching method. i've learned that he says please too much. he asks me: "erica, what do you think i can do better as far as class management?" i say: "don't say please--don't give them a choice within your rules. be more declarative. don't say 'please be quiet.' say, 'you need to be quiet,' or just plain old 'be quiet.'" he does a great job of constantly referencing his classroom rule of respect though. we'll both have to do a lot of reminding.

i learned today that my kids, through their journaling, that they think i'm strict. but sort of fun. i'm walking that line. i like that line. i like that they think i'm strict. and in "fun", i hope they mean that i'm not too out of touch. because really, i'm not. i like a lot of the same things they do, as far as music and fashion, but i won't let them know for a while.

the lesson planning process has been interesting. i've already found that i'm utterly exhausted by the time i get home (and chances are i'll be going to bed a few hours from now) so i will have to find the best time for me to lesson plan--most likely the weekends, and the wee hours of the morning. i am not opposed to the idea of getting up at four in the morning. i like that alone time. the stillness of the morning. the first cigarette and sip of coffee. it's like i'll have this secret life.

Monday, September 13th, 2004
Subject: monday, sweet monday.
Time: 4:23 pm.
Mood: tired.
Music: my morning jacket. how do you know.

i made it through my first day. i battled through rough sunday sleep. and monday morning stomach flips. through the roller coaster subway ride that made any and everything that was in my stomach (four cups of coffee and a spoonful of peanut butter) travel to my esophagus. adam traveled to school with me at seven thirty in the morning. it felt like kindergarten again. but instead of the multi-colored visor with the flashing lights, a father with a matching one, and the tears, there was adam, two twenty pound bags, and nagging nausea.

he dropped me off and i said "do not kiss me in front of the school, that is big no no." who the hell says "no no"? seriously, "no no"? i had just had a patti moment (my mother).

school was amazing. the kids, amazing, petrified, but amazing. i was strict. i was covered in chalk by three thirty, well, ten thirty, to be honest. i wanted to shout a big fuck you to the world at the end of the day, to the people that told me that it would be difficult, terrible, miserable, especially for a new teacher. by the end of the chelsea professional development days a week before, i pretty much disliked the entire faculty, sans those who didn't feel the need to coddle or patronize. i made it through monday. i made it through monday! i feel on the top of the world.

but really, i know that everyday will be a monday, well maybe everyday will be like the second or third day of school. it will be like one of my most favorite movies with bill murray, groundhog day (even as an english teacher i don't know if i underline that movie title or italicize it, and in any and all cases i'm not sure how to do it in livejournal, i haven't done enough research or writing in this thing to even know).

this is going to be the best experience ever.

Sunday, September 5th, 2004
Time: 3:02 pm.

rikki tikki tavi!

Friday, September 3rd, 2004
Subject: past tense present tense. tense tense tense.
Time: 7:30 pm.

i'm kickin it in my swim trunks and brown top. the same brown top i've been wearing for the last three days. i'm alone. and it's okay. i'm not feeling lonely. just sort of nostalgic i guess.

there are days when i forget why i am here. in this apartment. with this new job. this new new new everything. sometimes it feels like the same old same old. and it's not. things a way different than they were from a year and a half ago. a year ago. six months ago.

and to think i came to this place with one bag on my back and no job. and here i am. in this apartment your grandmother would kill for. and in four days i'll be stomping around chelsea vocational high school. and i should be lesson planning, but i'm too caught up in "this". if i really want to get into it, i should have started lesson planning weeks ago. but i, alas, am a procrastinator. back to change.

really. i rent an apartment with a crime partner (fuck richie), i will have some insane health insurance starting september seventh.
_____

things sometimes feel the same. and it's the parts of me that haven't changed. i will always love others more than i will love myself. i will always have a no for all the yes.
______

i want other more memories. these are great, yes, so fantastic, that i yearn for more. what is it that i do that turn people away? why am i so afraid of people? why do want friends when i'm so afraid of people? i want friends. but i've built a flaky bridge so it seems.

well, anyways i want these memories so i can joke around with my friends on the back porch drinking beer and grilling burgers and reflect on the fun that was had.

Thursday, August 26th, 2004
Time: 7:47 pm.

to start collecting unicorn earrings.

also, workshop my play or shop it around to be produced.

Tuesday, August 24th, 2004
Subject: wings.
Time: 9:26 am.

i want them. you do to. maybe some of you pretty boys and girls will come with me tomorrow. at croxley's.

Monday, August 23rd, 2004
Subject: i'm excited.
Time: 6:28 pm.

about going to built by wendy tomorrow to look at the new wrangler collection i cannot afford.

i will try on jeans. find the right size. and pray someone purchases them and sells them on ebay on the cheaps.

Sunday, August 22nd, 2004
Subject: really.
Time: 11:53 am.

i have no friends.

be my friend.

Tuesday, August 17th, 2004
Time: 2:34 pm.

bay ridge is amazing. fruit stands. and clean streets. flavor. wicked monk. townies. and i'm sure sugar free sweets are buried somewhere on fifth avenue.

Sunday, August 15th, 2004
Time: 9:27 am.

i'm sorry.

Friday, August 13th, 2004
Subject: for me.
Time: 5:06 pm.

To feel a sequence of raised bumps that erupt with fine blonde hairs on thighs that belong to someone else. This is what my fingers want.
__________

And I cannot decipher whether or not I want to be in her or be her.
___

I see so many beautiful things: my brain cannot synthesize these images, so fine and vibrant, into words on paper.

Why?

Concrete fissures filled with tanned kernels.

Olive green olives that burst with jalapeño fire in my mouth.
______

So many shoes! So many! On subway rides I picture these shoes melting, onto the speckled variants of blues and whites on sheets of black linoleum floors of train cars, into a sea of red ants. Red ants flooding from Air Trainer Ones and muddied tan boots and soft-soled beaded moccasins.

And I eventually I drown in red ants.

Before I suffocate, I feel light legs of partitioned bodies on my skin—in holes where no thing except for air has traveled. Swallowing, as I grasp for air, fragmented groupings of tiny red bodies lump in the back of my throat.
___________________________________________

Something sits in my stomach so sad as I travel back home to Greenwood Heights. Fuck it. I’ve been carrying this weight for days. I swallow as I breathe and I feel the air, having traveled (down the wrong pipe, as my mother would say) from mouth to stomach, surrounding this amorphous glob, suffocating this weighty sadness until I am nauseous and wriggle with discomfort and gag from its blanketing intrusion.

What is down there?

I’ve taken five fiber pills every night for the last three nights, deviating from my three every-other-day routine. I’ve consumed one extra cup of sweet coffee in the following three mornings. I’m hoping to push this weight out in the thick-aired August mornings and flush it to Paris (my plumber is from Avignon and harbors this hatred for Paris. He says it is politics. I think he abhors the city for its flowery odors).

I ponder milk-chocolate flavored laxatives for dinner.

Thursday, August 5th, 2004
Subject: why don't i love you enough, journal.
Time: 9:54 pm.

i ignore you. but i do love you. somewhere deep in the warm nooks of my bowels, the love is there.

i'm almost finished with my summer session at pace. and next monday i start a week-long literacy training session. and then. a break. a time to relax, for a hot second. and then re-group. organize. erica remember the teacher's wish-list section of craig's list and donor's choose dot org.

i'd like to build a classroom environment for my little birds. since i will be hanging with them for ninety minutes a day i'd like some rugs and throw pillows and some crazy lamps. hi, donations. ramp-up shoves about two thousand books down your throat in the first two weeks, but i'm going to thrift and beg for more. if you have any you want to get rid of, throw them my way.

i'm going to start a blog for teaching. not on livejournal. can anyone suggest a good free lovely blogging site?

me mum is coming tomorrow to visit the place. she hasn't been to new york since i've moved. i'm very excited. and she is too. hand towels and kitchen supplies and bookcases and tools and pillows and storage units and loki hair to make this new place feel occupied.

i've taken to writing again. it's my secret that i am letting out.

Sunday, July 18th, 2004
Subject: Greenwood Heights.
Time: 5:47 pm.

I think we have it. We have it. But in saying that, I feel like I’m going to fuck it up. My glass isn’t half full nor is it half empty. It’s just empty. Why. We got it. I need to stop thinking about it. We will get the fax. And it will be over.

Saturday, July 17th, 2004
Time: 9:16 am.

theresa and andy are getting married today.

Friday, July 16th, 2004
Time: 9:47 pm.

i pulled into nazareth, was feeling about half past dead.
i just need some place where i can lay my head.

"hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"

he just grinned and shook my hand, and "no" was all he said.

picked up my bag, went looking for a place to hide.
when i saw carmen and the devil walkin' side by side
i said: "hey, carmen, come on, let's go downtown."
she said: "i gotta go, but m'friend can stick around."

go down, miss moses, there's nothing you can say.
it's just old luke, and luke's waitin' on the judgement day.

"well luke, my friend, what about young anna lee?"

he said: "do me a favour, son, won't you stay an' keep anna lee company?"

crazy chester followed me, and he caught me in the fog.
he said: "i will fix your rack, if you'll take jack, my dog"
i said: "wait a minute, chester, i'm a peaceful man"
he said: "that's ok, just feed him when you can"

catch a cannon ball now, to take me down the line.
my bag is sinking low and i do believe it's time
to get back to miss fanny, you know she's the only one
who sent me here with her regards for everyone.

take a load off fanny.
take a load for free.
take a load off fanny,
and you can put the load right on me.

Tuesday, June 22nd, 2004
Time: 7:03 am.

when did i become a morning person?

eight.

2009-01-04T15:43:00.000-05:00

Monday, June 21st, 2004
Subject: hi charles darwin.
Time: 9:23 pm.
Mood: bananas and peanut butter.

birds eat birds.

and my students might eat me.

Wednesday, June 16th, 2004
Subject: changes.
Time: 10:04 pm.

hairs cut real short.

moving to brooklyn soon (me hopes).

graduate school at pace university.

teaching english at chelsea vocational high school.

life has been hectic and lovely.

Wednesday, May 12th, 2004
Subject: it was a good day.
Time: 9:23 pm.

sort of.

Subject: oh beer.
Time: 9:23 pm.

what a calming effect you have on me.

Time: 9:23 pm.

these last few days have been fucking stellar. manic weather. parks. rick james bitch. tahini dressing. ice cream cones. sweaty hand holding. i really couldn't ask for anything more, except for more time, shorter work weeks (longer weekends), an apartment up on the east side of harlem, and a dog named action.

i have two tests next saturday and i'm pretty nervous. i've never been aces with standardized tests, and i feel my stomach quivering with nerves as i type about the subject.

i don't like my job. i don't think anyone would like this job. it's a wee bit insane.

was i meant to be a teacher? all signs are pointing to yes.

Subject: walking home.
Time: 9:23 pm.

i took the short way home, but walked slow to think. ran into caroline and petted her head. stopped into a vintage shoe and clothing store on seventh street. and i tried on cowboy boots. i made the man behind the counter hold them for me. i was too tired to make a decision as to whether or not i was too poor to buy them. or that it was too silly to buy them. i need to save. and it's just transient fashion. i thought about paul on the way home from the store. how i missed him in a fucked up crack head that bitch owes me a lot of money way. but he grew on me. i thought about how i missed my black cowboy boots. how i never wore them, really. but how i loved them so in a weird way. i often think about how he is. if he is better. if he is sane. if he went back to hair cutting. if he is even alive.
_____

i walked into my apartment. shuffled through the mail. and there it was. a mailing list post card from the buffalo chips boot company. an invitation for the grand opening bash over on washington street near the west side highway.

it's funny how life, this moving life around me, can, at times, synchronize with my current thoughts.

i fear attending this party. it would be an interesting gamble.

Time: 9:23 pm.

a woman came up to me on the street and told me she would give me her earrings for dinner and cigarettes.

i declined the offer.

Time: 9:23 pm.

my boss is one crazy fuck. i think i make him feel young (and i dread saying this, because i'm far from it, but i think i make him feel hip). i go in early. i stay late. i do work for him from home. i call him after hours. he calls me before hours. today he made me take the car service from work, on the upper east side, to his pad, on the upper west side, down to chelsea (after he was dropped off) with his diabolic, meddling, vapid, seventeen out of the twenty year business side-kick and friend, to the last stop, all the way down to my place on the east side of houston. seriously. he's goontastic. why me. seriously. why me.

so. cheryl is leaving and erica might be the new it tech. listen. i can hardly hook up my own personal printer without a hitch. how am i ever to deal with a hot, forty pound server. god help me.

also, my roommate is crazy and i'm moving soon.

Tuesday, May 11th, 2004
Time: 8:53 pm.

linen is not breathable.

Friday, May 7th, 2004
Time: 9:22 pm.

i learn my name.
i write with a number two pencil.
i work up to my potential.
i earn my meat.
i come when called.
i jump when you circle the cherry.
i sing like a good canary.
i come when called.
i come, that's all.

Saturday, May 1st, 2004
Subject: if you don't say it.
Time: 1:05 am.

opinion. there is never a poor time to talk about how you feel, even when you might feel it to be inopportune.

fact. if you don't say what you feel, chances are i might not know what you are feeling.

opinion. i think my roommate is crazy.

fact. my roommate is crazy.

opinion. i talk too much, and say very little.

fact. all i've ever wanted was a voice, and now that i have one, all i want to do is listen.
_____________

and, as an aside, i don't know what is right. or wrong. i feel like i'm walking on eggshells for family, friends, loved ones, and co-workers. and all i know is that i'm tired and i've been cracking some eggs.
_____________

i just want some alone time, but not alone.

Tuesday, April 13th, 2004
Subject: guh.
Time: 9:44 pm.

wow. this job. whoa.

i can't wait for the weekend.

i like reading on my commute. it makes me happy.
_____________________________________________________

so what do you want to do?

i'd like to start up a magazine based on urban literature.

so you want to write?

i guess,well...yes.

(it's strange to for me to think about my life in that perimeter again).

Saturday, April 10th, 2004
Subject: you know what i like?
Time: 8:14 pm.

i like sprawling out on my couch at night and watching, through the living room windows, planes flying over head.

Sunday, April 4th, 2004
Subject: happy.
Time: 9:17 pm.

and tired.

Sunday, March 28th, 2004
Subject: ...
Time: 1:15 pm.

me mum went to vegas. she needs to tell me about her seedy vacation. she needs to tell me about elvis impersonators. and slot machines. and show girls.

my week has been nutso. per usual.

all you fucks that don't think i have a job, i do. it sucks to hear these words:

"oh, yeah, that's right, you're not working..."

and

"why are you tired, it's not like you work or anything."

i'm employed by a direct, temporary to permanent, and temporary work placement staffing firm. and yes, i have been busy.

i've also been accepted to teach english by the new york city teaching fellows.

and yes, like the rest of you, i'm worried about my finances and my mental health, and i'm not really interested in talking about it to anyone really because it already consumes all of my thoughts, and it affects me mentally and physically.

those phrases (above) really do hurt. i don't know what you think of me. and i don't really want to know.

Subject: i'm in love.
Time: 1:11 am.

and i'm feeling insecure.

why does this happen?

Sunday, March 21st, 2004
Subject: christmas, happy.
Time: 10:48 pm.
Music: beast of burden. rolling stones.

okay. shit weekend except for the tail end. jobs didn't work out, no interviews(except for friday), travis dies, roommate's a fucking wreck, binge eating, restless nights, money concerns and issues.

but then bam, saturday. and sunday. best days ever. and again i'm hopeful for a brilliant week.

i am really lucky, and no matter how down i get, i got to keep my head up and remember things could be a lot worse. a lot worse.

and the thing i'm tickled the most about is that i have someone around who finally accepts me for me. it's nice to know that i don't have to be roses and sunshine all the time. someone accepts all these moods, all these feelings. it's so nice for a change. so nice. i'm really lucky.

Thursday, March 18th, 2004
Time: 8:56 am.

these feelings have no words.

i just sprawled out on the floor with the two of them.

Wednesday, March 17th, 2004
Subject: up down up down up
Time: 10:52 pm.
Mood: (
Music: heater hiss.

down.

Wednesday, March 10th, 2004
Subject: let's play catch up.
Time: 9:18 pm.

i'm itching to see a good show. cat power, mainly, or a really amazing hip hop show.

i'm itching for the spring, too.

i've been crossing all my fingers and toes, saying random prayers, wishes, in hopes that things will fall into place.

i'm at the point on the hill where i can see the top. i see at the zenith new friends; peanuts; a perfect relationship; a good, but dull job; a renewed sense in interests that have been buried, lost, suppressed, ready and waiting to be re-awakened; and clear thoughts. i'm climbing in anticipation of reaching the top. weary still of my steps, but still forging forward.

things cannot not fall into place. i can feel it. this feeling swells inside me. making that bubble taut, ready to pop.

seven.

2009-01-04T15:33:00.000-05:00

Wednesday, March 10th, 2004
Subject: birds of a feather.
Time: 1:23 am.

are happy together.

Sunday, March 7th, 2004
Subject: thirty-two hours.
Time: 11:39 pm.

fucking amazing.

Wednesday, March 3rd, 2004
Subject: i ate half your antioxidant and i'm sorry.
Time: 12:40 am.

and the man on the street said:

"there are two things wrong with clark wallabees, one is that when it rains they get soaked..."

and i said:

"and secondly, they're too expensive."

i think you are amazing. you know who you are. please don't ever run away. things have changed. and they would be different without you.

Sunday, February 29th, 2004
Subject: new found fondness for.
Time: 11:06 pm.

five frozen goldfish treats (eating four, and sharing one).
removing fat.
charades.
the ministry of alcohol.
the staten island ferry.

Saturday, February 28th, 2004
Subject: i'm not moving from this place.
Time: 10:16 pm.

it has been a very long time in having a person, place, or thing to call my own. i've always just been on the periphery of sociality, environment, and personal thought. but, i have this city. it is my home. and i don't want to leave. it has offered to me everything that i've always wanted. it is non-discriminatory of my tastes. it offers me plenty of street lights that are capable of burning out while walking under them. it makes me feel less lonely.

on another note, i met some really great people yesterday.

Friday, February 27th, 2004
Subject: i'm going to tell you a secret.
Time: 11:07 am.

i sang usher outloud in duane reade.

i've been there, done it, humped around.
after all that - this is what i found
nobody wants to be alone
if you're touched by the words in this song
then baby...

HAHAHA KEKEKEKEKEKE HAHAHAHA.

i really do like that song in some twisted way.

(((((

Thursday, February 26th, 2004
Subject: i have been busy.
Time: 1:22 pm.

really great things have been happening.

some (five, i play by the rules!) simple things.

five.
peanut butter.

four.
street light lamp posts either flicking from off to on or on to off when i walk under them.

three.
good eyebrow tweezing session.

two.
being responsible for laughter.

one.
books for less than a quarter.

Wednesday, February 25th, 2004
Subject: i just woke up typos.
Time: 10:29 am.

there was a lot of nudity in my dreams.

i was, partially. and i was in my old room on kingsboro. curtain-less windows. whatever i was doing wasn't p.g. and then i noticed i was being spied upon and i did a stop drop and roll to the safety of my dirty pink itchy bedroom carpeted floor.

following this sequence, as i remember, i found myself in my driveway on kingsboro with dave chapelle. my grandfather and his wench wife were dragging around this little old man who happened to be crazy, without family, aimless, and perverted. connie wanted to pawn him off on dave and i and i remember telling her to shove off. as the story goes, connie had met him one night, at the grocery, or at church, somewhere without my grandfather. thinking the little old man had money she did her thing with him and he became attached and, well, soon following, crazy. i remember connie trying to give my mother and i some whack story (i remember calling her soon as i told connie to get a grip so we could compare connie lies). i remember that i referred to connie as a cunt and dave was surprised at my language. in this dream we were dating. or maybe it was just a sexual thing. i remember him touching my back and i leaning in on his suede leather coat.

and then we, dave and i, are in this strange cafeteria hall train station. somewhat like a lodge next to some tracks. the room was separated, men from women, by the alignment of the tables. jewish men, from jewish woman. facing the tracks i see the women on the left, the men on the right. the women's cafeteria tables ran parallel to the tracks. the men's tables were formated in angles. dave was naked, and also whiter in skin shade, during this segment. he was doing penis tricks for the ladies and taunting the men with racial jokes.

i left the room several times only to find myself in dave's kitchen (he lived in this lodge?) for water. the filtering station in his brita was broken and could only hold about a half of a cup of water at a time without the station sinking and disrupting its purpose--to filter water. in the dream i drank a lot of water. i remember his computer was in the kitchen and i was checking up on his instant messenger slash my space sort of text vehicle. checking who was on his list, if i was listed. and i remember the machine freezing. i remember the paranoia i felt when it would freeze. i remember it freezing and fixing itself one time and when i turned back to the screen to continue lurking dave's files he had a picture of adam on his buddy list. the picture with the bat hat. and i wondered how they knew each other.

i woke when a bald young man in a tight white t-shirt (who happened to be sitting at the head of one of the female tables) asked a question regarding a train that happened to steam by, and somewhere in his vernacular her used the word nig.

Subject: a polite decline. from two resources.
Time: 2:17 am.

i'm so tired. my eyes are itchy.

and now upon an e-mail, an academic e-mail, i am sad.

Monday, February 23rd, 2004
Subject: find this. and send it. and i will love you forever.
Time: 2:07 pm.
Mood: ran three miles, want to die.

half baked™ carb karma ice cream pints.

Sunday, February 22nd, 2004
Time: 10:00 pm.

my life is whirling by, faster and more dizzying than a dervish. and at age twenty-four i’m not exactly where i’d like to be, but i feel like i’m heading in the right direction. my fear exists, though, in this complacency that has consumed my life for the last three years: settling into something where i don’t feel like i belong. rooting myself, comfortably, in the idea that my life will eventually propel itself forward feverishly and successfully some time very soon, and that the only thing i need to hold truth in is time. patience. but aren’t i brimful of patience. has it not been stewing for years. will something break. what does it take. am i going about it wrong. these statements swirl in my head usually for a good hour before i fall asleep. and my teeth grind rhythmically with the cerebral elliptical orbiting of these dissatisfying thoughts.

one thing i’m certain of, which scares the knickers off of me, is that i’m afraid of opportunism. and i don’t know why.

also, i really need to get some headshots done. no fucking around erica. get it done this month. and please, for the love of big baby jesus erica, do some sit ups.

Subject: coffee, beer, and a lorna doone.
Time: 2:32 am.

plosives in my lateralization.

it took two hours to get home. now listen, i have a lot of love in this little heart, but i hate the four train.

i almost passed out in the intersection of second and second. but i am resilient, because i eat a lot of rubber bands.

tonight was perfect.

Saturday, February 21st, 2004
Subject: i find it hard to tell you, i find it hard to take.
Time: 9:27 am.

if it is going to rain all day you will find me in my bed.

Friday, February 20th, 2004
Subject: bring your toothbrush.
Time: 8:57 pm.

i've heard from one and i'm moving on.

also, i have a bartending interview in park slope tomorrow. pray that i do not come across as slattern in posture and articulation.

paul. it's now a question of trust and truth. and though i miss the work i do not miss the abuse of my kindness; and the the clumps of hair that would find themselves in shower drains and in the sweaty palms of my hands; and the dirty crack spoons.

this space is slowly filling up.

you should be here. i have a seat for you on my couch, next to me.

Time: 8:01 am.

i was slightly inebriated last night. i came home to an empty house. ate some cookies. and tried to take a late night nap on a very cat-haired couch. but my body was irresolute. and i thought about someone for several hours. maybe this is why i had a hard time sleeping.

my mind just sort of whirls with everything that is going on in my life. and i seem to get more heady when intoxicated. which really clarifies nothing. but it gives me another (altered) perspective on things.

my thoughts in the last few days:

i thought about what it would be like to hit someone, well really what it would be like to set someone's chin on fire (in a mugging scenario).

i thought about how reserved i really am. i need something to shake it up. and i think i know how.

i thought a lot about pinning someone up against the wall, just to smooch.

i thought about whether or not i should have someone edit my play.

Thursday, February 19th, 2004
Time: 2:02 pm.

i went for a walk around midnight last night. to get some air. i trapped myself in my apartment for most of the day. it was something i needed to do. i didn't get too far. as far as key food for half and half and fake-sugar chocolate ice cream. upon walking home i caught myself talking to myself out loud. i don't know how many feet, yards, or blocks i traveled muttering to myself. this is a normal thing for me. but usually it stays in my head, it never projects itself into something audible. though there has been times where i've mouthed my inner monologue, the sounds of only exhaling and the sticky snappy smacking of my lips when they are over-saturated.

i am forcing myself not to clean the apartment, which is proving to be a difficult task at the moment. i need to let things go once in awhile, and i need to forget about order and what other people think of my order or the lack there of.

i like who i am. and i should be happy with that. then why is it i feel so sad.

Wednesday, February 18th, 2004
Subject: wtf.
Time: 10:05 pm.

i hate you life of agony for not playing any fucking shows in your own neighborhood.

jerks.

keith (((((

Time: 4:46 pm.
Music: houston street.

i now want the nike air force one sneakers in black with the gum bottom, gold writing, and the velcro ankle thing. style number 306351- 001, to be more specific.

that is all.

Tuesday, February 17th, 2004
Subject: i don't think we are friends.
Time: 2:54 pm.
Music: npr.

no, not you, or you, yeah you, but you never check this thing, no matter.

i dislike when my momentum falls to the wayside. i'll blame cross-walk lights and drivers that turn corners without yielding to pedestrians.

Monday, February 16th, 2004
Subject: these fucks.
Time: 12:15 pm.
Mood: /\/\/\/\/\.
Music: built to spill.

ransacked my bodega of my ice cream. i waited four years for things to finally come around, and no-carbohydrate diet zealots are usurping from me the only thing i truly love--chocolate fucking ice cream.

six.

2009-01-04T15:27:00.001-05:00

Sunday, February 15th, 2004
Subject: saturday.
Time: 11:09 pm.
Mood: scattered..
Music: cunninglynguists.

friday was fun. i can't say that fun has been apart of my life as of late, so it was a welcome change.

what was not fun was losing my phone. i remember sticking it in my bag before i left the apartment. when i returned around the time of three in the morning, i reached in my bag with the intention of texting a well wishing message, and the phone just wasn't there.

i told richie that i practiced good cellular phone manners on my outing. and maybe if i hadn't i would have known at some point (before three)that it was missing. so i trekked over to mona's and joey's and they don't have the fucker.

all day i've been trying to hone in my telepathic powers.

if you heard, in your mind, a knock-knock, it was me. let me in.

i do things sometimes until ad nauseum. like cleaning. or plucking out my white hairs. itching. tossing about in my bed. i do it until my jaw is so tense i get a headache and i want to puke all over my kicks. when did this all begin. will it ever end. i mean, it's hard to think of rainbows and candy and bunnies all the time.

Friday, February 13th, 2004
Subject: my hardest year.
Time: 3:42 pm.

fall filled with warafin. late arrivals to my acient greek seminar. bruised arms and tired eyes. a full load. a mainstage. a job. shit-fucks for roommates. january term filled with black text to white blank paper not wanting to be filled because of fear. a spring to finish that play. direct that play. set, light, sound design for another play. full course load. another mainstage. and filling last minute requirements.

i still got a 3.83 for that year.

when i called the mathematician in the registrar office today to sort out my individual year grade point averages, i started to cry a little. i re-lived that shit-year in a nanosecond separted by cellular phone static, three hunderd miles, and two years.

but somehow i got by, and for that i'm proud (which also made me cry a little).

so both are done. i sent the second in today. i will know the verdicts in two weeks. wish me luck.

also, my notebook is rad.

Wednesday, February 11th, 2004
Subject: one is done and sent.
Time: 11:27 pm.

the other, soon to follow.

seriously, who did the double-checking mathematics on my transcripts?

my train leaves at eleven tomorrow morning. i have a lot to do when i get back.

things i've learned:

that i am afraid of coy-dogs.

that denting out a jar of peanut-butter in two days is nothing compared to the dents i put into some fake sugar ben and jerry's pints in one hour.

that i really am a terrible driver.

that i have a whole lot to give, but i need to give a little to myself once and a while.

that mustard is not a good substitute for salad dressing.

that my mother wants to be a grandmother, badly.

that my brother is actually funny.

that i really do love new york city.

that i use the word that, a lot.

that i'd drop anything in a nanosecond for my mother.

Tuesday, February 10th, 2004
Subject: CATALINA MADELINA.
Time: 8:16 pm.

There was a girl, she had a funny name.
She got it from her pappy just the same, same, same.

Catalina, Madalina, Lubinsteiner, Walenhimer, Hogan, Logan, Posgan, was her name.

She had twenty hairs on the top of her head.
Ten were alive and ten were dead.

She had two teeth in the front of her mouth.
One pointed north and the other pointed south.

She had two eyes in the front of her head.
One was yellow and the other was red.

Her ears stuck out like the sails of a boat.
Her adams apple wandered up and down her throat.

She loved to polish her finger nails.
She bought her polish in ten gallon pails.

The language she spoke was an awful joke.
Her head was made out of solid oak.

Catalina, Madalina, Lubinsteiner, Walenhimer, Hogan, Logan, Posgan, was her name.

Time: 11:17 am.

some of you are ridiculous.

Monday, February 9th, 2004
Subject: ©
Time: 9:54 am.

I HATE THE WORD

Consequence:

jutting black on
yellow-stained white
paper, like pepper
and salt, like you and
me.

(con) Sequ[i]n (ce):

reminds me of
the prom that I
always hated, you
in a black suit

acrid with your sweat,
your hand
on the ass of my
pseudo virginal jaundice
dress.

I should have slit
your throat then,
but my nails were so plastic
pretty, and I was
nice.

Sunday, February 8th, 2004
Time: 11:02 pm.

engine driver's headed north to pleasant stream.

these wheels keep turning but they're running out of steam.

Saturday, February 7th, 2004
Subject: i often feel like the person in the crooked finger's song broken man.
Time: 8:04 pm.

well, i am feeling better, and i'm fighting against this no motivation feeling. i'm blaming the winter, but it's all about the blahs. we all go through this.

so joe (finally) dropped off my poetry portfolio. i lured him with a beer or coffee e-mail. though we never met up. nor do i want to. but since he's been working on the house next to ours on kingsboro i figured he'd be (more of) a real asshole if he decided to conveniently forget to drop it off. but to my surprise he came through. me mum was shocked that jen didn't burn it, or urinate on it, or rip it to shreds. she's that kind of chick. for the longest time during my friendship with joe i was convinced that one day i'd magically disappear and would be found one day, decades later, buried in her folk's front yard. yes, she is that kind of girl.

today i also found out that the amsterdam dunkin donuts charges more for the great one than the one on houston street in new york city. what the fuck. i also found out that amsterdam is in possession of a store solely dedicated to bows and arrows, and appropriately the store is named bows and arrow. also, what the fuck.

i wrote this:

In a dream I was lusting after chocolate covered peanut-butter wafers
enriched flour
riboflavin
and partially hydrogenated soybean oil
In a not-dream my mother’s warm body was next to mine

and this (which is a part of the same poem):

like when I stare at a flashlight for too long
or when I glance at that torrent orb light
in the compressed archaic racquetball court at the gym

You were like a luminous protostar
evolving and
tracking
through my Hertzsprung-Russell gray matter
the nebulae of my memory
as if you were on your way to becoming a main sequence star
_______________

i've been thinking about you lately. no, not you. you.

Thursday, February 5th, 2004
Time: 10:20 pm.
Mood: accomplished.

a list:

house gut, check.
college chest gut, check.
portfolio plea, check.
arrear e-mail, check.
tax crap, check.
new laptop on back order, check.
change of life plan, check.

things are moving a long swimmingly. but it would be nice if you could (silently, if you'd prefer) wish me luck. shakiness is still in the future, i predict.

Wednesday, February 4th, 2004
Subject: Compaq Presario Notebook:
Time: 10:20 am.

Model 2100US Notebook

-Microprocessor Intel® Celeron® Processor - 1.6 GHz

-Hard Drive 30GB enhanced-IDE

-Memory 256 MB DDR SDRAM; Memory Max 1024 MB

-Memory Speed 266 MHz

-Total DIMM Sockets 2; available DIMM Sockets 1

-Second-Level Cache (L2) 128 KB (L2)

-Multimedia Drive DVD+CD-RW Combo; CD,DVD Rewritable Drive CD-read 24x; CD-write 8x; CD-rewrite 8x; DVD-read 8x

-Diskette Drive: NO

-Fax/Data Modem Integrated v.90/v.92 56 KB modem (RJ-11 connector)

-Network Integrated 10/100BASE-T Ethernet LAN (RJ-45 connector)

-Keyboard 87-/88-key, full-size with embedded numeric keypad

-Pointing Device Touch Pad with On/Off button and dedicated vertical Scroll Up/Down pad; Additional mouse included in-box.

-Sound 16-bit Sound Blaster Pro-compatible audio

-Speakers Internal stereo speakers

-Total Expansion Slots:1 Type II or III PC card slot; CardBus-enabled

-Total External Ports: 2 Universal Serial Bus (USB); 1 Parallel (25-pin); 1 Serial; 1 PS/2 keyboard/mouse; 1 headphone-out; 1 microphone-in; 1 VGA (15-pin); 1 TV-Out (S-video); 1 RJ-11 (modem); 1 RJ -45 (LAN); 1 DC-in (AC adapter)

-Available External Ports: 2 Universal Serial Bus (USB); 1 Parallel (25-pin); 1 Serial; 1 PS/2 keyboard/mouse; 1 headphone-out; 1 microphone-in; 1 VGA (15-pin); 1 TV-Out (S-video); 1 RJ-11 (modem); 1 RJ -45 (LAN); 1 DC-in (AC adapter)
Video Graphics (AGP)

-ATI MOBILITYTM RADEONTM AGP 4X and 3D architecture

-Graphics Memory

-32 MB DDR SDRAM (shared)

-12.96" (L) x 10.72" (W) x 1.57" (H)

-75W AC adapter; 8-Cell Lithium-Ion

-Microsoft® Windows XP Home Edition

-Microsoft® Outlook Express 6.0

-Microsoft® Internet Explorer 6.0

-Microsoft® Fax Services

-Microsoft® Firewall

-SymantecTM Norton AntivirusTM 2002 90 days live update (on CD); Getting Started Documentation Suite.

-Intervideo WinDVD (DVD player)

-Roxio Easy CD Creator

-Microsoft® Works 6.0

-Quicken® Financial Center by Intuit (U.S. only)

-Microsoft® Money 2003

-Microsoft® Encarta Online Deluxe Encyclopedia - 1 year subscription

-Adobe Acrobat Reader 5.0

-AOL® 7.0

-CompuServe® 6.0

-Netscape 6.0

OH GOD, IT SOUNDS GREAT. I MIGHT GET A HOT LAP. BUT SHIT, DO YOU AGREE YOU NERDLY NERD NERDS? PLEASE HELP.

ALSO, FORGET ABOUT AN APPLE. I DON'T WANT TO SPEND THAT MUCH.

Monday, February 2nd, 2004
Time: 8:19 pm.

there is the smell of cold winter air cut by burning brush, and the dizzying sight of a clear starry sky that makes my heart melt.

Subject: five hours at my old place on kingsboro.
Time: 4:33 pm.
Mood: sleepy.
Music: in my head: the cult. she sells sanctuary.

boy, my brother is a slob. and he listens to nu-metal. but i love him.

so i'm here partly to gain some sort of order in my life. and i'm heading in the right direction. hanging out at my old house is bitter-sweet. i get caught up in memory while sorting and cleaning and disposing. what would it be like to live here again? with trepidation, i think about how comfortable i would be here, teaching (after certification, in which i would have to enroll into school for) english and or drama at the high school. living in cheap-ass apartment with my forty pound female brindle boxer with natural ears and a docked tail. so close to my mother. christ she's a great woman. i just hate that part of me that is challenging my vehement opinion on settling.

but, i love new york. and my whims.

also on the table:

i've never traveled in a limousine.

and.

two cops on the milk box missing.

Sunday, February 1st, 2004
Subject: why did i leave?
Time: 7:23 pm.

erica: mom, what are you doing for valentine's day...it's on a friday you know?

mum: no, it's saturday and sunday.

erica: i thought the fourteenth was just one day.

Saturday, January 31st, 2004
Subject: this little funk.
Time: 8:10 pm.

is not giving one bit. so i've succumbed to reading with the voracity of a medievalist college freak waiting for his or her five ante meridiem alarm clock to sound. the call that beckons him or her to the barren field in front of the library, his or her wooden sword, and his or her flock of freak-ass friends waiting, rallying, for the morning joust.

you remember these guys right? you were one of these guys right?

so it's me and the livejournal, e-mail, and friendster. i'm cutting my ties with the superfluous nature of on-line circles. i'll keep nerve to amuse myself on those bleak and blah monday mornings. friendster, because i secretly want ms. lewis, my junior high and high school latin teacher of six years, to friendster me. and cher. i'm waiting for cher to friendster me. and i need this livejournal like a hole in the head, but i've become somewhat attached to it, in that it has been the only medium i have returned to, in regards to any documentation of my life and feeling, without reluctance. and i'm a secret lurker. let me be redundant.

Wednesday, January 28th, 2004
Subject: my belly.
Time: 11:20 am.

is expanding. thank you beer.

i need to get a computer so i can purge all my dirty little thoughts into microsoft word.

Monday, January 26th, 2004
Subject: and you know what else?
Time: 4:26 pm.

today would have been my father's birthday.

i feel old.

Subject: the short list of things i need or want and need to change. for my own reference.
Time: 3:51 pm.

rape. a love story. jco.
a facial.
a colon cleansing.
a tattoo on my left wrist.
the essential bruce springsteen.
guarapero: lost blues two. will oldham.
song cyclops, volume one. doleful lions.
time (the revelator). gillian welch.
wrecking ball. emmylou harris (i think this is the one).
bring on the snakes. crooked fingers.
things we lost in the fire. low.
the collector of hearts: new tales of the grotesque. jco.
haunted. tales of the grotesque. jco.
live in 1992. ac/dc.
a computer.
friends.
lyle lovett. my baby don't tolerate.
a female boxer around forty pounds with natural ears and a docked tail.

Friday, January 23rd, 2004
Subject: a wiser man than i once noted...
Time: 9:50 am.

there's nothing new about us.

sometimes i think about friends had and lost...it's lame...i just sit here and think about why i was friends with somebody, if i was really friends with somebody, why i'm not still friends with somebody, then it dawned on me.

relationships are about learning. taking and giving. we get ourselves into relationships, be they romantic, platonic, et cetera, to learn, to gain knowledge, to realize ourselves, our goals and our lives better. and once that resource is exhausted in somebody we move on and find the next person or set of people to draw from. it sounds shitty and shallow, but it's the truth. i've gone through countless friends over the years, but only a few have really stuck, and those are the ones i'm still learning from, be it about myself, or them, or some material and tangible thing like biology, or physics...these are the ones that last. it doesn't mean the other ones weren't important, because if they weren't important or dear, we wouldn't even think about them.

it just seems like all we can do is accept the fact that we've learned from somebody, we've taken what we can from them...and hopefully, we've in turn given back everything we could.

when the time is right, or when we're needed, or when we need them...they'll come around again.

i guess when it's all said and done we leave when there's nothing new.

Thursday, January 22nd, 2004
Subject: thanks!
Time: 11:22 am.

i just wanted to say that i had a really nice time with mike and lou yesterday. eating w1ngz. and making fun of all you assholes.

Wednesday, January 21st, 2004
Subject: i tend not to make elaborate livejournal posts.
Time: 10:05 am.

and tend only to post when i'm close to, or brimful of blood (as some of you may know i am sans blood, dead, really, i mean, why am i so cold all the time). i guess i don't want you fuckwits (i use this term in an endearing way, dirtbags) to really know what's going on. i'd rather be seen as this whirling eclipse of peripheral emotion and being. and save the real emotion and being, and babble driven by this emotion and being for interaction beyond the textual realm. the other reason exists as a mere nagging upon my compulsive tendencies, and lack of confidence in anything i write. i'll type this out maybe three times. edit it four. and erase it eventually if i find too many typographical errors. i do this with most everything i write. as i'm sure a few of you might do as well. except for me, the process becomes agonizing. i wish the process didn't exist. it's a stutter-step. something that i even suffer through when i'm surfing through non-textual mediums. which is my catch twenty-two. i have all these things i want to say, and feel so unconfident in saying it all.

i refer to my behavior as broken.

what i need is some really strong glue. and a swift kick in bubble.

five.

2009-01-04T15:22:00.001-05:00

Tuesday, January 20th, 2004
Subject: this is how i feel sometimes.
Time: 10:11 am.

like a letter from elizabeth barrett browning to robert browning on march 20th, 1845.

Friday, December 12th, 2003
Time: 11:31 pm.

Eisler on the go, Eisler on the move
Brother is on the vinegar truck and I don't know what I'll do

I don't know what I'll do, I don't know what I'll do
Eisler's on the come and go and I don't know what I'll do

Eisler on the farm, Eisler on the town
Sister in the tickly bush and I don't know what I'll do

Eisler on the boat, Eisler on the ship
Daddy on the henhouse roof and I don't know what I'll do

Eisler in the jailoe, Eisler back at home,
Rankin scratch his head and cry and I don't know what I'll do

Eisler him write music, Eisler him teach school,
Truman him don't play so good and I don't know what I'll do

Saturday, November 29th, 2003
Subject: also.
Time: 8:27 pm.

well everytime that i come home nobody wants to let me be. it seems that all the friends i got just got to come interrogate me. well, i appreciate your feelings and i don't want to pass you by, but i don't ask you about your business, don't ask me about mine.

Subject: backroads.
Time: 8:23 pm.

black ice and snow drifts. oh my.

Friday, November 28th, 2003
Subject: songs i wouldn't mind making out to, a short list:
Time: 7:12 pm.

people talkin', lucinda williams
the scientist, coldplay
hell is around the corner, tricky
fire, bruce springsteen

Time: 4:02 pm.

I drove from Tribes Hill to Gloversville. The car pitched softly with the dramatic folds in the road. And Tom Petty filtered through the speakers. I was tempted to pull the car over on the side of the road to take a picture of the mountains, the protruding power poles, and the looming gray rain clouds in the distance (that seemed to be draped, acutely, over my hometown). It was one of those moments. Completely bitter sweet. That picture, if I had had my camera, would have captured the backdrop to that space in my heart where love and depression dance.

I have often wondered why I ever left this place. Today I found the answer. Home is disintegrating. And it’s very possible that the people who reside here are falling ill, based on the pragmatism that they are a product of their environment, and those who escape have a better chance of survival.

I have changed too. And where is home.

Friday, October 31st, 2003
Subject: silly.
Time: 10:53 am.

really. people care too much about money.

Thursday, October 23rd, 2003
Subject: my life.
Time: 11:38 am.

is like the movie groundhog day.

Thursday, October 16th, 2003
Time: 10:58 am.

There is absence, there is lack,

there are wolves here

abound.

You will miss me,

when I turn

around.

Friday, October 10th, 2003
Subject: i'd be a good mom.
Time: 5:18 pm.

sayin'.

Saturday, October 4th, 2003
Subject: round face.
Time: 7:32 pm.

often times i don't like it. but then i think about people like ingrid bergman.

Friday, October 3rd, 2003
Time: 11:09 am.

i had a dream that a fast moving talking dog murdered (a talking) winston, my very obese house cat, with jutting chunks of tree bark and different sized stainless steel knives. in my dream i took vengeance upon that scrappy mutt with similar knives lying around. the sight of winston with a piece of wood gouged into his soft abdomen jolted me out of bed at five twenty three this morning.

Thursday, October 2nd, 2003
Subject: hangovers...
Time: 12:35 pm.

hanging on.

Monday, September 29th, 2003
Subject: we have a leak in our kitchen ceiling.
Time: 10:33 am.

like this week isn't going to be interesting enough.

Saturday, September 27th, 2003
Subject: sunday, october fifth.
Time: 7:42 pm.

eight years. it feels like yesterday sometimes.

Thursday, September 25th, 2003
Subject: THIS BELONGS TO THEO. I WISH IT BELONGED TO ME.
Time: 2:29 pm.

theo writes:

***Before reading the following entry, please let it be known, that this was crazy and totally unexpected and random. You will probably think less of me and think i am an asshole, a prick, a total dick and probably deserve a first class ticket to h-e-double hockey sticks. but if you were there, and witnessed this and more importantly felt their wrath, youd know where i was coming from.

this could have been an episode straight out of the "twilight zone". i like to call this entry "the twlight zone that wasnt: the popcorn, the android and the fucking yak"

it all started around 6 o clock. kevin was the first one attacked. 30 minutes later and 2 missed sales, he felt their wrath. his store was left in shambles and kevin was left holding his "boys" as he was punched squarely in the nuts.

seth was then up next. seth felt the wrath at 6:45. he got it the easiest tho. he was up high and out of the reach of the small ones. lucky fucker.

7:25 the phone rings. its seth.
"theo....some people are coming for you. be on the lookout."
"who?"
"youll see. be careful and good luck, thats all i got to say"
::dial tone::

so now im awake and scoping out the scene. then i see them. all 3 of them. leaving a path of terror behind them. people stopping and looking. the little one screeches like a pack of banshees.

finally they arrive.

theres 3 of them. a scarecrow of a woman, and her two devil spawn.

they approach me like a flock of locusts on middle america crop farm. the mother pushes one kid in a stroller the other one, a boy age 4, follows in tow.

"i need these in pink" she spouts out at the mouth. we look for what she wants and before i know it, all hell breaks loose. jr starts jumping up and down, wailing his arms like hes on fire. all of a sudden, the lil fucker starts yelling and screaming. his tiny little body produced this sound.....it was like chewbacca was getting anal raped by a pack of angry anal raping goats. it was like a yak mating call....just the wierdest fuckin sound, i have ever ever ever heard a kid make. much less any other human.

the girl remained in her chair. she had this look in her eye, like she knew your deepest darkest secrets. i looked at her and winked, hoping to get her to change facial expressions. it worked. she went from devilish grin to all out balls to wall pissed off. she started to scream and yell and throw her popcorn all over and at me. the mother was acting like this was a common occurance. she browsed, asked questions, tried things on, and was a total ghost to her spawn. the son was doing the yak mating call as he ran laps around my counter. the lil girl, who was bored throwing popcorn at me, decided to go for a stroll. she stands up in her stroller, and tries to climb out.

THUD!! her small but fat body crashes to the floor. head first. i ran to her aid...she layed there, laughing like a mad woman. this is when it got creepy and on some twlight zone shit.

she stands up and moves her hair and i notice a plug and wire running from under her shirt to the back of her head. rca-jack style. it was one of the most bizarre things i have ever seen. so now im kinda creeped out. i mean she fell out of a stroller, flat on her fuckin head, and she laughed. it had no effect on her, but to laugh. the boy is yodeling like a fuckin yak in heat and the mom is totally oblivious to this all. so the boy comes up to me, and tells me "i like blue". and i notice, THAT SAME WIRE/RCA-JACK CONNECTION running from the back of his head down his shirt. WHAT THE FUCK?!! what is this? it wasnt like lil patches like when you get tests done at the dr's office, to monitor brain waves or heart rate. it was like an actual plug, stuck in their heads. like a fuckin vcr type plug in THE BACK OF THEIR HEADS!!!! NO LIE! after the left, i called seth and the first thing he said was "DID YOU SEE THOSE WIRES AND SHIT IN THEIR HEADS?"

so after a good 45 minutes of popcorn being thrown at me, the scarecrow mom with vampire teeth, lil girl snotty nose , and the android-yak hybrid boy, making his chewbacca gettin anal raped mating calls, they leave with out buying anything.

but with a promise to come back friday night.

i know its all mean and shit to make fun of little kids. im sure he was making those noises cause hes probably got some rare disease or something and his sister probably has it too. they probably arent half human half android half yak people, made in some dudes basement. and here i am making fun of them, and shook cause they gave me the fuckin heebee jeebies, but you know what, THATS LIFE YOU CREEPY ASS ANDROID YAK PEOPLE. LEAVE ME ALONE AND STOP YOUR MATING CALLS. ALSO STOP PUNCHING PEOPLE IN THE NUTS.

they were also mean, and fucking bad ass little kids, scary wires sticking in their heads or not. bad ass kids are bad ass kids. i dont care ofyour a yakhuman half breed, if your ass deserves a spankin then by all means your ass should be thrown over a knee and spanked. androids arent higher up then a good ole fashion ass whuppin.

i just want to know whats up with those wires. if its some rare defect, or the planet is under attack by yak-breeds.

Wednesday, September 24th, 2003
Subject: i forgot what it was like to have muscles.
Time: 3:46 pm.

i just don't want to turn into lou ferrigno.

and

i am sore.

Thursday, September 18th, 2003
Subject: I FEEL STELLAR...
Time: 10:35 am.

SO STELLAR, AND LOVELY AND RAD.

Tuesday, September 16th, 2003
Time: 10:58 am.

i find myself sick today with anguish. i'm in fight or flight mode. this thing with jeff's sister in the hospital and having no clue what the situation is, and being so far away, is making me ill.

Thursday, September 11th, 2003
Time: 2:47 pm.

i went to court today.

four.

2009-01-04T15:17:00.000-05:00

Wednesday, September 10th, 2003
Time: 1:35 pm.

i have to go to court tomorrow.

Tuesday, September 9th, 2003
Subject: my grammar is broken.
Time: 9:52 am.

and i was leaving vim (the last stop on my sneaker pilgrimage) heading home via fourteenth street, and i ran into emme. she was walking by, talking on her cellular phone. she began to extend her arm in a passing wave way, i, the same. and then we stopped. it wasn't like we just had a lunch date and we left to run our respective errands and happened to fumble upon each other in the passing hour. we stopped because we hadn't seen each other in two years.

she looked better, healthier, still too slim, cropped hair, more fashionable. she filled me in on some details: jess was back in australia. david and mae were still together living in new york (good kids. i'll take it even farther by saying that i fancied david for two weeks after i met him. smart, laid-back, reminds me of a friend i have in washington, but david, as i remember him, wasn't nearly as attractive as the latter. and mae, nice girl, bright, with flaming red hair. now that i think about it, i wonder if anyone has ever questioned their relationship. they look like siblings). emme also informed me that she had grown quite close to alana. that alana was doing well with theatre. that alana was in new york as well and that we should all get together, the three of us, for drinks. and i kept thinking to myself, "who the fuck is alana? am i this senile?" she told me erin was back in brooklyn. she also said she would run into jen from time to time.

i could tell by her eyes, swallowing the stranger in front of her, that i was the one who had not changed. that i was the same. i and my situation hadn't changed. that i looked the same, and that i was still looking for/to the same things: work, theatre, graduate school. maybe i wasn't a stranger after all. like time, from when i was at the atlantic until now, had been on pause.

i have seen four atlantics in a week. what sort of sign is this? eh?

if we could fast-forward my paused life, you would have found me in front of my mirror with a pair of scissors, cutting away at the sameness. i cannot tell you that my hair looks any better, but i can tell you this: i need to change, something, anything, everything, something. and this is going to be my month.

Monday, September 8th, 2003
Subject: "That which we see in the bottom of our glass is most often dregs."
Time: 5:13 pm.

three hours of albee, three amazing plays (well, four if you want to detach box from mao). fifty cents. i love the library.

Thursday, September 4th, 2003
Subject: inanimate and animate.
Time: 4:14 am.

on one hand, i can count all the great loves i've had and lost in these twenty-three years.

Tuesday, September 2nd, 2003
Time: 8:34 pm.

i can't stop thinking about upstate.

Monday, September 1st, 2003
Subject: also, i'm an aunt.
Time: 11:07 pm.

and the baby looks like me.

ironic.

Time: 3:46 pm.

i had weird dreams again. theo you were in it. something to do with american culture, picking a president or a band or artist that represents the united states. i was having a hard time finding new and interesting facts on george washington, so i was going to do a project on dave matthews (i remember navy poster board d stencils). i remember theo found me reebok pumps. in my dream they turned from white to black. there was a small child in the middle of the cafeteria like forum on american culture and he had jello molds of things reminiscent of the stonehenge and brassy upbeat french music was playing in the background.

Sunday, August 31st, 2003
Subject: i'm going to miss danny.
Time: 3:18 pm.

hazy green and grey room, hues of pink. living room party. children running around. the one i remember, blonde hair, bowl hair cut, diapers and a heather grey t-shirt. this song comes on, the one that goes "i've always been this way, never known any other way to feel..." and i look around the room, mouthing the lyrics and notice two other people singing along to the song.

Saturday, August 30th, 2003
Subject: aesthetically...
Time: 4:48 pm.

these cookies look spooky. maybe too many chips. but they taste fucking awesome. and yes, i should not be eating them.

Friday, August 29th, 2003
Subject: how you living biggie smalls.
Time: 9:54 pm.

my former friend joe called me this evening. and i understand why i stopped talking to him a year ago. he's fucking nuts.

Subject: i spent some money last night.
Time: 11:25 am.

and i had a wonderful time.

Thursday, August 28th, 2003
Time: 6:54 pm.

the problem is this: i have not left the house in three days. except to buy half and half.

Wednesday, August 27th, 2003
Time: 10:09 am.

i had a spooky science fiction dream in which three non humans hung from ropes. two of them had their faces cut into cubes. the the third horse like non human escaped by shimmying up the rope and busting through the drop ceiling. then the cats woke me up because they were hungry.

Research shows that most dreams are unpleasant. Violent dreams are relatively common and may be a reflection of the confusion and conflict that the dreamer experiences in daily life. Dreams with violent themes suggest that the dreamer has unconscious negative emotions such as fear, anxiety, and anger. If you are not dealing with these feeling consciously, your dreams are compensating and bringing into awareness the need for honest reflection and emotional balance in daily life.

The horse is a noble and powerful animal. As a dream symbol it can represent a wide range of positive thoughts and ideas about self or others. Depending on the details of the dream, horses can symbolize freedom, power, and sexual energy. At times, they can also be considered messengers, relaying information from the unconscious to the conscious, from the spiritual to the physical. If you are horseback riding it suggests that you are self-assured and feel a sense of control in your daily life. Old dream interpretation books say that the color of the horse is also significant. (Remember that this is based on superstition.) Black horses are said to point out delays; white horses reinforce the positive and transformative aspects of life; gray horses may point to the difficulties in the dreamers current situation; piebald horses are symbolic of confusion; brown horses are associated with mental pursuits; tan horses are said to be symbolic of love and sex.

Occasionally, people will have drams about UFO's and aliens. What these dreams symbolize collectively or individually is difficult to explain and understand. Meeting and talking to aliens may suggest that significant changes are coming into your life and, at the moment, things feel strange and foreign to you. If you dream that you are the alien, it suggests that you may feel detached from some parts of yourself and from others. You may be a stranger in your immediate surroundings and some self-evaluation and familiarization is suggested.

This dream suggests that the dreamer is losing control. In a decapitation there is a dramatic and violent separation of the head from the body. Under normal circumstances the mind controls and directs the body. This dream suggests that the dreamer may be under the control of his bodily drives and may be separated from rational thoughts and feelings. Disassociation may be occurring in regard to some behavior or issue in life. However, this dream may have other meanings. This includes excessive concern about punishment and indicates that there may be severe pressure and anxiety in the dreamer's life.

Going upward, or ascending, is always a positive dream symbol. Whether you are struggling on a difficult rope or ladder or walking up an easy slope, this dream suggests that you are moving in the right direction. If the climb in your dream is extremely difficult, it may be pointing to some obstacles that you need to overcome before reaching your goals. Consider all of the details in your dream, and if you recently completed a difficult task, achieved a goal (e.g. graduating), this dream may be reflective in nature.

The number three always has to do with commitment and as such it should be placed in the I Need column. It stands for mind, body and spirit and is a request to commit yourself, mind body and spirit, to improving yourself in the direction indicated in the dream. The number 3 will often appear in dreams about the heart as people who have closed off their heart to others often lack commitment. A triangle or pyramid also indicate commitment and request the dreamer to meditate on the subject matter of the dream.

Grey colors, meaning: uncommitted, uncertain - ‘grey area’. Mental denial of emotion, depression.

Tuesday, August 26th, 2003
Subject: also.
Time: 7:07 pm.

not working is making me clinically insane.

Subject: on the subject of journaling.
Time: 5:45 pm.

i rant in this thing oftentimes when i am either menstruating or pre-menstrual.

someone buy me a computer. i want to work on my play more.

Time: 3:00 pm.

hi bret.

Sunday, August 24th, 2003
Subject: i want to name my kid:
Time: 3:57 pm.

petit.

middle name, prince.

i might hold onto dow. memoria technica.

Thursday, August 21st, 2003
Time: 10:04 am.

david cross is stalking me.

Monday, August 11th, 2003
Subject: i am feeling better...
Time: 2:18 pm.

but i'm still an idiot.

also: i have a lot of flaws.

Tuesday, August 5th, 2003
Subject: who needs to take better care of themselves?
Time: 1:58 pm.

the doctor told me:

that i am dehydrated.
that i have a bladder infection.
that i have a sinus infection.

also: i am menstruating so i feel as awkward as a twelve year old right now.

three.

2009-01-04T15:04:00.000-05:00

Thursday, July 31st, 2003
Subject: i know that you lurk around once and a bit...
Time: 11:01 pm.

and i want to say thank you for being my friend. and after reading this you will sing the golden girl's theme song for the rest of the day.

Thursday, July 24th, 2003
Time: 11:06 am.

i have been going on dates.

Friday, July 11th, 2003
Subject: EVEN ON THE PHONE MY MUM...
Time: 4:02 pm.

CAN ALWAYS TELL WHEN I'M DUE FOR MY PERIOD BY THE TONE IN MY VOICE.

Wednesday, July 9th, 2003
Subject: greetings.
Time: 11:51 am.

i feel settled.

i'm job hunting, so there is this gaping hole in my work life but everything else is pretty much alright. though this settling feeling is fulfilling, i still have these romanticized yearnings to flee to the middle of nowhere. i could bartend and write. plant tomatoes and cut myself off from the rest of this busy world. but i have plenty of time to fulfill that dream. am i really sixty-four?

are you where you want to be in life? if not, i suggest you change it.

Monday, July 7th, 2003
Subject: http://pisces.bubble.com/webstars/friend/friendForm.cfm
Time: 5:09 pm.

erica dow is mysterious and enigmatic; deep, perceptive, powerful, passionate and terribly, terribly sexy! The sentence above must be true because erica is a Scorpio and Scorpios as we all know are infamous for their interest in... well now, here's a funny thing. Despite what they say, Scorpios are not actually quite as wild and wicked as they are painted. erica has, it must be said, a very hypnotic appeal but what's truly mesmerising about erica is not her pout but her perspicacity. erica has an uncanny, almost spooky to see right through you. She can make you feel naked and exposed just by casting one meaningful glance in your direction. What she is looking at though, when she peers below the surface, is not your underwear but your underlying intention! "Where are you coming from? What are you up to? Can you be trusted? Are you going to tell the truth?" These are the questions that erica subconsciously fires out as soon as she sees you. Her inner radar never fails to provide her with the right answer. She is sensitive beyond measure, and it is partly to protect her own sensitivity that she scrutinises people so thoroughly.

There is another reason why erica dow is so keen to see into your soul: she needs to know how sensitive you are. She knows from long, bitter experience that not many people can take the kind of candour that she cannot help but dispense. erica is not a person to mince her words, hold back her opinions or shy away from taboo topics. She doesn't want to cause offence, nor does she want to waste her time, so she picks her confidantes carefully. All of which brings us back to where we began. If you are sensitive enough to appreciate erica's special qualities you will consider that there is something exceptionally sexy about her and she will feel the same way about you. So perhaps erica dow is living proof that it is true what they say about Scorpios after all.

Subject: sweaty.
Time: 5:06 pm.

and feeling less than pretty. and as i walked to kinko's, hairy ratty and no make-up, someone told me i was beautiful.

Saturday, July 5th, 2003
Time: 8:17 pm.
Mood: mellow.
Music: hot ninety-seven.

writing a letter i'll never send to you.

Friday, July 4th, 2003
Subject: tired.
Time: 10:21 pm.

today i stopped breathing on the r train.

three young ladies helped me out in my state of panic.

Wednesday, July 2nd, 2003
Subject: paint fumes.
Time: 11:54 pm.

a-rocka came over and helped me paint. one more day and i'm done. holla.

Tuesday, July 1st, 2003
Subject: july.
Time: 10:42 am.

holy smokes.

i'm working on my day schedule. i went to bed and nine thirty last night, after i went to the grocery. today i got up at seven-thirty. ran two miles. harassed my health insurance company, called my mother and made breakfast.

in the next few hours i will by paint supplies for my room.

on another note. i met this kid dan on friendster. turns out his mum was my sixth grade teacher.

Sunday, June 29th, 2003
Subject: apparently, i am a geek.
Time: 3:16 pm.

1984, George Orwell
The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
Animal Farm, George Orwell
Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery
Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer
The BFG, Roald Dahl
Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks
Black Beauty, Anna Sewell
Bleak House, Charles Dickens
Brave New World, Aldous Huxley
Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres
Catch 22, Joseph Heller
The Catcher In The Rye, JD Salinger
Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel
Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons
The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett
The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas
Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
David Copperfield, Charles Dickens
Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson
Dune, Frank Herbert
Emma, Jane Austen
Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson
The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
The Godfather, Mario Puzo
Gone With The Wind, Margaret Mitchell
Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian
Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake
The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck
Great Expectations, Charles Dickens
The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald
Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett
Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling
Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire, JK Rowling
Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowling
Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling
His Dark Materials trilogy, Philip Pullman
The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, Douglas Adams
The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien
Holes, Louis Sachar
I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith
Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte
Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer
Katherine, Anya Seton
The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe, CS Lewis
Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
Lord Of The Flies, William Golding
The Lord Of The Rings, JRR Tolkien
Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blighton
Magician, Raymond E Feist
The Magus, John Fowles
Matilda, Roald Dahl
Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden
Middlemarch, George Eliot
Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie
Mort, Terry Pratchett
Night Watch, Terry Pratchett
Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman
Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck
On The Road, Jack Kerouac
One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Perfume, Patrick Suskind
Persuasion, Jane Austen
The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett
A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving
Pride And Prejudice, Jane Austen
The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot
The Ragged Trousered Philantrhopists, Robert Tressell
Rebecca, Daphne Du Maurier
The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett
The Secret History, Donna Tartt
The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher
The Stand, Stephen King
The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson
A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth
Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome
A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
Tess Of The D'urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough
To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee
A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute
Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson
The Twits, Roald Dahl
Ulysses, James Joyce
Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson
War And Peace, Leo Tolstoy
Watership Down, Richard Adams
The Wind In The Willows, Kenneth Grahame
Winnie-the-Pooh, AA Milne
The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins
Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte

100 Movies. Bold the Ones That You’ve Seen

Godfather, The (1972)
Shawshank Redemption, The (1994)
Godfather: Part II, The (1974)
Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The (2001)
Schindler's List (1993)
Citizen Kane (1941)
Casablanca (1942)
Seven Samurai (1954)
Star Wars (1977)
Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
Momento (2000)
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)
Rear Window (1954)
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The (2002)
Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
Usual Suspects, The (1995)
Amelie (2001)
Pulp Fiction (1994)
North by Northwest (1959)
Psycho (1960)
Silence of the Lambs, The (1991)
Angry Men (1957)
Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
It's a Wonderful Life (1946)
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966)
Goodfellas (1990)
American Beauty (1999)
Vertigo (1958)
Pianist, The (2002)
Sunset Blvd. (1950)
Apocalypse Now (1979)
Some Like It Hot (1959)
Matrix, The (1999)
To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
Taxi Driver (1976)
Third Man, The (1949)
Paths of Glory (1957)
Fight Club (1999)
Boot, Das (1981)
L.A. Confidential (1997)
Double Indemnity (1944)
Chinatown (1974)
Requiem for a Dream (2000)
Maltese Falcon, The (1941)
Singin' in the Rain (1952)
Bridge on the River Kwai, The (1957)
Sen to Chihiro no kamikakushi (2001)
Saving Private Ryan (1998)
All About Eve (1950)
M (1931)
Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
Raging Bull (1980)
Once Upon a Time in the West (1968)
Se7en (1995)
Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon (2000)
Wizard of Oz, The (1939)
2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
Vita e bella, La (1997)
American History X (1998)
Sting, The (1973)
Touch of Evil (1958)
Manchurian Candidate, The (1962)
Alien (1979)
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)
Rashemon (1950)
Leon (1994)
Annie Hall (1977)
Great Escape, The (1963)
Clockwork Orange, A (1971)
Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The (1948)
Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Sixth Sense, The (1999)
Jaws (1975)
Amadeus (1984)
On the Waterfront (1954)
Ran (1985)
Braveheart (1995)
High Noon (1952)
Fargo (1996)
Blade Runner (1982)
Apartment, The (1960)
Aliens (1986)
Toy Story 2 (1999)
Strangers on a Train (1951)
Modern Times (1936)
Shining, The (1980)
Donnie Darko (2001)
Duck Soup (1933)
Princess Bride, The (1987)
Run Lola Run (1998)
City Lights (1931)
General, The (1927)
Metropolis (1927)
Searchers, The (1956)
Full Metal Jacket
Notorious (1946)
Manhattan (1979)
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
The Graduate (1967)

Subject: hey now.
Time: 6:21 am.

it's early. i just got home. maybe then, it's late?

this was my last day of work for awhile. it ended on a good note despite the fact that i've been over-tired and slightly cranky the last two days. they understand. i worked sixty plus hours this week. i should be tired. and cranky.

danny from sliver gave me a ride home. nice guy.

paul from the store down the street wants to take me to the lucinda williams and neil young show today. he's good friends with lu and pettibum so he's got the ins for the show. i don't know paul that well, and maybe i should since he has been stopping into my work six times a day for the last week and a half. the show would be rad to go to, but i don't want to give him the wrong idea. dig?

i like my roommate a lot. he's become a good friend. i got a postcard from him in the mail today. what a bird. he sent it just so i could get some mail.

i'm typing simples sentences. because i am tired. dick and jane. dick and jane. dick and jane.

my mum is visiting for the fourth.

Thursday, June 26th, 2003
Subject: i like when it's this hot. but i still have flannel sheets on my bed.
Time: 2:00 pm.
Mood: hot.
Music: lucinda williams.

so saturday is my last day and then i go on "vacation." i'm stoked. sort of. lately work hasn't been that bad. the money has been more than decent and i've met some really nice folks, sans the the old dude that comes in six times a day who wants to take me to neil young. he's harmless. but believe me, he's old enough to be my father.

the whole point of quitting is to start anew.

i'm a little scared, i must admit. this working odd long hours has kept me from feeling less lonely. i'm a little nervous to be thrust into a non-working life. i will need to keep my self busy by looking for new work and taking advantage of new york and this weather too.

inside my head. a broken record. thinking about the same things over and over and over.

Monday, June 23rd, 2003
Subject: why.
Time: 11:02 am.

neo hippies. old men. and co-workers. why.

and on another note, despite the fact that i do not have a lot of friends in new york city, i still have one very good one in boston. and even when we don't speak for months at a time, i know when i have a problem i can call him.

Friday, June 20th, 2003
Subject: two days off in a row.
Time: 5:01 pm.
Mood: tired.
Music: wilco.

holy hot shit. i like this day off business.

things on the shelf:

my sister is having a baby in august.
my mum might visit me for the fourth.
i don't like drinking anymore.
i need to use drills on a daily basis.

Tuesday, June 17th, 2003
Subject: day off.
Time: 10:56 am.

i was awake only for five hours. so i bought the new radiohead and some sugar free candy.

Monday, June 16th, 2003
Subject: okay.
Time: 3:17 pm.

in two weeks i will regain what people refer to as a life.

this morning i got home at eight in the morning. miguel and i sat on broadway and houston on a defunct fruit stand. inebriated he talked about his fear regarding his mother and cancer, his disintegrating relationship with his long-time girlfriend, social issues of peru and his famous father. he drank budweiser in a twenty four ounce can. i drank diet doctor pepper. i didn't really talk much. i just listened. we got food and sat in tompkins square park. across from the dog run. watched kids walking to school. people walking to work. early morning joggers.

it's all so appealing. this waking life.

i want to learn how to cook. to come home at five. to make dinner. watch the news. read the paper. call friends. hang out. be in bed by ten.

your monotony is what i long for.

sometimes i think too hard about being alone for the rest of my life.

Friday, June 13th, 2003
Subject: for stephen dobyns.
Time: 11:56 am.

heart wants

[these] fissures
[not] to be
saccharine saturated
with
metamorphosing ideologies.

Wednesday, June 11th, 2003
Subject: amazing.
Time: 1:13 pm.
Mood: sleepy.

walking next to the east river at six in the morning.

Tuesday, June 10th, 2003
Subject: hi.
Time: 12:39 pm.
Mood: rejuvenated.
Music: roots. the next movement.

i am weather obsessed. it's going to rain wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday and sunday. and how does this make me feel, right now, at this exact moment? completely joyous because i can put off doing laundry. the twenty pounds of dirty clothes can wait another couple of days for the wash rinse dry lovin' it deserves, and i can relax, run, run errands, err in using this beautiful sunny day by hanging out inside, writing and reading.

i went to queens yesterday. i found my beloved target. (theo, a mart, sans the k, in new york? holy hot snakes). i meandered around outer queens and thoroughly enjoyed myself, hitting up small kitschy stores buying odds and ends for the apartment: wooden place mats, oven mits.

i tried on bathing suits. that is another story all together. all i know is that i'd like to visit some beaches this summer.

also. i've been entertaining the idea of attending the atlantic this fall, part time, but the problem lies within the fact that they are not a "real" instituion in regards to accreditation. which means that i'd be spending my own money, with no relief of loan payments. i'd be better off at an accredited school, working towards an mfa.
right? right. i know.

target:

polka dot pajama bottoms
leave-in conditioner

i started reading this old oates book i found at a thrift store. and zizek's welcome to the desert of the real.

sorry for the typos.

two.

2009-01-04T14:56:00.001-05:00

Monday, June 9th, 2003
Subject: hi kids.
Time: 12:01 pm.

sitting around waiting to be called into work. thinking about the things i'd do if i wasn't called into work. i'd go to queens. to the promise land of target. i'd go jogging. i'd do laundry.

by the way i'm canning this job. to make time for me.

and to make time for others.

someone at work told me the other day i was a likeable person. this made me feel pretty good.

Saturday, June 7th, 2003
Subject: oh yeah?
Time: 4:46 pm.

i'm not giving up yet. and that includes you you and you. and me too.

holla.

Friday, June 6th, 2003
Subject: typos.
Time: 5:56 pm.

happiness is going to hit me hard some day. this deep sadness is going to dissipate. and i don't care who reads this. i just need to let some of it out. maybe i just need more hugs.

Saturday, May 24th, 2003
Subject: ALSO.
Time: 1:05 am.

I JOINED FRIENDSTER. BOO. I WANT TO LIVE IN A SMALL TOWN AGAIN SOME TIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE. AND I WANT TO DRINK BEER AND BOWL. YES. AT THE SAME TIME.

Time: 1:01 am.

WHY WOULD YOU EVER WANT A LIVE JOURNAL T-SHIRT. SERIOUSLY FOLKS. WHAT KIND OF MARKETING DID YOU DO.

AND.

I AM GOING HOME TO SEE MY DOG. AND I AM GOING TO GO CAMPING. AND I LOVE CAPS LOCKS. MORE THAN I WILL EVER LOVE YOU.

DEAR ERICA. THIS IS ERICA. I PROMISE THINGS WILL STRAIGHTEN OUT. IT WILL GET BETTER. IF NOT, YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE THE LORD.

Saturday, May 17th, 2003
Subject: not so sweet.
Time: 1:47 am.

i left passerby early. my arms are pins and needles. the back of my head hurts.

Friday, May 16th, 2003
Subject: okay.
Time: 3:08 pm.

i'm scared of being an opportunist.

and.

i'm out of practice.

and out of touch.

Saturday, May 10th, 2003
Subject: things could be better. things could be worse.
Time: 1:03 pm.
Mood: blah.
Music: cat hum.

i need a little break. from new york city. i need a little break, period. to re-group. i feel like i'm falling a part. all i need is less noise. more space. a basketball. loki. warm air. more stars. a drive. old friends.

i'm feeling out of place these days.

Wednesday, May 7th, 2003
Subject: i don't write that often.
Time: 12:30 pm.

but i still lurk in your journals. ha. ha. ha.

Wednesday, April 16th, 2003
Subject: work.
Time: 3:50 pm.

my body hates me.

Friday, April 11th, 2003
Subject: i wish i was a little bit taller.
Time: 11:50 pm.

i'm thinking about you. yes you.

Tuesday, April 8th, 2003
Subject: ha.
Time: 12:09 pm.
Music: bruce springsteen. atlantic city.

FAULKNER.

i'm really tired.

Monday, April 7th, 2003
Subject: i blame college.
Time: 2:30 pm.
Mood: okay.
Music: big fat greek wedding dvd display music.

Definition.

Before (prior to any voluntary or not voluntary movement regarding this process) I enter my sanctuary, which I have entered before, consciously, though at times unconsciously to consciously recall all the times I have entered it before, my body shuffles under the covers, the covers that chafe my body, until urgency--whether it be conscious or unconscious--urges me to remove my body from my bed, drawing me to this room, this room that I have entered before. And in the darkness of the hallway (or is it the darkness of my mind, of my dreams, of my life?), I search, fondling the walls with my fingertips (crudely) to find the light, a light I know--for this knowledge was bequeathed unto me by my mother--that will reinforce, shed luminary delight over, dictate the world around me with just one flick of the switch, a switch that will turn on the light, and i will no longer be stifled by the darkness, suffocated by naivete--the time before external existence, in the watery womb, in the warmth that is understood before the conscious awakening of birth that is not naivete, but rather, innate, as though my mother's maternal crooning urinated from her mind, flushed through the umbilical cord and dripped into my under-developed--not over-developed, as it is now--mind. Crudely. Crudely fondle, the walls? Or is it my id that crudely fondles my ego in search of the superego to quench this crude fondling. But, what is crude but the basic humanistic instinct of yearning, yearning for rationality, for understanding, for a requital of something, a thing, anything, maybe nothing that is unrequited. What would Funk and Wagnalls define as crude, for the definition--the hierarchical social (and published) definition (which, to my own over- developed conscious, is substandard in the whole of things)--is created by the hands of these men (but are Funk and Wagnalls men, or are they only names, only definitions of this elite group of definers?) But it seems that definitions are (just) words that define, and these (just) words are (just) words that must be defined as well; a not (mystic) definition. And as I search, I search not not not in vain for this light that will show me the way; I do indeed find it, and as my mission is subjugated--whether unconsciously or not unconsciously--it creates a new and uncharted circumstance (mystic). I sit in a room that I have entered, entered before, and wait this time for my deeds to be done, (for this deed is involuntarily motivated from the bowels of my inner being) and as I sit on cold porcelain (as Funk and Wagnalls might have done), as if by some divine intervention, as if the answer had fallen upon my lap, on top of my Farmer's Almanac that is on top of my bare thighs,a question is answered. My eyes meander, as my legs once did from dark dream to light, to the roll. To my demise, the definition of crude is redefined:

Crude is three sheets of cotton to a roll of cardboard.

Thursday, February 20th, 2003
Subject: oh boy.
Time: 10:58 pm.
Mood: lkf353405sdfkasdf;as..
Music: none. none.

i want to tell you how i really feel. but i am too passive.

Tuesday, February 18th, 2003
Subject: effin snow.
Time: 12:34 pm.
Mood: indescribable.
Music: nick cave. love letter.

i'm too sensitive. even the snow has made me sad. on another note altogether i'd like to text that i am happy that i don't make plans. though aggravating to others it saves me aggravation when the plans fall through. i.e. my trip to new york which was suppose to start yesterday. the weather gods are against me. i took this week off a month ago, and here i am listening to records and ink painting. jenny jones on mute in the background. should i start reading the old farmer's almanac? i can say that these days i'm not happy. but i did get a manicure the other day. and i must admit it made me giggle, because it's the most ludicrous thing i've done in months. i made them paint my nails a flesh tone color. i am a bird. when march comes maybe this stress with go away maybe it shift like fault line layers and i'll want to say a big fuck you to new york and i'll move to somewhere warm. did i mention i am trying to build a relationship. and it's hard. just like i remembered it to be.

Thursday, February 6th, 2003
Subject: so my aunt drinks...
Time: 10:24 pm.
Mood: stressed.
Music: gillian welch. elvis presley blues.

and sometimes calls when she is well on her way to being shit faced. and every suspicion i have about my mother's regards on me leaving this town and my over active lunacy for living a life as an artist is confirmed. and my mother has this guilt that she harbors around with a smile. she is a better actor than i. i know she doesn't want me to leave. but she will never say it. and i know she wants me to wear suits and work in a cubicle, grocery shop every tuesday and drive a blue mini van for the rest of my life. in this town. but she will never say it. and this seems so typically banal. i need a fancy metaphor to make this all too common story seem sassy.

and. leave michael jackson alone.

and. i gave work my notice.

Sunday, February 2nd, 2003
Subject: sunday.
Time: 10:07 pm.
Mood: anxious.
Music: gillian welch. revelator.

a list of things. sans grammatical parallelism.

homecoming queen.
flat a accent.
wanting to be a maggie may.
never skied.
emmy lou harris.
insecure.
owning a fashionable metallica tee.
a phase of wearing men's fruit of the loom.
wet tampons to ceilings.
murphy's.
willis.
blood clot.
queen of the foul shot.
published poem.
one play.
skinner speech.
bad posture.

Saturday, February 1st, 2003
Subject: boo.
Time: 10:29 pm.
Music: the jesus and mary chain. sometimes always.

my arm hurts. i am going to cry.

Friday, January 31st, 2003
Subject: gah.
Time: 8:41 am.
Mood: sad.
Music: wilco. i am trying to break your heart.

i don't like to wake up. in fact, i don't like going to sleep simply because i know i am going to wake up eventually. why does it often take thirty minutes for my right arm to shake the pins and needles?

Subject: blind date.
Time: 12:41 am.
Mood: giggly.
Music: cat power. metal heart.

these turds use lines that are so funny. it made me think of that time jeff wanted to smooch and he told me to "seize the day." and i'm still friends with that fucker. fancy that.

one.

2009-01-04T14:53:00.000-05:00

Thursday, January 30th, 2003
Subject: no joke.
Time: 10:42 pm.
Mood: exhausted.
Music: cat power. salty dog.

dear erica,

thank you for submitting an audition tape for real world season thirteen and road rules season twelve. we are honored to have been allowed the chance to get to know you, and we appreciate the diligence, enthusiasm, and honesty with which you have shared the very personal details of your life. every year, we are amazed anew by the variety and depth of the experiences our applicants allow us to share.

as you may know, we receive nearly five thousand applications for each of the places in our cast. while we truly wish we could provide a forum for all of the fascinating stories we hear, and all of the voices that interest us, we are forced to narrow the field each year to those seven people for real world and six for road rules. unfortunately, we are unable to offer you a place in this season's cast.

please understand that our decision is not in any way a rejection or dismissal of you personally and in no way comments negatively on any particular aspect of your videotape or what you have chosen to share with us. we deeply appreciate your openness and honesty and wish you the very best of everything in your future.

sincerely,

mary-ellis bunim and jonathan murray.

the small child inside of me weeps.

okay. it doesn't. because this day was rad. got a list of agents. bought a magazine. purchased a pair of one hundred dollar jeans for twenty bucks and received a call telling me to come to new york in march.

the small child inside of me wets her pants with joy.

Wednesday, January 29th, 2003
Subject: i should be.
Time: 10:32 pm.
Mood: okay.
Music: nick drake. saturday sun.

at the bar.

but if i go to the bar chances are i will smoke a cigarette. maybe even two. who am i kidding. i'll buy a pack in a drunken fervor. and when i cough up a lung the next day and my nasal passages are inflamed to the size of leather stocking country i'm sure i'm going to want to die. did i mention i have vices? so instead i will drown my boredom in the nerd, the hellmouth of reclusion. and i can't shake like i use too. i know if i go out i'll have that hangover feeling for days. did i mention i was eighty-two? on another note, all together, i want my heart to pitter patter.

i dreamt about one of my new york city friends. and i say, how come he wasn't naked in my unconscious wanderings?

and how come i hate the phone but i always want to be suprised by a phone call. for serious.

Subject: this time i am not depressed but, in fact, relieved.
Time: 12:15 am.
Mood: yarf.
Music: elliot smith. big star cover.

that i am not married.

and i must admit that i hate the telephone, but i haven't talked to ben in months. mostly because he's a wanker. and his wife is a fucking raging lunatic who still thinks that he wants to hump my leg. and the silly thing is he never wanted to hump thy leg, nor i his. even during that awkward pubescent stage. i blame it on his big ears. it makes me sad that i have lost a close friend to marriage. i hope this never happens to me. well, maybe it won't, these days friends are few and far between. and i don't want to get into the topic of finding the right person...

why do people call martinis martinis. really.

Tuesday, January 28th, 2003
Subject: thank you.
Time: 7:23 pm.
Mood: happy.
Music: french kicks. when you heard you.

benno, i'd give you a kiss.