Kitty Power

Gone

2003-10-05T16:43:00.000-04:00

I'm vacating the premises. The new Kitty Power is officially open for business...if not that cool looking yet. I was just happy to get it up and running really. Adjust your links accordingly.

It's been a good run here at Blogspot. Minus the occasional disappearing archives, page load mishaps, inability to link to post directly and downtimes. No, really it's been fun. But continuing my transition into a web nerd -- without the technical ability -- I've bought my domain and a heap of space and now I'm ready to have some super dynamic blogs with pictures (!) and more room to write without flodding your screen...unless you like that sort of thing.

So. thanks for dropping in. And with that: Good morning! And in case I don't see you: good afternoon, good evening and good night!

2003-10-03T02:44:00.000-04:00

So, there is another Kitty Power site. But, don't go there. I'm working it on it...unless you want to leave a comment of the "go you! You rock!" variety which is always welcome. I'm fiddling about with everything in there, trying to figure out a way to make it all spiff and such. I'm gonna hold my massive fashion world entry for the new site...or at least until tomorrow. I'm sleepy and I took notes like a good girl. I'm off to dream of a beautiful template design that I can actually make work.

2003-10-01T22:08:00.000-04:00

Today I've been experiencing a renaissance of sorts. I went to the laundry and washed clothes. I thought to myself: "Man, I'm hippy hippy hippo, I can't take looking like this...I need to get off that "see food, eat it" mode. And I'm too broke to buy everything I could possibly need if I keep getting larger than my bleeping clothes." (With that said, this coat is way pretty. A little busy, but being that I've been complaining my personal style is kinda blah and plain, this would definitely brighten it all up.)

Anyhoo, I've been a television fiend today. I watched ATWT. It's the only soap I've managed to stick with all these years. It's some good stuff right now. Then again, anything's better than AMC of the raped lesbians and putting people on meathooks in cold storage. Bump that mess. I also watched the stuff a girl's sci-fi, eye candy dreams are made of on the WB. Smallville and Angel. My husbands are so pretty. I might even tune into Tarzan on Sunday to see the pretty man slink around in a loincloth. Lovely, just lovely.

I don't remember the last time I've just sat around and watched TV. It's been excellent. Sometime last spring, I just fell out of TV watching and believe me, for a person like me that's tragic. I still have the syndication schedules of the local channels burned in my brain because when I was a kid, watching the boob tube was practically a lifestyle. TV is fabulous for simply letting yourself get washed over by stories, fantasy, and prettiness. And also for honing your critical gaze and snark to play with the kids at TWoP. I'm loving it while it lasts.

Hmm...pretty definitely appears to be the word of the day. Ah well.

2003-09-30T20:08:00.000-04:00

This is why I love Sars and have her linked up -- besides the fact that once upon a time I wrote into the The Vine and she sent me pens when I got published.

Great article from Salon...definitely worth those stupid premium commercials.

2003-09-30T18:17:00.000-04:00

I've gotta say that this article sums up just about everything I love about "While You Were Out." Except for the kitschy goodness and the quiz for prizes at the end.

Also on Slate, the Diary feature is a medical anthropologist in NYC researching sexual decision making in minority poor MSM -- or men who sleep with men, in case you haven't heard that. Back when I was writing my essay -- seems like forever ago, I doing a lot of reading trying to incorporate that topic into my research about the sexual agency of young black women, but it was way too much to tackle. I'll be reading the week's dispatches with interest.

2003-09-30T13:13:00.000-04:00

Apparently the Friendster "it" pickup line for a Candice is referencing Prefuse 73. Not that I'm complaining...I guess. I am single after all -- not that I wasn't before -- but single and looking again, compared to the single yet tempestuously involved with someone of the past month or so.

But, I've realized (as conceited as it might sound) that I'm tired of guys hitting on me. Not altogether, just the shameless, lame lines having, leering, obnoxious ones. It's driving me nuts. They won't leave me alone, whether the bus, the train, the streets, in stores, in the building at work. It's like fuck, I don't care if you find me attractive, step off! Then again, I just might be experiencing a bit of "grass is always greener on the other side" because I spent years of complaining that no one ever noticed me.

The problem I think is that I'm the sort of person who likes to proactive. If I like you or find you attractive, you'll know it because I've gotten pretty good at flirting (sometimes) over the years. Besides, it's just no fun waiting for someone to come to you. Sometimes it can be advantageous, like when I'm sitting at my bar, chilling and feeling cheap (or broke) and minding my business when some guy wants to step up and chat and offers me a drink (or 3). I don't discourage it yet I'm not doing anything but sitting in the corner most of the time so I'm not encouraging it either. I'll take the drinks, we'll chat, end of episode. But, the reason I embraced things like Nerve and Friendster so is that I get to be choosy and go after someone without the immediacy of a potential hit and miss at a bar/club. When you're talking back and forth online, you can develop a preliminary rapport and it's kinda playful and fun. The ultimate in no pressure. You can meet and even if nothing romantic happens, you can still be cool because you've developed a nice sort of friendship. Win-win all around. And of course, the occasional something else might happen and that's always excellent unless he's annoyingly bipolar and starts to make me crazy. That gets evened out because I'm kinda bipolar too and I'm sure I've dished out plenty of that. Ah well. Here's to a tentative reintroduction to the "dating" world.

2003-09-29T23:19:00.000-04:00

Currently cracking me up:

11. Drinks with "sexy" names. Bar patrons who order a "screaming orgasm," "sex on the beach," "blow job," or "long slow screw against the wall" are 77% less likely to get laid than the ones drinking beer. Wonder why.
18. Your cats. Attachment to a non-human mammal that doesn't give a fuck about you bespeaks emotional damage. It's the kind that transforms you from "alluringly quirky" to "certifiable."
19. Little digital cameras on your cell phone. These are for taking dirty pictures and posting them online, not for snapping your fully clothed friends in bars. When will the populace understand this?
35. Friendster.com. For a few months, it was a secret cute-kid sex party. Then all your exes heard about it. Then Courtney Love got on it. Then strangers started insisting you'd shared some magical experience with them outside Tuscaloosa. You told them you'd never been to Tuscaloosa and that they must have the wrong person. Then they told you your pet hamster’s name from when you were five and you started shaking.
36. Employment. People always talk about "becoming their job," which is the most heinous thing ever.
43. Blogging about your sex life. People who do this are under two delusions: a) that everyone wants to fuck them, and b) that their writing is interesting. Which is worse: sexual megalomania or an inability to edit? It's a dead heat. The online equivalent of that excruciatingly monotonous blowjob scene in every porn movie ever made.

2003-09-29T16:40:00.000-04:00

~~Looking like a weekend must so far. [via Gothamist]~~ maybe not because of the dual excuses of being broke and having somewhere else to be. Wes friend b-day party! Woo hoo! But, this I might drop into. I've been trying to see Antibalas all freaking summer and no dice so far. I'll do it eventually.

In other news, guys suck...no really. Good old excess energy is a terrible thing to waste. Song of the week: "Last Light (featuring Sam Prekop)" by Prefuse 73. No decipherable lyrics, but the song is awesome. It fits this week so far -- nothing to say but an overarching mood is apparent. I'm currently preoccupied. Websites don't build themselves, you know.

2003-09-28T14:34:00.000-04:00

Looking at my tracker, I've got to admit I'm dying to know who's taking a look at this from SUNY-Plattsburgh, Canada, and the UK. I sent the link to folks in France myself, so that's no surprise. Say hi, people! And whoever keeps googling and the like "Candicissima" and "Kitty Power," stop it! I can seeeee you! LOL.

I'm currently in the middle of making my new cyberhome nice and cozy. Wish me luck on weeding my way through all the instructions!

2003-09-28T12:21:00.000-04:00

Scene: Family gathering. My aunt's new fiancee's birthday party. Long Island. Bored to tears with PrincessNella, a cousin, and his friend in the back of the room with booze to keep ourselves occupied. I'm called over by other cousins, sisters 1 and 2, a little older yet cool.

Moi: Hey, what's up?
1: Where's your boyfriend?
Moi: Huh?
1: Is he here?
Moi: (thinking that perhaps she was late to the end of The Ex even though that was all last year andeverything) I don't have one.
1: Oh okay. Are you looking? There's some guys over there (gesturing towards the table of teenage bummy-looking non-prospects)
Moi: Uh...I think they're kinda young.
1: You're right.
2. So, you didn't get a perm, huh?
1: What kind of guys do you like?
2: You ever think of twists? That would look nice.
Moi: That's how it was earlier but I tried to do the crinkly thing and it didn't work. Uh...I dunno I don't have a type.
1: Leave her alone, she's been growing it natural for a while. You date white boys?
Moi: Uh...
1: That's a yes.
Moi: Not exclusively
1: Okay...(wheels visibly turning)
Moi: (panicking) You're not going to fix me up or something, are you?
1: (unconvincing) No...
2: You gained a little weight, huh?
1: No makeup either?
Moi whimpers.
1: You have to come over my house one Friday night. I'll fix you up.
Moi: Okay...umm, I'll be right back.
Moi runs to the "bar" and downs a massive vodka and cranberry.

2003-09-24T20:27:00.000-04:00

Today's favorite things include Interpol tickets (mine tomorrow) and sales listings courtesy of New York Metro, my new fave online reading material. Tomorrow's favorite thing will probably be Prefuse 73/Dabrye tickets twice over. Maybe some Turin Brakes too. I need some concerts in my life.

I've realized I've almost skimped on a song of the week. Can't have that.

I'm so hot for him, I'm so hot for him
I'm so hot for him and he's so cold

Yeah, I tried re-wiring him, tried re-firing him
I think his engine is permanently stalled
He's so cold he's so cold
Hhe's so cold cold cold
Like a tombstone
He's so cold, he's so cold
He's so cold cold cold like an ice cream cone
He's so cold he's so cold
I dare not touch him my hand just froze

Just for kicks, natch. Definitely not based on real life. Not. At. All.

stephen malkmus (pavement): he is clever, and you
are hot shit. go find a shady lane and fuck
off!

who's your indie rock boyfriend?
brought to you by Quizilla [via Coolfer]

The Interview Game

2003-09-24T16:31:00.000-04:00

I called on Camilo to get me into the interview game.

The Questions:
1. How do you define your presence here?
2. What was your moment of power, your finest hour?
3. What was your most absurd dream that you had, that became reality?
4. What is your fondest memory from childhood?
5. What have you always wished you could do with your life, but
are too scared to try?

The Rules:
1. Leave me a comment or email, saying you want to be interviewed.
2. I will respond; I'll ask you five questions.
3. You'll update your website with my five questions, and your five answers.
4. You'll include this explanation, and acknowledge me as the interviewer.
5. You'll ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed.

The Answers:
1. How do you define your presence here?
I kinda touched on this the other week when I jumped into the black blogs discussion, but I define Kitty Power as a loose narrative of my life, loves, adventures, and thoughts. I put this out there because I've got a certain degree of egotism, but also because growing up I spent a fair amount of time feeling a little too cerebral and out there. Ever since I started writing on the web (initially to kill story telling time), I've discovered that people find it kinda entertaining as well as it being an interesting way to connect to new folks. It's been cool to discover that yes, I might be a little outside the box as far as a lot of things go, but I've got my voice being heard from my little corner. I define this blog as me being free to speak my mind as I don't always get the chance to in real life...within moderation. But, as I am multifaceted and keep some things close to the chest, the same applies here. It's simultaneously totally yet not representative of me.

2. What was your moment of power, your finest hour?
My initial cop out answer is to say that I haven't experienced it yet because I'm so young and feel that my best moments are before, not behind, me. As cheesy as it sounds, graduation was pretty powerful for me. So much shit led up to that. Every moment before, I felt like I wasn't going to make it because of mistakes, missed opportunities, malaise, exhaustion, you name it. I've never felt so completely drained as I did the last couple of months leading up to that and I found it hard to mentally think of myself being really done because I knew I had almost 2 more months of work ahead of me. Yet, that day everything just went right and for that ceremony, every piece of heartache, misery, failures and frustration was just worth because I did what I set out do.

3. What was your most absurd dream that you had, that became reality?
Going to Senegal was pretty huge for me. I've always been an optimistic pessimist. My excitement about anything is always secretly inverted by the dark thoughts that it won't really happen. I blame it on plenty of things, but that's another story. Junior year of high school was a big trip for my chorus for a week in Senegal to sing. I wanted to go unbelievably badly, but the cost was a lot more than my family could afford and I was pretty sure I wasn't going to go. Being an optimistic pessimist means that most of the time that my drive for the object of the conflict is neutralized because of opposing forces. With my mother on my shoulder as a hypercritical naysayer, I stopped hoping for it and resigned myself to being miserable. Yet my stepmother, having traveled everywhere and believing that the trip would be something that I'd treasure forever, made my father step up and I went. Mindblowing is the short description of everything I saw and did there and I wouldn't trade those memories for anything. The dream of that trip itself isn't absurd, but my doubts and my mother's disencouragement are typical of from being from a community where something outside of a narrow range of presented experience is ridiculous. I know that's a strange statement and I've considered rewording it, but it is what it is.

4. What is your fondest memory from childhood?
I spent most of my formative years as an only child. My folks worked or were scattered about and I spent most of my time with my grandmother and great aunt. I trailed after them like a shadow, all through the city or down South, just soaking up being encouraged to be the little smart one and do whatever I wanted. My older relatives were strictly Southern, having come to NY in the 40s and 50s because where they grew up there were no opportunities. They didn't have the chance to go to school as they had wanted because they had to work in the fields or travel once they were older because by then they had families and responsibilities. Those women looked at me like an explorer of the possibilities a woman could have. I was actively encouraged not to cook (or rather, learn just enough to get by but also to keep it a secret), to study and read everything, to speak everything on my mind, to be loud, to be fearless, to be confident, to never settle for anything, to resist being "tamed." I was introduced as "the future writer" and clucked around appreciatively. I'm sure it sounds as if I retrospectively am lavishing being completely spoiled as a child, but what I am trying to celebrate is the memory of always being told that my possibilities were limitless, something which I rarely remember hearing since I was that tomboy running behind old women.

5. What have you always wished you could do with your life, but
are too scared to try?
When I was younger, I was encouraged to read everything I could get my hands on. A favorite was the Almanac, learning about all the different countries in the world and their histories. I used to write reports on Uruguay and Italy and Egypt and Greece, not being able to wait until I would go there. I decided in high school that I had to go to a college with study abroad, so I could go to England or France or Brazil or Japan. But, somewhere between sophomore and junior year, despite having the brochures and applications filled out, when it came time for me to pick some international location to call my home for months, I neutralized my own desire and killed that dream. It's been frustrating for me to have become more debilitated by self-doubt with age than I was as at 5 or 10 or 17. To do anything takes so much more encouragement and having to get fifth and sixth opinions. Having a friend like Alex always makes me more regretful because he is out there living his dreams unapologetically. Still, he planted the seeds in my head that with my coming temping financial windfall, I could pick up and go to those places I've only read and dreamed about. My excuses involving my parents' anger, potential wasting of money I should hoard, and a general fear of just saying "fuck it, I'll do what I want" are feeling pretty hollow for once. I don't even know if I need to do the stereotypical "post-collegiate backpacking" trip because that's not who I am, but me, my notebook, maybe a camera, riding the rails, seeing the sights, taking that leap is something that sounds so good to me right now. I strangely feel that if I can let go and just do it with this, a lot of other things that I'm always punking out about would follow suit.

2003-09-24T00:45:00.000-04:00

This talk about jello cocktails has me reminiscent about freshman year with Jay when we were the hardcore jello shot eaters and no one else could hang. Good times. Jay, it looks like a place we have to go to me!

I'm feeling sort of creative lately. I think I'm going to reinvent Scenestress as an NYC specific travels/experiences essays sort of thing. I'm also going to add some my old site pre-blog post to here (if I can). But all of that might be moot since I'm considering taking this guy up on his offer. But, money's kinda tight since I've got so many things I want to invest in. For a change, I'm not spending recklessly. I'm considering joining a gym because when even my Virtual Fit girl is looking like a hippy hippy hippo, I've had enough Double Cheeseburger Value Meals. I always forget that my genetic makeup has me predestined to expand outwards unless I'm up on that. I don't do enough right now to make my former "oh look, I keep forgetting to eat and lost 10 lbs!" methods work. For that, I have to be either hyperstressed/pressured or broke yet out and about. Being that I'm pretty chill, relatively settled down in something or another and not really up to anything, my bottom half is spinning out of control. Some Pilates will fix my fat ass...hopefully.

2003-09-23T18:55:00.000-04:00

Taking it back straight old school, I'm 51.8% pure. I chuckle back on the days where I thought I'd be 92% forever.

As quick as he reentered NY, Alex has jetted back off across the ocean. He gave me some wonderful sage advice that helped me make up my mind. If Alex says someone is too sketch for me to be involved with, that's enough for me to listen. Not like that wasn't what I was thinking already.

All summer I've been experiencing writer's block. Mostly because once I gave every once of blood, sweat and tears I could muster to the yearbook, I had no desire to create anything. You might think, how can you write so much in this blog and be having writer's block? Well, this is different. It doesn't take much effort for me to yammer on and on about myself. People have been helping me keep the past couple of months crazy interesting. But I've regained that urge that's always propelled me to just write something. I dunno. We'll see how it turns out.

Alex's guerilla visit was great for me because it inspired me to again reassess what's going on with me. I want money to pay the approaching loans, a place of my own, to settle down into some sort of romantic bliss for a min (I'm such a softy underneath), and a way to combine my interests into something that's not completely draining. Sunday, we met up with other Wes kids who are now across country doing their own thing. I felt kinda stifled that I haven't done anything but rush from CT to here. Yeah, I had a good time for a while now, but I haven't had a real vacation in ages...minus that ill-fated 21st birthday trip to Miami and a visit to the Midwest. I've got invitations extended from France, Belgium, Portugal, New Mexico, and California. Fear of not being able to pay what I need to has me running to a "real" job, but truthfully, I don't mind the temp stuff, just the hours right now. What's to stop me really from working enough to pay stuff off and do some traveling? I think I'll hold off mentioning it to my parents just yet because they already attribute my general lack of "get up and go" to all the damned hippie schools I went to. Still I'm considering it.

2003-09-23T00:02:00.000-04:00

I'm just being a punk complainer, but I've got to be somewhere at 9am 4 out of 5 days this week. *sob* Who's prepping the little violin for me?

2003-09-22T15:37:00.000-04:00

~~Too little sleep makes a girl grumpy. I'm hating in a big way today.~~ But it didn't take too much to cheer me up.

Offline, the past month or so has been filled with all sorts of funny yet sketchy situations. The Randoms and I had more fun than anyone ought to in Central Park last week, but previous to that was the night that I glossed over oh-so-nicely here on the blog. No details shall be forthcoming, so don't even ask, but an exchange about it is amusing the hell out of me.

Jamirakid: yeah well. drunkenness attracts me to sketchiness. good for stories, with certain parts censored, natch.
Jamirakid: like i can tell about that drunken night with your shoes getting messed up, but i have no role in that story.
H: no role? ha!
Jamirakid: ha what? i was minding my own business sleeping like a peaceful youngster that night...at least as i tell it.
H: just don't tell it like that within earshot of me and you'll be fine...
Jamirakid: how different can your version be? after all, you're the one who said you didn't see a thing...
H : i think i can describe things by sound and elbows/knees in my side quite well
Jamirakid: haha
Jamirakid: yeah. i don't really tell it that way. i've just been trying to figure out what exactly you know.
H : have you seen Enemy at the Gates?
Jamirakid: nope
H : the stalingrad movie
Jamirakid: i know what it is. just haven't seen it
H : well, there's this sex scene that takes place in a full barracks, with everyone sleeping except for the couple, who are trying to be as quiet and subtle as possible...
H: you guys were not them.
H: ;-)
Jamirakid:haha

2003-09-21T20:24:00.000-04:00

Amusing stuff [via Palochi]

PISCES

Drinking style:

If you're a Pisces, you've probably already heard that you share a sign -- and an addictive personality -- with Liz Taylor, Liza Minelli and Kurt Cobain. Not only do Pisces like to lose themselves in the dreamy, out-there feeling that only hooch can give, but they build up a mighty tolerance fast. Who needs an expensive date like that? On the other hand, they're fabulously enchanting partners, whether in conversation or in crime. With the right Pisces, you can start out sharing a pitcher of margaritas and wind up in bed together for days. The phrase "addictive personality" can be read two ways, you know.

Trademark Cocktails:

Pisces rules fresh mint, and they do love a mojito or three -- though a julep will do just as well. They also like punches, like sangria or the oh-so-aptly named fish house punch. (Pretty much anything will satisfy a Pisces in a pinch, though -- "drinking like a fish" is an idiom pulled out of the zodiac, not the deep blue sea.) Pisces is a chocoholic and loves creme de cacao (and spiked cocoa). (Umm...no chocolate please. Very allergic. I do like sangria, but I'm having a sours period currently.)

Drinking buddies:

Drew Barrymore, Chastity Bono, Chelsea Clinton, Kurt Cobain, Edward Gorey, Queen Latifah, Liza Minelli, Anais Nin, Sharon Stone, Liz Taylor

2003-09-21T05:05:00.000-04:00

My boy, my brother from other parents, my kid, my window into the crazy rock star life, my cheerleader, my well of good vibes and fun has reentered the building. Alex is in NYC for a limited time only. I'm so happy that I could scream. All is right with the world.

2003-09-20T14:56:00.000-04:00

I got rid of the ratings code. The novelty wore off.

2003-09-20T14:10:00.000-04:00

Stupid Blogger lost yesterday's hurried post. Grr. Coming soon after I marinate on it a little bit more, The Interview Game.

Strange week this has been. Being busy is a great cure for driving silliness out of your head. I'm becoming a phone interviewing BS master. I've got two go-tos set up for next week plus a briefing meeting for that project that's going to have me living it up in October. I was telling PrincessNella that despite essentially wanting a full-time thing (I suppose, I'm becoming wishy-washy on that even. I'm such a slacker), what I have going right now is the best of both worlds. I've got plenty of time sitting home, watching TV, taunting people at work over IM that I'm doing nothing yet a few times a week, I put on my responsible face, go off to work, and most importantly get a paycheck. Work, being highly overrated, sucks and I can't say I'm really looking forward to the "9-5" (which really is so much than that in most industries I'm interested in) except for the more money part. Then again, who cares if I have more money when I'm worn out from the week? More money means more things, more responsibilities. Between paying off my student loans, moving out and then paying rent, internet, utilities, etc, the long overdue presents to myself, and trying to save a little something, I'll be just as broke as I was a month ago but in a different venue. Screw the rat race.

Amusing me the past month or so is the reemergence of the "girly" side. I suppose I'm typically a no-nonsense, cynical, universally underwhelmed sort of person, but when I like someone, it's different. It opens up all sorts of psychological cans of worms, mostly because I like being able to plan and proceed based on an arbitrary yet semi-logical Candice system, but dealing with romantic repercussions usually throws that out the window. I find myself thrown so far off balance, everything like a rollercoaster. Simultaneously tired and exhilarated. It's kinda fascinating once it's passed and I can process, but in the mix it scares me shitless. My "girly" side isn't about me wanting to dress up and be pretty or that stuff, it's a mental thing. Me trying to fit myself into a the paradigm of being a woman dealing with a man in the relationship sense on a "I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her" tip (hopefully without having to ask), while trying to work out ways to incorporate my philosophies and history without bumping up against a wall. Trying to navigate that treacherous path has me super edgy and that's why I've been spouting out strange self-doubting stuff in the middle of everything else because I'm constantly thinking and rethinking what to do or not to, as the case may be. What I've been devoting a personally sickening amount of time turning over in my head is: why do some guys just drop off the face of the earth for a couple of days, then reappear like it's nothing? It drives me completely insane. The Ex got dumped for that -- among a heap of other reasons, but that amplified everything else. Surprisingly, I'm not a needy sort of person. I'm all about doing my own thing and having a separate life, but I just need the check-in. Just my quirk. Jay and I were talking about the rules I should put in place for a him and myself. Way up there has to be not mentioning the blog for at least a month. She was completely against it, but the blog is pretty big part of knowing me. All my friends read it and if I'm spending some serious time with someone, they're missing a major part of me. But the main thing is I spend a fair amount of time referring to it, so after a month it's gonna be way too glaring for me not to have shown it to him already. I started it for the laziness factor. I just got sick of telling people the same story over and over again or back when I told people selective things for whatever reason, not remember who was what and not wanting to have to backtrack. So, the blog's a basic Candice reference. The really juicy stuff is for offline or at least IM.

2003-09-19T00:31:00.000-04:00

Public service announcement:

TIB Soho Grand Opening Sept. 15-21
Join us in celebrating the grand opening of TIB’s newest store in the Soho district of Manhattan! Mention this listing when you visit the new store Sept. 15-21 to get a free vibrator. 43 Mercer St. (between Broome and Grand), Mon-Sat 11am–8pm; Sun noon–7pm.

2003-09-18T07:16:00.000-04:00

The Random Collective convened last evening for mayhem. The Central Park Boathouse has been rocked. End of dispatch.

So, yesterday I was hanging with the blogging big boys. I spoke my little piece and watched the conversation with interest. I'm still wondering even in the most obtuse sense what the hell OJ had to do with a conversation about black bloggers, but is it really a cheap flame if it's coming from the webmaster himself? Eventually, I was patted on the head and sent back to the corner. Intruding in one of those hypermale spaces, you know. But, I did appreciate some acknowledgement via linkage. I can put my retractable claws away now.

2003-09-18T01:32:00.000-04:00

There's a major part of me that spends a lot of time second-guessing myself, especially in the context of my blog. Am I too personal? Am I rambling too much? Is there any focus? Just about everyone I know and like reads it because it is an extension of me. It is my thoughts, my words, my feelings. I suspect it has caused some problems in my non-relationship, but fuck, what am I going to do really? This is me. If you don't like it, then there's nothing more to say. Despite my wishy-washiness, that's my final word.

2003-09-17T10:59:00.000-04:00

Cruising a site I link and like to read, I stumbled onto this discussion. I followed links and ended up smack in the middle of it here. Apparently, this is the origin.

What does it mean for me to be a black blogger? The same thing is means for me to be a black woman. It's a part of my identity, practically one word because they are so intertwined. Does it necessarily mean that I have to go screaming from the hills that I'm black or preface everything with "in my young black female opinion?" No because it's obvious. It's not something I'm hiding really. The cyberspace conversation is a one that takes place in real life too. What does it mean to be black? Does it involve an intellectual frame or behaviors or shared history or is it social conditioning? Do you have an obligation to "be" a certain thing and discuss certain approved topics? I am what I am. My blog, writings and life are unique in some ways. Not necessarily in others. In words I can say I am a black feminist progressive urban educated young sexual neurotic yearning cynical woman, but that doesn't even sum up the half of it. But, I think that my little corner of cyber space is important even if it's not necessarily on the radar of those who envision themselves the authority. And that's pretty much it.

2003-09-16T19:14:00.000-04:00

See, the rain stopped! I'm on a roll...

...except for the pain I feel in my hand. Is it possible to get carpal tunnel syndrome in a finger, then have it spread as an idiot (named Candice) won't stop using it? In my defense, I am right-handed and it is my clicking finger. I suppose I could get off the computer or something, but since I haven't heard about a blizzard in hell lately, that's pretty unlikely. Besides, I've got 4 other fingers on that hand. Ouch.

Tomorrow in the early evening hours, the Random Collective will convene for cocktails, good times, and a little mayhem. You've been warned.

I'm also considering my own little project. Not as elaborate as this onefrom the Golden Era, but just as fun hopefully.

2003-09-16T12:51:00.000-04:00

I'm a freefall, but I wake up as a starfish or a soldier [via Yahoo]

2003-09-16T02:11:00.000-04:00

Funny peach business [via Negro Please]

Now, considering my love of sly sex talk sprinklings here and there, how the hell did I never know that Face/Off is a quote goldmine? Granted, I know why I haven't seen it. I have a generally irrational dislike of Nicolas Cage and that was directly post-"comeback" Travolta when he was getting on my nerves too. But,

"If I were to send you flowers where would I... no, let me rephrase that. If I were to let you suck my tongue, would you be grateful?"

and

"Y'know, I could eat a peach for hours"

are like the shit to me right now. I've got to rent that. And just think: where would I be if Cory hadn't enlightened me on that peach quote last week? (And not like that, perv. Clean out that filthy mind with soap.)

2003-09-15T23:47:00.000-04:00

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I've kicked the blahs to the curb.

Today was pretty much as bad as it could get. Transportation sucked. The job people I was supposed to call were all MIA. I was completely drenched on my way to the Central Park light show (which I basically missed) and didn't meet up with Cory and crew like I had planned. I sulkily found myself getting pushed along like cattle amongst everyone else that was leaving into Columbus Circle. I dragged my wet rat self to an overly expensive McDs and inhaled a Double Cheeseburger meal on the way home, standing on the stupid crowded for after 8pm train to Queens. I miserably contemplated coming home to post on my blog I was going on hiatus because I hated the world and everyone in it and that's just not good reading. I was envisioning a night in bed stuffing my face, so I got a Popeye's 3 Piece (because I wanted a biscuit) and some ice cream on the way home. I took a shower, washed my hair, put on my fuzzy sweats, killed the chicken, and suddenly felt better. (And stupid full...ugh).

I'm just bipolar like that. I even arranged a non-date with a new Friendster. New blood always spices stuff up. The current undefined complicated whatever can be forgotten about for a couple of days. That's always the inherent problem with me -- even in a non-serious mood, I dedicate too much thought to things that should be nice and easy. I'm sure he doesn't sit up and obsess about it, so why should I? Exactly.

Now if this off and on rain garbage would stop, I could be the happiest camper in NYC! For a minute at least.

2003-09-15T15:39:00.000-04:00

"You must remember this, a kiss is still a
kiss". Your romance is Casablanca. A
classic story of love in trying times, chock
full of both cynicism and hope. You obviously
believe in true love, but you're also
constantly aware of practicality and societal
expectations. That's not always fun, but at
least it's realistic. Try not to let the Nazis
get you down too much.

What Romance Movie Best Represents Your Love Life?
brought to you by Quizilla

Right. [via Mercurial]

2003-09-15T03:22:00.000-04:00

A thing I do that annoys me is obsess about my age. I'm 22. So what? I've been thinking about a lot of things this weekend cruising to a close, especially how I like to hide behind things. I hide behind the blog, my age, my pride, my memories, my fear, the Ex and those that once a held a piece of me.

In feeling stuck in limbo, I've felt inept. I hate feeling that I just can't do things -- it shakes something in me. Helplessness breeds dismay which brings overcompensation. If I can't have that perfect situation I hoped would fall into place by now, I'll be damned if I won't exert control over one aspect of my life. So you like me and you want to be with me? I'll make you wish you never met me because I'd rather have us both miserable now than have you pull the rug out from under me later on like they always do.

How fucked up am I? I'm tempted to run away from myself about now. I definitely need a break from this. It's getting a little too raw.

2003-09-14T19:29:00.000-04:00

Ever tried to stop yourself from looking at what you shouldn't and not been able to? Curiosity killed a kitty, but satisfaction brought her clarity. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then looking at so many that my vision started to blur has to be more than I could ever write. If I can't deal with my own baggage, how can I be expected to take on someone else's? I truly consider my losses cut.

2003-09-14T15:40:00.000-04:00

Songs of the weekend and now the new week:

Shoot me sugar, there it is
Now we talkin' square biz
I'm leaving you without a reas(on)
What I steal, but a kiss
What you think, I'm hen pecked?
Girl, get yo mind checked
Take the time, recollect
I just gave you disrespect

and

As a calling so amaze me
So it leaves me every day
Well I never be the same
But I'm yours today

2003-09-14T05:37:00.000-04:00

I've been in a shit mood all weekend. It just kinda snuck up on me sometime after waking up Friday -- the shrillest alarm in history damaging your eardrum would probably do that I guess. I've been trying to fight it, being social all weekend, but between the rain and the fucked up journey to and from anywhere, I've been worn down. I'm unhappy. I feel like I'm in limbo. A lot of stuff has shaped up for me nicely, but I'm not satisfied. I want that permanent job. I want my own place. I want to nest. But, I'm also avoiding a Conversation and surprising myself by being pulled towards all sorts of fucked up things that would ruin something that feels nice a lot more than it doesn't. I'm doing that push-pull thing I've always despised in others. I don't make any sense. In my defense, I put that out there beforehand as a disclaimer, but that's no excuse to be a fuckup.

Walking to the bus stop earlier tonight, a guy across the street was doing that annoying hiss thing. That's gotta be one of my top pet peeves for sure. What would make a guy think by doing that he would be getting anything more than a dirty look (or a middle finger)? I mean, I know damned well he's skeezy and not thinking: "Wow, look at her big brain! She looks like she'll have crazy witty observations on life. I should ask her to recommend a book to me." Fuckwad. A look is too much to give a guy like that.

I hung out with Wes kids tonight. It's been a while. I've been in my own little world for a heap of weeks now. It ultimately made me more melancholy because it feels like everyone has their shit together but me -- though even thinking it, I know it's not true. I suck at keeping in touch. I've been trying to think all week what that's about. I've been searching for something all summer, bouncing from place to place, group to group. I need a routine. I need a foundation. I want someone to ground me, not push me to crazy heights I'm not ready for. I want that nice wholesome relationship, but I also want a mind reader.

I need to stop using this an emotional crutch. Sometimes I feel like I've lost my ability to speak with real words and breath and that is the root of most of my problems. I need to unplug for a while, but right now, I'm just reading and thinking..

2003-09-13T14:19:00.000-04:00

Uh oh...I'm getting back into that "while I make my way home and I'm stuck with my own crazy thoughts, get ridiculously bent out of shape because the negativity flooding my brain" mode. I was good for that in the beginning of my summer. Crap. At least I didn't blog about it like I was planning to as I waited almost a half hour for my bus in the rain in the wee hours of the morning. That post as I had worked it out was gonna be a doozy. I need to take my own advice about honesty occasionally being too much. I would've been way out there in a way that would've made the other week's outpouring of crazy woman despair/self-loathing look like a picnic.

I'm getting swept up again in a way I shouldn't be. Ever hear that the definition of insanity is making the same mistakes over and over again and expecting different results? I'm such a slave to patterns even when I see red flags, feel that sinking feeling in my gut and tell myself not to do it because I should just know better already. Ah well.

Onto breezy subject matter, my cats crack me up. They have this patented mood that my mom calls the Fainting Goat. One walks up to you and you make indications to pet her. Then, she kinda tips over and then rolls to expose her belly, but in the most dramatic way possible. You know, like those goats that faint when they're scared to confuse attackers or something. It's hilarious. Even better is when they roll around together having cute-offs. "Pet me! She can't even roll for real because she's too fat!" "Pet me! I've got softer fur!" Crazy animals.

2003-09-12T22:33:00.000-04:00

I'm wondering how I ever got that strange compulsion for total truthfulness. I mean, in theory, it's not a bad thing. You play straight with someone and they play straight with you. Everything's on the table, the world should be fabulous. Back in the day when I actually was in possession of that youthful naivete and I began to think I actually sought out shady characters, the truth was elusive and necessary but hardly ever present. After that, I got on that damned truth kick. It made life with The Ex interesting. Always blabbing about my feelings, being so fucking open, ultimately doing the mental anguish to myself. The relentlessness of giving up the deep truth is tiring. I'm trying to get with being satisfies being a naturally curious person that will ask if I desperately want know something. The spontaneous offering of information that is ultimately going to drive me mad with my thoughts is getting the gasface today. Isn't there another option besides lies and too much honesty?

2003-09-12T15:25:00.000-04:00

I've got money! I've got money!...that I spent a crazy chunk of carousing last night. I hung out with Ant, my kindred spirit from the DC days. We were the slacker sociologists among the uptight future lawyers of America on our study not-abroad program. We went to my favorite chill bar and were totally gobsmacked by 9:30. Yay happy hour! We stumbled off to Katz', giggling like fools, before heading off here to meet with Cory and friends where we continued to rage and took some really good pics (that have since been taken down. I dunno what's the deal. I'm assuming just prickishness). Excellent time had by all.

Things making me laugh today:

Him: Come on, cat, you've got to move! You're messing up my steez!

An unsolicited Friendster message: Candice, where did you go to school? what did you major in...how to increase my heart rate? if that's the case then you're hired.

2003-09-11T00:36:00.000-04:00

Since I'm all warmed up for ranting, this dispatch is especially funny to me because Random and I were talking about this the other week...amusingly enough, the night of that currently infamous kiss (you know what I'm talking about. I'll just say the one from an MTV show because I don't feel like dealing with hits). The "Girls Gone Wild" syndrome. I was at this bar minding my business about a month back. They have this basement where there are metal railings about where you can stand up from the floor. It never failed that if the space was empty for more than five minutes, some girl and her equally drunken friends would walk up to the poles and start grinding up against them or each other. What is it about liquor and certain girls (now, I've got to admit that I'm kinda biting my tongue to not say white girls, but truthfully, that type of thing knows no color. When I was DC, I saw some shit in a cage that amazes me to this day) that make them so determined to live out those stripper fantasies? It's really a personal pet peeve of mine, that fake sexuality. Twitney embodies so much of it. Look at me, I'm perky! I'm kinda naughty...but not too naughty because I'm a good Christian girl who listens to my mama and goes to church. I'll blow you when she turns her back after the service though! It's so empty. She probably sucks at sex too with all that bullshit repression. Her idea of a good time is probably to lie there as he does whatever, making those sounds like they showed her to in the porn all the while. She probably hasn't even had an orgasm...or knows what that means. She probably has been indoctrinated to not listen to those dirty words...just coo in a sexy voice: "I'm not a girl, yet not a woman. Should I put on my school girl outfit?"

Yes, I'm hating. That Blowup Barbie sexuality sets women back. She's got the mindset of those kids who think "if he pulls out when we're having sex, I can't catch anything" or "me sucking his dick isn't sex. Besides he took me to the movies, so I owe him." Abstenance only education is one of the worst ideas I've ever heard, especially since most of those hypocrites were screwing up a storm as teenagers I'll bet. Kids have hormones and they're gonna use the equipment whether they're taught to or not. Sex is a natural part of life and that fake "oops, I had no idea this wet clear shirt would be sexy" garbage is making things a lot more confused than they have to be.

Some Thoughts on Hip-Hop

2003-09-11T00:05:00.000-04:00

An article that I most definitely agree with [via Negro Please]. Much of rap right now is a farce. I don't even take seriously what I'm hearing most of the time -- and I suppose that's part of the problem. I dance around to "Get Low" or quote "Get Down (Like A Pimp)" on my away messages, maybe even watch the videos if I catch them. But is enjoying it as mindless entertainment implicating myself? The last rap albums I bought were God's Son and a Source mag compiliation from 2001, both discounted. Truthfully, I can't stand listening to most of what's all over my radio. If I think about the lyrics too much, I get annoyed. Like everyone's favorite "nice" song, Fabolous's "Can't Let You Go." That shit pissed me off. But, I've been annoyed with those "sensitive thug" songs since "Let's Get Married" of the "We ain't get no younger, so we might as well do it" line. Then again, what does my opinion matter really? I'm a black woman. It's not exactly speaking to me anyways. Who is the music really speaking to is the question indeed. He thinks that it's speaking to those who want the excitement of ghetto warzone imagery for various reasons -- the corporations strengthening their bottom line, white kids playacting at "thug life," disenfranchised urban youth who hear their stories in the music (a view he shares). I get annoyed with articles like this one that are so essentialist, especially since his conclusionary line is such a crock. It's knee-jerk generational gap garbage. I'm sure he would've protested to the death if someone said that about the soul music of Motown and Stax at the time.

But, rap and hip-hop is a multifaceted thing. It may have begun in the ghettos as a party soundtrack that developed into a voice, but it's an international movement. I'm never going to forget being in Senegal and having the kids ask me if I had any Biggie or Tupac or bonding crossculturally with French kids that barely spoke English over Nas. I don't know what to do about what's out now as a creative person or a consumer. I've made a conscious decision to have this music in a way represent me, but I totally invoke the right to be critical. A lot of the lyrical content doesn't move me because it tells me that I don't matter. Black women stand in the space of the exploited and the accused too much in the music for me to be comfortable, but that's a reflection of the fucked up mindset that is being taught in a lot of communities. Is it too much to ask for something crunk yet progressive in hip-hop for a change?

A song that I still love to this day is "Fear Not of Man" because of this lyric:

Listen.. people be askin me all the time,
"Yo Mos, what's gettin ready to happen with Hip-Hop?"
(Where do you think Hip-Hop is goin?)
I tell em, "You know what's gonna happen with Hip-Hop?
Whatever's happening with us"
If we smoked out, Hip-Hop is gonna be smoked out
If we doin alright, Hip-Hop is gonna be doin alright
People talk about Hip-Hop like it's some giant livin in the hillside
comin down to visit the townspeople
We +are+ Hip-Hop
Me, you, everybody, we are Hip-Hop
So Hip-Hop is goin where we goin
So the next time you ask yourself where Hip-Hop is goin
ask yourself.. where am I goin? How am I doin?
Til you get a clear idea
So.. if Hip-Hop is about the people
and the.. Hip-Hop won't get better until the people get better
then how do people get better? (Hmmmm...)
Well, from my understanding people get better
when they start to understand that, they are valuable
And they not valuable because they got a whole lot of money
or cause somebody, think they sexy
but they valuable caause they been created by God
And God, makes you valuable
And whether or not you, recognize that value is one thing

2003-09-10T01:30:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time (perhaps last week), I was crazily bent out of shape over some garbage. Then again, when am I not bent out of shape? I was a wreck in May, June, July, August...it's par for the course around here. So what I crossed out some text in my posts and it was hard to read or something? I could sum up all of that for you pretty easily: "blah blah I need to stop liking bad boys blah blah and while I'm at it, I need to stop being crazy blah blah it sucks to me blah blah I want a relationship...oh, wait I don't blah blah I like feeling sorry for myself blah blah I need to shut the fuck up because this whiny crap is really annoying blah blah." I blame it on those pesky hormones. This week, however, I think if I was any more chilled out, you'd swear I'm high on the regular. I'm not, natch. Strangely, getting tortured by a 4-year old and holing myself in a basement on DSL did wonders for my disposition.

Sunday, I made the Wes visit I've been putting off for about a month. We went there all guerilla style and I went to the office and gathered up my stuff. It was totally bittersweet -- downloading pics (though crackhead I am, I forgot most of what I want. Ugh...brains. So underrated), straightening up, erasing my chalkboard, throwing things out, talking to P. Diddy (or for the cuteness factor) on the phone like I had done so much of the spring and summer. And then I gathered up this crap I had borrowed from a professor back in April that I had left sitting around in the office all summer (oops!) and trekked to PAC. I ran into a few people I knew, dropped in the mail box and I was done. I can't describe how it felt. I never have to go back. Never if I don't want to. I feel fucking amazing. Sunday felt better than graduation for my soul -- plus I didn't get choked up like a baby this time. Freedom is a beautiful thing. And the yearbook is getting shipped out in a little under 2 weeks. I should plan a viewing party since most of my friends are wack and didn't buy one. *ahem* The best part is that I've moved on so much mentally that I don't give a fuck if it's wack. Not that it will. And of course, I say that now but I'll be nitpicking on that bitch for the next 20 years. Watch.

It's nice to be settled for a change. Now my only pursuits are dancing to southern booty music for the cats ("Get low, get low, get low, get low"), mentally counting my money and thinking of the crazy adventures that are going to make the fall bananas. And being happy that I have friends in high places as well as mid-range fun ones. I've also reversed my position on what I did last week. Is it just me or is the crop shaping up nicely lately? I've changed my gallery age range, so that might have something to do with it. Something about the 23s and the 26s spicing up the playing field.

2003-09-09T15:52:00.000-04:00

Word.

2003-09-09T12:46:00.000-04:00

My favorite sound of the week: the pop-up blocker laying the smackdown on pesky windows.

I've been trying to think of a song for this week. I'm not in any sort of music mood yet. I've been listening to a few things, but only when I wake up and then trying to go back to sleep because 7:30 doesn't agree with me. Despite my complaints about feeling musically disconnected, it's been a great music summer -- though I've barely bought anything and my former new music connections -- my old radio show and fast downloading speeds -- are both gone now. I'm still loving Donnie's album. Great shit. And his live show was amazing.

Anyhoo, I've decided: the song of the week is: Blue Six, "Beautiful Tomorrow."

2003-09-09T00:42:00.000-04:00

Gizmodo is electronics porn. I've been stuck on this page for hours now. I've been whispering sweet nothings to a computer screen: : "Hello, my sweetness, I'll see you at Christmas!"

Crazy exchange of the day:

The Moms and I were talking about the subway for whatever reason and I was saying that I had no idea where the Smith-9th Street F stop was in relation to Park Slope.
Moi: I passed it on the way to Manhattan and didn't notice it? That's so weird.
Ms. Mommy:" Maybe you were drunk.
Moi: *jaw hitting the floor and just gaping dumbly* Drunk? What would make you say that?
Ms. Mommy: *shooting me a Mommy look* C'mon now. Like I don't know you get drunk and have sex. Who am I? Your father?
Moi: *still gaping* I wasn't drunk. I was coming back from a concert.
Ms. Mommy: *rolling her eyes* Riight.

A special happy half-birthday going out to me! (But more important, happy b-day to Ms. Mommy and belated wishes to Jenny. Virgo-Pisces connection, holla back! Heh.)

So, I'm working even when I'm not -- by that I mean hustling for a full-time gig. I'm trying to get those interviews, so I can get that money. I got a call (as I do) for temp project in October that'll blow everything I'll probably make until then out of the water. I'm going to be running to do that -- unless I get a real job first. Money, money everywhere -- but not in my pocket yet. Thursday will change that though. Did I mention that this check is already blown? Well it is...most of it at least. I plan to toast myself into a stupor with lovely people helping the liver decline. I was full-blown stressed until I got a little luck. I deserve a night of loose spending...or so I'm telling myself.

2003-09-08T18:20:00.000-04:00

Currently sucking my nut. It's trying in vain to get me but it's not going to happen. I don't open any file I didn't previously know was being sent. I'm not crazy. Take that, you crap ass virus!

2003-09-07T05:28:00.000-04:00

Cherry blossom kiss
What you’re givin’
Makes my body rock
Keeps me sizzlin’

Do what you want
I don’t care
I’ll be your lollipop
You can lick me everywhere

2003-09-07T03:47:00.000-04:00

I fixed Jay's link because she thought it meant I didn't love her. That's not true, natch. I'm just an HTML retard.

2003-09-06T00:13:00.000-04:00

So, I got bamboozled into going to Upstate NY. My father (when he wasn't pissing me off) was all, "why don't you come up for the weekend" yesterday and I felt all happy like "my daddy misses me...aww!" I discovered that I was the buffer between him and my little brother while my stepmother is out of town. Curses! At least the kid's all interesting and cute though that fucking mutant should be taller than me within a year or so. Have I mentioned that he's 4, btw? Kids nowadays.

At not even midnight, I'm tired because I went to work today. Yes, I do have a job...sorta. I'm the go-to temp for this certain magazine publishing conglomerate. First, they had me Wednesday and then called me back for a different part of the same department for a weekly thing. My temp contact said I get first heads up on whatever call they send out of there. It's all good so far. I'm in the midst of all the web folks and copy editors and I can totally picture myself in the middle of it all there. I'm tempted to be all "do y'all need a junior copywriter? I could be all over that." Again, I like their version of business casual which is jeans and tanks or whatever with killer killer shoes. I can already see my first paycheck getting blown on some unnecessary shoes or something. Damned money already burning a hole in my pocket. I got to see what my working world would be like: talking to Random and another Random Collective co-conspirator from his office -- coincidentally across the street -- and chatting with Cory and Jay over IM. As I was being worked so hard that I left the building at 6pm, shithead Cory was saying how he had nothing to do at work but chill. I was telling Jay that he had no idea how close he came to getting told to suck my invisible nuts. For future reference, the quickest way for someone to get me to not like them is to disappear without a word. That shit works like a charm. I won't give a fuck when you reappear. It's one of those funny things about me. (Was that disjointed or what? Or what is it really? That's for you to wonder.)

Well damn, Rome has me feeling like people had me on suicide watch or something this week. A kid's gotta bitch and moan, man, but it's all good. It's the way I cope. I'm back to being neutral. For real this time. I'll stay away from a certain person while under the influence because the combination always makes me seem to lose my clothes. (Don't you hate it when that happens?) Soon when my pockets are lined with cash again, I can go back to the nightlife and clowning on fools that try to step to me. I've missed that. Emotional garbage screwing up my good times. My head is on straight again, so nothing but the lighthearted sharp tongued Kitty Power that some have grown to love. I promise.

2003-09-05T00:14:00.000-04:00

You know who's getting the gasface right now (besides the obvious choice): Mr. Daddy. All summer, he's been on a "*bitch, bitch* You know I don't know why you just didn't do the teacher thing, you're not going to find a job that pays that well. You should go inquire, especially since you're not doing anything else. *bitch, bitch*" Now, I've been explaining every time to him that a) I don't want to be a teacher b) I have sub zero interest in being a teacher right now c) Teaching is not in my career goals -- and yes, despite how he tries to play me out like I'm stupid, I do have some. d) Even if I had considered the teaching thing (which I -- again -- did not), missing the necessary summer training with "hey guys, I have some slave labor to finish up at school. Can I get back to you in a couple of months?" would not have flown. Sheesh. Every fucking time I talk to him, we have to go over and over this. And then he gets mad because though he likes to treat me like a dimwit child, I'm an adult loud-mouthed bitch. Drives me totally apeshit.

Receiving the "you're the man" medal is Random. I'd like to tell you why but I can't. Top secret stuff.

This town dont feel mine
I'm fast to get away-FAR

This little kitty is blowing town for the weekend. I feel completely drained. I need some country air, crazy little kids, high speed internet, and someone to drive me about. I need to clear my head and muster up some strength to blow an interview out the park next week. Peace out.

The Definitive Post On Me and The Inevitable Romantic and Emotional Problems

2003-09-04T13:02:00.000-04:00

In a way, I wonder why I'm letting this whole thing with him bother me. I mean, there's more fish in the sea, I probably fucked up, shit happens, all those things. That doesn't change the fact that there were warning signs going off a mile a minute. I didn't mean what I said how it came out, but I was inherently saying "where this is headed with you, I don't like it and I'd rather just nip it before it spins out of control." Maybe that's not how it was on his end, but I know me and I was beginning to see "Goner" written on my forehead in blood.

I'm a laid-back person -- despite how it may appear here because this blog is a little too far in my head for comfort occasionally really. There's a lot that goes on that I don't write about because a girl needs secrets and breaking everything of myself down into some words on a computer screen makes me feel like my life isn't my own. I made that mistake with the other site where someone who liked me thought that describing what went wrong in a lot of situations gave him some sort of special in to pigeon hole me. Everything I write is like a brain capsule. What I might be feeling now at 12:40pm may not be what's up with me tomorrow at 2pm. That's my prerogative, that's why it's Kitty Power subtitled "disjointed dispatches," not "definitive manifesto."

It's hard for me to like someone. At the root, I'm a control freak, it's a defense mechanism. I'm also an open person which makes me practically bipolar. I liked him and I accepted all these things he was throwing at me (figuratively) that were making me completely scared shitless. I do like the guys that ultimately not for me, but there comes a time in your life when you gotta let go of that "it'll never be boring" mentality and save the fucking heartache that is coming. I'm tired of being wrecked. I spent the better part of a year thinking that I was fucked up and I didn't deserve to be happy and he moved on and left because that's what's supposed to happen to me. I don't think that anymore. Shit is too important for me right now and I don't want to waste any more time stupidly unhappy. And that's it. I chalk it up as a failure and I'm moving on. The End.

I'm getting tired of my need to qualify myself. Fuck it all. Life's too short.

2003-09-04T12:37:00.000-04:00

Strange dream I had: Edward Norton and I were old friends and he was staying at the house where I grew up in Brooklyn. We had this unspoken sexual tension making things awkward between us. Then came in a member from the Leaders of The New School who was trying to kick it to me, but one of my cousins reminded him I was in the "Scenario" video (I wasn't) as a little kid and to try to get with me all these years later was making him a retroactive child molester. How bizarre on too many levels to count.

2003-09-03T19:29:00.000-04:00

I'm taking a break from the emotional garbage to break into why I've got the strangest luck of anyone I know. This morning, I was off to be a good girl and you know, get my slacker ass working by heading to my interview at a temp agency. I was looking all spiffy though, damn, 9am looks like hell on me. I get to the place and I go through my "yeah, I'm looking for publishing and PR, but mostly whatever" shpiel and all is going well. The lady throws something out about a contract job for a month starting tomorrow and I'm all "that sounds great." (Jumping up and down on the inside, natch) But, then she's all "what are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?" I say "nothing," because what is there really but soaps and the net at home with the cats in my sweats on a weekday? She sends me off to go work at Gawker's favorite publishing corporation, where I basically delivered crap and rode around in the company car. Totally sweet. And I even saw that supposed Prada wearing devil herself with her death-ray eyes. I don't think magazine work is for me really. Every boss seems to be a "I wanted it done like an hour ago" high strung type and the chicks are all strutting around in some serious (yet gorgeous) stillettos. But, I like the fashion business casual thing. I could rock that. Maybe I'll go back tomorrow, maybe not. 'Twas interesting. And I even made a friend that reminded me of someone I know (school folks: think our favorite Wes party starter boy). But personally, the best part was the making money. I hope they keep calling me with shit to do because next Thursday is the "Candice has officially let go of school and gotten on with her life" get-together, funded by yours truly after ~~her shopping spree~~ buying a new burner for Helga. My poor baby can't deal.

2003-09-03T01:03:00.000-04:00

Red, red wine
Goes to my head
Make me forget that i
Still need her so

Red, red wine
It`s up to you
All I can do, i`ve done
But mem`ries won`t go
No, mem`ries won`t go

I'd have thought
That with time
Thoughts of her
Would leave my head
I was wrong
And I find
Just one thing makes me forget

Red, red wine
Stay close to me
Don`t let me be alone
It's tearin' apart
My blue, blue heart

And no, I'm not still wallowing. Who doesn't love "Red Red Wine?" That song is the shit. But, with this crap ass weather, who would blame me? How the hell did it jump from August to October? It's cold as hell.

In other news, I did what I was thinking about. It takes some of the pressure off. I am all about no pressure after all...except when I lose my cool and end up looking like a stupid stupid kid! *ahem* Random was reading the blog and said that I've got a "Seinfeldian" thing going here. Yes indeed, I'm a New Yorker and neurotic as fuck, but neither a man nor Jewish, so I can be a black Elaine. I'm short (though not that short really, about average height) with mostly crazy hair and nice breasts -- or so I was told the other day, but that point's up for debate. ~~Since I'm oversharing, I noticed that his profile thingy is currently changed to "Just Here to Help." Hmm.~~ I really need to shut up about this shit. I'm making myself look worse. Plus he reads it like everyone else I know. Candice is a jackass, la la la.

2003-09-02T18:05:00.000-04:00

In a break from lame ass no-longer-a-teen melodrama (because in the long run, it's really not that serious. I've got the tools to hold it down all over and 2003 is all about stopping trouble before it starts, you know?), I've added a new link to the sidebar because who am I to deny a request? :)

2003-09-02T01:37:00.000-04:00

Song for the new week:

We got just one shot of life, let's take it while we're still not afraid.
Because life is so brief and time is a thief when you're undecided.
And like a fistful of sand, it can slip right through your hands.

I've been on a 80s kick since Sunday afternoon. The cats got a kick of me dancing around to "Party All The Time." I love that song. Did you ever see the Mad TV skit where they dramatized the writing sessions for that with Eddie Murphy (Aries Spears) and Rick James (Phil LaMarr)? Hilarious. Beyond, just beyond.

Ever noticed how the universe seems to mock you if you're remotely feeling down? I heard Eric Carmen, "All By Myself" in a deli. I haven't heard that song in years. It could've been worse -- I could've caught the Celine version. Ugh. And then my comp's playing Steve Perry, "Foolish Heart." Okay, now I've got to get "Time (Clock Of My Heart" out of my brain. It's making me feel worse. No more sappy 80s stuff. Craptastic wallowing music. Time to bust out the upbeat stuff.

I also realized today that I'm completely overreacting, but that's my nature. I think I was more embarrassed by revealing myself to be both non-chill and young all at once and watching it dawn on him also, especially since I didn't say what I meant to. Funny how "I just want to make sure we're on the same page" turns into "I don't even like you" when you're on panic mode...and yes, straight sober. Now I get to watch him retreat from the immature kid, but for real this time. I don't really know how I feel about it. He's not who I want him to be, he said that himself. And it's rare for me to kill stuff before it has the chance to reveal itself as bad for me as I knew from the start. Fuck it. Closed topic.

2003-09-01T23:43:00.000-04:00

For a minute, I actually wondered why Sixteen Candles was one of my favorite movies. And then I remembered that when I watched it when I was a high schooler, I wholly identified because I was a spazz and always hoped I would be lucky enough to have some super cool guy see beyond that. Years later, I'm still a fucking spazz and I'm beginning to think I have a better chance being struck by lightning than making something work. Just an inkling of a fuzzy and I'm all "oh shit, was that a feeling?! Self-destruct mode, on. Deny, deny, deny! Spazz, spazz, spazz! Run, run, run! Start the annihilation process." I'm a stupid jerk.

~~Sex makes me stupid. Lack of sex makes me stupid. Guys make me stupid. But I was just stupid from the start. I'm just gonna find a hole and hope it caves in. Pity party, table for one.~~

ETA: This why I don't ~~date (or not, as the case may be)~~ even put out myself out there. Fucking melodramatic nature rearing its ugly head. Who has time for this shit?

2003-09-01T13:40:00.000-04:00

An exchange that in no way reflects the esteem with which we regard felines:

Moi: I'm gonna go, but you should feed your cats before they riot.
Him: Ah fuck 'em.

These past couple of days has involved me getting pissed off by the subway system -- or rather, having the misfortune of living somewhere that makes getting a lot of places mad fucking inconvienent. Well on the weekends, getting everywhere is inconvienent. Stupid MTA...yeah, it's totally a great idea to have 25 of 30whatever lines all fucked up to work on them all at once. I should be a bureaucrat. I can make dumb ass decisions and get paid for it easily. I was supposed meet Mr. Daddy up in Inwood and midway I just gave up because not only was I still a half hour from where I had to be, but my head felt like it was about to explode from the frustration. I was heated. Imagine his surprise when I called and he was gearing up to yell at me for being late and I was all "screw it. I'm going home. Leave. I don't care." Shut him up quick. Hehe.

Friday was the one night I stayed in for what feels like forever. I was in bed at 10:30, straight up lights out in PJs and under covers. Natch, that had to be the night for one of my Wes friends to be making a guerilla visit to town. I was like "yeah, that's nice. I'm asleep" *click* but a lot nicer. That was the first call at 11something. At 1:30, I wasn't so nice especially when he told me there was this party in the Bronx I had to go to. Only my eyes being closed and me not wanting to make the effort to ruin my zen state but cursing him out stopped the "you've got to be fucking kidding me. Didn't I tell you I was asleep, mofo? That's twice you woke me up. Jackass!" from spilling out. I definitely thought it though and translated those words into something fit for a pleasant tone before hanging up and rolling back over to not be able to fall back asleep. Grr. After an hour or so, I was back in Sleepland.

Another Saturday, another house party. I met up with Cory and friends and recruited Trendvickster to join us. Ever had a vodka shot with a pickle chaser? I hadn't until last night. I had two, in fact. My liver really liked that, especially since I only got her to stop bitching just the day before. The trust is gone from our relationship. You know what else was gone? My cookies. Yuck. Also some episodes. Color me surprised that I called Trendvickster at 3:30 or my house at 5:30. I spoke to my mom at 10:30 before passing out again, playing it so not slick that I had no idea what she was talking about when she said I already left a "not coming home, see you in the morning" message. At 5:30, natch. Ah well. Ever been woken up by a kitten using your calf as a chew toy? That sucks. But what was excellent was White Castle cheeseburgers as a return to the land of the living meal. Yum.

2003-08-30T15:36:00.000-04:00

In continuing with the "I'm a random magnet" train of thought, I've realized that no matter what stage of my life I'm in (or something), the friends I have are essential archetypes in my life. I used to say that they're all nothing alike to each other, but they've all got a piece of the pathwork that makes up me. Trendvickster and I were/are wide-eyed and optimistic together when I'm not letting whatever beat me down. Jay, PrincessNella, and I are charismatic cynical bitches with sharp tongues and big laughs. Tino, Alex and I are the adventure seekers -- up for whatever, down for whatever with those glints in our eyes while looking deceptively fresh-faced. Mr. KT and I have vibrant personalities and dirty minds/mouths that you would never guess looking at our sweet little faces. Every once in a while, I get latched onto by a Dancing Queen or my ex-housemate and we share that reckless, hypersexual, fun-loving nature. But, that part has been toned down in my old age. It's an intensity that I can't keep up. All kinds of shit ensues that'll drain the hell out of you. The guys that pass through are all the same too. Wolves in sheep's clothing, occasionally just a bad sheep mask. I think I'm officially over it. For the 8,000,000th time. Doubt it'll stick.

2003-08-29T16:35:00.000-04:00

"Misadventure is all around." An email quote from Mr. Scenester earlier in the summer.

Being that it's August 29th and all, for all intents and purposes the summer is over. It's been good -- despite the extended Middletown residency and the lack of a job/funds and various things I bent myself out of shape about over the course. Truthfully, I'm easy to please about now. I enjoy random episodes, good company, strong drinks and interesting music. I'm so wonderfully glad to be out of school that the world is totally fine with me. Hopefully the fall will be equally as fun but different. I've got to admit that I'm on the flighty side, new things are needed to keep me amused.

Last night was rolling with Random, a new friend I met where I tend to meet everyone (besides the net, natch). He's funny and crazy and we met in what has to be the ultimate of randomness, hence the pseudonym. I've been drafted into the subversive randoms coalition. That's right up my alley. We went back to the scene of Wednesday's jump off and the bartender there is my new friend. She's a little bitchy in that good way yet completely chill with the coolest hoodie. Wednesday she gave us stickers! Yay! From there, we went here where I got to practice my belly dancing skills. Bet you didn't know I used to do that shit for a min, eh? Indian dance for a min back in high school too. How ya like me now? Hehe. From there to another place where it was so empty that the highlight was surfing the net and being squicked by this guy unashamedly looking at straight up porn. It's was like "you do realize this is a club, right? Get up and drink and dance. Go home to look at that." Not that there's anything wrong with porn. Porn is good, fantastic even. Total endorsement from the Kitty Power corner.

Random left at this point because he indeed in that working world I happen to know nothing about. I strolled over to my place and was at first surprised because some of the usual suspects weren't in attendance. Strange, I noted, but I made a new instafriend. I totally attract the randoms I swear. I must give off "seek me out for chill conversation and acceptance of your randomness" vibes. Then again, I'm random as hell, so it must be a birds of a feather type deal. She's a crazy dancing completely in the mix sort. We were chatting about something strange and having one of those instafriend episodes. In walks Mr. Man, drunk as hell and telling me that he just ran back from "Puffy's VMA party." I gave my typical "whatever" look and perhaps even a shrug. You don't impress me, you name-dropping SOB! I mean, hey, I totally believe it, but he threw that in as bait. In case you haven't noticed, I'm hypercynical, but besides that I grew up with boys and my best friends are guys, so I know all the games when I hear them. Never let them get a rise out of you. Ms. Dancing Queen decided though that he was next on her conquest list. Their little pre-running off dance was kinda pathetic, especially at the same time, she's just finished saying what a player and woman hater he is but that she'll "fuck him" instead of the other way around. Right. Have I mentioned that I'm glad that I've kept myself to only going there to chill? Well I am. I felt like I was watching a cliche play out in front of my eyes. You know the surefure way to get over a pre-crush? Watch him embroiled in all sorts of grimeyness.

2003-08-28T17:53:00.000-04:00

I read this article (via One Man Army) about how it sucks to be a woman out and about and now I'm annoyed. Granted, I can agree that it takes preparation to be "cute" or whatever, but did she have to take the most hackneyed stance. Women have it so hard because we can't eat big dinners and have to teeter on 4-inch heels in short skirts all the time...Wah! What a crock of shit. I suppose the feminist is rising up, but of all things to complain about why does her focus have to be on the most superficial typical things like shoes, hair, makeup, nails, weight and dieting? What can suck about being a woman is that you can get harassed because someone feels that your body is up for commentary by the peanut gallery, that your strength can be undermined when people won't take you seriously because of what you look like, and that those who offer you that free drink can be under the false impression that you owe them something. But fuck that it "sucks because I have to spend a lot of time looking pretty" garbage. That's between you, Cosmo, and genetics.

2003-08-28T14:48:00.000-04:00

An exchange that loses something out of context:

Moi: (feeling a hand on my ass) Hey now...am I here to sleep or get molested?
Him: Get molested.
Moi: Okay. Just making sure.

Last night was total craziness. Yay for secret party Wednesday! To say that I got fucked up would be the understatement of the year. It made Saturday look like child's play. I'm sure my liver was in pain at a certain point because we were throwing them back like it was water. Another thing I've missed about school is camaraderie in debauchery -- well no, I haven't missed Wes for that at all. Just Alex. He was the catalyst for many of the funny silly drunken episodes. And he's coming back to NYC soon! (And if he reads this, I want a Portuguese souvenir!) I and my companions made the most of the square block before calling it a night stupendously early for me. I hit a second wind after the exchange above, natch. And I'm currently desperately needing a serious nap before setting out tonight. And a friend wants to hang out and I have potential for doing up an official VMA party. Ugghh. The lifestyle's working me harder than a job could.

2003-08-27T20:41:00.000-04:00

If I didn't already have songs of the week, the winner would have to be "PDA" by Interpol. I've been all about it the past coupe of days. I was kinda surprised when I liked them and The Strokes. They both evoke strange feelings of having heard it all before yet it's kinda fresh at the same time. Interpol sounds like they totally could be on one of my 80s new wave tapes or something. Rock music is something that can't really be slammed (too hard) for being derivative. I mean, everyone's starting off with the same basic tools -- guitar, bass, drums -- and no one's going reinvent the wheel or anything. Groups excel by putting on their individual spin, but everyone is starting from an influence and making their own mash. Radiohead invokes Pink Floyd for me, The Sea and Cake is kinda neo-Steely Dan sometimes, and I completely think of my friend Alex's band as jumping off from Red Hot Chili Peppers. And that's okay. Everything goes in cycles. I hate it when things get hyped as the Savior of Rock or whatever garbage. Rock is not dead and never has been, but every musical genre needs the whole evolutional process when it goes hyper commercial and the fringes is where the new vanguard is developing. Like hip-hop right now. Chingy is not cutting edge or that interesting, but it's got a good beat and you can dance to it. Lyrically, I'm not feeling anyone, but the IDM-hip hop developments on the fringe like Prefuse73 and El-P's Fandam Plus were sick. But, you need more than that head nod stuff. The original N.E.R.D. album that got shelved in the States was great in the total mash-up of 70s pop and electro funk. The mainstream's not ready. but piece by piece it's getting there. I think music is kinda exciting right now because even the so called mainstream is all fractured with all these different flavors. The bhangra and two-step mashups, the old school electro, dancehall everywhere, simple rock and the experimenters. If I was buying vinyl right now, I'd be broke as hell. But I miss my radio show because I'd have some kickass mixtapes.

2003-08-26T18:41:00.000-04:00

Yet another bananas week ahead. I can not believe that Labor Day is Monday. In fact, I'm refusing to believe in. I mean, it's just a same old Monday to be really but for a change everyone else'll be off too.

VMA fever is trying to catch on. I swear, I haven't been so blah about one of those shows in years. When I was younger, I used to be obsessed with it. We would run down to Radio City and watch the arrivals and now I'd be clueless if I happened to pass through the crowds. Madonna and Twitney "singing" together on sta....*snore* Oh, sorry, what was I talking about? Still, I'm all stoked about the $8.28 dinner special. Food is something I care about. I'm kinda interested in catching something at Katz or Oliva for cheap. Oliva, btw, is where my Gael Garcia Bernal bizarro works. Plus two of my friendsters are throwing an afterparty at where else.

I was chatting with one of those Friendsters outside the place Monday. He pretty much explained the recent explosion of interest in me there as people being drawn because I'm a regular yet still kinda mysterious. I only selectively talk and I have the cocked to the side Kangol style plus I'm not fawning over anyone all "ooh...you're a DJ," "ooh...hook me up Mr. Bartender" and all that tripe. Speaking of women throwing themselves at folks indiscrimately, since when is it the norm for chicks to be throwing their breasts around for free bus rides? I wanna be like "listen Chickenhead, the bus is a $1 most of the time. Get a grip," even though I suppose I might understand what it means to be sub broke a little too well. But still, that's wack.

2003-08-26T04:43:00.000-04:00

I've been suffering through the blahs. I'm super restless. Luckily, I've got an interview Wednesday but some time this week, I need to go up to Middletown for the day to retrieve my sleeping bag and various files off the office computer -- and maybe send people their pictures back, if I feel like it. I went to the usual place and found myself sitting outside on the front step more than socializing. I just totally wasn't in the mood. This guy called himself being all slick and sliding up to me, whispering in my ear: "You wanna dance?" I shot him a nasty look and said: "if I wanted to dance, don't you think I'd be on the dance floor instead of holding up the wall?" I mentally added "bizzounce!" and indeed he did. I wasn't feeling the crowd at all tonight. Everyone was so fucking hip that it was painful. I know I'm against the grain and not really trying to be in here, but I'm not feeling this 80s revival shit at all. Sure, I rock the Adidas and the Kangol, but that's got flavor. Who would willingly try to look like Cyndi Lauper or Dale from Missing Persons all these years later when we know they were just playing and/or high as fuck? There's nothing cool or "ironic" about looking like a technicolor clown. Then again, I'm just a hater. I've been hating everything -- and almost everybody -- for a week and change now. As my away message tends to say: "Haterade. Tastes great and less filling." A byproduct of the blahs I'm afraid.

To honor both my blahs and my hate, I've got two songs of the week. Numero uno is STP because I've been having a high school era renaissance:

I'm lookin' for a new stimulation
Quite bored of those inflatable ties
I'm lookin' for a new rock sensation
Dead fish don't swim around in jealous tides

I made excuses for a million lies
But all I got was humble kidney pie
So what

and numero dos is from my favorite crazy awards show attendee, spouting some long-winded shit on the Lady of Soul Awards and making Debbie Allen look at her like she was on some shit -- which I don't doubt, indeed I yelled "she is so fucking high" at the screen -- the divine Miss E:

I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck

If you want to feel me
Better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin
Breathe love in my air
Don’t abuse me
Cause these herbs are rare

2003-08-25T18:46:00.000-04:00

Thought of the day: I really need to get my license already.

I've been thinking about how different my life could be if I drove. I would be able to take trips, get more people to go out with me, make coming home late at night infinitely easier, generally move around better and be a rarity amongst native city people I know. Hey, if she can learn to drive at 43, I can be ahead of the game and be a licensed driver at 22. I do actually know how to drive and park and stuff, but I haven't practiced since about September. I'll put that in the goal for Turkey Day category since that apartment thing is looking hella unlikely about now.

2003-08-25T00:49:00.000-04:00

Mr. KT and I get a kick out of surfing Ask Men. Him for obvious reasons and me because I tend to "think like a guy" about most relating things. I was reading it tonight and was kinda taken by their version of a surefire way to segue a conversation into something else. I gotta admit that it's shit simple. Imagine that -- getting a person into you by talking to them, listening to what they have to say and responding accordingly. Mind-blowing.

Thursday I was like a poster child for what not to do. Need I say where I was? Do I really go much of anywhere else? Besides, the Thursday party is thrown by my Friendsters, so I can get hooked up -- more than usual -- like a mofo. One of the things I love about the place is that most of the people rolling through are connected to the place, i.e. other night promoters, DJs, bartenders, etc just hanging out and kicking it. Despite the other day's assertion that platonic is ideal, there is one dude who I see there all the time and just kinda trade looks with, but nothing's ever come of it -- not that I'm necessarily trying or not one way or another. So, the typical was occuring and I was chatting with my boys and not really thinking much about it. At one point, I'm waiting for the bathroom, contemplating that the bitch ahead of me must've fallen in the toilet or something. Stupid heffa. The guy himself stands next to me and we start chatting:

Mr. Man: You waiting?
Moi: Yep.
Mr. Man: You know if someone's in this one? (gesturing towards the men's room)
Moi: No clue.
The door swings open on the men's and Mr. Man grabs it as a guy walks past
Mr. Man: Do you mind if I go? I have to go up and DJ in a min.
Moi: *shrug* It's all you.
Mr. Man goes in the bathroom and I raise my palm in a "WTF was that about?" sign.

It's a good thing I don't actually wonder why there's nothing happening romantically with me. My middle name is Self-Sabotage. Like I said though, it's no biggie. He might be fine (and indeed he is), but in my indifferent state, unless he steps up his 3:30am drunken chatter/game or I become less indifferent, it doesn't really matter.

2003-08-24T10:41:00.000-04:00

I found out last night the one thing I truly miss about Wes: house parties. Truthfully, the kids I know in the city aren't big on throwing things at their homes besides pre-parties to ease up the drink costs on our wallets. Especially my last couple of weeks at school, there were these impromptu gatherings where we would just sit around, drink and chill like mad. It was great.

My initial plan for yesterday was the scavenger hunt and if were done before too late, a gathering Jenny had told me about in Williamsburg. Instead, I hung around with PrincessNella for hours and watched Knockaround Guys (good movie, btw) and bits of Like Mike and The Fast and the Furious. I hit Manhattan about midnight and couldn't find my team, so it was off to the gathering with me. I got there and spent a good half hour feeling like a kicked puppy outcast until I fell in with supersocial kids that helped me break the ice. That plus a drink (that turned into a few, including some I poured which always means trouble) had me incredibly good for a while. The people were really cool and I ran into a girl who went to my HS briefly (not that I knew her or anything). Have I ever said that NYC might as well only have 3,000 people in it because I run into people I'm connected to all the time?

Kids were smoking all around me and at first I was indulging in the cigarettes but nothing else. The school connect girl told a story of how she smoked up and ended up in the hospital and I was all "none of that for me. I'm presently scared shitless." But this other girl came out with the declaration that "everything is better high. Absolutely any and everything." As I've said before and all my school people know, I don't smoke. Not for any particular reason besides everyone else does plus the fact I'm like future junkie template. I've got an insanely addictive personality. For the record, I might smoke some cigs (with the occasional cloves and hookah) and drink hard liquor exclusively, but I leave alone chocolate (former allergy), beer (looks like piss, smells like piss, tastes like piss...why would I waste my time?), caffeine, weed and most drugs. During my Wes Middle Ages a.k.a. "oh shit, I have 50 pages to write by next week and I have like 5 plus the goddamned yearbook has to get done somehow and I must've been crazy to want to do that fucking job," otherwise known as May -- it's the Middle compared to the Dark Ages because that was Crackhead Chronicles Part 1-8 and my depressed pre-DC state where I was about as fun and lively as a dentist with a drill aiming for your mouth. During that time, I was a little smarter yet nowhere near the civilized progression -- I experimented with coffee as a last resort to get me jump started. Drinking it felt great for my focus, it was like my brain was locked into place. But, the twitching...bad, likewise the fact that I couldn't stop at one cup. My first night of the stuff was a 4 cup, I'm-bouncing-off-the-walls affair. I was telling my father about the whole episode a while later and he said that it sounded like I was on drugs. No kidding. That's how it felt.

The other week Cory and his friends asked me point blank if I smoked and I was all "nah." They looked at me like I said "I'm a lizard and I eat people. Call me Mothra" because seriously, not only am I a jobless 22 but not even a fun one with the usual vices. So, last night when they were passing the pipe, I took some hits but I didn't feel a thing. Sure, I was knocking over the bottles on the floor near my chair, but hey, so was everyone else and that was more the liquor. I'm a super social "everybody's my friend" type of a clumsy ass drunk.

Sometime around 6:30/7am, most of the kids and I trotted off to the train. I hate weekend subway shit because despite going from Brooklyn to Queens on the G and then switching for the purpose of getting to Jamaica, I woke up at 34th Street once and then again at 2nd Avenue before I could get my shit together and get to Parsons. I'd like to say that the weed gave me the stupids, but I've been dumb all weekend. I've had some serious trouble focusing and doing what I had to, hence bailing on the scavenger hunt. I'm just a bad person, it's true, but I think that was my last smoke up for a while: one because it didn't do shit and two because the real reason I don't smoke up (or buy my own cigs) is because I can't afford that shit and it's just something else to throw my money away on. No thanks. So, I got home at 10am and I'm just wide awake. I think the fun part was waiting for the G and feeling like my eyes were totally disconnected from my body. That was dope. Wasting mad time in the subway and having my bus transfer expire, not so dope for sure.

2003-08-22T23:30:00.000-04:00

Bah...this Midnight Madness thing might end up being a lot more work than I initially anticipated. I was expecting when I signed up to chill with people for a couple of hours doing fun scavenger hunt type things and then going about my business to the parties that are coming out of the woodwork. Alas, I get an email earlier that's all: "we keep this shit going until dawn!" Hmm...not making a kitty happy. If they keep that shit going until dawn with some refreshing crunk getting beverages, then I'm all for that. Otherwise, a kid's gonna contemplate jumping ship. Sad but true.

2003-08-22T06:20:00.000-04:00

A suggestion to everyone is to have a spot where you can go and everyone knows you. I've got my very own Cheers type hangout spot -- if that place was reimagined as a two-room joint with a bumping sound system and dim lights. All of those plans I had for yesterday totally fell through due to dragging my feet and Murphy's Law concerning the best laid plans and all that. But still, I went out to my spot and just chilled the whole night. I'm the resident fresh faced ingenue I suppose. My homeboy the barback was joking that I should be leaving soon to get home at a decent hour (not that I listened) because he thinks of me as a little sister and I shouldn't be out late. I laughed and scoffed in good humor. I'm popular there with all the staff guys. It's all harmless chatting on my end -- who knows what any of them are thinking. Except for the barback, all of them are on the far side of 25 with 30 directly in sight. I suppose it's somewhat cruel for me to say but I have no interest -- not even passing -- in someone more than 5 years older than me. With the most rare of exceptions, I don't have a fucking thing in common with them. I'm feeling like the most stereotypical of a recent college grad: totally clueless and doing basically nothing as I live with my 'rents and wish that a job would just fall from the sky. I'd like to hope someone substantially older than me has their shit together...and if they don't, why would I want to be with them? I have enough trouble dealing with my slacker issues. Two of us would be some asstastic drama that wouldn't be pretty. With that said, I still like chatting with the guys and I hope they see me as a little sister too. I realized today I go there to stay out of trouble. When you're somewhere that people know you, you're less likely to act a fool because they're watching you like a hawk and will bring that shit up next time they see you. It's like a built in conscience. And also motivation for when I finally do break out and have my long overdue summer wildness to go somewhere else. Like I could go apeshit here. Who would know the difference?

"Waaarriors...come out and plaaay!" They're showing that tonight at midnight at Sunshine. I'd be there for sure if I hadn't seen it a million times on cable in my lifetime. The crowd should be pretty chill for that though. I'll most likely be in the general area knowing me, so perhaps I can be persuaded. In this movie is James Remar, most recently playing Samantha's cheating ex on Sex and the City. He is fine...even at 50. The exceptions to my "you're old, fuck off!" rule include him, Billy Zane, Viggo Mortensen, Michael Wincott, Blair Underwood and Adrian Paul. They might be in the "dude, you're pushing my mom's age" category, but I don't care. If it could happen, I'd be all over that like gravy on rice. I'm just saying.

2003-08-21T17:04:00.000-04:00

My prerogative…not just a song, it’s a state of mind. This little kitty is experiencing the blahs. I’m partied out. I’m looking for alternative stimulation. I suppose that’s because my whole week has been screwed up by Tuesday being such a freaking rager. I’m type tired.

With that said, I’m finally venturing out the house cave today. I need to see people and be social, but perhaps lay off the sauce. I might even be home before *gasp* 2am tonight. I’m finally checking out the Fela exhibit going on at the New Museum – especially since it’s $3 entry on Thursday nights. Hey, I’ve probably lost my student discounts privileges, so a kid’s gotta take a deal where she can! (In an aside, my first instinct is to call that place the Newseum, which would be totally wrong because there is already one of those in DC and it’s awesome.) And I’m meeting up with the throwers of the hottest store party hybrids in the city to catch this movie Afropunk. I was actually gonna hold out for the Saturday showing, but since my weekend’s looking jammed packed like a mofo, there’s no time like the present. The screening’s at Pianos which should prove an adventure.

Another reason I’ve been in is because Tuesday drove home some irritation I’ve been feeling. At the store opening that blew, I saw a group of people that are extremely familiar to me. Strange because I have no idea who the hell they are. But I know them by face because I saw them here, there, and here, and there, and this one too and various other events and spots around town. They are the present scenesters, the black bohemian variety that occasionally I aspire to be. You’d think as a scenestress in training, I’d get to know them and hang, making contacts and getting the hookups yadda yadda what’d you’d expect from someone that professes to want to go into PR, but fuck, I’m sick of looking at them. NYC is downright claustrophobic for me sometimes. If I’m not running into someone from one alma mater, it’s the other. I run into people I’ve only seen online via Nerve or whatever. Even online, I run into someone who knows people I know and I can connect myself and various nemeses in less than four degrees. Add to that, I haven’t decided what I want “my scene” to be and as I’ve discovered everywhere else eventually, though you see yourself as fluid and able to defy characterizations, other people don’t see it quite that way and will give you static. So, the question remains for me: what to do? I obviously can’t hide in the cave forever because truthfully, though I might be occasionally scared, timid and/or dismissive, I love people and what I love about NYC is the different opportunities for interactions everywhere. I suppose I should suck it up and deal across the board. Being a scenestress is about being in a not-so-loose network. I think this whole dilemma is boiling down to my notoriously convoluted Piscean thinking because as much as I want to be loose and free, I’ve also been feeling a need to settle down and nest. Hmm. I’m starting to confuse myself.

2003-08-20T14:48:00.000-04:00

Last night was totally surreal...except for the store opening. That was just sucky. Me and a bunch of people I'm beginning to swear I see everywhere standing in a store where they weren't even displaying clothes. It made the scenestress in me feel totally claustrophobic. Add onto that the drinks (which were indeed free, no food to be found when I got there around 8:30) were so strong that they cleared up a sinus problem I didn't even know I had. Yikes. From there to my old standby where I learned that randomness makes the world go around. Yeah, there's a story. You can ask me later.

As I figured Williamsburg was just out of the question, but I've made plans to hang with Jenny there hopefully this weekend. When I'm not playing Midnight Madness, natch. Team Tomato power!

2003-08-19T17:47:00.000-04:00

Last minute things I might be running through today:

Free sushi and drinks plus DJs and shopping @ a store opening from 6 to midnight

Belle and Sebastian DJing @ Red and Black in Williamsburg at 10 [via catchdubs]

But knowing me, I might just say fuck it to both and sit at home on the net as is becoming my usual nightlife pasttime, especially since my hair's being a real wanker. Ah well.

2003-08-19T16:24:00.000-04:00

Ho hum, party on a train. The kids at Complacent did that a long time ago. Everybody knows that is old news.Then again, when is the Times ever current with what's cool?

2003-08-19T00:50:00.000-04:00

Two interesting thoughts on hip-hop and youth. I want to formulate some sort of a response, but right now I'm sleepy. That's what edit is for I suppose.

2003-08-18T21:53:00.000-04:00

Ah, modern medicine! Am I the only person who found this quote disturbing though:

As one mother-to-be told one of the researchers, “Our vacation is important to the entire family and I would rather have the birth over with than ruin that for everybody.”

2003-08-18T21:15:00.000-04:00

Song of the week:

Twenty-nine pearls in your kiss
A singing smile
Coffee smell and lilac skin
Your flame in me

I’m only here for this moment

I know everybody here wants you
I know everybody here thinks he needs you
I’ll be waiting right here just to show you
How our love will blow it all away

2003-08-17T18:26:00.000-04:00

I'm usually pretty blase when it comes to strange organized things around the city a la flash mobs and the Condiment War, but dammit, this looks kinda fun. I missed out on the scavenger hunts and Frisbee Golf games and the like at Wes, so this could be a trip. Besides, my team would probably win because I know these streets like the back of my hand. Calling out 9 volunteers!

2003-08-17T16:19:00.000-04:00

Last night was one of those where I spent a lot of time feeling weird. Actually, the last couple of days have been like that. Spending 25 hours with no electricity brought it home my general lingering thought of feeling overstimulated. I'm in a mood to weed out the unnecessary clogging of my space. The strangest thought that hit me was to take the "dating" part off my Friendster profile. I only put that in there in the first place to imply that though I wasn't looking for a "serious relationship," I wanted something besides "friends" which is what I suppose "dating" means. I hate "dating." I don't do it well -- in fact, I don't know how -- and I'd rather avoid it whenever possible. It's like a neverending series of interviews and you have to maintain that sunny false front. There should be a category that envelopes "chilling just for kicks -- no pressure -- and if I decide I like you (or just get the urge), I might have sex with you. Again, no pressure." or is that dating and I never got the memo? (Oops, mentioned the "s" word. Silly me, I keep doing that.)

But what does it matter anyway because I don't want to do it in any of its forms. On my train ride home last night, I was just struck with how utterly bored I am with that stuff. I ended up there where I had more chance of being struck by lightning in the basement than getting a second look and I just loved being out of the game from the door -- though the novelty of that will wear off soon enough. I had enough of that every year of school but the last one, thanks. I chilled, was left alone, and just had a good time, not disappointed because I had no hopes out there. Not that I do anyways. I've realized that I'm indifferent, stuck on neutral. I don't like anyone, I don't want to like anyone and anyone that crossed my path, I've feigned the motions but I don't really care. I can't remember the last time I've been really excited about someone -- wanting to hear their voice, talking about them all the time, just feeling smiley and fuzzy when I'm with them. Perhaps that's a silly standard to have of what's good, but I'll stick with it until I know better.

Besides on a practical sense, I'm jobless and broke, working on a master plan and feeling a bit of pressure right now. Why the fuck would I try to further complicate the issues by having to worry about someone else and/or lose energy to tackle that by focusing time on them? I'm being selfish to get my shit together. I can almost guarantee I'll be a better person to be around once this crap has passed. I also realized last night that I've been single for about nine months now. It's been rough through a lot of patches, but I've earned my security. If it's not something that I think is going to make me feel the way I did the day this picture was taken, I really don't know if I can bother. To be clear, it isn't even about him -- after all, when I was crazy, I thought he was great, but I'm not so crazy anymore -- it's about regulating that youthful exuberance and the inevitable fallout because disasters are just tiring after a while, you know?

Oh, and what does this have to do with anything? Nothing. Just saying.

2003-08-16T20:16:00.000-04:00

You'd think after all the time I spent there that I'd be used to kneejerk nitpicks that have nothing to do with the subject at hand yet have to be thrown out there to soothe an uneasy subconscious. Last weekend, there was an event in the "DUMBO" section of Brooklyn. The master of a site I really like stumbled upon it and wrote about it, then wrote another piece as he thought about the whole thing some more. Then today in my boredom, I was browsing his site when I saw the editorial someone had sent in as feedback to his last post.

I just read your article. You put a lot of thought into it. However this bothered me a great deal:

“But mostly white GOSPLACs showed up to throw food. What does that mean?”

Listen, I know you will say “most were GOSPLACs.”

Me and my friends are hardly that. I grew up in Union City/Jersey City, NJ, which is very far from an upper middle class neighborhood. I work for a living and support myself, in fact i live pay check to pay check, like my 3 friends who went. dont you think that comment was a little inappropriate? i could understand your a little ticked there was a mess, but i think being middle to upper class has nothing to do with the condiment war.

Oh dear, I love selected reading! The exchange with the organizer woman that bothered him so read:

“And I noticed the demographic—”

“White.”

“Yet at least half women. There were some people of color, but very few.”

“Definitely true.”

“My instinct is that about 80% of the people there were middle-class or upper middle-class GOSPLACs.”

“Hmm?” she asked.

“Graduates of small private liberal arts colleges.”

“At least.”

“Does that bother you?”

“We invited everyone we could,” she said. “Anyone who wanted to fight could fight.”

“But mostly white GOSPLACs showed up to throw food. What does that mean?”

She shrugged. I did't have an answer, either. It was something we just understood about being Americans.

Now personally, I would've taken offense at the "being American" part. What does being American have to do with having a fake war with condiments in the middle of the streets? Apparently a lot more than getting mistaken for middle to upper middle class. Haven't you heard that the best privilege is the unacknowledged one?

2003-08-16T18:50:00.000-04:00

Bored bored bored. I'm impersonating a log today. I was supposed to go to Summerstage for this, but I just took a nap instead. I'm definitely on for tomorrow...I swear.

The strangest part is that I'm dressed, have been up since before noon and had the motivation to get up and go, but I just can't bring myself to get out the door. *whisper* Secretly, I think I might be a little antsy about getting on the subway. But don't tell anybody. I've been devising all sorts of alternate bus-based routes to Manhattan or else considering outer borough ways to amuse myself. Williamsburg isn't really that hard to get to from here. I'm just not really into travelling under the river because I've got a long list of worst case scenarios playing in my head. I remember my first visit back to the city after 9/11 and being on my way upstate via the Short Line. I just about jumped out of my skin as we started going through the Lincoln Tunnel. There's something about shit going wrong in the city that gives me Daylight flashbacks. A pussy, you say? Why yes am I, thanks for sharing.

It'll pass I suppose once it gets closer to prime time. I refuse to stay in another night. I love the cats and the mom, but enough is enough. I need loud music, people, bars, and stories for my Scenestress. Tonight I might be doing the Panty Party up big -- but keeping the pants on, thanks. (They're not ready for this jelly, kid.) Or perhaps Sapphire. Or Lit. I can't decide! Getting out the house is half the battle.

ETA: "Me, I'm a pimp/I'm not paying for no sex/I'd rather buy a car or new rolex" and pictures!

2003-08-15T20:11:00.000-04:00

I don't really have much of a Blackout 2003 to tell like other people do. When the power went out, I was napping. I woke up an hour or two later sweating to death and was all, "the power's out? That sucks." As the sun went down, it was irritating to live across the street from a Co-Op Cityish development that has their own generator. Totally business as usual up in Rochdale as they watched TV and had lights blazing while my side of the street looked like underground or something. We lit candles, threw open all the windows, made dinner on the gas stove, and traded back and forth my mom's Walkman. It was a good night to be old school.

Around 3:30 am, I started up out of bed when I heard what sounded like firecrackers. I'm like "what the fuck? Firecrackers this time of night? Fucking kids." I turn into a crotchety old woman when my sleep is interrupted. I look out the window and see/hear some sort of official people battering down the back door of the house diagonally behind mine. Then, I think, "oh shit...what fuckups! Getting raided in a blackout!" I also think I'm in an episode of Cops when I get woken up in the middle of the night. South Jamaica representing. Anyhoo, then I looked up and saw the smoke. It turns out the house was on fire. No one was hurt and they put it out pretty quickly. A woman had fallen asleep and the candle had fallen over onto the mattress. It was contained in one room, but the firefighters were having a field day breaking windows and tossing the frames in the backyard. Talk about overkill.

Today was just like any old day minus the fan/AC. The buses and traffic were running normally, people were hanging around as they do. The difference was my mom telling stories of braving the mob at the supermarket and a guy down the street selling big bags of ice out of his trunk. I became so bored at one point I started folding up the clothes I washed the other day, but for a change my room was cool. Then around 5:15pm, the lamp came on and we heard cheering next door. The first thing I did was watch some TV and turn on the ceiling fan before pulling out The Colour And The Shape to rock out before the call of the computer became too strong and I had to jump on the net. It's a disease.

Is it wrong for me to be all: "well, the buses are running -- and free. I could go out if I want to. There's no real reason to stay home." Kids nowadays...never satisfied.

2003-08-14T15:45:00.000-04:00

So, I've been tracking my site stats for a minute now -- actually, about three weeks -- and I figured I'd be like everyone else and have a "guess what strange Google search led to my site!" session. Mr. KT and I were rolling on the floor the other day because someone came to my little blog under the guise of searching for a "blow job blog." Not once, but twice! Damn, can't a girl tell a couple stories involving her drunken bragging about her oral prowess without getting typecasted on the web? Geez... Cry me a river, right?

There's the unsurprising "friendster supernode" (600K+ and counting, mofo!), "pretty kitty parties," and "freaking grinding clubbing." I can't argue with those. I'm mildly puzzled by "list of colleges with adidas endorsement deals" and "adidas commercial shawty," because do I even mention my sneaks? I'm mildly amused by "deftones screaming kitty" and "badonkadonk." What's up with "pretentious moi pedantic i?" For the record, I'm all for welcoming someone who has sought out "Kangol wearing super star tshirt having brown scenester princess" because that shouldn't lead to anyone but me.

2003-08-14T14:37:00.000-04:00

Things currently melting my hard little heart are: little kids and kitties. I was on the bus home and this little girl behind me was on a roll singing all these kids' songs from Barney and Dora and the most interesting version of the ABCs I've ever heard: "A B C D E F G H...uh, X M B Y Q..." She was all 3 feet tall and cornrowed up. She was about 3 or 4 I figure. There's only a window of where I like kids (where my brother is now): 2 to 7. Before that and 7 to 18, screw 'em. Goes to show you how my biological clock is not ticking. I don't do diapers or dealing with brats. I just like to pet and run.

Now, you could figure that I have a soft spot for the felines. This blog isn't Puppy Power if you haven't noticed. So, this little one had me all "awww." I ventured off to meet my Friendster Cory last night and he's not a serial killer...unless to lull me into complacency is a part of his evil plan. (Just kidding...hopefully.) I was made fun by him and his friends for keeping working people up to late on a weekday and being the strangest young'un they know -- non beer drinking and not indulging in the MJ. I spent way more money than necessary on beer alternatives and found the newest thing I want for my future bachelorette pad: that On Demand digital cable stuff. That's some cool shit. That or Tivo is for me. I even watched Pulp Fiction for the first time in years. Still not too crazy about it, but I was laughing when Ving Rhames said his "I'm going medieval on his ass" line. I forgot that's where that came from.

ETA: I got a shoutout! Woo hoo! Much respect, man.

2003-08-13T18:43:00.000-04:00

A good read (via Gawker), though not especially surprising. I'd just been reading a dispatch on a blog about that the other day, plus my own nightlife experience from last weekend. It's so very easy to fall into a homogenous trap. I mean, it wouldn't take half a thought for me to join the dancing black bohemians, but at the end of the day seeing the same people all the time is boring. Variety is the spice of life.

2003-08-13T16:24:00.000-04:00

Song of the week: Turin Brakes, "Feeling Oblivion" though I'm still all "lalala lalala lala...strange magic" after almost a week. What can I say? I've got a soft spot for singer/songwriters with acoustic guitars singing about love and crap...occasionally. I'm just easily influenced.

2003-08-12T22:21:00.000-04:00

To pass the time, I volunteered to transcible lyrics for a fave site of mine. This is shit hard. I would pick to try to decipher the man whose whole style is breathy mumbles. Sam, I love you! But I hate you today. Pronounce your words, dearest! Like I'm the person to talk, right, Jay?

Bitches Ain't Shit But Hoes And Tricks

2003-08-12T20:18:00.000-04:00

Now a queen's a queen and a stunt is a stunt/You can tell who's who by the things they want

I'm remotely holding court with Trendvickster over the assholeness of the male specimens that we keep encountering. She liked this guy who liked her back, but he jumped for the first girl to pass by with a loose snatch and some weed -- and a fiancee and stories about cheating with dudes up and down the eastern seaboard. The kicker is that all of this interoffice. Ugh...drama. I think it's reminding me of why I'm choosing to remain blissfully unattached right now -- too many encounters with fuck-ups. There's Crackhead who was dating 4 girls at once (including moi) -- no small feat in the middle of nowhere Connecticut and years later doesn't understand why it might make someone angry. Beats me... There's The Ex, for whom I'm the first and last person over the age of 18, he's been involved with since he passed that age that didn't understand why his ass got dumped when he disappeared for two weeks and changed his cell phone number -- and passed that along to a mutual friend, instead of you know, telling me himself. That was sure the mystery of the ages... Or my "friend," who I didn't want to slander so I blogged about the encounter tamely, that lost out on a sure thing because he didn't understand why I wasn't particularly impressed by: "you know, I came to Wes because I was sick of dating white girls, but as soon as I got here, I just got snapped up again. I'm sad I never got my chance." Because after all, what is a liberal arts education for but giving little suburban white boys all the colored ass they can handle. Fucking jerk.

So, I'm raging. Just because I can.

2003-08-12T16:16:00.000-04:00

Today's been browsing on the net thinking "I want that! Send this to my house!" -- in between looking for a job, natch. Rather, I'm talking to my employed pals and trading links back and forth. This one's deadly, beware. Jay laughed at me for liking him. If Jen from Gothamist is wrong, I don't wanna be right!

I've also decided my resume sucks. Figures. *sigh* I was also thinking of taking some design and advertising classes at SVA since I've decided I'm on this creative track. But, wait, got no money. It's definitely sucking to be me this week.

2003-08-12T01:10:00.000-04:00

I've given myself a major kick in the ass and am doing up the job search like a fiend. I'm feeling pretty hopeless. Tick, tick goes the loan people, poof goes my money, grumble goes the mommy. I just want to DO something already. I have the sinking feeling I'm more likely to have a nice little breakdown rather than a job by the end of the month. But, I'm not licked yet. When in doubt, get creative...

The Future Is Now...

2003-08-11T23:27:00.000-04:00

I hereby launch The Scenestress Chronicles, my new blog dedicated to New York City after dark and all the adventures that can and do happen. It'll be jammed packed with my reviews, retorts, carousing, and exploits with an R rating because whatever happens out there isn't necessarily tame. I'll even post the parties catching my interests plus how to get on lists and etc. Think of Scenestress as the web archive of what will ultimately compile the Cheapskate (Read: Poor) Young Singleton's Guide to New York City -- without all that useless shit like spas and yoga specials. Not to say that stuff isn't nice in its own way, but the operative word is cheap and $150 doesn't fall to my eyes as cheap when I'm trying to live making a a dollar out of 15 cents and running around town on an unlimited ride, m'kay?

So, from now on, Kitty Power shall be devoted to everything not involving roaming the streets looking for a beat. Solid.

2003-08-11T22:35:00.000-04:00

Annoying are reports that are all doomsday like when generally what it's saying isn't that bad -- considering.

Now, as I see it on the big peachish chart, 73% of those 18-24 (you know, the stupid kid demographic of which I am a proud member) with 3 or more sex partners are out there using condoms. That's about 3 in every 4. No pat on the back to the stupid kids generally doing what they're supposed to? Especially since it's the stupid kids who are only having sex with 2 or less people bringing our smart levels down to 61%. Even so, we're looking mighty brilliant compared to the 37/66% in the 25-44 and 24/40% in the 45-64 ranges. Then again, it's the kids who are high risk, so what do the old folks matter.

Me being disturbed that 33-37% of women report condom use is tempered by wondering how that question was phrased. As I learned in soc stats back in the olden days, question phrasing can greatly influence data. If someone surveyed me by asking "did you wear a condom in your last sexual encounter," I'd have to say "no" because I don't own any Realitys and *bam*, instant sexually irresponsible stupid woman -- in the data, at least. Biased question! If it's not, I gotta wonder about those 61% of men (not sleeping with other men) who are using condoms compared to the 37% of women unless they're all sleeping with each other -- in which case, good for them 'cause you'd probably catch something from the rest of those fools! I'm proud to be of that 37% percent, but I didn't get a phone survey. What's up with that? I like those.

*ahem* See this is why I go out so much. Sitting in the house makes me delerious.

2003-08-11T12:27:00.000-04:00

I'm easily amused this morning. I suppose that's because I'm up in the morning for a change. What's up with me? In bed before 3, barely went out Saturday, didn't go out at all Friday. It's called being dead broke, kiddies. It happens to the best of us. Anyhoo, all I can think is: you get a new one when you refresh! Niice.

2003-08-10T04:16:00.000-04:00

I think tonight holds the record as one of the most asstastic of the summer. I went to Filter and god knows why. In actuality, I hate the place -- when it's not Wednesday night 80s, that is. I mean, it's totally wack. I felt as if I had mistakenly wandered into a Girls Gone Wild Mardi Gras celebration or you know, Culture Club. These chicks were having a bachelorette thing and they were so shitfaced that all girl needed was a pole and she'd be making some bucks. And what kind of club doesn't have any guys that didn't already come with women? Blah. And I hate to say it, but it was the whitest room I've ever been in -- including wandering into random spaces at Wes and that Deftones show. There's a difference between you as a minority being somewhere and casually observing that you're it and feeling it with every step you take anywhere. I felt like an alien.

Adding onto my misery was the shitty ass weather. I'm so sick of rain. The death cough feels like it's getting worse because of it. Now you would think: "Hmm, you're complaining about being sick and the weather has been bad all day, so why'd you go out in the first place?" Shut up. Don't question me.

Anyhoo, I ran away as fast as I could and ended up here. I'm trying to feel it out as a new spot. I like it so far and think of it as easing into the rock scene without wading through the scum at Pianos (oops, did I say scum? I meant, poseurs. Sorry...). Kids are cute, verrry cute and hardly any trucker hats in sight. Music's got me interested. Fun place to roll with folks. And it was nice after the Buffies party I had escaped from to see that a mixed crowd isn't a fantasy everywhere. Last time I checked, NYC is a multicultural mosaic, n'est pas?

ETA: I made the new site but Blogger's being a real punk today and keeps giving me publishing errors. *grumble, grumble* Stupid publish error, sucking my invisible nut...

2003-08-08T21:00:00.000-04:00

Isn't it kinda sickening how what's simplest is really so true? My dear Trendvickster is all bubbly and excited about this guy she's cruising towards something with in Beantown. I dished sage words, advised her not to put the cart before the horse, and grinned to myself at her smilies after every sentence. Despite a case of extreme jadedness and the general disgust with the males of the species that NYC will invoke, I remember what it's like to be warm and fuzzy about somebody...kinda. It's been a while, always complicated by some unresolved something or another. Sometimes I miss that, constantly talking about someone, always anticipating seeing them. Just that new stuff feeling. But then, I think of the distractions and miscommunications and how shitty it feels when stuff just gets jumbled and I don't miss any of it at all.

I'm torn. The hopeful kid full of verve and pep wants a little amusement to pass the time with. Something bright and shiny to go with the summer weather. The still wincing kitty with an elephant memory wants to be left alone. The position changes daily. That's why I dealt with C: all the perks, none of the liabilities. That's how it should be...for now at least. Perfectly nice kids that I might like if I weren't just...indifferent have been crossing my path. That's been the enigma of the summer: I give off an air of being totally disinterested and closed. As I said to one, "I don't play hard to get. I'm telling you I'm impossible to get." Assured words, but as always, I reserve the right to be flighty and I'm a sucker for a grand gesture or bold words. Occasionally.

2003-08-08T19:47:00.000-04:00

The current mystery of the my world is why my top banner pictures aren't showing up. I don't know what the fuck the deal is. I'm contemplating starting up another blog, one focused strictly on travels out and about in the nightlife world. I mean, hey, look what blogging about what you'd be doing regardless did for them. I want a club night! I could be a promoter! I suppose...I'm just saying shit really.

Musical Plea

2003-08-08T16:46:00.000-04:00

I feel like a girl dying of thirst in the desert. (Ironic because I'm still wet from last night and the weather report says I'll be getting drenched until Wednesday. Just bah at that.) I need some new music. Desperately.

It's almost unheard for me to feel out of the musical loop. Music is just my thing to put it lightly. I became a DJ at school just to have the power to foist my musical tastes on an unsuspecting public. Eventually, I'll come out of pocket for my Technics and spin somewhere. But, right now, I just feel out of it. Probably because I've lost my high speed connection (*sniff*) and I can only go to Kazaa for must-haves because everytime I try to download, a vein in my brain threatens to burst.

So, I'm soliciting picks. To put it simply, I like everything...except classical, death metal, Celine Dion and most country/bluegrass/folks things.

This summer, I saw the shows and liked: Ely Guerra, Donnie, Jody Watley, Jeru The Damaja, Blackalicious, Sekou Sundiata, Ramata Dikite, Chaka Khan, Orchestra Baobab (I saw them last year actually, but I mean generally bands don't get worse), Deftones, Sea and Cake, Dabrye and others I can't remember.

Last CDs purchased were: Nas, God's Son, Mariah Carey, #1 (okay, I know...but it was $4 and I loved the hell out of "Vision of Love" when it came out...you think that's bad, obviously you don't know the Richard Grieco story. Many people have lost respect for me when I told them that one), Justin Timberlake, Justified, a compilation from The Source magazine of the rap hits of 2000

I own (briefly because this could take days): Led Zeppelin, David Bowie, The Stones, The Who, Stone Temple Pilots, Alice In Chains, A Perfect Circle, Deftones, Foo Fighters, Nirvana, Soundgarden, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Sea and Cake, Pete Yorn, Jeff Buckley, Erykah Badu, Jill Scott, Rick James, Stevie Wonder box set, Steely Dan box set, too many 80s compilations, Duran Duran's greatest hits, George Michael's greatest hits, Aretha's greatest, Talking Heads' greatest, Jamiroquai, Daft Punk, Basement Jaxx, Roni Size, Missy Elliott, Wu-Tang, Weather Report, Fela, Donnell Jones, the first Wyclef, the last two Nas albums, Jay-Z (the CD with "Big Pimpin"), Big Tymers, N.E.R.D, Res, the first Doves, the first Coldplay and Kid A.

I've got downloaded (again briefly): ELO, Sam Prekop, Archer Prewitt, Badly Drawn Boy, Lil Jon and the Eastside Boyz, Trina, Lil Kim, 2Pac, "96 Tears," "Time of The Season," Interpol, The Strokes, Robert Owens, Frankie Knuckles, Blue Six, Masters at Work, First Choice, One Way, Nice and Smooth, Club 69, Artful Dodger, Craig David, Cassius, David Gray, Fat Joe, Big Pun, Santana, Freeway, Aaliyah, Mary J Blige, Sean Paul, Erick Sermon, Redman, Beta Band, Pavement, Bobby Conn, Shawn Lee, John Mayer, Muse, Starsailor, Tori Amos, Turin Brakes, Nancy Wilson, St. Germain, Thievery Corporation, The Cure, Manic Street Preachers, PJ Harvey, Queens of The Stone Age, Femi Kuti, Rage Against The Machine, and REM.

If you think you'd know something I'd like, let me know.

2003-08-08T04:30:00.000-04:00

As if I didn't know it already, a sign that I go out too much is walking through my door at almost 4am (btw, pissed that it took me 2 hours to go from Brooklyn to Queens. Fucking track work) and the first thought being, "wow, the places I usually go aren't even closed yet." Perhaps I'll stay in this weekend to catch up some sleep and get better since stuff I was going to see this weekend, i.e. the Cafe Tacuba/Sidestepper/Yerba Buena show at Prospect Park will probably be rained out anyways. Ah well. I doubt I'll actually maintain that resolve, but my liver might enjoy the temporary reprieve.

Rain, rain, go away. Just don't come back. Really.

Being home has me going all personal retro. I've been playing Tiny Music like it's '96 or something. "I am I am I said I'm not myself, but I'm not dead and I'm not for sale/Hold me closer, closer let me go let me be just let me be" hat album is still fresh for me. I had a strange moment where Fiona Apple popped into my head the other day. I like her, even if she's crazy. I've got both albums. "I said honey I don't feel so good/Don't feel justified/Come on put a little love here in my void/He said it's all in your head/I said so's everything but he didn't get it/I thought he was a man but he was just a little boy" But, being in a restaurant in Williamsburg surrounded by some much irony I thought I was going to be knocked over, hearing "Strange Magic" made my fucking week, man. Dude, ELO! In high school, my musical upheaval after I got tired of rock radio was declaring all modern music crap and becoming fixated on things like Weather Report, soul and especially 70s soft rock. I went all Steely Dan gung ho even buying the box set and going to the concert. I was just all about 70s AM Hits and I even bought that compiliation off TV. Good times. I declare the song of the week: "Strange Magic" by ELO and if you think dial-up stopped me from downloading that and playing it to death, you don't know me very well. If I can risk that for Get Low by Lil Jon and the Eastside Boyz -- though I was actually relieved when I heard a girl singing it on the train the other night, I'm not the only one sucked in by that sonic crack -- I can do it for a song I like and haven't heard literally in years.

Speaking of the train, since when is bleary eyed unfocused momentary staring the equivalent of a come on? At least they just stared at me dumbly. I swear, my night's not complete until I have drunkards calling after me that I'm some fine chocolate. Ugh.

Fashion, Partying and the Scenester-In-Training

2003-08-06T20:54:00.000-04:00

So I am free to be leisurely again. I suppose I might as well get around to telling the story of how I was snapped up to go help the event get pulled together (it was a complete smashing success btw. Thanks to Jay, Ash, Mari, Hani, and Mackenzi for coming out!) There's something to be said about me jumping into that the day after I got back to NYC for good (which has only been two weeks ago Tuesday). I'd actually been thinking about hopefully working for it since I volunteered last year and I was enjoying the goody bag swag until fairly recently, but their old site was down and my google searches were hitting nothing.

The Wednesday after I returned, I was out and about here, a place I hold a soft spot for because of New Year's Eve. I recently got on this special email list that the owner sends out which can give you all sorts of secret passwords and heads up on private open bar filled parties. I might head to one tonight if I can get over this death cough that's been making my life miserable. The only good thing about it so far is that folks have gotten over saying, "maybe you've got SARS." Hehe, prick. I was indulging at their last password party yet kinda bored. This dude was kicking it to me and I wasn't feeling him in the slightest, but my sense of adventure was piqued when he said that he and his friends were headed over to this supposedly hot party a few blocks away in this place called The Park. I'm always on the hunt to check out a new spot, so I rolled. We get there and it's like every uptown private school 9th grader was trying and failing to get in. I was all "hmm...could this be any less my scene?" The guys ran into trouble at the door with the prissy bouncer who wouldn't let one in with shorts on, despite knowing him. I figured I didn't owe them any loyalty being that they were strangers and all and I had no obligation to roam the streets when I could get in, so I left them and went inside. The place...eh. Restaurant by day, loungish at night. Reminds me of Gustavino's decor-wise and by the overblown crowd who are just thrilled with being where the "cool" people are. I was standing on the wall contemplating my next move when up walked the girls behind the event. They recognized me and were happy to see me as I was them, i.e. a The ladies are mad cool: the production company is their baby, but they have creative day jobs. (One's in fashion and the other is a publicist.) We traded numbers and they dragged me along with them on their travels while filling me in on the happenings with the event. I offered to help out and thus began me handing out flyers. We hit here and here and found the crowd was wack, wack, wack. "Ooh, we're rich (or at least want you to think so) and not cute/connected enough to be models, but we can shake our narrow designer clad asses on the stands while raising up the glasses. It's from bottle service, you know." I amused myself by getting into VIP areas to pass out invites by strolling up to the bouncer shyly and saying "can I get through? That's my sister over there" by pointing out a black lady. Works like a charm, yo.

We all grew tired of the people who weren't the types they wanted to attract to their event. We rolled over here where the crowd was definitely chiller and I got the prompt that made that line pop out of my mouth. You should ask me what he said. How else was I supposed to respond? That was like a challenge.

I've gotta say, it was pretty cool to running around partying as I tend to yet being all junior promoter handing out invites to promoters and DJs I befriended. It made me feel like I was up on something. I was relishing being a scenester-in-training, but we all know I was well on that path already despite barely being in the city this summer. My personal fave part was Monday making calls to press folks, making sure they were going to drop in on the event. I had nice rapport with a few of them and the schemer in me is all, "I have their numbers...I need to go begging for a job!" LOL. I wouldn't though...I guess.

So, Tuesday was the night and it was busy as hell in that piece. I was running the credit cards in that neverending line for 3 hours and change before I took a break to wander and chill with the people I had invited. Plaid is a strange looking place. It's just too busy. Then again, I had the Spa decor burned into my brain, so to go from super white and blue starkness to a upholsterer gone wild was too jarring for me. If I ever go back (which is likely), it might grow on me. The designers all had really great stuff. This one had all these cute '50s/60s retro style dresses and skirts. My post was right across from her and I had to fight trying on this rainbow skirt and running away with it.

After the event was the afterparty at this place. I got there earlier than the girls did though I had gone from a little wandering with Jay, Ash and Mari and stopping off here for a yummy frozen margarita. I've been having weird reactions to tequila lately. I get halfway through the drink and all of a sudden I'm burning up and sweating. It's totally strange. So, I walk up to the line and I'm already thinking "WTF?" It was like ghetto paradise. Don't get me wrong now. I was born and raised in East New York, former crime capital of Brooklyn, but I have a scene and rolling with the hoodrats isn't it. The place itself was really nice, but I felt like I was in the middle of the video for "XXXplosive" by Dr. Dre. It reminds me of what pisses me off about places that want to portray themselves and their clientele as swank: the lack of class. I mean hell, I dress down as a general rule because I have an hour long ride to and from wherever I'm at most nights and I get harrassed enough, but that doesn't mean I'll be especially shocked if I won't be sliding my ass into Pangaea or whatever. I especially go to chiller joints more about music than the number of bottles in your VIP booth. Who cares if you have a $300 bottle of Ketel One when your throwback looks like you got it at Modell's? But that's just me I guess. I was extremely put off by the atmosphere, all meat market-y -- another thing with these places: the "high rollers" standing on the side is packs ready to paw as you pass like dogs. Ugh. I was about to just walk out and go home when the group came in. I sighed in relief to see them, but I was thinking to myself that I'd make an escape if I had to go back in that mess. We were whisked downstairs however (I actually did have the VIP wristband but the place was empty when I got there) to the lounge playing old school with these nice couches. We chatted, we chilled, they ordered up some bottle service and that was pretty cool. I texted Jay that we had to do that to celebrate our jobs, definitely not there though.

As is seeming like a trend this week, I got fucked up. I think all of Jay's talk of vomiting and such got my poor drunken mind thinking that a little of that would go a long way for me, but I resisted because I hate that. All I gotta say is thank God I had my sneaks with me because I would've been a real mess tottering on those heels. Wednesday was secret party time. I missed the open bar portion of the evening, but $4 drinks aren't bad. I was even in the 80s dancing mood for a change and that rarely happens. The only unfortunate portion of the evening was running into Wes kids. Ugh. I was doing pretty well running into the ones I generally like for a while there. Ah well. It couldn't last forever.

2003-08-06T17:06:00.000-04:00

Nice thing about sitting at home all day with nothing to do is you can do all these long put off tasks on your computer that would just streamline a lot of stuff...and fuck off on the net too, but I've done that at work too, so that's no real plus. I've changed the color schemes and stuff again. Sure looks like red and gold are my favorite colors, eh?

But seriously, on the job front, I'm beginning to feel the crunch. In case I forgot to mention it, the original pact I made with my mother back before school ended was that she would lay off my back and let me be as productive (or as leisurely) about the job search as I wanted, but when August rolled around, she could nag and prod me to her heart's content. Oh look, it's August. Great. She's been cool for the past week or so but I know that can change quickly. In my corner, my schedule and life is finally clear. No more yearbook, no more helping out with the event. I finally have some sort of focus about what I want to do. And to top is all off, I'm so broke that I'm all about finding a job posthaste because I can hear the loan people starting to call my name. *sigh* Making my life miserable is that I'm still not really hearing about people finding anything and in Sunday's Daily News, their feature article for the Lifestyles section was all about elite college graduates languishing jobless. They especially were talking about this kid that graduated from Princeton who has been out of work for 11 months. 11 fucking months! That's crazy.

What pissed me off last week was two seperate encounters with stupid old men (what else is new really?) that basically thought that coming from my school and not having a job, I was a pretty loser. The first guy basically replied to my bitter "I'm taking the summer off" response to the inevitable "what do you do now" question with: "The summer off? You can't find a job? You must be rich because if anyone can find a job if they want one." I suppose -- well, I know -- that's true, but part of me just wants him to fuck off anyway. If I wanted to have a job just to work, I would've interned at a number of places this summer. But wait, they were unpaid and being totally not independently wealthy and having a $40K noose over my head that starts tightening right before Thanksgiving, that wasn't really a viable option. Don't get me wrong, I made money this summer. I got a minor stipend for yearbook stuff because hell, it was sucking my lifeblood away and a kid had to live and I got paid for helping out at the event last night (plus all sorts of networking and nightlife perks I'll talk about in that post later). But, I didn't make a lot. Not enough to shop without immediately mentally cursing myself for days afterwards when I've got $5 to my name yet a nice new shirt or three. The second fool came out of his face when I was promoting by saying, "what are you doing that for? With your education, why would you want to promote?" Because you can make good money doing that shit, elitist mofo. Besides that, what's a degree but a piece of paper? It's not actually a pedigree of anything, it's just a toe in the door and networking credentials. I can puff Wes all I want and go all Cardinal Pride, but at the end of the day, you have to hustle and be proactive. Wes grads do all sorts of stuff anyways. The ex girl of the metrosexual from the spring is currently a stripper in Hawaii says the grapevine. We've got a porn impresario and I've always heard there's good money to be made in phone sex. *ahem* Regardless, I'm on a heavy scenester track about right now because to get into PR, you need connections and I'll make them how I need to. I've started surfing the alumni database and found a few involved with that. This girl needs to do some informational interviews.

2003-08-06T15:07:00.000-04:00

The Blog This! thing is kinda cute -- if only for the little box that pops up. It's like a mini-updater. Yeah, I'm easily amused today and only starting to feel like a human being again after being shit hungover. I need food and then I can start in on the post-event superpost.

2003-08-04T13:00:00.000-04:00

The weekend was chill almost to perfection. I caught Ely Guerra at Summerstage and Jody Watley and Donnie at Prospect Park. All were great. I spent most of the weekend puttering around the house because I was just tired. I've been beat lately. Being on the scene so much is wearing me out. My flighty self is contemplating new ways to spend some time. But, my life is being made miserable by a touch of allergies. I need to dig out my Claritin from wherever I packed it. I'm about to ban the cats (though I love them so) from my room because all the hair is killing me. I've woken up hacking the past 2 days and I feel like the fan is just blowing it down my throat more. I need to attack the room with the vacuum cleaner and give those furballs a good brushing.

The event's tomorrow and I'm picking up some of the stress that the organizers are feeling. The venue owners were being real idiots last week having scheduled a photo shoot for him running until when the doors for the thing were supposed to open. But, they grew a brain (and probably got threatened with a lawsuit), so everything's all good for tomorrow -- and you bet your ass I'm gonna try for an autograph. He's like all kinds of fine. I have no idea what to wear considering I'm going to be there from 3:30 until its over and then trot off to the afterparty if I'm not dead on my feet. And I'm not even going to have that much of a chance to be super social I think because unlike last year when I volunteered and floated aimlessly and drank until I got to be guest list girl at the door, I'm going to be doing credit card transactions this time and trying not to fuck up. Regardless, me being me, I'll be about some dancing, lightly boozing, and chattering. Or folks could just come and buy something and chat me up then. A few folks have been asking me about a freebie hookup. I suppose I could be called on arrival and let you know what I could do, if not $10 for all the stuff they'll have going isn't even bad.

2003-08-01T18:01:00.000-04:00

Last night was great. I'm mad backlogged with stories though, so this is days worth in one:

1. Observed phenomenon with a disclaimer: I hate trucker hats. I think they're ugly and almost universally unflattering. Not to mention most people just look stupid in them. With that said, a good-looking guy can only look exponentially better in one. I've had my sneer turned into a slack-jawed stare more times than I care to admit in the past couple of weeks. Damn. Is it possible to institute a rule that unless your some certified eye candy, leave those hats alone?

2. I'm starting to feel annoyed. I've got a pesky 5...or maybe 7...pounds making my life miserable. I'm all for pinchable chubby cheeks (on my face, perv), but buddha belly and too much booty for the pants inching over moderation equals a miserable Candicissima. And God knows, the last thing I need is to convince myself that nothing in my closet fits and spend the money I don't have out to buy a new outfit for Tuesday. Blah. And I'm too busy to go to the gym.

3. Though I say, I'm hip-hopped out, my official songs for the summer are "Flipside," "Frontin'" and "Get Down (Like A Pimp)." I don't even care if it's wrong for me to be with my hands in the air singing that I'm going to "scoop bad bitches like Haagen Dazs." I think that's a clever ass line really and sinceI've still got a month or so left of summer and bitch is one of those equal opportunity words, you can bet I will.

4. Last night was great -- despite my boredom text to Jay and Hani not wanting to hang out with me *sniff* (I kid). I went to Smithfield's for their supposedly ladies' half off night and spent $5 on an Amaretto Sour. That's straight up BS. $10 drinks at a place that looks like a frat party hangout? Smithfields gets the gasface. I strolled over to Sapphire then and everyone was like "you're here so early!" That was advantageous to me because I got 5 drinks just sitting there minding my business at the party chatting. It pays to be a regular, man. Then I danced my ass off and on my way home found $10. Good times.