misshapen adventures and other news

so last night walking from misshapes to the station, i totally got held up. as in, your money or your life held up, not waylaid.

so it's about 4am, i'm walking up bedford, a very handy little road with narrow sidewalks that runs from right opposite luke & leroy's straight up to christopher street. handy, like i say. i've had a few drinks, had a really good evening [it's so much better going out at the last minute, with no expectations], walking up with my earphones on. i think the kaiser chiefs were playing at that exact moment. i have my PATH ticket clenched in my hand so i don't have to rummage around for it at the station.

all of a sudden this guy steps out in front of me and grabs me by the front of my jacket. he steps up, he's right up in my personal space. i take off my earphones.

"i'm dying of aids. i ain't never raped no one before, but i will. i want ten dollars to get home."

my first thought:
"did he really just say that?"

my second thought:
"ten dollars? he must be having a laugh. i don't have ten dollars."

what i actually say:
"er, you want my train ticket?" offering him the PATH ticket.

he shakes me. "no. i need ten dollars. i'm dying of aids."

yeah man, i heard that the first time.

what i say now:
"i don't have ten dollars. why don't you go down there?" gesturing back to seventh ave south.

"no. ten dollars." the guy is bugging. i guess he was probably totally cracked out. his eyes...

a cab driving up bedford slows down next to us.

"there. look, that cab will drive you home."

cracked-out crazy guy stares at me, gets a firmer grip on my jacket. i try and push his arms away.

"i need ten dollars to get home!"

i'm getting a bit annoyed now. change the record mate.

"i don't have ten dollars. why don't you just walk?!"

yes. it was a stupid thing to say. he'd pretty much just threatened to rape me a few moments earlier. who's to say he wasn't carrying a knife or something.

but the crazier thing: he let go.

maybe it was the cab that had stopped [i don't know if it stopped because of this situation, or to let someone out] or maybe he realised that beyond 15-odd rides on the PATH train he wasn't going to get much out of me, or maybe he thought it actually was a pleasant evening for a walk home, find a nice back alley to shoot up in somewhere on the way back, but he let go and walked off.

i turned and carried on walking up bedford, totally bemused until about a second later when the shakes hit badly and i call the ladies who i'd just put in a cab back to brooklyn outside misshapes, just for the human contact, and possibly alarmed them a little as i couldn't get my words out quite straight.

sheesh. quelle adventure. it's the full moon, man. makes people looney (lune-y. of course.)



in other news:
i'm super glad the weather finally cleared, the rain was really depressing me. the sunshine totally lifted my spirits and a bike ride from the 'burg down to brooklyn botanical gardens (where we talked nicely to the guard who then let us in for free, ha ha) lifted them more. my back tire blew out on the way back which was kind of a pain though.

i've been lazy and don't have much food in the house so my diet this weekend has consisted of toast, matzo, ice cream, noodles, cups of tea and OJ. i'm eating well, ma, honest... methinks a trip to the grocery store is in order.

skateboarding round my apartment is my new favourite past-time, and guaranteed to start annoying people sometime soon so i'll have to save it for when no one is around. but we have hardwood floors throughout which is a great surface.

i've been sat in front of my computer alllll day today supposedly finishing up my class assignment. i only left the house to run across the road to duane reade to get one of the disposable cams for the mag project developed. so i just had to go pick another camera up off someone who was in the hood and was shocked by the cold and wind and elated at the same time at the fresh air and freedom. i need to get out for a bit.

bad jews and there is no floor 13

as it's yom kippur, a seasonal true story for you all.

it was back in london, when i was working at the broadcasting company. i was covering reception, doing the early shift. the other receptionist, samantha, got in about 9:45, already moaning. it was yom kippur, she's jewish, ergo she was fasting (but had come in to work anyway). she's a mouthy broad, that one - i get on well with her, but that's only 'cause i never took any of her shit - and she kept moaning and bitching about being hungry and feeling faint, and she'd been ill earlier in the week and was saying she probably shouldn't be fasting because she was still weak from being ill. then she decided G-d wouldn't mind too much if she just had a little something to keep her going, so she went down the shops.

she returned a few minutes later with a paper bag, looking guilty, but happier. she sat down at her computer, not saying anything. i was still answering phones. a few minutes later there was a lull, no phones ringing, no cars to call for. she turned to me.

"oh han. it's so bad."
"what's wrong sam?"
"i got a sausage roll," she says in a quiet voice, leaving this to sink in.
"so, like, pork?"
"yes!" she wails. "not only am i eating on yom kippur, i'm eating pork! i'm such a bad jew!"

and then she spends the rest of the day bitching about being a bad jew and eating at every opportunity she gets. atonement my ass.

* * *

okay. i had just written a whole blog entry that was pretty downbeat, but then i re-read it and was like, stop fucking whining... [to summarise: the weather's shit, my roommate is a jerk, i had cold wet feet all day, i'm broke, i can't find the energy, brain power, will power etc to finish my class project which i've looked at so long my mind is about to melt, i'm pretty scared and lacking faith in myself about this magazine project i'm running]. it may be honest, but it's just kinda boring to read.

it seems weird, too, 'cause there are some good things going on. like this project thing i get to run for a nice little magazine, which i should be really excited about, but i'm mainly kind of scared and a little antsy, that i'll totally fuck it up or something, that the kids who are being absolute stars and helping out will just be bored or - i don't know, think it's a waste of time or something. but then i just talked to one of the kids involved in the project and i actually am kind of looking forward to it now. just still a bit - well, a bit self-doubting i guess. but i have faith in them. they're good people.

and a cure for downbeatness and severe apathy in the face of 3000-word Managing Information projects: loud, good music. i think some old Motown or something. something singalongable. i was doing my laundry last night, wandering round the building in my PJs and scandinavian slipper sock thingies, and the radio station in the laundry room was playing Aretha and i was bopping around, transferring from washer to dryer. it was fun. then a guy came in and laughed at me, but in a nice way. oh, and we have a retarded elevator here. it never says the right floor number. and today it said "errrrr 13" every time we stopped. there *is* no floor 13. comedy. i like that possessed elevator. it has character.

ooh electrelane. i'll listen to that. reminds me of the montreal road trip. good times. good people.

okay, there's the upbeat i was looking for... :)

barcade and the london underground

There was me, that is Hannah, and my droog, that is Christy-Claire, and we sat in Barcade trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening...

oof, i can't tell you how good it is to be back in the big a. up until last evening i was actually feeling kind of displaced, 'cause going back to london had felt weird, then coming back here felt like - well, i guess kind of like coming home, but i felt a little guilty admitting that. and i hadn't seen anyone - apart from running into suarez briefly outside whole foods when he was on the phone. oh, and randi on broadway on my way to class. but you know what i mean - so finally hanging out last night in the 'burg, getting falafel on union then heading up to barcade to nurse drinks and talk shit - and pose with my copy of the NME, apparently [i think that's one of the dudes from My Chemical Romance or something, but not entirely sure] - was good good good. back to the norm.

[man, a clockwork orange is just brilliant. read the book. see the film. i urge you.]

so anyway, back in london, i went for dinner on saturday night with my childhood best friend. she's exactly a week older than me, i've known her my entire life. i like that we're still close. so we were eating dinner and her mum was asking me about thoughts on london, if anything seemed to have changed, anything that surprised me. my answer? the tubes.

i haven't been back to london in five months or so, and in that time there have two terrorist attacks on the London Underground, one successful, one not. having seen how much security was stepped up over here - a very visible police presence at almost every station, random bag checks etc - i thought it would be pretty similar in london, seeing as that's where the attacks actually happened.

not a thing. the tubes seemed be running as ever - mostly okay but still with random line closures here and there, frequent delays and so on, but there didn't seem to be any extra security, apart from the odd PA announcement on the tube about suspicious packages. but london has endured the IRA bombing campaigns, so people were - or should have been, it was certainly something i grew up aware of - suspicious packages and unattended bags and so on. the only time i saw police was at liverpool street station (one of the targets of the successful bomb attacks) on the first sunday there, after brunch with james d, james h and leith, and hanging out in bethnal green, on my way home there were policemen milling about the main entrance to the tube lines there. but that's *it*.

then this morning, on my way to work, there are like five officers standing at the PATH station, someone's been yanked aside and is having their bag inspected...

i don't know if that whole furore with the brazilian electrician being shot after mistakenly being identified as a potential suicide bomber has made London wary of being too OTT on preventative measures or something, but it seems like they're doing nothing - nothing visible, at least - to possibly stop future attacks or reassure the public. i'm not saying i agree with bag checks, and i'm glad that london has got itself going again after the attacks, but it just seemed odd to me that it was as if nothing had ever happened...

waterloo sunset

Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner
That I love London Town
Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner
That I think of her, wherever I go
Ohhhhh
I get a funny feeling inside of me
Just walking up and down
Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner
That I love London town



why i love waterloo bridge: because the view from it is fucking amazing and reminds of just how awesome - no, wait, too american - how brilliant london is. cold, yes [it was raining when i took this shot, no surprise there]. expensive, yes. but beautiful and full of good people.



i always like this view, from just down between the Hayward Gallery. that's Big Ben you can see through the middle, obviously. [the wheel isn't about to roll off, it's just the angle off the bridge to the London Eye.]

london life so far

engagement party: fi & chloe; mark, chloe, sam, me; brunch with jimmy, leith & tilda the wonderpup;
jimmy; tilds; james diggle
tilda; digs; london lovebirds
leet outside pub; james d; leet, both at weird sculpture thingy in london fields
james d's fridge; my books (yes, i missed them); grandma & fi
curly claire; british cigarette packs; anna and blonde clare
home; more home; sam
two floors bar in soho; HF; pad thai jay at busaba on wardour st, yum
and, um, yours truly (in two floors, where i washed down much medication with a mojito)

okay, so now it's 8:30 am and i still haven't been to sleep. i feel a little unbalanced. i think i might go and try and nap. pass the prozac, someone.

zzzzzzzzz.

well toto, we're not in jersey anymore...

so long dirty jerz, hello grey skies, cold weather, expensive drinks and travel...

and of course people i love :)

[saw 'lords of dogtown' on the plane. awesome, awesome film]

no bang! and big smoke

so my sister wanted to go out last night and i'd mentioned the Bang! party at No.1 Chinese to her, so we were more or less planning on that. then she made me meet her in bloomingdales after work to help her buy some jeans. sometimes i'm a good person to shop with, sometimes i'm not. last night was the latter. i was knackered. i think i actually dozed off in the fitting rooms for a moment whilst waiting for her. we came out and i was tired and cranky and the thought of Bang! was enough to make me cry so i dragged her into the cinema where we watched wedding crashers and had popcorn for dinner. i'm such a party animal sometimes it hurts.


people/things to see and do whilst back in the big smoke: [in no order]
* HF. Marie & Spencer. Sam & Jo [well obv, I’m going back for their freakin’ engagement party…] Uni housemates. Semoosh. Jimmy and Leet and James D and Jerry and Sal. And Nicky P, if she’ll come down. My grandma. Teddy & George. The porn corner?
* Hug my family. A lot.
* Tell my friends I’m sorry if I’ve ever taken them for granted.
* Ride my beloved BMX Raleigh Burner whenever it’s not raining, or I’m asleep. Or out.
* Sleep. A lot. In my own bed. In a room that actually attains a degree of darkness.
* pick up my Repo Man DVD. actually, pick up a bunch more DVDs to bring back over.
* Busaba/Wagamamas/New World dim sum/The Stockpot /CCK
* Enjoy the supermarkets. Aah, Sainsburys, Tescos, M&S…
* Portobello market – on Friday morning, most likely
* Brick Lane market – on Sunday as meant to be meeting the London bike gang kids round that way.
* TOPSHOP! Primark. Hennes, just in case there’s any different stock?
* Lovingly dust off my record player and vinyl and tell them how much I’ve missed them
* Kew Bridge. [ooh, Kew Gardens too if time] Chiswick Bridge. Waterloo Bridge.
* Get the good old 94 bus up to town. Bitch about how ridiculous bus fares are.
* Try not to talk with this American twang I’ve apparently picked up.
* See if I can convince my momma she really does want to pay for me to get a haircut. Or else go to one of those training session things that cost like fifteen quid.
* Go to Fouberts [i can't believe it's been bought by Soho House] for the best Italian ice cream in London. Then wander round the Old Cinema

shit, i really need to start sorting stuff out and packing. i'm just not too sure when i'm going to have time. eeek.

american twangs and i'm not okay

how fucking rad has it been having my little sister in town these past few days?

totally fucking rad.

this is at happy endings last thursday, when we made a brief pitstop to soak up their open vodka bar. i didn't balance the cam quite right so it's a little skewed...

so we went out for dinner on sunday night, me, fi (sister) and two of her friends who coincidentally happen to be in the city at the moment for a wedding and they spent the entire evening ripping the piss out of me for how i speak. apparently i've picked up an american twang. i tried my hardest not to. but according them, it's very evident. goddamnit.

right now i'm in one of those moods that can only be alleviated by playing really fucking loud music, but my itunes on my work computer has a really limited playlist 'cause i just never put much on it so at the moment it's just got my chemical romance [when the hell did i start listening to such random music?? since i moved over here, my music collection has just altered and expanded radically, it's most odd] - i'm not okay, like, on repeat [just a single mp3, i don't have the album]. i need to get some music on here that's good to play loud.

plus, i have class in like an hour and i just cannot be arsed, as ever, [see, my vocabulary still has its english roots] to finish this fucking assignment. ugh.

* * *

umm, i actually *am* okay, btw. it wasn't one of those teenage angsty things where you listen to a song moaning "that's my life...". it was just a case of work stacking up, not managing to leave the office at all during the day, not having my first meal of the day till about 3:30 'cause things were so crazy here [got dizzy spells once i managed to eat something. shouldn't that have been the other way round?], and generally needing to wake up. hence the need for loud music.

once i left the office and stepped outside i mellowed out somewhat. listened to belle & sebastian [ahh, sweet Tigermilk]. played hooky from class...

tam o'shanters and my first CMJ

tam o'shanter: a hat with a bobble. [sorry, private joke...]

[okay, how retarded am i that i just posted a private joke on my own blog. ugh.]

this is a tam o'shanter:



this is not acceptable millinery for anyone. unless possibly you're a womble. or a bagpipe player. it is not okay to wear this out. it is not okay to think it's okay to wear it, even if it is to a place that in general has a flamboyant sense of dress.

tam o'shanters being worn out on the town: BANNED.

* * *
okay, so my first experience of CMJ is over. to summarise:

* we overdid the CMJ thing on thursday so that it pretty much killed doing anything else CMJ-related.

* i didn't get to see enough bands. it's a money thing. and a partying too much on thursday night so that the thought of heading over to bklyn on friday night was just too much (see above. and below).

* i did see everyone's new favourite band, Nightmare of You. they rocked. it was at CBGBs, i took my sister along (her first night in town, i think the poor thing was a little jetlagged but i ignored her plaintive cries of "sleep!") but i think the history of the place was lost on her.

* didn't attend enough after-parties, even though i was informed of some. we did hit up one at scenic on thursday. a late show or after party? i'm not too sure. i know i was talking to some english dude in the band tom vek but didn't know who they were [story of my life]. we talked our way in to the guest-list only show/afterparty, pretending to be other people.

* someone gave us a free bottle of ketel one at a hiphop club across the road from scenic. it's not really CMJ related, but a free bottle of vodka. that's always nice.

insomnia and art school

insomnia + nightmares when i do actually fall asleep = one dozy english girl right here...

on monday i almost tripped over when someone yelled hello at me 'cause i was so out of it. on my way home i got on a friggin' hoboken train. just been in a little bit of a fugue state these past couple days. i caved this morning and bought coffee. i need a caffeine injection right about now.

i was looking at the SVA/Parsons/Cooper Union sites yesterday and really wish i'd gone to art school. then when i eventually got home last night (class, etc.) we ended up watching 'Basquiat' (what a film) and i so want to take more classes. i thought that summer school at central st martins was enough, but clearly not. i've pretty much missed registration for the fall semester, so when i'm back in london in a couple weeks i'll pick up some of my bits then use the rest of this year to get some work done, throw together some kind of portfolio out of all the shit i have lying around, then register in the new year for evening classes or something. it'll also give me time to save up.

someone remind i've said this in december. i know how crap i am at following through on things.

recently i've realised:- i have a total soft spot for cheesy hip hop movies. you got served... drumline... yes, even honey... i blame my teenage years on this.
- i keep getting really unfortunate mini-crushes. unfortunate because they're either totally inappropriate, or gay.
- i shouldn't drink champagne at the start of the evening then head onto the vodka for the rest of it. anyone i saw on saturday, my apologies if i seemed like a lush.

what i've mainly been thinking:- woo hoo, my sister gets in to town on thursday! i haven't seen her in almost five months, i can't *wait* to see her.
- shit, it's her birthday today, i must call. and get a card. shite, and a present. crap i'm a bad sister.
- what the *hell* am i going to wear for halloween??

no title necessary

the rest of the 'what happened to my wrist?' tour...

saturday, wake up late and uncomfortable in a small ball on the floor. eventually four of us head out to rue st laurent [have i ever mentioned how much i love french?] and stumble around until we find coffee. idly wander up the road, stopping to play in a dollar store. buy tacky housewarming gifts and play for too long in the kids aisle, dressing up in tiaras and metal claws. leave when quebecois children start giving us filthy looks.



later, meet up with arielle. go for some food. try this infamous montreal creation, poutine - fries, cheese curds and gravy. how did someone come up with that?? not as bad as it sounds.



that night, head up to her friends' gallery where we drink their beer, dance around and make them take photos of us standing in front of a light bar [as below...] then to a senegalese restaurant for a late dinner. lovely little place. BYO. always good.



somehow end up in a strip club downtown. lame ass shit. too clinical. did nothing for me. the ladies' bathroom pretty much doubled as the strippers' dressing room, too.



sunday, up earlier, more coffee, more breakfast, more rue st laurent-wandering. in the afternoon head to mont royal with peter and CC, whilst arielle and william sleep off whatever they got up to the night before after we left them.

late night picnic in the park - we brought the alcohol, her friends brought the chicken and potatoes. three of us don't eat meat so there was a quick jaunt to hunt down grilled cheese sandwiches nearby. me and CC stole a's friends bikes and were riding round parc de la fontaine. i have to admit i was a little tipsy, but nothing quite like drunk bike riding...



managed to set off relatively early on monday, after hard goodbyes.

didn't stop as much, and much more space in the car. stopped off in woodstock in the afternoon for a much-needed break [burritos and ice-cream, the boys attempted to get some gear from everyone hanging on the village green, but to no avail...]



having been dreading the thought of still having to get back to JC once we touched back down in brooklyn, the dears actually drove me all the way home. we were driving round JC and Hoboken [yeah so we took a little detour trying to get back to my 'hood...] blasting Hot 97 and finding it hilarious. but then we had been in the car about 9 hours or something.



thanks for having us, canada.

'floor punch the mountain' tour 09/2005 - day one

thursday night:
okay, so we'll meet you at the lorimer L stop at 10

friday morning:
okay we're running a little behind, let's say lorimer at 10:30

a little later, friday morning:
can we make that 11?

a little after that, friday morning:
you know what, they're still loading the car, you just come up to the montrose stop and meet us at the lofts...

an auspicious beginning. road trips wouldn't be road trips without the whole setting-off-hours-later-than-planned thing. finally leave brooklyn at ten to one.

catskills:
blonde redhead - william's mix CD - the ponys - electrelane, cc and arielle.3 dancing in the front, making the car swerve all over the place - the smiths, the CD was scratched - johnny cash, loretta lynn

stopping almost every two hours for pee breaks, food, coffee, stretching legs, everyone (apart from the driver) moving one seat to the left so we were in constant rotation as to who was in the front passenger seat

the albany toll booth, asking the kid there what radio station to listen to, ending up with the local albany hiphop station

the adirondacks:
ELO - beautiful sunsets - the velvet underground, talking about what this album made us all think of - telling stories about arielle

setting off firecrackers in the back lot of a remote truck stop - william, peter and arielle.3 bundling back in the car and yelling at us to go while cc and i calmly lit sparklers in front of the car - five minutes later and they're all playing with sparklers too (that we bought from the truck stop) and someone comes out and kindly asks us to move on ("hey if it was up to me, i mean, i don't care, but my boss, he wants y'all to go...")

dark driving to the border - sonic youth blaring loudly - arielle starts crying as we're waiting in line at the border checkpoint

finally arrive in montreal at about 10, 10:30. her new place is tiny and dirty. we throw stuff in, head out for a drink, but are so cracked out and travel weary, we don't last too long.

welcome to canada...

name-dropping and the art of subtlety

stuck in my head:
* A-Ha - Take On Me
* Arcade Fire - Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)
* Bloc Party - Helicopter
* Beulah - Burnt By The Sun
currently all on rotation in the jukebox inside my mind.

Last night I had to go watch this video of a lecture I missed last week (I didn’t know it was on) – it was about business ethics etc. It was rubbish but there were some interesting points about truth and integrity.

And I was just thinking this morning that I’m so tired right now – not necessarily sleepy-tired, although there’s that too, I’d have much preferred to sleep in this morning – but something in me is tired of something, I’m not sure what, and I feel like if anyone asked me anything right now I’d only be able to be bluntly honest with them.

So try me. Ask me a question. Message me with anything, even if you’re not sure you want to hear the answers. Because I’m fed up with two-facedness and sycophancy and hiding. Honesty is the only way forward. It's almost even getting to the point when I'm dropping my guard. Because I don't like to lie, but there comes a point when you just avoid questions because of a self-preservation, self-defence kind of mentality.

I’m also fed up with name-dropping. People seem to have been doing it to me a lot recently.

“Yeah, I styled the Franz Ferdinand videos” [ugh, Franz Ferdinand…]

“I’m Nicki Hilton’s stylist…” [me, trying not to laugh in his face]

“I’m a Calvin Klein model” [whatever trevor]

and some more.


Subtlety really is a lost art.

* * *

i've been thinking about this since i first posted, and i'd like to update. this is what i'm tired of:
- falseness
- two-facedness (yeah, so it's not a word)
- sycophancy, for any reason
- judging on looks. i know, we all do it. i do it. i just wish we didn't, that it wasn't such an immediate thing.
- disregarding people because they don't have the right look. i may judge on looks, but i'm always happy and willing to be proven wrong. i don't care what you're wearing if you can uphold your end of a conversation or something. but i feel like too many people, too many places right now the opposite is true. if you're not wearing it, you're not worth talking to.
- disaffectation. if you're passionate about something, *be* passionate. if you like someone, tell them. if you get geeky about something, then who cares? geek out on it. embrace it. enough of this studied cool.

phew. looks like it's a good thing i'm going to montreal for the long weekend. maybe a few days out of this jungle will do me some good.


new york, my darling, i do love you so, but some of the qualities you bring out in people (yes, myself included) aren't always great.

male models and bring me a goddamn dream

meet at lit - open vodbull bar - too much redbull - head to orchard bar - kids we know DJing - hot and horrible in the back room - loads of people there - on to hanger bar - cuuuuute (and very young looking) doorman - the ladies go home - back to orchard bar to meet j&d - can't find them for ages - run into c. - fall into talking with some dude - end up going to hang at max fish with him - he tells me he's a male model - i laugh - he does calvin klein ads - i laugh more - i just remembered taking the total piss of him and telling him he should just tell people he does stuff for the JC Penneys and Sears catalogues - he keeps bitching about how heavy his book (portfolio) is - that motherfucker actually was heavy, i felt it - his best friend is one of the ones who died as a result of that bad heroin that's killed a bunch of kids in the city in the past couple of weeks - we head to some after-hours party up on ave c - run into some coked-out-of-his-mind guy on ave c - we get a block away from him as the cops pull up alongside him - after-hrs party: good vibes for 4 in the morning - chatting to some french girl - realise we're knackered so j and i take off - say goodbye to model boy (aaron) - he actually was pretty hott - starting to get light when we leave - walk along ninth, planning on me carrying on over to 6th for the PATH, j. to head off down the bowery to chinatown - for some reason decide it'd be a good plan to walk down to battery park to watch the sun rise - by the time we get down there it's full blown daylight - but a beautiful morning and kind of a cool way to end another awesome, random, adventure-filled new york evening - finally get home at about 8:30 am.

i think i've been too totally caught up reading 'glamorama' 'cause there were definite moments last night when i felt like i'd slipped into glamoramareality. i guess it was just the model-and-drugs thing. i have a feeling i did some zoolander-style piss-taking of the poor boy as well.

in the past seven days i think i've had an accumulated total of about 25, maybe 30 hours sleep. i've currently been awake since 7 yesterday (friday) morning. aieee. too much redbull is baaaaaad. (plus the vodka. plus whatever else...).

oh, and my phone is kind of buggered and won't send text messages. anyone that even remotely knows me will know how much this is upsetting me.

i don't quite know how i'm doing it, or why i feel so comparably sane with that little sleep over a week. totally running on empty. i just want some motherfucking sleep, yo. where's the sandman when you need him? mister sandman...

[sunrise down delancey]

beautiful boys and second chances

this week

Songs most stuck in my head:
- dry the rain/beta band (where's james d when i need him?!)
- the space between/valencia
- velouria/pixies
[what, no rufus wainwright? makes a change...]

Superficial thoughts:
- Swoon. The beautiful boy that works upstairs really *is* beautiful. I keep running into him.
- Wearing a white vest to misshapes - baaaad idea. Someone spills a drink down your front, that shit ain't comin' out easy. Trust me.
- Glamorama is genuinely one of the best fucking books ever. Every time I re-read it (yes, I’ve read it a lot) I find something new, I forget about bits... go out and read it, yo. I love it.
- Who exactly reads this blog? It gets quite a few hits but I have no idea who's looking at it. It’s interesting.
- Why do people write blogs? This involves much more thought.

Excesses:
- Being late for work. I really am usually super punctual, if not early, but this week I’ve just never been able to make that 9am deadline.
- Money spending. But I kind of had to buy the Bret Easton Ellis books (see prev.) and I’m sure all my other outgoings were vital, too.
- Vodka open bars. Oy.



Less superficial thoughts:
- Certain awkward situations (interruption: new thought of the week – how weird is the word awkward? two ‘w’s. what an odd word to write and spell):
* People knowing things,
* People not knowing things,
* Seeing the doorman who asked me out and feeling weird – especially as he’s often on the night shift and I come back in by myself in the wee hours and it’s just him around [but I think that’s just my issue]
* Being hit on in elevators by lecherous old guys. Can’t tell you how uncomfortable this makes me. Such a small enclosed space, there’s no place to escape. Again, probably just my issue.

- The nature of regret. Filling in some survey thing last weekend (y’know, one of those really pointless ones that float around myspace and you occasionally fill in if you’re really really bored and have nothing else to do) and the last question was: Number of things in my Past I Regret. My answer? : “I try not to regret anything that's already happened, as in retrospect it seems as if things happen for a reason – and if they hadn't happened I wouldn't be right here, right now. so.” But then it’s somehow come up in conversation with other people as well this week so it’s got me thinking about it.

- Déjà vu. Keep having really vivid cases of déjà vu and can’t help thinking – indulge me here – that what if, instead of just being a case of our synapses misfiring, the messages traveling so fast that they bounce back twice so we think we’re seeing the same thing again or whatever [ahh Mr. Bright, you’d be so proud, I remembered your GCSE explanation of déjà vu…] – what if it’s something more than that, like what if it’s something we actually have done or seen before, and we’ve been given a second chance because there’s something we have to do that we didn’t before, something big that we messed up last time that caused our lives to go the wrong way, and this déjà vu thing is our reminder that we’re getting a second chance?

- What would you do with a second chance? I’m genuinely interested in actually hearing some answers for this one. I know people read this thing.

arch-nemeses and the better you, look the more you see

class. yawn. runs late. more yawn. run down to coliseum books. still a big line. get books signed by bret easton ellis. so psyched. got one book personalised for someone for their birthday and i hope they fucking love it. made him laugh with what i asked him to write. now can't decide whether to mail it, 'cause i really really want them to have it as soon as possible, or wait and take it back in september so i can actually see their reaction. probably mail it. it's more fun. bret easton ellis. my god. back in JC after 9. whirlwind pitstop: throw things down, change shirt, grab a slice of toast, blow back out the door. union square. it's getting a bit chillier in the evenings now. autumn on it's way. shit, it's september next week. stroll down 4th and the bowery. point out CBGBs as CC never saw it. open vodka bar at orchard bar. woo. that weird Zygo shit they had at misshapes the other day. is it flavoured? i think someone told me that last night. tastes like it is. they had these crazy girls dancing on a make-shift podium that looked a little unsafe. place quickly filled up. usual suspects. it was like misshapes only on a tuesday and in the LES. but it was fun. good people, good times. heard a london accent. started talking. he's a sarf londoner. we swore we should be arch-nemeses or something, me being a west londoner 'n all. open bar ran out too fast. thank god for hipflasks. recorded a voicemail answering message for someone as a british secretary. joker. actually danced. must have been drunk. the back room was bloody hot. seemed like i spent half the evening outside. got snap happy. some hilarious photos. made some kids go sit on this ratty sofa that was on the kerb so i could take photos. haha.

BRET EASTON ELLIS.


okay. i'm over my book geek moment.

kind of... :)

dedication to school and what's on my 'pod

i have a new class assignment. the proposal thing is due this evening. not only have i not done it, i forgot about it until today and now i'm reading over the outline, i have no idea what precisely we're meant to be doing. it's good to see my dedication to this Program really shines through.

currently on my ipod [a crappy mini. i have to be selective]:

22-20s.

AC Newman. Aesop Rock. Ahmad Jamal. Aim. Aimee Mann. Ambulance Ltd. The Anniversary. Appleseed Cast. The Arcade Fire. Architecture in Helsinki. Aretha Franklin.

Ballboy. Beach Boys. Beastie Boys. The Beatles. Beethoven. Belle & Sebastian. Ben E King. Ben Folds Five. The Beta Band. Beulah. Billy Idol. Bloc Party. Blockhead. Blonde Redhead. Blur. Boogie Down Productions. The Bravery. Bright Eyes. Bruce Springsteen. The Buggles. Busted. Buzzcocks.

Capleton. Carl Perkins. Cat Power. Cat Stevens. Chad & Jeremy. Charlie Parker. Chuck Berry. Ciccone Youth. Clem Snide. The Clientele. CocoRosie. Cocteau Twins. The Concretes. Cream. The Creation. Creedence Clearwater Revival. The Cribs. The Cure.

Damien Rice. Daniel Darc. Dave Brubeck. David Bowie. De La Soul. Dean Martin. The Decemberists. Del Tha Funky Homosapien. The Del Vikings. Dexter Gordon. Dinosaur Jr. Division of Laura Lee. Django Reinhardt. The Drifters. Dusty Springfield.

Eartha Kitt. Edith Piaf. Electrelane. Ella Fitzgerald. Elliott Smith. Eric B. & Rakim.

Fall Out Boy. Fiery Furnaces. The Flamingos. Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers. Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons. The Futureheads.

Gene Krupa. The Get Up Kids. Gorillaz. Grandmaster Flash.

Hans Zimmer. Heatmiser. Hole. The Hollies. Husker Du.

Ikettes. Iron & Wine.

Jack Johnson. The Jam. Jawbreaker. Jeff Buckley. Jefferson Airplane. Jeru The Damaja. Jimmy Soul. Joanna Newsom. Johnny Cash. Johnny Kidd & The Pirates. Journey. Joy Division. Juliette & The Licks. Jurassic 5.

Kano. Karate. Kasabian. The Kills. The Kings of Convenience. The Kinks.

Langley Schools Music Project. Lauryn Hill. LCD Soundsystem. Le Tigre. Lifetime. LL Cool J. Louis XIV.

The Magic Numbers. Magnolia Electric Company. Mars Volta. Martha Wainwright. Marvin Gaye. Mates of State. McFly. Michael Jackson. Miles Davis. Misfits. Mission of Burma. Mountain Goats. The Movielife. Moving Units.

N.E.R.D. Nada Surf. Nas. Neko Case. Neutral Milk Hotel. Nina Nastasia. Nirvana.

OK Go. OMD. The Others. Otis Redding.

Patrick Wolf. Pavement. Pelican. Peter, Paul & Mary. Phantom Planet. Phoenix. The Pink Mountaintops. Pixies. The Ponys. The Pretenders. Psychedelic Furs. Public Enemy. Puccini.

Q and not U.

REM. The Radio Dept. Radiohead. The Rakes. The Ramones. Ray Charles. Red Hot Chili Peppers. The Redwalls. Richard Hell & The Voidoids. Rick James. Rick Springfield. Rilo Kiley. The Rolling Stones. Roxy Music. Rufus Wainwright. Rupert Holmes.

The Sadies. Saul Williams. Saves The Day. Sebadoh. Sex Pistols. The Shins. Shout Out Louds. Simon & Garfunkel. The Skyliners. The Slits. Smog. Smokey Robinson & The Miracles. Soft Cell. Songs: Ohia. Sonic Youth. Sons & Daughters. Soul for Real. Spandau Ballet. The Specials. Spoon. The Stanley Brothers. Stephen Malkmus. Stevie Nicks. Styx. Suzanne Vega.

Thelonius Monk. This Mortal Coil. Tilly & The Wall. Towers of London. The Transplants.

Valencia. The Velvet Underground. Verdi. Violent Femmes.

Wayne Newton. Weezer. The White Stripes. Wolf Parade.

Yo La Tengo.

The Zombies.


i think 'eclectic' may sum it up.

[and possibly also: not enough work so i actually had time - and nothing better to do - than write out everything that was on my ipod]

last orders and makeout dreams

things to cram in when briefly back in the big smoke in a month's time:
1. last orders at the bell & crown. i heart that pub.
2. dinner at the stockpot. old compton st one, i think.
3. spend hours walking around sainsburys. is it weird i miss supermarkets?
4. wagamamas: amai udon.
5. busaba: pad thai jay.
[to be continued...]

- -

you know how you have one of those dreams where you're making out with someone and you forget about it when you wake up [as you tend to do with most dreams] until you run into them and then it all comes back to you and that's *all* you can think of? and you're glad it's kind of dark 'cause you feel like you might be blushing?

yeah.


i'm not saying that happened or anything. i'm just saying.

new haunts and total creeps

misshapes was funny last night. i was in the hood earlier in the evening so i got my hand stamped and left. walked up to the chelsea apt. watered the flowers, stood on the roof deck for a bit absorbing the city. played the piano and drank whisky. felt a bit like tom waits. it got to about midnight and i figured i'd take off, so locked up and wandered back down to the west village. the queue (sorry, 'line') out luke & leroys was backed up a bit. kids spilling out the club onto the pavement (sorry, 'sidewalk') as ever. i felt a bit smug being able to bypass it all and just stroll straight it.

bumped into one of the kids in my class. one of the first things he says to me: "you don't hang out with the MB people do you. are you an outcast?" i was about to be offended when he explained he didn't hang out with them either (why would you ever want to?) - we both prefer doing our own thing. so we made a little outcasts club that we're the sole members of. i'm not sure a club for outcasts can have too many members, else they wouldn't be outcasts anymore, issit?

it was funny that i could walk into that place by myself and still be able to happily spend the night there. a bunch of people i knew, talking to randoms. made friends with the sweet coat check boy. almost got mown down by a fight inside as the bouncers threw some guy out (never seen that before there). bought a coke and topped up from my hipflask.

on friday i ran into orchard bar to use their bathroom quickly and to do a quick scout if my roommate was there (she'd said she might be). the doorman was carding some people but he saw me walking up and was like 'hi sweetie! go on in!' - which amused me but also made me think, 'maybe i go here too much.' i kind of thought that about misshapes last night too, when i could do what i did, go solo and still know kids and have fun. but i guess that's what moving someplace new is about, isn't it? you have to find a new circle to move in, new haunts to hang. these seem to have become mine. but there's good people and good times to be had.

my sister will be in town in about four weeks. it'll be interesting showing her these places.

oh, also on friday night, this total creep followed and harrassed me up 1st St and up a block of the bowery. he was like 'hey i'm married, but you wanna come with me?' i ignored him and walked past and he got back in his car and drove further up 1st then stopped and got out his car as i got nearer. he freaked me out. i managed to lose him amongst the overspill outside CBGBs. but what a dick. first time it's happened in this city.

sheesh, i'm bored. and a bit hungry. i want pizza.

old photos and the end of it all

i was browsing through some of my old photos online the other day and came across this. it's actually taken just over a year ago.

i wrote about paul a couple of weeks ago. i was on jones beach when i got a text that he'd had a heart attack. at the age of 23.

that's paul, see, the one in the foreground with the pink shirt. it was at Adam's bday last year, at Cafe Kick in Shoreditch (London). they're all Oxford University boys, you have to forgive them the shirts.

oh god, this creeps me out even more. it was taken exactly a year before paul died. i got the text on adam's birthday this year.

but - photos, by their nature, are both ephemeral and everlasting, because they capture a moment that can never happen again. and i was just staring at this photo, thinking "you'll never play foosball again. you'll never share a pint with your friends again. they'll never be able to share one with you."

his body still hasn't been "released" (doesn't that sound horrible) - i guess authorities wanted to make sure there wasn't any foul play or whatever. but - how can someone go from so - fuck.

i don't understand death. it's not even like he was in my close circle of peeps. my heart goes out to his friends and family.

it's just something i can't really get my head around. death, i mean. the end of it all. i suppose we're not really meant to.

- -

the crazy girl who sits next to me has been averaging about two slices of carrot cake a day so far this week.

okay, my attempt at upbeat didn't work. it probably came out more heartless. it's okay. i'll just stick with my current contemplative frame of mind whilst i compile contributors lists and head over in the rain to chelsea whole foods.

tell the good people in your life they mean something to you, kids.

the far reaching implications of myopenbar and crazy people on the train

dear myopenbar

i know you're saying you were the ones that 'blew up' Bang @ No. 1 Chinese - and i'm not debating that - but i think i might use the phrase 'completely altered'.

last night some friends i haven't seen for a while (two of whom are in the foreground of above photo. just.) suggested going there as they hadn't been. last time i went there was about six weeks ago.

man, have the drink sizes shrunk. last time we got big glasses and generous measures. last night it looked like they were using punch glasses. and you really weren't kidding about not being able to get to the bar. i think half of most people's drinks seemed to go over me as they tried to fight their way through the crowds (and i tried to avoid having any more drink spilled on me).

the one bonus point: the bartender actually understood what i said this time, so i didn't wind up with vodka-cokes again (gross)

also, not that this is your fault, but there were a lot of guys wearing short, tight shorts. and one guy was even wearing white jeans.

another also, it became increasingly hard to take photos as the evening wore in. i couldn't get my targets in shot. now i'm not blaming you for this, saying that there were so many people there that i kept getting jostled while trying to use my cam. or that you'd told us about the free alcohol in the first place, which may or may not have had something to do with camera-missuse. i'm just saying, is all.

and as for far-reaching, i have people back in london telling me they've read about the site. and the (stupid) english kids here all talk about it too (that was nothing to do with me).

so consider that you have far more influence than you thought you ever would and remember: with great power, comes great responsibility...

- - -

this morning on the PATH train i was that crazy person that starts laughing for what seems like no reason. i was in fact remembering something i'd dreamed (it involved 3-dimensional cartoon fairy murals on the walls at Misshapes), but still. my apologies to all my fellow passengers. i'm not about to join the ranks of Teddy the homeless guy or the lunatic who parades through the cars showing everyone the pills in his hand.


i know you got soul. peace out.

beating the devil and dry thunderstorms

highights of the weekend:
* picking up Carter Beats The Devil as the boys were watching the football (the Premiership has restarted, yawwwwn...) and being totally suckered into it again. better the second time round, so far. what a great book.
* getting to play the piano (badly. and worse since it wasn't even in tune to begin with) at the apt. i'm meant to be housesitting (although yesterday afternoon was the first time i've set foot in it since they left. i felt guilty about watering the plants)
* walking down 22nd while the no-rain thunderstorm raged right overhead. lighting arcing down a block from where i stood, thunder rumbling in my breastbone, dark clouds so low it felt like you could touch them, and that weird grey-yellow light you get in thunderstorms. it was electrifying (no pun intended) and exhilarating.
* spending far longer than i realised (about two and half hours, probably) in the barnes & noble at 6th & 22nd reading magazines (V, Index, Flaunt...) in the coffee shop and wondering why it is exactly that i want to work for these kind of publications so much.
* getting to hang with miss lastrenge at alligator lounge, where you buy a drink, you get a free pizza. what an amazing deal.
* 3x stoli vanilla dash of lime juice. what a fab drink.
* walking back from the PATH station in the rain at about 1am, but not caring i got wet (i even had an umbrella in my bag) because walking along in the rain, singing 'across the universe' to myself, felt like a good kind of ending to the weekend.

lowlights:
most of the rest of it. up until about 6pm sunday evening it was kind of a nothing-verging on-crummy weekend.

actually, the barry mcghee show at deitch was good. went there with jeanie & roycebannon. it was fun, but the city was so fucking humid on saturday afternoon i felt like might melt or something, and it was giving me a supreme headache.

absent friends and crappy bartenders

the bartender at misshapes is a knob-jockey.

i'm already back home at one thirty on a saturday night. pirates of the caribbean is on, which will probably preclude any actual work i could do (the rocky horror show was on last night. i *love* that film)

the whole sorting-out-flights situation is doing my head in. as are stupid bartenders and abusive text messages. and the whole generally being broke-as sitch. oh, also, there was this really strange old man at misshapes.

and to quote a recent conversation, "boys [really] are silly".

anyone up for sunday evening drinks at union pool or something? let me know... i hate sunday evenings.

cc, come home, your presence is sorely missed. and lauren, stop working so much!

welsh rarebit and sweet gay drummers

our first trip to tea and sympathy - for, well, tea (if i was a northerner, at any rate). we wandered on over after meeting in union sq about 7, after work. it was small and cramped and there were far too many kitsch teapots, but the ceiling reminded me of my granny's house, and just reading the menu (bangers and mash, baked beans, branston pickle, ribena) made my mouth water. what with only have approximately $45 to last me till next friday, CC was a love and treated me to welsh rarebit (*proper* grilled cheese with branston pickle on the side, sooooo good). it was super tasty and i just felt really satisfied and sleepy and very full afterwards. we checked out the attached shop as well where one of the guys nicked my ipod to check out what was on it. they were all english lads, two of them had broad northern accents. the shop was selling jaffa cakes and smarties and things - amazing. the markup - not so great. i'll just wait till i go back i think.

then we spent a long while dawdling over to the LES, stopping off for magazine obsessions and bathroom breaks and the need to stand in air-conditioned spaces like duane reade then finally turned up at the delancey.

the delancey is a shithole. seriously. i've heard a bunch about it, had some expectations - but it was w a c k. it was so bait. crummy crowd. no atmosphere. it did nothing for me. we paid to get into the basement where CC's friends were playing a gig and where there was still a half hour left of the open beer bar. but of course, we get down there and get told they've just run out of beer. we hung out for a while, inside for a bit (it was overly air-conditioned) and then outside talking the guys in the band that CC knows.

the band finally went on. they were coherent as a band but the music didn't really do too much for me, i have to be honest. it was quite... i dunno, 1990s. oasis. happy mondays. something. i hate oasis. but they had the cutest gay drummer. and the bass player and the guitar player called vince (i think) who's been banned from entering the UK but is trying to sort it out as they've got shows booked over there in like two weeks were both kind of hott too. so they were proficient and pretty, just not really my cuppa tea.

but live music... there's just something about it. i watch these guys play and get a real pang - almost kind of a pain in my stomach that i can't play anything. is 24 too late to learn? (for the record: always has been, always will be the drums. and the piano). but that feeling you get, when you're in a small venue and you can feel the music running through you and the bass is thumping and you can feel the drums in your breastbone. there's just something about that.

vive la musique rock.

i want that on a t-shirt.

NJ rocks and NY love

the speech? finished just before class. i went second. i probably spoke too fast. i rounded up the talk with the phrase 'new jersey rawks'. and the lecturer loved it, my classmates laughed. mwahahaha. it doesn't always pay to be prepared...

peace has been more or less restored at 2102. dinner was cooked last night. we all sat down together, all six of us plus J1's gf and another girl who was over to talk about a group project with J1 and Jasmin. V was meant to bring back wine but instead picked up the hugest bottle of Sangria ever. it was more of a flagon or something. and we watched the last half hour of Freddy vs. Jason with no clue what was going on, talking about horror movies we watched when little.

* *

i feel like my world has been blown apart this week, as a result of really bad things, but in a positive way. i don't really know how to explain this. but it feels like it's time to move on with love, life and the universe or something.
new york: i'm back in love with you. it's been a rough couple of weeks or so, but your charms are winning me back.


[sunset from my friend's chinatown rooftop]

the one you want and all about you

songs most stuck in my head the past couple days:

- across the universe/rufus wainwright [as ever]
- the one you want/get up kids
- the space between/valencia [seriously]
- misery is a butterfly/blond redhead

songs i tend to sing louder than i realise when walking round the office/up 6th ave:

- misery is a butterfly/blond redhead
- danke schoen/wayne newton
- all about you/mcfly [yes fine, laugh]
- i only have eyes for you/the flamingos

songs that would go on my best songs in history ever mix tape (more of which at a later date):

- i only have eyes for you/the flamingos
- girl from the north country/johnny cash & bob dylan
- wild horses/rolling stones
- across the universe/rufus wainwright or the beatles, i don't mind

i have to do my speech tonight. i still haven't finished writing it let alone practiced saying it.

yikes.

he was only 23

so we're at jones beach. i'm reading 'period'. i get a text from hf.

this kid i kind of know died yesterday. his name is paul. he was a close friend of one of my good friends from high school; they met at university. so i didn't know him that well, just from parties and stuff.

he was swimming. he had a massive heart attack and died. he was 23. twenty-fucking-three.

later i go to a gig in brooklyn. i don't know barely anyone there and spend half the time hiding outside, reading 'god, jr' on a stoop a couple doors down, waiting to hear back from a couple of other kids i'm meant to be meeting in w'burg afterwards. i feel retarded for hiding and not going in. i still can't quite get my head round paul.

today i'm super sunburnt. i think the ocean washed off the factor 25 i put on - and i forgot to cover my legs (stupid. i've had this fair skin my whole life, you'd think i'd know by now).

two dennis cooper books in one day. now i'm off work sick (sunstroke/burn) and i have nothing to read. a trip to the beach. an hilarious conversation with a little boy on the LIRR back about superheroes ("that dark bader was a baaad customer. i'm gonna be batman for hawwoween.") i have to write a five minute speech for - well, tonight but as i'm out sick i'm trying to change my class till tmrw - and i don't know what to talk about. flights back to the UK for $500, only i'm $300 short of that.

and life is so finite and short and fucked up and he was only twenty three and had so much ahead of him and now what?

sweet drunk Queens boys and bags of blow

things we don't like:

1. random guy comes and sits down next to us at orchard bar last night. it's around midnight or so, so it's not at peak time in the bar. he seems kind of wired - i'm later told he was coked off his head. i'm far too crap and naive about this shit.

"you're both lovely - but i'm gay, i'm allowed to say that! what are your names? heather and ashley? okay! [well, no, but nevermind...] can i buy you a drink? hey, i have a load of blow! you want some?!" he says, waving four packets of charlie at us.

[my initial thought: he's a cop.]

2. how fucking defensive i'm being at the moment

3. that flights back to the UK are not really within my price range right now

4. orchard bar once it filled up. it felt kind of over.

things we do like:

1. the fact that crazy coke guy (who probably wasn't a cop, just incredibly unsubtle) got punched in the face by some other girl he was trying to pass his coke off on later.

2. sweet drunk Queens boys whose friends had disappeared with his cell phone and his car. he was standing outside orchard bar looking a little lost and asked us to be his best friends. we helped him use the payphone to call his friends (he was a bit drunk to use the phone). he was saying he hadn't drunk alcohol in 2 years, but his buddy was back on leave from fighting in Iraq and had thought it was a good idea to start again. and when i said i was from london he was like "i'm really sorry about the shit that's going on over there." he was sweet.

3. this apartment i get to housesit that i saw today. man, it is sah-weet. and there's a hott roof deck. sooo good.

4. i found a copy of 'God, Jr' in shakespeare & co. on bdway

scotch tape sculptures and a magazine obsession

The most productive thing I did yesterday:

* made a scotch tape sculpture of my little finger.

The most productive thing I did today:

* drew a back alley scene all around my polystyrene cup. we're talking drain pipes, trash cans, grates and cardboard boxes.

I think this might be the day that neverrrr ends. Good lord how it's dragging...

But:
Last day of the week, payday and potential adventures in the LES tonight, yay!
Keys to the Chelsea duplex and roof parties in Brooklyn tomorrow, yay!
Beach day on Sunday and gigs in Brooklyn, yay!

Okay, enough yaying. You get my drift.

I spent most of my lunch hour in a magazine shop, staring wide-eyed at all the displays, pouncing on those that interest me and scribbing their web addresses or contributing ed emails on my hand (which now looks like a little ink-dipped spider has crawled all over it).

news alerts and "Team 2102"

D'you know what's a lovely thing to see as you turn on your computer monitor first thing in the morning? A BBC News Alert just sitting there, waiting to tell you that Al-Qaeda has promised more London attacks. It's enough to make anyone's morning.

Plus - it's the Ben Folds/Rufus Wainwright concert tonight in Prospect Park. I found out about it about two and a half months ago and have been rabbiting on about it ever since, trying to find someone to go with (didn't feel like hitting this one by myself). Except that I couldn't find anyone in time and now tickets are sold out.

So on a scale of one to ten, how pissed off was I when I discovered my male housemates all had tickets - especially in light of the apology email last week that said something about wanting me to feel more "included" in the house, more a part of "Team 2102" (ugh) - and hadn't asked me if I'd like to go when they bought them?

Yeah, these amps go to eleven, baby...

chelsea brownstones and donnie darko

Good news: someone in my office just offered me their duplex Chelsea brownstone apt to housesit for 10 days between Aug. 12th-24th. Result.

Bad news: am currently in middle of big email blow out. I fucking hate arguing by email. It’s unsatisfying and annoying and ridiculous. Actually I hate arguing, full stop (American translation: “period”). But I detest confrontation so it seems emails or IMs seems to be the way it happens. Plus, it's a lot harder to argue in person when there's 3000 miles and an ocean in between you and the other person.

Also:
Managed, once again, to procrastinate from work last night by dozing off, being coerced into watching the last half of Dirty Dancing (not that I needed much coercion), then making more playlists – one for an upcoming birthday, one for the newly-engaged.

Tell me, do you think it’s in bad taste to include a song entitled ‘There Will Be No Divorce’ (the Mountain Goats) on a CD you’re sending to someone who’s just become engaged? I was torn. It’s something of a judgement call.

Self-promotion moment:
6 Degrees finally put up the Richard Kelly (writer/dir Donnie Darko) interview - the interview was actually done like three years ago, for another publication. But whatever. It's finally out there. I'd like to point out I didn't edit this. It's a little oddly done.

the two paths diverge and i get a pep talk

So this and the myspace blog have been running pretty much concurrently recently, but it’s time to break away again.

Recently I’ve had this kind of feeling that I’m just standing still, that things have stalled or I’m just coasting along, but I don’t know why. It just sometimes feels like I’m not working towards anything.

And talking (in an emailing kind of way) with M- this morning, she made me actually answer why I felt this way, writing down four categories that I had to fill in (she was having a guidance counselor moment or something, I guess) – Work, Love, Personal (mental/general), and Social. I skipped the middle two and wrote huge long essays for the first and last; the writing and the living.

I guess maybe this past week hasn’t been the best time to reflect on the social, what with that email faux-pas (FYI, I can’t get that first line of it out of my head: “This girl is starting to do my head in...” truly is a great thing to read about yourself, from one of the only housemates you got on with). And the writing – I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like there could be such potential, but I never seem to do anything. People have offered me intros, I have to learn to take them up. And fight for more from L’s magazine or something. I don’t know.

But M-, in her pep-talk giving mood, sent me back the following reply:

"Just because you aren't as outgoing or confident as some other people, it does not make you "bad" at making friends. [Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club…] To be honest, I think a lot of it is in your head and you give off the impression that it will be hard work to get to know you when it really isn't. You don't have to have a connection with every person that you talk to...that's why the word acquaintance is in the English language.

As your friend, I have the duty (and right) to tell you when you are doing things that aren't necessarily the right thing (although that does not mean wrong). So I am allowed to say the following:

Get your arse in gear and sort out your writing stuff. You won't get anywhere unless you do something yourself. And stop building barriers around yourself. You get hurt but that's a part of life and learning - if you never open up you will stand still in your life.

So there - Miss Bossy Boots has spoken."

Oh, and today I also found out S- is engaged. For the past couple weeks she’s been trying to convince me to come home in September for “some party” – but when pressed would never really reveal what for. Her birthday being at the end of August, we were meant to assume something like that, but clearly when she puts that much effort into trying to get me to go back for a party, something’s up. So while I was kind of expecting something along the lines of it, when I read the email:

Yo;

Thought I should drop you a note before Fi squealed - yes, it's an engagement party, and you should get yo' ass over here for it. Booze, dancing, and much italian food.

Come oooooooooonnnnnn.......................
Ty (or is it Jack?) x

-my jaw kind of dropped. Yes, part of me was maybe expecting something like it, but most of me wasn’t, clearly. Maybe this is what brought on the standing still feeling.

But I'm going to be proactive (sounds like some kind of organic yogurt). I can't sit on here and bitch and moan and be moody, 'cause it's not much fun for me and it certainly ain't much fun for others. So. This week I will kindly and pleasantly ask for the introductions to the two magazines that different people have offered. I will pin a list on the back of my door of the people I want to work for and feel growing satisfaction as I manage to tick off the names, one by one, as I write for them. I will sit down and edit that big 139-page mofo. And I will be sociable when I go out and I will not spend very much money as I don't get paid till Friday and will relish every single second of living in this amazing city with all its opportunities for working and socialising, and not feel like I'm totally out of the London loop anymore.

pub club sleep and work work work

Okay, so here’s the plan.

* An essay an hour until six; that’s the three essays done.
* Stay an hour later to finish typing up revision notes for tomorrow – that takes me to 7.
* Be back in JC by 7:30, 15 minutes to chill and grab some food. That’s 7:45.
* Settle down and learn notes for tomorrow morning: we’ll give secession an hour and a half and slavery an hour and half. Where does that take us to?
* 10:45. Okay. A last half hour to go over notes and learn the bio by heart. That’s 11:15pm.
* Factor in a few bathroom breaks here and there, time out for text messaging.
* A little while to throw on some clothes, maybe a dab of eyeliner.
* Aim to be on the PATH by 11:45.
* Hit Orchard Bar sometime after midnight.
* Do not – repeat, DO NOT – drink.
* Stay for a little while, get out of the apartment, blow off some steam, do not get drunk, go home, sleep for a little while and be ready to be at class by 9am Saturday morning, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready for whatever torture those monsters who scheduled the assessment for a Saturday morning are ready to throw at us.

Then meet up with the boys that are in from LA and spend the rest of the afternoon looking forward to the open Sparks bar at Misshapes tomorrow night that will hopefully wake you up a little.

Sounds like a plan.


Sure, I could stay in, make sure I know my shit, get a good night’s sleep and be truly prepared, but we’re young and in New York. I need my Friday night fill of hot boys, cute girls, cheap(ish) drinks, good music and general Lower East Side activity. Who wouldn’t?

You say tomayto and I say Oh My God

Soooo. My apologies to anyone who encountered me earlier this week, mainly Tuesday and Wednesday morning. It wasn't a pretty mood. That was a pretty big thundercloud I had hanging above me. But I've kicked the mood, made peace more or less with the housemate who sent the email, had sushi and realised that ginger vodka, whilst it may be vodka, just isn't going to do the trick (it mings for England. Or the US, in this case).

So back to the usual shit. A distressing incident occurred over the weekend that i'd now like to relate.

Picture the scene: Sunday, coming up to midnight, we're sat on a random stoop on North 7th in W-burg with a slice of veggie pizza each, after hanging out at Union Pool all evening being given free drinks.

And suddenly it happens.

I hear myself say it.

"Tomayto"

Yes, that red fruit frequently found on top of pizza. But it was not spoken in the good old Queen's English - which sounds something like tomahtoh. No no my friends. The 'a' did something weird. It picked up an american twang.

Worrying. Very worrying.

incorrect emails and i'm going the hell out tonight

ever have that thing when you get sent an email about you?

and immediately following it are three - oh no, wait, sorry, five - "the sender would like to recall this email" notices?

and by the third one you're like, okay recall the fucking thing already?

yeah, that just happened.

gosh, ain't life grand sometimes.



although trying to maintain the ridiculously upbeat mood i've been in so far today:
the sun is shining, i spoke with sam for a while yesterday, i finally bought new headphones last night (the difference is astounding, why did i not do it earlier) and my tentative plans for tonight have just been made concrete by that fucking email mentioned above because i don't really want to go home too early. excellent.

hott and nott

Hott

* NYC
* Last Friday night
* New friends
* Open bars
* New friends that launch sites listing all the open bars around town
* New friends that work in non-open bars and slip you free whisky sours all night
* Being taken on spontaneous midnight drives to the Brooklyn Heights promenade when you’re feeling a little blue


Nott

* Bombs going off in London
* Last Saturday morning
* My roommate’s drink being spiked last Friday
* Open bars after having barely eaten anything for the previous two days because you have no money left for food (my own fault) (see also: "last saturday morning")
* Boring English boys with no style or class. Ugh. And people who talk about their desire to act.
* My ipod mini’s battery life. I’m about to disown the bastard.
* The messed up L train schedules, and the PATH nighttime schedules which means it takes over an hour and a half to get back to JC from the ‘burg.

3000 miles and a new city

when you're 3000 miles from "home", how can you tell the difference between loneliness, homesickness and general crankiness?

i think we'll save the topic of 'friends and having to re-learn how to make them in a new city' for another time.

i'm off to brooklyn. this apartment is doing my head in.

my last pennies and words from the war zone

so it's thursday afternoon, you're down to your last ten dollars.
do you:

a) buy a $3.50 box of california rolls (mmm sushi) that is technically lunch and dinner, that will leave you with six or so bucks left for emergencies/friday morning etc.
b) buy a frappacino because it's so frickin hot and you need some caffeine just to stay awake in the afternoon (both of which could constitute an 'emergency')
c) go to hennes (H&M) after work and pick up lots of pretty things then put it all on your english debit card, using the "reserve funds" you'd wanted to save for absolute emergencies
d) say fuck it and do all of the above, leaving you with four dollars in quarters which is just enough to do your laundry if you borrow four more quarters from your kindly roommate?

plus, this is getting really quite tiresome.



from across the pond:

my sister:
fiiiiiiii says:
my god london is becoming a bit of a joke
hanner says:
why?
hanner says:
what now?
fiiiiiiii says:
sth being searched on harrow road..did you hear about this morning
hanner says:
the guy being shot?
fiiiiiiii says:
yeah - did i tell you
fiiiiiiii says:
its crazy
hanner says:
bbc
fiiiiiiii says:
like something out of 24
hanner says:
lol


sam:
From: hannah
To: sam
Subject: RE:
Sent: 22 July 2005 13:41:12

…how are things after yesterday? most ppl i've spoken with are just really fed up and pissed off

From : Sam
Sent : 22 July 2005 13:46:05
To : hannah
Subject : RE:

…I feel pretty much the same. It was pissed off-ness yesterday, then by this morning it's just a feeling of God, please, just stop it. I don't want to be frightened and I don't want anyone else to suffer, and I don't like the fact that [her home town in the Buckinghamshire] seems appealing again. I'm pissed off that we are totally at "their" mercy, and their only targets are everyone, at every time and everywhere. It just feels like I imagine it does in Iraq (on a teeeny weeny scale).

Maria:
It's bloody ridiculous and I'm pissed off and in a bad mood. Shepherds Bush is still cordoned off now and Vincent can't get home. They've set up 2 shelters in Bush for the people who can't get home but it's a really weird atmosphere. All the winos are wandering the streets because they can't sit in their usual spots on Bush Green. There was an impromptu street party between a pub on Goldhawk Road and Scotts Court estate with a big white van with loads of speakers thumping out beats. The police were very defensive as they are not well liked in Bush so were doing the best they could. Everyone was out and about as they knew the feds had better things to do than hassle people so people were bunning on the street (ahem) and it was just really weird. You would never think that there was/is an unexploded bomb a few metres up the road.

Spence was also lectured by a policeman. Earlier in the day he had parked his car in the parking places but he'd had to go the wrong way down a one way system to park it as the other end of the street had already been blocked off. So obviously, they blocked the rest of the street off and Spence still can't get the car. He was trying to convince the policeman to let him get it last night but then he got lectured about the fact that he should be thankful that the only thing he is worried about is his car. If the bombs had gone off who knows who would have been killed by it and we would have known some of them. Izzy was on that line around and just before that time (but obv. didn't notice anything!). It's just so infuriating that you can't carry on with life which is hard enough at the moment without all this crap on top of it.

it all sounds a little chaotic over there. i just saw on the bbc site that some guy has been shot dead by police. christ. what the hell is happening to our city?

It's a crazy place at the moment. The guy was a suspected suicide bomber in Stockwell and they shot him 5 times. Dead. Nice.

Bush is still cordoned off.

The detonators went off but the bombs didn't. They're saying that in Bush the bomber (who obv. thought he was about to die) was shocked, picked himself up off the bomb and legged it down the tracks, through some gardens and along Wood Lane by the BBC. So they've sectioned off the whole area to look for evidence, they won't let any cars be taken away in case it's the bomber's, and they have found a suspect package on the road of Spencer's office which could be explosives or evidence. They have to do it all bit by bit and they said it could stay like this for a week if necessary. It's awful on the tubes though - everyone is really suspicious and it's made worse by the fact that so many people wear rucksacks.

blimey. what's the general atmosphere over there now, is it pretty tense? or are people just really fed up?

A bit of both really. A lot of people are scared as they weren't expecting another attack so soon and now they're wondering what's coming next. Some are angry that we're being terrorised, and a lot of people are suspicious of everything. Even to the point of suggesting that the government has done it to keep everyone scared (because none of the bombs went off yesterday). I just think the whole thing is stupid. Why don't they just do assassinations of people who piss them off these days instead of targeting us poor people who don't even like our stupid prime minister.

I'm just getting fed up with there always being something wrong. I can't even get to and from work without it being a challenge. Nothing is easy at all and I'm getting severely fucked off.

i'm not convinced the british government is quite that sneaky

do you think yesterday was a copycat attack or something? what's the media saying, are they saying that being exactly two weeks after, three tubes and a bus it's therefore the same people, or do they think that the original attacks opened the door for all the nutters and now they're all trying to have a go? what do you think?

I don't think the government is that stupid. Tony Blair must know that he is being blamed by the public for this and I don't see why he would make it worse for himself. His speech yesterday was a bit half-hearted I think.

They don't seem to think it's copy cat attackers. From the evidence they have gathered so far it was the same explosives, materials and possibly bags. They think that all the bombs were made at the same time but as bombs have a shelf life, they all malfunctioned because the materials had either gone off or got damp. They said that they were definitely designed to kill but something went wrong. All the witnesses at the different locations say that the bombers all looked terrified (naturally when you thought you were going to die a minute before) and then they legged it. These guys are going to be fucked when they're caught.

I still feel the same as I did after the last attack and that is that I don't think this is the main thing they have planned unless they don't intend to kill Londoners but just bring us to a standstill with regards to transport, tourism and economy. Compared to NY and Madrid we haven't really seen anything yet.

yes i would tend to agree

can we please change the subject as it's stressing me out a little to think of it, of everyone i love being in that one place that seems to be becoming a mini-war zone...

umm, it's friday, the weekend, any plans?

(*sigh*)

sorry. i know. it's a shit world we're living in.


happy weekend, everyone...

banana seats and sissy bars

my bike is shit hott

that's all i can think to say today that isn't something along the lines of:

* fucking terrorist dickheads, leave my city the fuck alone.

* man, i'm kinda beat. i need to start averaging more than 3.5 hours of sleep a night.

* i'm *so* glad tmrw is both friday and payday. what shall i do this weekend?

yesterday was such a weird, weird day: really emotionally intense morning, boring afternoon, then one of those nice NY evenings where you're meant to hit open bars but due to people being late and then bumping into guys whose party you crashed last friday on houston and then stopping for ice cream, you just squeak in to one open bar - but the barman can't seem to understand your accent so gives you the wrong drinks ["two vodkas and soda" "cola?" "no, *soda*" "there ya go, two vodka-cokes" "ewwww"] so you leave and just miss the end of the other open bar because it's a balmy night and you're happy just drifting along. the other bar has fishnett-stockinged pole dancers upstairs and a podium for the crowd to have (some very graphic) fun on downstairs where you're dancing until blur comes on (hah), so you go back upstairs and bump into various random and not so random people that you know, and top up your drinks from your hipflask until it's empty and you realise that you're all broke and kinda tired. so you head out and walk up ave a then along st marks place because w--- wants to see how much they've changed the neighbo(u)rhood and he makes you stop at a hotdog diner where they're playing thunderbirds (although maybe it was team america)

highlight of the evening:
the bouncer outside boysroom yelling at me for talking on my phone in the wrong place but me not hearing until he bellows: "hey! british! MOVE IT!" i haven't been called that yet. i loved it.

melted ice cream and pink wellies

siren festival - hot, sweaty, not as crowded as i'd imagined
highlights:

spending half of the saul williams set (the main person i'd gone to see) with earphones clamped over my ears being made to listen to the rakes by a guy with a pink belt on.

bumping into a bunch of people when i thought i wouldn't find anyone there. although not so good when this also includes the MB kids and that complete prick ben j-.

mint choc chip ice cream that instantly started melting down my arm, dribbling off my elbow.

riding the cyclone. CC dragged me on. terrfying and bone-jolting as ever. but still a thrill.

misshapes - hot, sweaty, just as crowded & gross as i'd imagined
highlights:

well, there was a lot of drink. including one drink that i bought and promptly dropped on the floor. well done me.


lauren's pink wellies.

hanging out with complete randoms.

making a pact with g- and cc that next saturday, if we came to misshapes, would be "dress night" and we'd all wear pretty dresses.

playing camera snap with scott the hot photographer.


running into the village tavern to use their restrooms 'cause the queue at misshapes was so long.

talking to an american boy about british comedy and hearing him do 'little britain' impressions. sheer fucken genius.

checking myspace yesterday evening and discovering a bunch of new adds. myspace and misshapes are clearly heavily intertwined.

the walk up to the 14th St PATH that, ah, took a lot longer than it probably should due to certain interesting distractions...

getting back home and discovering my roommate was still up despite it being practically daylight outside after having had an impromptu '80s disco in our room with her friend c-. awesome.

teddy bears and magnolia cupcakes

On Fri. night we ended up going to this pajama party at some loft in Tribeca and it was one of those things where you had to make some kind of effort. Due to all of us running late, we didn't end up meeting till like midnight outside the building, so I was walking down from the 9th St PATH station at about 1130ish, dressed in a white skirt, boxers, a white vest (and when I say vest I mean one of those things you wear under clothes. It was not suitable to have been worn by itself, but vest boxers = something I sleep in, so...) and carrying this fat teddy bear with an eye mask on. And there were loads of people around and then I walked past the bookstore and the queue was huge and so many people stupidly dressed up for the Speccy Potter book launch...and *I* was the one getting the odd looks for walking around carrying a freakin' teddy bear.

The apartment where the party was was amazink. Looked like it had been lifted from a movie or something. It’s these four kids, our age, internet whiz kids etc (they do www.vimeo.com and www.bustedtees.com and stuff. Find my page on vimeo and win a prize) and they own it. Huge telly, pool table, piano, nice sofas... free booze and cupcakes from the Magnolia bakery (melt in your mouth good. Also melt in your hand, as I discovered when Arielle walked up to me right before we left and handed me half a smushed-up cupcake, sans paper case. Nice.)

Ended up back in Bushwick with the kids (CC et. al) after an amusing cab ride singing James Bond songs, stayed over on their air mattress, which took forever to blow up. Then had to do that kind of walk-of-shame thing back from Brooklyn. 10am on the L train, feeling rough, looking a mess. But I’d thought ahead enough at least to have brought my shades with me. And at least I didn't still have that goddamn bear. I left "Colin" (as he came to be known) guarding the apartment...

Quote of the evening:
“Remember. Best friends are made amongst many adversaries… by which I mean a loft full of Tribeca yuppies…”
[William, saying goodnight to me as he went back across the hall to his own loft]

hoop dreams and the cracked asphalt of nostalgia

So yesterday evening I headed up to Rucker Park (Adam was photographing the event for the Knicks so I thought I'd go say hi)for an Entertainment Ball Classic. So good. Amazing finally getting to go there, having heard about it for so long, being such a legendary place. Hilarious commentators. The game was pretty good as well and it was a lovely summer evening, weather-wise.

And then on Wednesday night I played basketball again for the first time in years. Our apt being on the 21st floor, I can see the bball court (well, tennis court with hoops at either end) that’s behind Duane Reade from the front room, and when I got home it was empty so I grabbed the ball and headed down. The ball is one I found in the apt. when we moved in, it’d been left by the previous tenants. I dunno who they were but this ball is half flat and has some wack Scooby-frickin-doo flowery print all over it

Note to self: get a new basketball asap

Anyway, so I get down to the tennis-bball court. The net is still up for tennis. It's on like a jetty or pier out into the river, so I'm playing bball with the Hudson lapping around me and if I turn around (I was playing at the end of the court opposite from the entrance) then I can see the whole of the Manhattan skyline, solemnly sitting there under slightly glowering cloud formations.

Despite having not played for years, the first three shots went straight in. False confidence though as after that I wasn’t so good, averaging... well, below 50% I guess. I was just messing around, shooting 'n stuff. I was annoyed that I couldn't get it from the free throw line. About eight and a half, nine feet from the baseline i was fine. Nothing but net. For real. But that extra step back to behind the line... and it all went pete tong. Half the time I was just throwing up air balls. Shoddy performance. (Didn't even bother with the three-pt line, never been able to shoot treys. Weak underformed girlish arm muscles don't allow for that...)

But how strange it was to play on a smooth, level playing surface. Where's the cracked asphalt? The loose gravel? The kids on bikes short-cutting through the playground, the dogs chasing sticks, the skaters heading over to the half pipe? Why isn't the court split in half between the streetball players, with their trash talk and shouting and skins-v-shirts, and the kids messing around at the other half? Where's that occasional smell, that twitch of the nostrils as someone lights up a joint as it gets darker? Where's r's moped that looked like he'd jacked it from a pizza-delivery guy that was always parked nearby? Where's Picnic, so nicknamed by us because he always seemed a few sandwiches short of a picnic? Or Jason, or Leon, or the boy who wore the Boss shirt? Where's Frankie, aka Dred? (Not that I actually have any desire ever to see him again, ever, mind you) Where are the streetlamps flicking on, the back end of the old hospital looming over the park, the roars of motorbikes and cars coming from Goldhawk Road? Ahh Ravenscourt Park and your crummy basketball court, site of my misspent youth, I do have occasional pangs of nostalgia for thee...

kirsten dunst and pad thai jay

thoughts of the day:

upon waking: 'holy crap, it's hot in here'

in the shower: 'wow. conditioner is a great invention.'

on the PATH: 'what's up with people getting up and moving to the door a whole station before they need to get off? i kind of miss the silverlink.'

08:56, checking gmail: 'goddamn. kirsten dunst turned us down. man, her publicist didn't even spell her name right.'

09:10, a few minutes later after googling aforementioned publicist: 'sheesh. this guy is money. he reps some biggies. well, at least we made contact. that's something.'

10:09, looking at the Lula mag contributors pack: 'this magazine is gonna be shit hot... ooh i'm sub-editor? when did i become sub-editor?! fuckin' a...'

13:45, covering reception: 'okay, i'm hungry. you know what they need in new york? wagamamas. mmm, amai udon. or busaba. mmm, pad thai jay... drooool... [tummy now growling]

14:45, in chelsea whole foods: [taking off headphones as i make my way to cashier] 'wow, i was singing louder than i thought. oops. huh. that looks like alex suarez. no, no, debit, not credit. oh. wait. it *is* alex suarez. hi.'

15:48, in the kitchen, as one of the partners asks me "so have you noticed much of a difference in fashion between here and london?": 'oh crap, is that a thinly veiled statement regarding what i'm wearing? green flash sneakers, green ankle socks, dark denim skirt, white tee... what's wrong with that?? huh. you're the one wearing a blue shirt and yellow tie.'

16:13: 'bored nowww...'

16:15, looking at craigslist: 'ooh, bikes. i want a new bmx. i know i have a superfly one already but i want another one. mmm, bmxs...'

18:10, outside 50 East 42nd: 'it's such a nice evening. such a waste to have to spend it with the MB kids, in a lecture.'

19:35, in lecture: 'did the lecturer really just say "i've shot my wad"??'

20:20, on the PATH back: 'this announcer sounds like forrest gump. [reading over some guy's shoulder] 'Odours, their designation and classification'. wow. fascinating.'

right now: 'are people going to understand these crazy european 24 hour clock times i've used? gah, whatevs. i want some dinner.'

corn chips and playlists

I totally couldn't be bothered to cook tonight so for dinner I had some matzo, a handful of corn chips (mmm so tastee. Why on earth do we not have them in England?) and a spoon or two of 'Rice Dream - Mint Carob Chip' dairy-free ice cream. Did anyone else ever read Everyone Else's Parents Said Yes when they were a kid? Totally made me think of the mother in that. So a nutritious and delicious dinner for me, then.

And I know i was joking kind of recently about procrastinating badly and ending up making CDs, but it's actually becoming an issue.

I got home this evening with good intentions of doing work... and ended up wasting a long time creating a new playlist.

Since I've been here (NY), I've had articles to write and edit, things to arrange, the major project to edit and a new project that I've started some groundwork on. But of course procrastinating comes first, and I've also managed to create about five or six new playlists for various people in that time. It's impressive. This one was creatively entitled July '05, and was with thoughts of chilling on rooftops/in the park. That kinda mood. I miss my roof.

1. Island in the Sun - Weezer [the only Weezer song I know]
2. Escape (The Pina Colada Song) - Rupert Holmes [makes me think of my Fi]
3. Captain Badass - Songs:Ohia
4. A Cautionary Song - The Decemberists
5. Rest My Head Against The Wall - Heatmiser [Elliott Smith before he was Elliott Smith]
6. My Friend And The Ink - Shout Out Louds
7. Here Comes My Baby - Yo La Tengo [this song, in any version, makes me think of my momma]
8. Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson
9. I Know Where The Summer Goes - Belle & Sebastian
10. Theme from Pinata - Bright Eyes
11. (Do Not Feed The) Oyster - Stephen Malkmus
12. Coffee & TV - Blur [sorry CC]
13. Anything You Want - Spoon
14. Swinging on a Star - Big Dee Erwin
15. Forever Lost - The Magic Numbers
16. Boys Don't Cry - The Cure [I was hopping around the office like a crazy child singing this last Friday]
17. I Don't Need Love, I've Got My Band - The Radio Dept.
18. Cayman Islands - The Kings of Convenience
19. Romulus - Sufjan Stevens
20. Bluebird - Devendra Banhart

Interestingly I noticed that one playlist that had been made for someone started with the song 'Never Talking To You Again' - Husker Du, and initially ended with 'So Long' - Rilo Kiley. Sounds like I was channelling something subconscious there... Anyway. It's all been changed. But it made me laugh when I noticed it.

Thought of the evening: Gosh, editing can be quite boring.

Second thought of the evening: 'I Only Have Eyes For You' by the Flamingos is still easily one of the best songs ever recorded.