things that have happened

- katie found out that she is likely going to japan for a year to teach. this spring. as in several months, less than several months. she'll be living with her new sister-in-law, kayo's, family back in japan. apparently kayo's dad played golf with the mayor the other day and all they talked about was her!

when she first told me, i couldn't resist making a bunch of jokes about it:

"what if your parents actually agreed to trade you, without realizing it? the tamuras get you, bob gets kayo. maybe you're a dowry, maybe you'll have to be the mayor's concubine."

"you're going to end up staying in japan for several years and you're gonna end up inspiring a sitcom, katie-san."

well, that and i've been singing "turning japanese" to her a lot.

but i am so so psyched for her. japanese culture and fashion are pretty much the most evolved, thanks. katie is a very badass fashionista. i know she'll come home with a whole new world to share. freaking out in another country really helps, i think. going to england was an entirely essential experience for my personal evolution. i can hardly believe it was four years ago -- it isn't that long but it's enough time, enough for high school or college or for another olympics or presidential election to roll around.

four years ago, in 1998 i was

-twenty years old
-a junior in college
-spending a year abroad
-in england
-smoking a lot of hash
-dating ben
-dyeing my hair black, red, and really red on a regular basis
-was probably in italy at this exact moment
-looked kind of like this, but with a slightly less silly expression on my face most of the time.

i want to go get coffee. at cait and abby's daily bread, down the street. i have some stuff to mail and a deposit to make at the bank.

this is what i love about my job the most -- the way it ties me into my local life, even if that just means a daily walk to the mailbox. even if it just means walking three blocks to the bank and seeing the same teller around the same time every day. it's nice, to feel connected.

the show last night was amazing. i have to admit, when it started i was kind of drained and didn't expect to be completely blown away. i am grateful for this lack of expectation because it set me up for a great thrill by the end of the show. not to mention the completely obliterating home-grown party favors brought and shared by my beloved TR. those were also a pleasant experience.

it's already thursday. the rest of the week is easier, from here on in. it's already past noon. the rest of the day is easier, from here on in. i find myself constantly making these kinds of observations -- how much time spent, how much time left. only to start it over again next week. my life is definitely getting more cyclical.

last week i paid off all of my human debts. that means the individuals to whom i owed money. this week the focus is paying my tickets, of which there are many. probably around $200 worth. next week is ALL ABOUT the student loans.

after that, i'll be able to focus on spending my money on things that i love, saving, building. this is what i'm hoping for.

Well, when you're sitting there
In your silk upholstered chair
Talking to some rich folks that you know
Well I hope you won't see me
In my ragged company
You know I could never be alone

Take me down little Susie, take me down
I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground
And you can send me dead flowers every morning
Send me dead flowers by the mail
Send me dead flowers to my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave

Well, when you're sitting back
In your rose pink Cadillac
Making bets on Kentucky Derby Day
I'll be in my basement room
With a needle and a spoon
And another girl to take my pain away

Take me down little Susie, take me down
I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground
And you can send me dead flowers every morning
Send me dead flowers by the mail
Send me dead flowers to my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave

Take me down little Susie, take me down
I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground
And you can send me dead flowers every morning
Send me dead flowers by the US mail
Say it with dead flowers at my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave
No I won't forget to put roses on your grave*

*my friend benny put the townes van zandt version of this, a rolling stones song, as covered on the big lebowski soundtrack, on a mix made with katie and myself as the theme. it was followed by "spirit in the sky", which katie laughed at me for. i have been saying for years that i want this song played at my new orleans style dancin' in the street titflashing horn section party of a funeral. anyway, i didn't realize that this was commonly known among my friends and benny, being a jedi as he is, obviously knew this, and so this whole song above, the song immediately before, is a country-love stab right at my heart.

i had one of those conversations today that was destined to fail. i went into it with a pissy attitude, and was stopped in my tracks by the way the person responded to me.

what happened was i was stressing about the details of attending the herbie hancock show tomorrow night and since the possibility exists of d and i being the only ones in jersey leaving at the same time for the show, i called him to see if we should drive or take the train together or separately or what.

not to mention the mess going down at the holland tunnel, the immeasurable and unpredictable wait at the lincoln tunnel, the fact that he needed to get some work done at school until whatever time, the fact that if we took the train we'd have to stay the night in the city because no trains would run when the show was over, and i have to be at work the next day by twelve-thirty, and he has to be at school by eight thirty, and katie is meeting TR and brooklyn katie at a bar nearby, and tara has my ticket and blah blah blahhhhhhhhh

see how good i am at stressing and self-inflicting migraines?

so he was like, why don't you just drive to the city by yourself and we can drive home after together? even though i would probably have to leave early as hell and i avoid driving in the city at all costs, which is a known fact, and i am stubborn, and stubborn about being stubborn, also a known fact, as known as the magic blanket or the fact that i want "spirit in the sky" played at my funeral.*

so i paused, and was like, you know what? that's really fucked up that you would want me to do that because you know i hate it --

and he interrupted me and was like, it's not fucked up. we're best friends and i could do a lot worse than that.

and you know, he didn't say "like" best friends, or anything. and he didn't say it in an ironic way, at all (although it was over the phone). and it was the right thing to say, because it dissolved my animosity and emotional inertia, which has been with me all day, in the form of a thick-headed virus of the consciousness and body that puts me in a foul mood.

but i slogged through the day nonetheless. i made it through work unscathed, although i did work an hour less today -- and i am going in tomorrow at eight thirty, and tomorrow night i have a fun fun fun show, and even though i don't know how i'm getting there yet i realize i am overanalyzing and making myself freak out over nothing.

if i'm going to freak out, i should at least do it over my relevant problems.

oh, and my nails are supershiny silver right now.

*after all this talk, i'm seriously on to "my sweet lord" and "give me life" by george harrison, more than "spirit in the sky."

seriously? am i the only person in the world who does not know the secret typing method for accents and other grammatical pronunciation cues? like, oh, i don't know, schwas? truly, i am constantly stunned by their proliferation all o'er the internet, not just in the pages of my clever friends.

i have been feeling dreadfully cold all day. there, i have fetched the magic blanket* and feel much better now.

*** Message (#44) from Keef at 16:59 ***
>Okay
>Make a goddamn haiku postcard.
>That is all.
>www.haikupostcardfoundation.com

*it's a flannel blanket with navy, olive and cream-colored plaid. when we were little our parents used to call it the magic blanket, and i think the magic part had something to do with its magic warmth and/or ability to put one to sleep.

Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 22)

The current life lesson (ack, there always seems to be one) is the politics of desire. Do I rant about this in the monthly horoscope? Forgive me if so, it's important. Basically, and I know you figured this out already, desiring someone creates a power imbalance. Desire is a universal; power imbalances are thus a given, in this particular world. But you can now be very aware of these things, and make them work for you. Pay attention. There is a myth that the one desired lacks the power, but in fact it starts off the other way around. Yet even this analysis is way too crude. You could, of course, skip the politics and look for meetings where needs and wants match up perfectly. Is this somehow less fun? I hope not.

the linked sentence makes no sense to me. at all. no matter how many times i turn it around in my head. hello, where are my famed verbal comprehension skills?

on teabagging

me: "it has to do with balls, hannah. BALLS."

hannah: *wrinkles nose*

alex: "see, hannah! she said more than i would have. i was just going to say, 'what do two used teabags look like?' "

my constituents!*

i realize i haven't written in almost a week. i started my new job. i'm the proofreader/receptionist/biller/child-shuttler. it's a decent enough job, three blocks away from my house, although i haven't walked once. it makes me feel very local -- taking a short stroll to the mailbox, going to the bank every day, shopping for printer cartridges and envelope sealer on south orange avenue.

i agreed in the interview to take on certain, um, personal assistant assignments if i took the job. namely shuttling my boss' kids to hockey. this is actually fun. getting the kids to leave on time is the worst part, but getting to leave early, drive around and yammer with children is always preferable to sitting in an office with grownups. they're nice kids, too.

my parents are in atlantic city. they're getting back tonight. it was nice to have the house to myself, although i didn't do much.

i think i'm going to look into joining a gym. and, god help me, joining weight watchers.
i did really well keeping a food journal and exercising on my own when i did it, but it lasted less than two months. i think i would get off on the weigh-ins.

oh! announcing jesse!

*alex came home wasted the other night and threw up his hands at me and hannah, saying lovingly and slurringly "my constituents!" then we proceeded to have a long conversation i should probably transcribe here, because alex is a riot when he's drunk and hannah and i are the funniest bitches ever.

i totally hate the voyeuristic way some people "help" others. this chick is a perfect example.

it's all about the follow-up, isn't it?

this is being revealed to me as one of life's mysteries, coy, lash-batting, yet obvious, so obvious.

it's all about returned correspondence, initiated correspondence, actually doing what you say you are going to do, even if you stop for awhile, even fantasize that "awhile" is "forever"

and then keep doing it.

i'm telling you, people, it's all about the follow-up!

xxxxxxx

a band. called the follow-ups. i'd listen to them. i need a job as an aesthetic architect. i think they already have media-related names for it, but i'd do it on a truly spiritual level.

spiritual, man.

i am wary of yet promiscuous with paragraphs today.

i have a sexy phone voice. strangers on the phone have been telling me this recently.

it is good they heard the sexy voice and not the croaking and dreadfully chronic smoker's gasp i am known to adopt involuntarily.

perhaps they would not deem this voice as sexy, or perhaps they would? who knows.

i am not one to follow-up on the phone flirtations.

you've gotta be selective on your follow-ups. and don't let the good ones slip by.

(which i all too often do)

but i! mme. marie-margaux victoire genevieve clinetoinette, have decided to oh so selectively and not at all slothfully pursue my follow-ups at full speed nonsloth go.

full speed nonsloth go, dammit!

this is not a poem.

or is it?

seriously, stop reading.

it's not a poem.

no, you hang up first!

when i got home from work i was surprised to discover that our planet narrowly missed being hit by a Boeing 747-sized meteorite and no one knew about it until four days after the fact.

i love how casual physicists are about the ever-imminent possibility o' destruction. there aren't nearly enough people watching the skies, they say, and we have a huge blindspot on the sunward side of earth at all times.

your mission is hopeless, commanders. EJECT. but spare us the myth:

NASA’s Morrison said the linkages between folklore and celestial phenomena could easily be taken too far. He cited the example of Russian psychologist Immanuel Velikovsky, who tied all sorts of ancient accounts to cosmic collisions and near-collisions. “One has to be careful not to fall into Velikovsky-like situations,” Morrison said.*

*dood! when am i not in "Velikovsky-like situations?"

this is so creepy. i know that's an obvious thing to point out, but seriously. she called her husband and told him "it was time." and the way she describes holding down the children, their struggles. i want to say more about this but it's so overtalked already, i don't think i could add anything new. oh, except her children all have biblical names. noah, luke, paul, john, mary.

in other news, can i point out that queer as folk is a hot show? i have been bitter towards showtime for a while now, since it is clearly the poor man's hbo and tries way too hard to come up with things that are half as interesting as the almighty hbo, but never are.

and they show schwag movies.

but! they also show super hot gay sex! anybody who likes pornography knows that gay porn is the best porn there is. i suppose i will clarify this later, but just think about it. what are your requirements for porn? me, it helps to know that the participants are actually getting off on it. much like my requirements for sex. ha! so anyway, it's just easier to tell* that everyone in gay porn is totally into it. i mean, they even know this on sex and the city.

so, now i love showtime. god, i am so shallow.

*you know, like wood. puptents. chubs.

i am feeling sleepy and yet totally unable to collapse into bed. my room is a mess. my bed is unmade and i fantasize of an apartment of my own. i wouldn't need much. not as much as i used to think.

i'm spending all this money i don't yet have in my head.

i am in love with this happy devil.

and i wish i lived in seattle so i could see this exhibit.

i still want a digital camera. i've thought of taking a weekly picture of the sign at the ethical culture society. this week it's "life before cell phones."

my newest mix

bread / the air that i breathe
sublime / rivers of babylon
phish / heavy things (big cypress)
the hollies / crimson and clover
grateful dead / brown eyed women (cornell 1977)
tori amos / butterfly
radiohead / creep
beach boys / god only knows
jane's addiction / rock and roll
beatles / norwegian wood
ani difranco & maceo parker / when u were mine
cure / lovesong
sergio mendes & brasil '66/ mas que nada
pink floyd / comfortably numb
rolling stones / loving cup
phish / after midnight (big cypress)

part two, thanks:

basically, i could not possibly take this job. i really really wanted to be able to do it. but i didn't feel safe on my own for five hours in a strange neighborhood, trusting the kindness o' strangers not to drag me across their doorstep and hack me to pieces.

there were times with chrissy that i was glad we were together, or else i would have feared for her or myself. part of her "rap" was "we prefer checks, my mom worries about me, and i don't want to carry around cash if possible."

these kids are diehard idealists. so i didn't end up working with them, but i tried. and i'm glad for the experience. they definitely renewed my faith in humanity more than a little bit. and every night since then, when it's been chilly, i find myself thinking about chrissy and the rest of them and hoping they're comfortable and not cold and meeting quota and getting invited in for tea.

one of the coolest things chrissy did -- when it was warmer than we expected, she simply found a tree about ten feet back from the road and lay our coats in a bed o' branches like five feet off the ground. it's that kind of elven casual behavior that really sums the whole experience up.

there was more to say, but i don't feel like saying it now. i'm tired and hired and uninspired. heh. yeah, i got the job i interviewed for the other day, although i failed to mention it and casually mentioned my start date instead.

everyone i know is moving in the next month. okay, not everyone, but clare, lockwood, and aimee are moving to a place in brooklyn. tara is probably moving somewhere. and alex and hannah's roommate and his scary girlfriend are moving out on friday, which is like, whatever, but they're taking hunter, one o' the best dogs in the universe! sigh.

updated goals

get paid

pay tickets
pay friends
pay loans

buy clothes (work clothes)
get hair done (dyed, highlighted, snipped a bit, whatev)

visit jesse
visit ben

get credit card
get festival tickets for summer

clean room
submerge room in water and make room a fish tank
learn to breathe in water
grow gills

tonight i went to the black maria film festival with d. the documentaries and animations were my favorites, as could be easily predicted. i also saw the opening of d.'s installation at the new jersey turnpike collaborative gallery. he did this crazy sculpture out of car doors, televisions, various broken auto parts and turnpike ragweed. it was v. cool. this creepy tollbooth attendant was my favorite thing.

i also ran into two kids from high school -- aaron and nina. it was nice to see them, hugs all around, but strangely they didn't see each other.

i start my job on friday. of course, today while i was at hannah and alex's watching soaps, this lady from novartis called to discuss a position. wtf? i don't hear anything forever and now it's three job offers in one week. i know when it rains it pours or whatever, but this is ridiculous. tomorrow sylvia plath will rise from the dead and offer me a position as her handmaiden in hades.

oh, and i had a good hair day. and i'm writing a story/novel, and d already wants to make it into a screenplay. i have to admit, the idea is pretty cool and will leave the door open for a precocious 11 year old actress to bust into the scene. i'll be casting someone who will be a mix o' scout from to kill a mockingbird, ramona quimby, and lolita.

i read somewhere that the pattern of existence is a spiral -- meaning you cover the same ground, at a deeper level. and you can't explain what the world is like from this depth, not really -- it's simply that the whole world collapses into itself differently.

suddenly, you are the mother instead of the child. the inside instead of the outside. the world-weary and the naive.

but this is all just conjecture. you can repeat yourself, say the same things, but the way it feels is what always changes. the world fits around you differently.

SCORPIO:You may have started the year out as a bit of a loner, feeling as if you know the path that's right for you -- and you were right. But this month, opening your circle to people in similar straits is the fastest way to succeed. Find others who share your obstacles to money or love, and band together. Aquarius has plenty of useful information, but Sagittarius is the one who shows you how to put it all together. A Virgo technical adviser will keep you up to date.

um, thanks. i kind of resent the fact about saggitarius showing me "how to put it all together" but strangely, this has happened. d keeps trying to get me involved with network newark and various art projects all o'er the place.

a strange thing just happened. d's mother called me around twelve-thirty to ask me if i could bring her breakfast. she was stuck at a house she owns, waiting for PSE&G to come by and turn on the power. so i agreed to, and i was in maplewood village and this random woman was sort of standing in front of the door of a stationery shop i was waiting to exit. when she realized i was there, she apologized and i smiled and said, "it's okay, i'm not in any hurry." she grabbed my arm and introduced herself (edna) and started telling me that no one should ever be in a hurry. she started preaching to me (but not preachily, if that makes any sense) about strength and our inner reserves and how you can tell someone is good just by looking at them. how we all have inner strength but sometimes we just need to be reminded. that we're all gonna go sometime, and she had a vision about september 11th two days before, but it didn't matter to her. she just hopes that we all take the time to be nice to each other, say "good morning" and "please" and "thank you" and have faith in the kindness of strangers, and that being nice is never going out of your way.

she was dressed like a total martha. i don't know why i attract these types (maybe because i am one?) but i'm glad that i do.

another girl at play. is an awesome inspiring website. go there now.

okay. part two of my story coming soon, but i have to say this:

i just had an interview at a local publishing place. local as in south orange. local as in three blocks from my house.

they publish an auto listings paper (i know, i know) and the guy who interviewed me was the owner/proprietor etc. i'm feeling good about this. it sounds interesting, because, to be honest, i could work on publishing the sides of cereal boxes as long as i was involved in every element of the process, which i would be. and the hours are ideal. 12:30 - 5:30, with flexibility. and it could turn into a full-time job. and he wants to start me at $15/hr.* this works out to a living wage. about $50 more and 15 less hrs per week than the NJEF job.

oh, and it's a smoking office.

and we had a literate discussion. he's a local, too, and went to NYU for journalism and english. he's worked at a million big publishing houses and started his own business. he actually said "i'm glad you're not a car jock."

wish me luck and immediate employment. i would start thursday. he's going to call me tonight. yay!

*this is v. good, at this point i was willing to accept anything in the vicinity of $8/hr or more.

first of all, i am late.

they are rushing out the door as i get there. matt, who interviewed me, looks surprised but not displeased to see me and quickly hands me a clipboard and sends me to wait outside with all the other kids.

there are eight of them. normal-looking, happy, playful, friendly. every single person in that group introduces themselves to me immediately and independently, sticking out a hand and telling me their name. i am to spend my observation day with chrissy, who is in new jersey from the michigan office, "cross-training" to be a canvassing field manager.

chrissy is extremely cheerful and positive, but not in a gag-inducing way. she is a recent college graduate with a degree in parks and recreation. she smokes parliaments and calls them "p-funks," like i do. she smokes. yay! ironically, the environmentalists who smoke (matt, jen, julia, chrissy) are the ones who have been canvassing the longest (from 5 months to three and a half years) . but they "field-dress" their cigarettes, meaning they tuck the filter in a pocket or something and don't throw it on the ground. chrissy has incredibly bright eyes, full of depth and color. eyes like a happy animal.

we walk to the suburban, on the top of a parking deck i had never noticed. the NJEF kids have their own vocabulary, which they quickly clue me in on: they call the suburban we drive around in the "burb." the canvassing territory is "turf." what you say to people once at the door is your "rap."

in the truck (which is huge, i forgot suburbans were this huge, i could LIVE in one) matt and emily discuss ani difranco. matt is an ani fan. emily thinks she's already emotional enough and doesn't like emotional music. but she thinks ani is a great musician. she kind of resembles, ani, actually. she's got a shaved head and a labret piercing and is wearing a great sweater everyone wants.*

in the "burb" we play an introduction game. you have to tell everyone your name, where you're from, your astrological sign (only specified as "sign" but everyone voluntarily applies both chinese and western, thanks), if you're left or right handed, and of course, your name. there is also a "qualifier" which they change every day -- today it is "if you could bring something back from the future to any point in the past, what would it be and when?"

it kills me that everyone in the van knows their western and chinese astrological signs. these are my kind of people. i, by the way, am a right-handed scorpio snake. as if you couldn't tell. but anyway. matt is a right-handed scorpio dragon. meow.

i can't think of anything to say for the qualifier, but julia wants to bring back non-flammable material to the library of alexandria. emily wants to kill dubya at the moment of his birth and jen, the field manager says "hey! with the violence." as if she is a soccer mom chiding her kids. it's kind of cute, because it isn't preachy and threatening. it's not one-sided either. she suggests that we kidnap him and re-educate him, a la patty hearst. i start to wonder if the NJEF is a modern-day symbionese liberation army.

emily mutters that she'll just go back to his fifth-grade year and kick him on the playground.

our "turf" today is warren township. it's a mountainous wealthy area. chrissy and i are dropped off among mcmansions and she cheerfully begins knocking on random doors. i am immediately impressed with her verve and professionalism. she knocks on every door, no matter how treacherous the journey to the house, how dark the street, anything.

things are uneventful, at first. a few people aren't home. one lady who lives in a vomitously pink house starts crying and telling us about her dead husband, but doesn't give us any money. several doors get slammed in our faces.

we walk up huge hills to get to huge houses where no one is home. somehow chrissy manages to score a sixty dollar donation and enough thirty six dollar "membership" donations to make quota, which is $160 a night.

the whole "quota" thing makes me feel like a moonie, like i won't be allowed back in the compound to eat or sleep if i don't make "quota."

chrissy is relentlessly positive. she's also really really pushy. i understand why once i realize that fairly often her pushiness achieves results. someone will tell her "no" several times and she still manages to squeeze money or signatures or promises of letters out of them: "i stop after three nos. but if i can get the clipboard in their hand, they'll usually agree with what it says. and i'll at least get a signature."

i ask her a lot of questions: "how do you stay so positive? do you ever get lost? what do you do when people are really rude to you? don't you get tired? do you get bored walking around in a strange neighborhood for five hours a night by yourself? do you ever just want to tell someone off?"

chrissy says that when people slam the door in her face she just moves on. "i like to believe there are people waiting for me to come, waiting to be supporters. the supporters are out there, i just have to find them." she says she's never gotten lost, or bored, because she sings to herself. and when people are really mean to her, she says she walks down their driveway cursing them under her breath to get it out of her system before the next house. "usually, i'm like, enjoy your toxic sludge. you deserve it."

but chrissy is never rude to anyone's face. she's unflappable. i am amazed. she doesn't linger or dawdle anywhere, either. she attacks her "turf" with the precision and sense of duty of a general. i think about how easy it would be to wander around, avoid the houses that were difficult to get to or even empty-looking. but chrissy perserveres.

my favorite houses of the night, good and bad:

the good

the house with a michaelangeloesque fresco painted on the ceiling where the movie "rockstar" is playing on a tv the same height as i am, where the rockstar-looking mom opens the door and invites us in, showing a lot of cleavage and giving us money. the tits all over the tv don't seem to bother the eight-year-old boy nearby, or the other, littler kids. then again, look at what he's comparing them to. "i didn't know that people like that were real." i tell chrissy. "you learn a lot of things out here," she says.

the bad

the house where i am afraid to even knock on the door because it's so scary. i note the wooden fruit boxes filled with empty mason jars and weird collections of steel and wooden bits all over the yard. i wonder if a serial killer lives there. when the guy answers the door i still wonder.

he is on the phone with someone and leaves the screen door shut but eyes us and says loudly to the person on the phone "yeah, there are some fucking SOLICITORS outside. no doubt trying to SELL ME some SHIT. like i need more SHIT." then he goes on and on. chrissy simply giggles. i fear for my life. we are practically in the woods and it's so dark and also foggy at this point that you can't see outside a five-foot circle. it looks like fucking wuthering heights out here.

the guy continues to talk on the phone but does not close the door. when he finally stops talking chrissy addresses him and he says "look, i'm a fuckin' MASTER PLUMBER and i've been payin' for water all my fuckin' life, i pay for enough water! and you know what else? you should fuckin' talk to the fuckin' junkyard next door!" THEN he slams the door.

all of a sudden i am worried. it's almost seven-thirty, and chrissy and i have been pounding the pavement for almost four hours. soon she'll have to leave me to my own "turf", where i am expected to "rap" freely with "potential supporters" of my own. the fog has lowered to about ankle-height. i feel like carol ann, walking towards the light. suddenly i realize i don't have a pen.

score! now i won't have to do this!

but chrissy perserveres. "don't worry," she says. "we'll canvass for a pen." she also adds that if i need to pee or drink water or anything, i should just ask a random homeowner. no one's ever turned her down.

i watch with total amazement as chrissy gets a nice older man to listen to her "rap" while his wife fetches a pen.

fuck. i realize i have to do this. chrissy leaves me at my corner (that doesn't sound good, does it?!?) and walks away, whistling.

my "turf" is a cul-de-sac. i walk to the end of it, which takes me about five minutes. i don't have a watch. i'm cold. the "burb" won't be fetching me for another hour and a half.

fuck.

i look around. it's dark out. it's tv time. the only thing i can muster when looking at all the placid houses around me is mild resentment. i think about how many doors will be slammed in my face. i manage to knock on one. a harrassed-looking woman opens the door. i start my "rap" falteringly. i worry i sound like a manson girl.

she interrupts me. "i'm putting kids to bed. can't you come back during the day?"

"okay," i agree meekly, and turn to go.

if chrissy were there, she would have said "i'll be very brief" and pointed out that the NJEF only canvasses once a year. driven the point home. bought another second at the stoop. no way would she have let that drop.

but i find myself terrified of this suburban woman. i am not so optimistic about this job.

i walk down the street and sit on the corner. there's nowhere i can sit to look inconspicuous. especially in the fog. i wonder if most murders are really committed in cul-de-sacs. especially ones with scary names like "whispering way." my butt is cold. the grass is wet. every single car driving down the street is an SUV. suddenly, one of them does a hairpin turn.

"are you okay?" a motherly asian woman screams out the window.

"yes," i say, wondering if my glowing utility vest makes me look retarded, and that is why she stopped.

"are you waiting for someone?"

"yes! yes, i'm waiting for someone."

she leaves, and i think, that was pretty friendly. i like people a little bit more.

five minutes later some teenage boys with tinted windows stop.

"hey, do you need help? do you need a ride or something? are you okay?"

"yeah, i'm okay. i'm waiting for someone."

"what are you doing?"

"um, environmental canvassing."

"in the fog?" they ask, incredulously.

chrissy tells me they canvass in all weather. cold, rain, and snow.

"yes," i say, trying to sound brave.

they leave but come back about fifteen minutes later, when chrissy has returned. this time they ask us if we have pot and seem impressed by our free-spirit jobs.

maybe they don't notice we're sitting on a corner in the freezing fog-ridden cold.

this isn't done, but it's really long. part two, wrap-up and reflections tomorrow.

*emily is a lesbian. and she doesn't like ani difranco! she notes that many lesbians take this as a mortal lesbian sin.

browser

so my interview yesterday went very well. the thing is, i don't know if this job will be great for me or too scary to comprehend. you see, it's not just working for an environmentalist nonprofit* in an administrative capacity. in fact, it's not that at all.

it may be that in a few months. but as the (unbelievably) biscuity boy** who interviewed me told me, everyone who is part of this organization starts at the bottom, even those who are now at the top, lobbying senators in washington and representatives in trenton, what have you, at one time held the position i am going to "observe" today.

it's environmental canvassing. meaning:

load up a van full o' people

drive to a town somewhere in northern nj

and knock on random doors.

um.

once at your stoop, disseminate the message about how much arsenic there is in the water all o'er northern jersey. towns are invaded with a political agenda -- places that need help.

it could be good for me or it could be bad. as you may have figured out by now, dear readers, your humble scribe has the slightest tendency towards fanaticism: i cannot be bothered by something, or i am completely obsessed with it,
feverish with devotion for thirty-six hours at a time, or i feel poisoned by it.

The Sun's contact to Pluto today starts a sequence of events over the next couple of months which can change everything, if you want it to. No doubt you've heard this sort of thing before. The problem, though, is that changing your life is more than just ticking items off a list of things you want to do; if you succeed, as you hope to, it will make changes in you yourself, as well as in the life you lead. Where you go, who you're with, what your priorities are, the whole lot. It's much bigger than you thought - and maybe bigger than you'd like. Are you still sure you want it? ***

*as a chain-smoker, i am the textbook definition of faux-spiritual, thanks.
**tall, started in nonprofits working for a women's group, thanks, ginger-haired, used the phrase "tight, white and right" to describe annoying denver, co. politics, used to live in denver, co., passionate, extraordinarily knowledgeable: talks about senators and other various lawmakers and their agendas with the precocity and fever most americans use to describe the deeds of the latest real world/survivor cast members, myself most shamefully included.
***my overly-significant horoscope. speaking of horoscopes, i feel that artemis might resent me if i don't take this job.

See what Care Bear you are.

Surely I'm not the only girl in history ever to go insane, late at night, and start chopping at her hair? Surely.

okay, i read this after cutting my hair and posting about it. mallory, how freaky are we, thanks? this makes me think it was probably something in the stars -- a good time to cut hair. um, yeah.

but how creepy is that?

1O 2O 3O 4O
tell me that you wanna hold me
tell me that you wanna bore me
tell me that you gotta show me
tell me that you need to slowly
tell me that you're burning for me
tell me that you can't afford me
time to tell your dirty story
time turning over and over
time turning four leaf clover
betting on the Bull in the Heather

1O 2O 3O 4O
tell me that you wanna scold me
tell me that you adore me
tell me that you're famous for me
tell me that you're gonna score me
tell me that you gotta show me
tell me that you need to sorely
time to tell your love story
time turning over and over
time turning four leaf clover
betting on the Bull in the Heather

every once in a while i freak out and have to cut my hair with a pair of left-handed hobby scissors. the last time i did it was the summer of 2000. tara's parents, grandma, and baileydog were staying with my family after the fire at their house. and i went upstairs one morning with hair that was down to the middle of my back and walked down the stairs like ten minutes later with hair that pretty much hit my chin.

aunt kathy and uncle pat (tara's parents) were like "um, did you just cut all your hair off?"

for someone who's so terrified of change most of the time, i have no real problem inflicting it on myself. and i think my hair looks cute. i always do a scary-good job, considering the fact that i do it in under two minutes and never even look at the back of my head.

like i have this sweet little angular bob. i want to dye it next. i feel hot. yo. maybe i'll do some streaks up front. and i need to get my eyebrows waxed. i want nice, thick, shaped ones. i could do it myself but i lost my tweezers and wax lasts longer anyway and it only costs like twelve bucks.

i'm excited for my interview tomorrow. i hope i look okay. i'm wearing a long black skirt, a nice gray button-down cardigan with a black shell underneath, black tights, and black shoes. and i'm going to lay on the slap, but just enough to make me look alive.

wish me luck, people.

SCORPIO (Oct 23-Nov 21)

Week of March 7, 2002

"Man in his present state has as much desire to urinate as he has to make vows to Artemis," says writer Edward Dahlberg. In other words, most modern humans have no relationship with wild female deities, nor would they ever conceive of a reason why that might be fun or sincere or inspiring. But my reading of the current cosmic omens leads me to suggest that you contradict Dahlberg, Scorpio. Artemis is not dead, I swear to you; she is not just a figment of the archaic Greek mind. She is a living archetype of fiercely nurturing female energy. Goddess of the ever-changing moon, strong protectress of the undomesticated soul, she gives sanctuary to all who prize liberated fertility. I dare you to make a vow to her.

um. thanks.

the mix i just made:

save me - aimee mann
a life less ordinary - ash
fall in a river - badly drawn boy
heroin is so passe - dandy warhols
the good in everyone - sloan
last nite - the strokes
bull in the heather - sonic youth w/kathleen hanna
same old flame - sloan
'74 - '75 - the connells
time of the season - the zombies
summer's my season - sloan
penpals - sloan
coax me - sloan
bss - verve (yeah i accidentally put this on here twice, should i be taking this as a sign?)
deeper than beauty - sloan
africa - toto
loving cup - phish (from my first show, i think...)
girlboy - aphex twin

i'm v. v. happy with this mix, except that i think girlboy should be first and loving cup should be last, and the bss should not be on there twice and also i should have put the rolling stones version of loving cup from exile on main street and not the phish cover because although it is nostalgic, it is not as vibey as the rest of the mix, which could do with a crooning mick. also, "you're so vain" should be on it, with mick crooning in the background.

there are those who live their life
as if there is no other
so they burn their bridges but they couldn't
care any less

comes a time that catches up
they pay no matter, pack their bags
and take off to another place to start
from scratch
they never get attached

it's alright, i've had it up to here with everyone
and so i'll say
that there's nothing left to make me want to stay

there are those who live their life
afraid of consequences
so they learn to sit on fences
and they can't step on toes
my heart goes out to those
they're right under my nose

the ones i hate that i
could never save
and i realize of course that there will come a day
that i will say

that there's nothing left to make me want to stay
but i can never go away
that there's nothing left to make me want to stay
and i will never go away
and there's nothing left to make me want to stay

i have an interview tomorrow! go me. and it's a non-profit organization, and i would be doing something i actually give a shit about. this could very well be the first day of the rest of my life.

ugh. i've had some perverted scary searches bring people to my page. but while looking through the referral stats at my pitas site, i discovered that someone had found my page looking for "arts haus" and also "Cryan's karaoke."

this is scary because the arts haus is where i used to live @dickinson, and only someone who lived there or used to would spell it that way.

and cryan's is the bar that my friends and i hang out at when we're feeling particularly suburban and hopeless. so it's just creepy, wondering who knows me via the bar or dickinson and is looking at my site without dropping any information about the fact that they were there. it's not a big deal, really. it's just that this sort of thing never happens to me. i mean, last year a friend of mine from dickinson called me, saying he was "worried" about me because he'd done a search for my name on the internet and found my page and thought i was really messed up or something. the weird thing is, i think he was lying about how he found it. my name is very generic, and i've done searches for it and never found my site. so that would be strange.

the job front is not improving. i'm still looking. i've called like every adjunct office of my temp agency and i'm starting to feel like elaine in the episode of seinfeld when no doctors will see her because she stole a look at her chart. i have to admit, i wasn't always the best temporary employee in the past. i did my work, but i didn't see anything wrong with blowing off an assignment before it was done out of sheer disgust with whatever i was doing. honestly, it's different now. i see the bigger picture and would appreciate the structure of a 9-5 existence, no matter how tedious. i need the money and i need the environment. i need to be busy busy busy.

so i'm calling them like ten times a day until they either get me a job or tell me why they refuse to give me one without being so fucking chipper.

also, did anybody watch angel tonight? dood! there weren't even previews for an upcoming angel, and connor was pulled into some weird hell dimension and poor angel was left crumpled in a heap on some concrete, and wes' throat was slit in a park, and WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?!?

i can't get the lyrics to crimson and clover out of my head. and i don't even mean that in a they're-running-through-my head kind of way. i mean i can actually hear someone singing in my head.

sometimes i freak myself out. i keep hearing "i don't hardly know her, but i think i could love her..." (ya ya ya ya ya ya...) and i'm not even high or anything.

i'm kind of in shock. this weekend could've broken me in a lot of ways, and it didn't. i mean, i definitely freaked out at one point but it's over now. and there's not much of a moody afterhell to deal with, either. i'm not interested in slumpville, where i have lived in my mind on and off for the past few years. i am an exile of slumpville.

i guess the thing is that i am full of surprises, even to myself. sometimes my faith goes farther than i thought it could, with a little help from the outside.

the other night when tara and i were hanging out we were talking about other blogs and how interesting they are. how scandalous. how honest.

"my life isn't that interesting." i said. "hence, my blog is boring."

"it wouldn't be boring if you were honest." tara said. "look at bess. she's honest."

"but i couldn't be that honest."

"why don't you move? bess just moves."

i got hysterical this weekend for the first time in ages. i think it might have something to do with the pills, or lack thereof but it's more likely that spending 48 hrs with my ex-boyfriend and the awkwardness of sleeping in different beds and not sleeping and being cold and posing for hours and hours and being suicidal probably have something to do with it.

and it's true. i could be honest. there are things i've lied about to myself, to my friends. and the excuse i use is that i would be hurting people that it isn't my job to hurt, that there are things i can't say and i can't do because i could really fuck things up for someone else.

i decided i'm writing a Novel. as in, i have been writing one all along and just haven't realized it. but now i'm calling it The Novel.

and there's a lot of autobiographical shit in there, of course, because i have to put it somewhere or i'll go crazy. so if i ever get published, a million hearts will be broken anyway. but i'm hoping that by the time it's done i won't give a shit.

i cannot stop eating for some reason. tara and i spent an amusing night together making a cd and calling each other names. i definitely snacked at her house but can still not satisfy my inner cravings. what the f*ck is wrong with me? tara suggested it's because i don't sleep normal hours, i sleep like fifteen hours at a time and then am starving and gorge myself. this is possibly the case.

i am currently looking for job in the new york times classifieds and i'm wondering, why is my local search bringing up all these random florida job postings? this is the new york times. am i supposed to move from new jersey to florida? karrey is moving to florida. she even has a page devoted to it. i have been to florida once. it was okay. it was warm. i don't feel i can say much about the place as a whole because most of my time was spent drugged out of my skull on the seminole reservation for three days.

maybe i would like being in florida if there was drugs and music all the time.

then again, maybe i would like a cardboard box if there were drugs and music all the time.

oh, and sex. can't forget the sex.

i have been obsessed for quite some time with jt leroy. i feel like he's living the ideal author life -- hanging out with rockstars, being mentored by all these poets and authors (including sharon olds, thanks).

and he has a diary online too. i love how he updates his word counts. inspiring me to write and all that.

i mean he has a cult of people following him, wearing raccoon penis bones and shit and i find myself jealous of him, sometimes, to be honest. if i had something to show for myself i wouldn't be jealous. i think that's how successful people deal with the anxiety of being around one another constantly -- they have their own success. but he was born in 1980 and he's a Literary Sensation already. and i like him, and everyone does, and so i'm trying not to be sour grapes when i know that i should just be inspired by his word count and making stuff happen for myself.

scorpio (Oct. 24th-Nov. 22nd)
Love will not be the most important issue this week. If you can't mentally connect with someone they are not likely to win your heart.
Translation: You cold-hearted ice queen, is nothing ever good enough for you?

love, monkeys, and supersized sexual organs.

this has got me thinking a lot about "love." i swear i know about the guppy thing from personal experience -- many times my love has focused on a less-than-orange man and this has drawn the attention of other females. why is it that men become more attractive to other women as soon as i want them?

also, i know about that rush of chemicals. i've felt it before, and if it's science, more power to it. i love that there's some secret chemistry, some mystical biology which acts beyond the scope of my intention and control to direct me to the most "correct" lover. that still sounds like magic to me.

now, if only i could work on the attachment part.

god, i am such a monkey sometimes.

when i hear my father's voice upstairs i think "he's home now, that means pizza soon!"

i'm freaking out about the lack-of-job situation. i got a fucking ticket tonight when i went over to hannah and alex's to watch friends/survivor/CSI. usually i don't watch so much television. but it's fun when i'm just hanging out with hannah watching something silly.

survivor was really ridiculous. i didn't see the whole thing, but this one guy was like "i want this girl off the team because she's basically just two flotation devices and not to sound like a chauvinist or anything, but the team will be stronger with more men."

um. "not to sound like a chauvinist or anything, but i'm going to compare the girl with tits to a raft, and then state that the ratio of penises to 'ginas better be in favor of us, or else we will be weak."

why are people so fucking stupid?

anyway, back to the job/ticket/whine. the ticket was forty-four dollars. sadly, i can't afford spending this kind of money on auxiliary shit i should be able to avoid! i need a crappy temp job. my temp agency is fucking with me and i know there's a place i could go and i've been putting it off, hoping to hear from my currently-instated temp place rather than to have to go and take a day's worth of stupid tests and see stupid people i don't want to see (this kid i know works there, a woman whose kids i knew in high school, etc) but i know if i had ANY money coming in i would feel a shitload better about myself. i also know that i cannot tolerate another waitressing job at this stage of the game. i'm good at it, i just don't have the energy for being nice to psychotic strangers. i'm having a hard enough time being nice to myself and the other psychotic people i choose to have in my life.

in other news, d wants to paint me on saturday. he called h&a's tonight while i was there. i promised him i'd make brownies with raisins. i'll let you know how it goes. i'm excited that he's going to paint me. i have to say, my favorite work of his is when he draws/paints actual people. he did a whole bunch of self portraits that are really good, and a picture of me that i really liked as well. and as i've mentioned before, it's pretty neat to be immortalized in paint or pencil or ink or what have you. it's interesting to see yourself from the outside.

I AM GETTING A JOB SOON. i have to. HAVE TO.

Which Angelina Are You?