The survivor's intimate relationships are driven by the hunger for protection and care and are haunted by the feeling of abandonment or exploitation...By idealizing the person to whom she becomes attached, she attempts to keep at bay the constant fear of either being dominated or betrayed.

Inevitably, however, the chosen person fails to live up to her fantastic expectations. When disappointed, she may furiously denigrate the same person whom she so recently adored. Ordinary interpersonal conflicts may provoke intense anxiety, depression, or rage. In the mind of the survivor, even minor slights evoke past experiences of callous neglect, and minor hurts evoke past experiences of deliberate cruelty...Thus the survivor develops a pattern of intense, unstable relationships, repeatedly enacting dramas of rescue, injustice, and betrayal.

excerpted from Trauma and Recovery, p.111, Judith Herman, MD

crush #1 completely ignored me last night when we went out. the thing that really irks me is i was doing a damned good job of ignoring him, because i suspect i've seen him too much lately and that tends to freak boys out.

i mean, he said hello but that was it. he didn't even say goodbye.

he was with a lot of his friends, i was with my girls, etc. but still.

and this is when i utter a weak and entirely unconvinced "NO TIME."

here is a great and bitter british article that sums up the issue below quite succinctly. much better than i did!

ex-Frau

my current Bitter Female of Power inspiration/muse is diandra douglas, ex-wife of the illustrious tanned nutsack, michael douglas.

i mean, can you imagine? diandra was married to michael for twenty-three years. they have a son together, cameron. he's already been arrested for cocaine. guess which side of the family he inherited that from? for over two decades diandra endured md's drug addiction, "sex addiction" (ie cheating on her with dirty sloots like catherine z-j from the moment they got together) and lapses in his career. all for the sake of love. she's also notoriously known as one of those "grandmaster" hollywood wives, the kind who busts her ass to throw together Perfect Gatherings on behalf of securing her husband's place among the glitterati. she's also a producer, and no doubt a huge sounding board for the huge ego that is md.

and what does she get in the end? shunted off to the side so md can do it right this time for someone else. so some hot little sloot can reap the rewards of all of her hard work. those old balls even managed to churn out a chubby new baby, one that will be walking down the high school graduation aisle right around the time md is hobbling in a walker to his latest facelift appointment.

dd is pretty funny, too. when it became clear to her, after md shamelessly paraded his sloot around for the paparazzi, that it was Over, she made a comment to the press whilst vacationing in majorca that "Before Michael can marry he has to divorce me, or become a Muslim so he can have two wives."

basically she refused to be publicly humiliated by md any further and was a total bitch and made it difficult as hell for him to run off into the sunset with his sloot.

and the reports on the settlement are pretty high -- betwixt 40 and 100 million. which is a lot, but it's definitely what she deserves. dd still owns the place in beverly hills, the place in majorca (she's of spanish descent, and i think md and cz-j have their own place out there now anyway) and she's settled herself into nyc, a few blocks away from where they used to live (which doesn't make her a psycho stalker, why shouldn't she be able to maintain the fabu lifestyle she helped create?). apparently she is still a huge party-throwing fashion muse to all the hipster ex club kid designers and makeup artists, and she has dated the brother of wall-street tyrant louis bacon.

and she looks great. better than ever! i remember her having rilly curly hair and so i admire her not-so-obvious casual blowout and hanging with totally underground types like jeremy scott, pictured, and sponsoring the heatherette show, which is totally drag queen fashion:

so whenever "NO TIME" isn't enough to get boys off my mind, i think instead of our modern-day hera, diandra douglas. it was most definitely worse for her than me and look how happy she is! powerbitches unite.

today i filed for unemployment!

today i spent three hours @ the DMV with a!

today i am going to walk my dog in the sheer hopes of seeing my crush! because the karma central horoscope of the week told me having a dog nearby might be good for my ass-karma!

and i have to pee. so i'm afraid that's all for now.

Bess
Richie
Amy
Tara =

my friends are brats. as if we didn't already know this.

A rose opens because she is the fragrance she loves.

= excerpted from Rumi's Every Tree

on sunday i spent the day by myself, trolling bookstores in nyc for poems that i have been craving and unable to locate in my personal archives and/or online. i bought a big spiralbound notebook at duane reade and some pens, and set about on a satisfying day of copyright infringement. i share these efforts with you in part below -- h.d.'s eurydice is a poem i could not find in its entirety online, so enjoy. oh, and h.d. was born in bethlehem, pa and was briefly engaged to ezra pound. not that this has anything to do with the poem -- although i can seriously, no joke, see the connection betwixt a vision of hades and bethlehem, pa --

I.
So you have swept me back,
I who could have walked with the live souls
above the earth,
I who could have slept among the live flowers
at last;

So for your arrogance
and your ruthlessness
I am swept back
where dead lichens drip
dead cinders upon moss of ash;

So for your arrogance
I am broken at last,
I who had lived unconscious,
I who was almost forgot;

If you had let me wait
I had grown from listlessness
into peace,
if you had let me rest with the dead,
I had forgot you
and the past.

II.
Here only flame upon flame
and black among the red sparks,
streaks of black and light
grown colourless;

Why did you turn back,
that hell should be reinhabited
of myself thus
swept into nothingness?

Why did you turn?
Why did you glance back?
Why did you hesitate for that moment?
Why did you bend your face
caught with the flame of the upper earth,
above my face?

What was it that crossed my face
with the light from yours
and your glance?
What was it you saw in my face?
The light of your own face,
the fire of your own presence?

What had my face to offer
but reflex of the earth,
hyacinth colour
caught from the raw fissure in the rock
where the light struck,
and the colour of azure crocuses
and the bright surface of gold crocuses
and of the wind flower,
swift in its veins as lightning
and as white.

III.
Saffron from that fringe of the earth,
wild saffron that has bent
over the sharp edge of the earth,
all the flowers that cut through the earth,
all, all the flowers are lost;

everything is lost,
everything is crossed with black,
black upon black
and worse than black,
this colourless light.

IV.
Fringe upon fringe
of blue crocuses,
crocuses, walled against the blue of themselves,
blue of that upper earth,
blue of the depth upon depth of flowers,
lost;

flowers,
if I could have taken once my breath of them,
enough of them,
more than earth,
even than of the upper earth,
had passed with me
beneath the earth;

if I could have caught up from the earth,
the whole of the flowers of the earth,
if once I could have breathed into myself
the very golden crocuses
and the red,
and the very golden hearts of the first saffron,
the whole of the golden mass,
the whole of the great fragrance,
I could have dared the loss.

V.
So for your arrogance
and your ruthlessness
I have lost the earth
and the flowers of the earth,
and the live souls above the earth,
and you who passed across the light
and reached
ruthless;

you who have your own light,
who are to yourself a presence,
who need no presence;

yet for all your arrogance
and your glance
I tell you this:

such loss is no loss,
such terror, such coils and strands and pitfalls
of blackness,
such terror
is no loss;

hell is no worse than your earth
above the earth,
hell is no worse,
no, nor your flowers
nor your veins of light
nor your presence,
a loss;

my hell is no worse than yours
though you pass among the flowers and speak
with the spirits above earth.

VI.
Against the black
I have more fervour
than you in all the splendour of that place,
against the blackness
and the stark grey
I have more light;

and the flowers,
if I should tell you,
you would turn from your own fit paths
toward hell,
turn again and glance back
and I would sink into a place
even more terrible than this.

VII.
At least I have the flowers of myself,
and my thoughts, no god
can take that;
I have the fervour of myself for a presence
and my own spirit for light;

and my spirit with its loss
knows this;
though small against the black,
small against the formless rocks,
hell must break before I am lost;

before I am lost,
hell must open like a red rose
for the dead to pass.

h.d. EURYDICE.

You make our souls tasty like rose
marmalade. You cause us to fall flat

on the ground like the shadow of
a cypress still growing at its tip.

Rainwater through a mountain forest,
we run after you in different ways.

We live like the verge of tears inside
your eyes. Don't cry! You trick some

people with gold ropes, tie them up and
leave them. Others you pull near at dawn.

You're the one within every attraction.
All silence. You are not alone, never

that, but you must be distracted, because
look, you've taken the food you were

going to give Jesus out to the stable
and put it down in front of the donkey!

RUMI. THE VERGE OF TEARS.

SCORPIO (Oct 23-Nov 21)

Week of June 27, 2002

Somewhere out there in the wide world beyond your stomping ground, Scorpio, a wild horse awaits you, willing to take you for a thrilling but safe ride. Somewhere, a DJ on a late-night college radio station is willing to let you come on the air and talk about the crazy stuff you know best. A sweet, cleansing mountain wind is calling your name; a wise old tree is ready for you to climb up and bask in its sheltering revelations; and a mysterious cutie is telepathically inviting you to dive into an intimate communion on the outskirts of everything you know. So what are you waiting for?

why my mom is cool as shit

me: (after telling her i quit, and how one of my coworkers recommended we sue him for harrassment and report him to the IRS for TOTAL FUCKING FRAUD)
i could fuck him so bad. with regards to many, many different elements o' his life. i could call the IRS and fuck him and make some money off of it, even, but he'd most definitely put a contract on my head.

mom: (snorts) believe me, you could put a much bigger contract on his.

sometimes being sicilian is pretty fucking cool.

in which your noble heroine gets her swerve on

after last week's questionable phonecall, i was ever-so-surprised to hear from crush #2 last night. he wanted to go out and get some drinks. conveniently not at any place we were likely to see mvm or anyone else who could make things awkward.

we drank a couple of pitchers of sam adams' summer ale and hung out with peripheral friends. not only did he pay (i know, he asked, but still), but he gave the waitress a 30 percent tip, thanks. she tried to return it, which i thought was sweet but definitely unnecessary, and he totally waved her off.

we played footsie and hung out but i realized i didn't really feel any kind of it with him. although he's definitely fun to hang out with. and it was definitely nice that i got the follow-up.

and we went back to his place to "hang out" a little bit and i met his adorable dog, a darling slightly-over-one-year-old pitbull/shepherd mix, who unfortunately ate one of my cute shoes and the cool bracelet tara gave me, whilst i was wearing it, thanks. but i think i can put the bracelet back together, the shoes were only $17.99 and can be cheaply and/or sneakily replaced, and i can never EVER get mad at puppies. because i love them too much. and this one was all about snuggling in this fidgety, silly way, giving multiple kisses and generally cuting me out to an unnecessary degree. basically, dogs are better than people and if they want to eat my belongings, i definitely won't be as mad as if say, tara tried to eat my shoes.

so anyway, not feeling any kind of "it" did not keep me from the casual hookup! still, he was too aggressive and not my style, and by the end of the night we discussed the fact that neither of us was interested in a relationship, and we can basically just be friends who occasionally hook up. he said he didn't want me to think he called me for the booty call element o' our burgeoning experience, and i assured him that it wasn't so. i think i overexplained how much i didn't like him and how seriously not needy i am, but as he would irritatingly and far too frequently state, "it's all good."

we also discussed about how we should not have sex, ever, because it will get "too emotional" (his words, obviously, did you think they were mine?) and basically because, although he has a big wang, i am slightly terrified of the way he wields that big boy, thanks. but he likes to snuggle and make out, and watch tv, all things i enjoy, so, there you go.

if i have the energy later i will explain the various debacles involving lube, humping and his mama's couch, but i don't really feel like going into it now because i am far more excited to share my other update, and you can pretty much draw your own vulgar and silly conclusions.

the most exciting development of yesterday was --

i saw crush #1! mvm! the one i actually am excited about.

i was in the village fetching the newspaper and he literally ran acreau' the street, pointing @ me and calling my name.

can i get an "aw?"

anyway, he's like

"marie! i've totally been wanting to see you to ask for your input on last friday night."

me: "my um, input?"

mvm: "yeah...like, what happened? because i don't remember anything after a certain point, and troy told me he had to hold me back, and i didn't really trust anyone else's perception of what happened because we were all really wasted, i only hang out with troy about once a week and when we do he insists on acting like a rich uncle and getting us all loaded with him, constantly buying shots, etc."

me: "um, it wasn't violent or anything. i think you guys handled it pretty well."

then i told him about how i came home to a drunk midget on my doorstep once in pennsylvania. we talked a little bit more about the night, and i was just dying at how cute and adorable he was, actually giving a shit about what i think about his behavior. i know that doesn't sound like a lot, but, sadly, it is. he asked me several times if i got home okay, which i obviously did, but still.

about ten minutes later we met @ his apartment for a little weed-break.

and we hung out. and talking to him is so easy, we talked about our weekends, music, summer plans, work, etc, etc. eventually the conversation turned to various partying we have done together and he said:

"you know, you've seen me in rare form waaaay too many times."

"rare form" meaning hopelessly blackout wasted. and he's never that bad, even then. he's still adorable and sweet and smart.

then he said "it's probably because of some of the emotional stuff i've been going through."

he did not elaborate, but i know what he means. and i said, "well, maybe it's also the beginning of your birthday year, kind of a re-energization, a new beginning."

and he seemed to like that.

and i most definitely absosmurfly like him!

in which your noble heroine gets her groove back

i have experienced 24 hours of monumental proportion. i should have known that the shows of this weekend, which i have yet to discuss in detail, were leading up to something, that they were energizing me for some great turn of events.

let's begin with the beginning, shall we?

ps, i love how my blog is turning into regular installments of drama and silliness a la mtv's "undressed", thanks.

okay.

the job

this morning i quit. walked the fuck out. pushed too far. yesterday Caligula informed me that he can perform my tasks in his sleep, or in less than an hour. fine, you snivelly pig. fine, you soulless, degenerate fuck. here is the letter i wrote:

26 June 2002
TO: Caligula
CC: Caligula's oft-beleaguered apprentice
RE: Letter of Resignation (thanks)

Caligula,

Please accept this as my notice of resignation. I have enjoyed my time at (COMPANY), but that time has been unfortunately punctuated with abusive behavior on your part.

I have ruminated on the name-calling issue and tried to see if there was ever going to be a time when I felt comfortable and not belittled, when I felt I could do my job without the extra stress of catering to the emotional outbursts and abusive whims of another adult, and consequent events have led me to believe that such a time will never exist.

I hope that you can work on these issues, for your own benefit and the benefit of the (PUBLICATION), in the future. I think the staff here is amazingly dedicated and willing to go the extra mile on behalf of the (PUBLICATION/COMPANY). I think they deserve to be treated with respect. The occasional unnecessary tirade really has a way of breaking the spirits of those who work for you.

I deserve respect, and I cannot remain in a workplace where I do not receive it.

I wish you success and hope to see the (PUBLICATION) continue to grow. Thank you for the opportunity to work for (COMPANY). I also wish you luck in finding a replacement for me, and will do whatever I can to assure that the transition is as smooth as possible.

Sincerely,

The Bitch Who Let You Know.

and, again, nigga couldn't let it drop. i was willing to work until they found someone else, at the very least finish out the week, but he immediately called and complained that he was afraid i would "badmouth" the company to my coworkers, since everything that's happening is betwixt "us." um, my coworkers have been badmouthing this guy since the day i started working there. perhaps he understands the weight o' my particular brand of vitriol, or perhaps he knew that everyone else there was simultaneously rooting for me and panicking at my imminent absence.

either way, he basically told me i had to bite my tongue and walk on eggshells and pretty much threatened me and was like, if you can't hack it you can leave. so about an hour later i told him i was leaving, thanks. and he said he thought that was really "unfair" of me. after he pretty much insisted i leave, thanks.

so maybe it was "unfair" of me. it definitely isn't what i planned to do, but i probably should have submitted my letter two weeks ago and left at the end of this week.

no, i don't have another job yet but trust me, my whole fucking outlook is different now. one thing working there taught me is that i have worth in the workplace, and i am capable of single-handedly running an entire office and taking on a multitude of tasks i had never before performed. i know how to package myself, i know i'm quite capable and even like the daily grind, as long as the environment is bearable/interesting.

i'm following up where i've gotta follow up and seriously self-promoting.

i fucking rock, thanks.

d. is working on importing wine from the land o' argent, and he called me the other day to ask how to spell "dionysus" because he is naming it di0nysu5 imports! and actually he needed three names, so one is bacchu5 imp0rts (my idea), one is di0nysu5 imp0rts, and one is his-last-name imports.

i don't know what to say about this. the classics aren't mine. but still. rejected as i permanently feel i can only see this as him using my knowledge to further his own causes, instead of something good...like him using my knowledge to further his own causes, which a decent person, a person interested in philosophy and making the world a better place, the kind of person i purport to be but am mostly not, would approve of. instead i feel invaded and used. not even flattered. all i can think is that something that clever might get him laid, and i want no part of anything that might ever get him laid by someone other than me.

i have a diseased mind.

You have given me the wrong body, Lord.
Assigned me a faulty frame.
For this body cannot accept love.
Cannot accept the good things
as they come -- warm bread, rides
through the country, even music, and nothing,

and nothing --

I am sick of dancing around
my own failures.
I cannot nurse both poetry
and failure -- my breasts, though
full -- shrivel and tire
and will never
have enough milk
to sustain them both.

Only poetry, you say?
The obvious choice?

But this dross
is what we depend on
to cull allay -- allay!

Gathering dust, shed skin,
troubles. These can be remade
easier than happiness.

There is something wrong, Lord.
I have taken a vow of silence
and whole plums rot in my mouth.

There is something wrong, Lord.
I cannot accept joy.
I cannot accept joy.

In the morning sun, I couldn't tell you
I couldn't tell you so many things
About how much I really love you
About how much you really mean
So far away but it's so easy to see you
When I'm away I want to put my arms around you
And I want to know - do you feel the same way?
'Cause if you do I want to stay forever
And I want to know - do you feel the same way?
'Cause if you do I want to stay forever
With you

So many colors that surround you
Some so bright I can hardly see
A light reflects on all the things that make you real
Things that make you truly free

So far away but it's so easy to see you
When I'm away I want to put my arms around you
And I want to know - do you feel the same way?
'Cause if you do I want to stay forever
And I want to know - do you feel the same way?
'Cause if you do I want to stay forever
With you

this is the song mvm was basically singing @ me the other night, but i refuse to take this seriously or even as a mildly sweet gesture until i have corroborative evidence.

see, i am a deep cynic at this point re:cc/boys, but being a cynic obviously leaves me poised for great surprise, if anything good ever does happen to me.

i realize i am becoming deeply lazy with my blog.

this happens from time to time. usually it is okay, as i simply post metaphysical meanderings, occasional heartbroken whinges, and poetry-in-progress.* however, lately i have been posting about actual issues in my life and i'd like to follow up on those for the few friends in the audience who read this, actually care, and with whom i lazily use this thing as my primary method o' communication.

the job situation

my boss has been kissing my ass lately. that is, when he's not being a TOTAL FASCIST PIG. the graphic designer is still gone, although i have spoken to him and he was also kind enough to come in and finish up the book this week (for a hefty price of course, which he totally deserves). i have moved from composing my resignation letter (either kind, emotional, overly-grateful to instill feelings of guilt and regret in boss, or bitter, twisted, read-betwixt-the-lines-motherfucker to instill fear and terror and what have i fucking wrought! fear in boss) in my head to composing it on my computer whilst my boss is yelling at me, basically daring him to look o'er my shoulder, get all up in my shit, etc.

i should probably mention i haven't been late to work in like two weeks.

the interview was okay. i guess. it wasn't a Real interview, just basically a temp-farm service interview. which we all know doesn't count.

the crushes

crush #2

or, in other words, the rabbity humping guy i hooked up with and am trying to justify my sluttiness by having a crush on, or maybe i am trying to justify my rejection by pretending i don't give a shit -- anyway --

he didn't end up at the show. it's funny, though -- if he had been there i would have most definitely been up his ass not once, but at least twice. you see, the kid he was gonna go with parked next to my friends that i met up with there and was right in front of us on the lawn when we were dancing. so, basically, the magic was there, but he wasn't.

and the funniest thing about it was the way his friend dealt avec me. remember, this kid is a totally sketchy hippie who used to date my ex's mother. like he really gives a shit about the kid's potential awkwardness, thanks. anyway, i don't think i mentioned this before, but crush asked me where d. was going to be this weekend on the phone. like he didn't fucking believe me when i stated we were not, in fact, together any longer and in fact have not been officially so for well over a year, two years if you're feeling negative!

anyway crush's best friend, sketchyboy, was all

"so you went to the ****** show the other night."

i'm all,

"um, yeah." fully aware that the only way he could know this is if richie told him, and i am sure that richie would not forget to mention that we in fact hooked up!

and he's all,

"so, you and d. aren't together anymore?"

and i'm all,

"NO."

whereupon he wants to go into details, wants me to state that we're "not compatible," wants me to agree to something he can understand, wants me to declare in front of a fucking tribunal that it is Over, there is No Hope, tie it up neatly and wrap it up in a little bow so his boy, who is ever so goddamned peripheral to my boy can feel okay about it, i guess.

and the thing is, it's not clean, it's not neat, it never was, and it never will be. and i can't pretend i'm doing anything but moving on because i have no fucking choice in the matter. and what amuses me, no, actually -- infuriates me -- is that people's attitudes imply that i'm this wanton woman, just because the ex is so well-liked and well-known. they're all protective of him, meanwhile, i'm the one who has been basically permanently traumatized by our breakup. part of the reason i have crushes now and write about them and attempt to pursue them actively and think about them is so i can get past thinking about him. i'm not trying to replace the relationship and get into the cycle o' serial monogamy, but i need some level o' distraction from the constant disappointment of that situation. anyway, if he were the one, the one pursuing other people, there would be no questions, no limits, no one afraid of stepping on my boundaries. no one has to tell me this, this is something i know.

seriously, the kid i hooked up with and my ex are barely aware of one another's existence, thanks. not to mention the fact that the kid had no problem snuggling with me in front of my ex the week before we hooked up.

I DO NOT GET BOYS.

crush #1

who is, of course, mvm.

i called him @ work late friday afternoon to see if he wanted me to pick up some treats for him. he sounded happy to hear from me, and was not at all freaked out that i called him @ work. since it is the only number of his that i have, but anyway. the conversation was nice, he asked me about the show, because he read an article about it in the paper and remembered i was going. aw.

then he asked me what i was doing that night, but not fully in a "let's do something" way. but it sounded like he definitely wanted to know my whereabouts. so i as nonchalantly as possible did everything but state "stalking you, my dear."

and i dragged katie out on a little stalking mission. no joke, we went to two of three bars within a one-block radius in our town. and there wasn't anybody worth staying for at the first two, although at the second we did at least have a drink instead of just walking out looking disgusted.

at the third bar, the most miserably townie bar of all, he was not there and neither was my friend chrissy, or for that matter, anyone of import, only drooling old men, so we walked out and praise almighty lord who but mvm and two of his friends are exiting the train station, walking right towards us, towards the bar we had just exited?

there was no subtle way to pretend i wasn't going to turn around and run back in. so instead we said the other bars sucked, we couldn't find anyone to hang out with and now that We (read: entirely fucking me) had People to hang out with (read: entirely fucking him) we could, um, you know, hang out.

so he bought us our sierras, which was cute, for we did not even have to tell him what to get, he remembered. and he put johnny cash on the jukebox. just like i did the other night! and also one of his friends, a big man named troy,** said "i think mark is sweet on you."

SWEET! ON!

how cute is that? but it could just be a vile coincidence, or maybe just a nice guy trying to get his buddy a score. maybe i was more obvious than i thought.

or he could be sweet on me.

and we hung out at his house after and it was all great, him playing ween songs, tenacious d songs, singing particularly significant songs in my direction, thanks, hanging out blah blah blah

AND THEN A CRACKWHORE SHOWED UP.

no joke. like waltzed into his apartment off of the street, thanks. at first i thought it was a joke. then i had this dark feeling that they knew her, this was some righteous, confused crackhead female whom they had known in the biblical sense one night -- i say this because she showed me a yellowed pamphlet with a reverend on the front that she said was her father -- anyway i thought, "god this is a hooker and they know her, oh shame, oh dread!"

and it wasn't even like that. i realized she was, in fact, a random crackwhore, and it is just like me to take the crackwhore's side in a situation with people i have no reason not to trust.

anyway them trying to get her out was pretty much a nightmare. and i was nervous-giggling, and trying to be nice to her, not to hang out with her, for god's sake, but not trying to be violent, god, i am a girl, the only girl there, a compassionate person!

and i think mvm was embarrassed by the whole crackwhore-showing-up-dans-his-domicile situation, maybe even a little mad at me that i socialized with the crackwhore, that i didn't seem to get it right away.

perhaps not. but i left soon after, and that's pretty much that for now.

and i have to go to bed. i went to three shows this weekend and i am exhausted.

oh, and for the record, lauryn hill is awesome. really!

this is a song
for the ladies.
but fellas...listen closely.

you don't have to fuck her hard
in fact sometimes that's not right to do.
sometimes you got to make some love
and fuckin' give her some smooches too.

sometimes you got to squeeze.
sometimes you got to say "please".
sometimes you gotta say "hey,"
"i'm gonna fuck you...softly"
"i'm gonna screw you gently"
"i'm gonna hump you sweetly"
"i'm gonna ball you discreetly"

and then you say "hey, i brought you flowers"
and then you say "wait a minute sally,"
"i think i got somethin' in my teeth
could you get it out for me?"
that's fuckin' teamwork!

what's your favorite posish?
that's cool with me,
it's not my favorite but i'll do it for you.

what's your favorite dish?
i'm not gonna cook it but i'll order it from
ZANZIBAR!

and then i'm gonna love you completely
then i'll fucking fuck you discreetly
and then i'll fuckin bone you completely
but then i'm gonna fuck...you hard...
hard...

*who am i kidding, i am the Worst Editor Ever
**probably the Best Name Ever, symbolically, but everyone i know named troy is generally a tool. this guy wasn't so bad, but he was really more of an Ajax.

:: how jedi are you? ::

still fuck you up, i can!
got this quiz via tegan.

If she was more clearly one of us, then her defection was more serious. It endangered us more deeply. She was an anomaly, a fish with wings.

Anne and Sylvia

Your eyes hash so lurid, sisters,
Screaming of nazis and moons.

Neither one of you managed to escape confinement,
both surrendered willingly
to the comfort of strong arms and children.
You suffered for your gifts in due course –

Wore tailored clothes and stabbed your hair
with innumerable pins you wished
would drain your skulls of noise.
Scabbed at your scalp with the crust
of hairspray. You even bothered
to smear color
on those dull slashes you wore as holes.

That kind of thing was necessary
in your time, you couldn’t even be seen
without hose.

So you paraded around like
bedraggled ponies, dull eyes
constantly surveying the ground

lighting and sparking
with poppies and such
when you found something
to devour.
Bits of hay.

Mostly your backs were tired
from giving rides to ungrateful children.
The farmers were demanding and cruel
and disloyal: they would sell you for glue
to put shoes on a newer steed.

I have heard you issue those
wavering commands,
heard your voice read the words
you tag your name on
over a sizzling bit of vinyl
in my college radio station.

Your breathy overly assertive
interpretation of
what you halfway died to see
sounds awkward
coming out of your own mouth.

She should have been ashamed of herself
with her model’s face
and intellectual drone
and team of attendants.
Her network of relief.

I understand how your suffering
urged messy gossip and trite
mutterings from her pen.

I feel you are mine, in a way
she never was.

She is my mother as much as the
elements which are constantly destroying
and reviving each other, on the cusp of
swallowing breath.
No, actually, I guess
that was you.

I suspect, though, that she knew
you snatched at the same bits of
stardust.
You adjusted your ham radio
to the perfect pitch of reception
for the selfsame babbling muses.

Oh, she stretched long fishlike strands
up to collect their songs,
only to brush her painted tentacles
against a smudge of their becoming,
frantically biting off her nails

to rub against her gums
the congealed bits of
raving incandescent dust
you ate whole,

still alive, which danced
and chirped and ran like lemmings
to your open mouth, emitting their wail,
summoning beauty for the vile deed

of your truth, and you became
and so much magic died in you
and you came back so many times
and she never left,

she was always whisked away
before her hand
could finish the job.

i know very little about alcohol except how to drink it*, but i am fairly certain that this is what is in a yummy-ummy redheaded slut! although recipe is slightly different.

* not the case with beer, to a mild degree.

This bloody road remains a mystery
This sudden darkness fills the air
What are we waiting for?
Won't anybody help us?
What are we waiting for?
We can't afford to be innocent
Stand up and face the enemy
It's a do or die situation
We will be invincible

This shattered dream you cannot justify
We're gonna scream until we're satisified
What are we running for?
We've got the right to be angry
What are we running for?
When there's no where we can run to anymore

We can't afford to be innocent
Stand up and face the enemy
It's a do or die situation
We will be invincible
And with the power of conviction
There is no sacrifice
It's a do or die situation
We will be invincible

Won't anybody help us?
What are we running for?
When there's no where, no where we can run to anymore

We can't afford to be innocent
Stand up and face the enemy
It's a do or die situation
We will be invincible
And with the power of conviction
There is no sacrifice
It's a do or die situation
We will be invincible

"You're not really a drama queen -- you're more about being raw than drama."

= my friend craig. not the high-school ex-boyfriend. just a friend. who pretty much sums me up, thanks.

i called crush #2 last night. that would be richie.

i got his # from his cousin. i called to see if he needed a ride to the show tomorrow, as i know he does not have a car and mentioned the possibility of attending.

he was definitely psyched to hear from me and said several hundred times how cool and nice it was that i would offer. but he might not be going, and if he does he is going with his best (male) friend.

but he did not ask me for my phone #.

so i gave it to him in this overly-chalant way. like, "if you find out you do need a ride give me a call."

and also "we should hang out sometime."

to which he replied "i know we'll hang out one of these days."

um.

this is the boy who last week i barely paid attention to. shit, for the last three years. and now i wanna hang out with him and he's like being overly chalant about the fact. maybe he just sees the bigger picture and is not stressing. maybe he's just taking it slow.

or maybe he is horrified that i want to remain in contact avec him!

either way, NO TIME. NO TIME.

NO TIME NO TIME NO TIME.

the graphic designer @ work, my favorite person in the universe, quit tonight.

when i say quit, i mean, walked out on production day after giving my bastard boss two weeks' notice the night before.

because my asshole boss could not resist pushing his fucking buttons.

so basically the book is up in the air this week. and everyone is freaking out. rightfully so.

except for my boss, who is in manhattan getting banged by an escort whore.

more later.

right now NO TIME NO TIME is the phrase of the moment but i must share --

-- i have an interview @ n0v@r+is (ha, love the haXor writing, i am afraid of bored executives doing searches) on thursday, however, it is a pharmie company and i fear the obviously impending drug test.

-- saw the ex last night, to deliver some of his things & get some of mine. it was good, i gave him poetry and he got it, asked me really good questions, made me think.

-- then i went to the bar, i'm sorry -- saloon -- to discuss this weekend with chrissy, who is snuggleboy's cousin. she is a waitress/bartender there. and she was not there but i hear "marie!" and i turn around and lo and fucking behold, mvm is there with a (male) friend.

so i agree to have a beer. we make fun of each other a little bit. i am drinking sierra nevada bottles and the boys are drinking bud drafts. eventually his friend buys us shots. and they are...redheaded sluts, only my favorite most girly shot in the universe, thanks. we watch two baseball players from the same team (brewers) have possibly career-ending injuries. like one snapped his ankle literally in half thanks. i play some johnny cash on the jukebox. friend buys us two more shots each.

anyway, i ended up going back to crush's place and hanging out with them, doing what it is townie deadbeats do when they do. (which is smoke pot). i also met a darling 7 year old black lab named jesse who pretty much rocked my socks.

going out by myself has been a great thing lately, let me tell you.

and he was really sweet throughout the night, apologizing again for the incident. making fun of himself in the funniest way ever. his friends were also strangely accomodating, well not strangely, just obviously -- like insisting on walking so we could be alone in my car, even though all we did was drive for two blocks.

and he showed me his art, which is really cool and actually kind of like mine, very trippy and geometric and fluid. and then he left to get beer and i hung out with his roommate, jesse the dog and the kid who bought shots, who was passed out, and i was a little princessy miffed that he didn't come back right away, instead hung out, but he was happy i was still there, i drank like half a beer and left, and he sat up and held my hand and said how nice it was to see me, but in the most nonchalant way ever.

oh, and as soon as he got control of the cd player, he played piss up a rope, for me, i think. i think it is Our Song.

he also voluntarily played "we are the invincible" from the "legend of billie jean" soundtrack of his own accord thanks.

that fact alone makes me think he might be The One.

so i had a crazy weekend.

i actually have to start it on monday. last monday night. well, my crush mvm ended up making an ass of himself at the bar in a way i could not forgive. total frat boy behavior, which involved not only being loud and a pig but actually standing on top of the bar with his shirt off and saying "SUCK IT!" at the top of his lungs while making a gross gesture i think only pro wrestlers are allowed to get away with.

in other words, it was not good.

and, bitch that i am, i demanded a, who was also involved, drive me home immediately, because i was having a shitty time. the girls involved were apparently of age but were basically trying way too hard, i wanted to shake them and maybe even give them a good slap, to wake them up, but i knew as bad as the situation was getting these boys would never hurt them, even if they were saying "if you get on the bar shirtless i'll let you see my teeties."

i mean, god. i was deeply irritated with all of my boys and wanted to puke.

but thursday night i went out and mvm came up to me and was like, i'm so sorry about what an asshole i was the other night. i was like, whatever, because it wasn't like we were hanging out and he was beholden to me in any way. i just can't really gel with people who think behavior like that is acceptable. and i didn't say that, i was just deeply casual and pretty much laughing in his face. then he was like "well, i noticed you left and i just wanted to make sure you knew i was sorry, i knew i was an asshole."

so at least that was a nice gesture. i told him i admired him for being the freak who actually made a spectacle of himself, that it was pretty much okay until "suck it," until the overall picture was clearly misogynistic in nature and just gross and that with which i could not deal.

and then we ended up having a much better conversation. one about our exes, how we are both the deposed parties, how it has jaded us a bit. it was a relief, because it kind of explains his behavior and mine. like, i've been kind of ignoring him lately, a little. not going as far out of my way as i used to. and he's going out of his way to make up the difference, which is nice. it's nice to be pursued, not to be in constant fucking harrowing pursuit through the desert with countless mirages and general strife.

the thing is, my ex was there, and all this talk made me run across the bar and end up fighting with him and blatantly crying in public, thanks. after he left, but still. i caused a scene with all of my friends and hannah and a ended up comforting me dans the bar, whcih is pathetic, how consistently i am capable of beer tears and indiscretions, of weakness and lack of dignity, when i am drunk. the next day we Talked and mutually decided it is best if we keep our distance for awhile, in order to see each other as the glowing sparkly wonderpeople we are again. in order to be happy. in order to be independent. he has some really skewed views of me, due to the trauma i have suffered during our relationship. he worries about me constantly, even when that worry has nothing to do with him. this worry consumes his vision of me, he cannot see me as okay and maybe i am not okay around him, and he feels embittered and responsible for me.

and that's not how it is anymore. but there hasn't been any space for that to be seen, ever. and i'm looking forward to that space, i'm looking forward to having my friend back someday and the talk we had was real, i was strong, i am strong, happy place, butterfly conservation and vitamin water.

it's like the thing with hannah -- i couldn't accept her vision of me, so i had to cut her out of my everyday life, and myself from hers, until we could be equals again, which is happening slowly but surely now. i still loved her and didn't want to lose her or for bad things to happen to her but i just could not debate about myself, i was tired of defending myself, not to her but to everyone, over the same old fucking things, things i am moving past, above, beyond. the other night did not help, but in general i am moving forward. i refuse to believe anything else.

so friday night was a bit of a bust but things certainly perked the fuck up on saturday.

katie and i took a megatrip to target, which is pretty much the only store i can deal with at this phase of my existence, whatever that says about me. they have black clothes and toile lampshades, which is pretty much all i care about. i got a shitload of stuff. pretty makeup (i am into makeup again, i am learning artifice and The Mask again, daring myself to Be All That I Can Be in superficial ways for once instead of allowing myself to deteriorate into a hag and demanding people love me As Is or Nothing), the aforementioned black clothes and toile lampshade, lightbulbs, shoes, one of those obnoxious touchlights, which i love but has already run out o' batteries, many bras and underwear, pajama pance, in other words, things i need. i am so resistant to allow myself to feel good about spending money, treating myself well, making any effort to look good. i am the original repressed catholic in that way. but making an effort is not a bad thing, i deserve it. this is something i have to tell myself every day. looking good makes me feel good, regardless of what the fuck anyone else thinks.

so back to the interesting part of the story. (there is one, i swear).

katie and tara came over and crocheted and hung out in my room, and i was having fun but feeling restless. you see, i feel entitled to going out at least several times a week. since friday night was such a bummer i was determined to turn my luck around in a good way, since that didn't feel like much of a release. so they didn't want to go out and i ended up going to one of my locals alone, knowing i would see people because my friend's band, the one i went to see last week, was playing. and path/taxi snuggle boy was there.

and it's one of those things where i didn't know how good it would be to see him until i did. he was alone, too, although our friends were around. we sat at a little table together. we played footsie. we talked about the band. we talked to our friends. we held hands a little bit. it was so cute. it was almost too much.

so i was like, get some beer and come back to my house. my parents were away, he didn't have a car and i would drive him home anyway. so i was like, let's hang out. because he made me feel really good, he made me feel like i was unattainable and i wanted to see what a little attainment might feel like, what it would do.

and so we ended up making out like all night and hooking up. it was really sweet, though. in general, it can be broken down into points bad and good.

bad
- he works but does not have a Real Job and no serious prospects that I am aware of. (like me recently but not now)

- he lives with his parents. (like me, unfortunately)

- at one point when we were hooking up he was like, on top of me and we were both wearing our clothes and kissing a little bit, and he started that awful humping business that boys are occasionally prone to do, where i swear to god i thought my stomach would have bruises because of him like attacking me avec his penis, thanks. in my stomach no less. but i made him aware of this by saying "OW!" in the bitchiest and most demanding princess way ever, and told him to stop attacking me with his penis, because it wasn't going to do any good and he needed to slow the fuck down and be gentle, thanks. and he immediately got better, like, immediately.

- the kissing technique was a little too quick-tongue lizard for me at first, like he was scared to really kiss but really wanted to. this, too, improved, with head holding and basically forcing him to kiss me right. which he eventually did.

good

- he is really sweet and honest and understands depression but is not miserable, currently, and has no intention or desire to pursue misery. also he does not judge this, makes the best out of it.

- he is good friends with his parents. (maybe this is bad, it all depends on how obsessive it is but i'm being positive here).

- he goes to shows/tour a lot

- he really likes me, i think.

- he is responsive to my needs.

- all my needs. ahem. or at least all of my needs that i let him take care of last night.

- we did not go extremely far and he did not pressure me, other than the original hump

- but i saw his wee and damn he is hung.

- he calls me baby in an affectionate and not evil paternalistic patriarchal way, or a false gigolo way, just in a sweet way

- he was not attractive to me at all, not someone i'd notice on the street. but he is so illuminated from within now that i see things i didn't before. like how cute he is.

- he plays guitar and likes good music.

- he not only dresses in the army/navy style, but works in an army/navy store.

- he has a dog named jigsaw that he is obsessed with and calls "jiggy." he is always taking jiggy on long walks.

- he makes me feel good and fascinating and beautiful.

so that's that. obviously more good than bad. but he knows ex, in fact his best friend (age 25) used to date ex's mother (no joke). he can tell i am still hung up on ex, as he has recently seen us together, or rather, that i am jinxed and uninterested in pursuing another relationship, that i am in Recovery. that i am Not Ready and i definitely need some time for myself. it was all over my face, everything i did, although it surprised me how easy it was to be with him, how comfortable, and i was sorry that i wasn't feeling it like he was, like this overwhelming thing, that my mind was still somewhere else, but i was still feeling it, it was good.

it's sad, because this is the kind of boy that i should just go ahead and let love me, for once. and this morning we talked and it was great, how we stayed up all night and made out and snuggled then talked about real things, and went out for breakfast and ate outside and when i drove him home, i knew i hadn't been sending out the signals that i expected to see him again or even wanted to, that i needed to see him again, that there was any place for him, but still, the fact that he gave me a kiss and a slightly forlorn, perhaps, "i know i'll see you" gave me pause, until i realized i probably will see him on thursday, and if i don't, i am calling his cousin, who is my friend, and getting his number and telling him that i want to see him again, thanks.

he's a gemini and of course, the best part. his name is richie. heh.

i like two boys now.

i am ready to "date." perhaps. but no relationships for me thankyouverymuch.

i won't hurt him, i want to be his friend, i won't do to him what was done to me, but i'm not ready to just let it drop as is. i'm hoping the fates will have me see him on thursday, for a show will be perfect for the magic.

this entry is long. and is brought to you by the letters p and v. and the colors champagne and scarlet red.

Imageless Jehovah
Do not fail me now
Lest I resort to teraphim
And my old rebellious witchcraft.

Yahweh, I am here.
They who were once called Prophets
And, before that, Seers
Are now called poets, Yahweh,
I am here.

To obey is better
Than to listen to the fat of lambs.
To serve is more
Than these or any words.
It proves
I am listening.

Still I weep.
Why hast thou forsaken me?
Am I not a child of Israel? Or am I
Philistine, perhaps a noble pagan
At best?

Once I held a sleek horn
Of oil. At times I still am possessed
By you, although I do not name you.
I do not believe in names anymore.

See my itinerant flight.
I never know where I am.
And sometimes when I am running
From what I am reaping, from what I
Have sown, I hear you ask
“How long,
Daughter,
How long must you be in mourning?”

angie. angie.
when will those clouds all disappear?
angie. angie.
where will it lead us from here?

with no loving in our souls
and no money in our coats
you can't say we're satisfied.
but angie. angie.
you can't say we never tried.

angie, you're beautiful.
but ain't it time we said good-bye?
angie, i still love you.
remember all those nights we cried?

all the dreams we held so close
seemed to all go up in smoke.
let me whisper in your ear:
angie. angie.
where will it lead us from here?

oh, angie, don't you weep.
all your kisses still taste sweet.
i hate that sadness in your eyes.
but angie. angie.
ain't it time we said good-bye?

with no loving in our souls
and no money in our coats
you can't say we're satisfied.
but angie. i still love you, baby.
ev'rywhere i look i see your eyes.
there ain't a woman that comes close to you.
come on baby, dry your eyes.

but angie. angie.
ain't it good to be alive?
angie. angie.
they can't say we never tried.

for some reason this hurts so much more than "it's over, bitch, please go die." it hurts so much more than a clean break. all these pieces that you want to keep rearranging until they work, until everything is back to the way it was when things were perfect. when in fact things were never perfect. in fact most of the time they weren't even better. but there's still this love, this something you can't get past and so it's mixed messages and resentment and never ever being satisfied.

what hurts is having all the right elements and just not being able to make it work. what hurts is knowing what you're missing and wanting it so much and still never being able to get it right. and the moment this song is about -- this bittersweet parting, this laying down of the law in the most kind and loving way possible, but it is an admission nonetheless, of failure. of saying we can't play this game anymore. we can't keep hurting each other, not if we want to salvage what is good and treat each other decently and live our own lives.

there is a part of you that is missing, he said.

you can't say we never tried.

so d is not going with me to see trey next week. he is going to bonnaroo because his brother and friend scored a ticket for him. in tennessee. but before i could get too jealous and sad i decided to ask tara and now she is coming to the show! yay!

and he was really sorry, too. he didn't mean to forget. weirdly, he called me at 2 pm today. i am usually never home then, but today i got out for lunch late and was just about to go back to the office and anyway it was still nice to hear from him. and tonight we had one of those conversations where i am reminded of why he is Different, why i love him so much.

me: "i have no loyalty to most girls. sisterhood is a fucking myth. i only have loyalty to girls who aren't gonna play me the fuck out as soon as they can."

him: "understandable."

me: "because, see, a girl like me with a bad attitude doesn't get anywhere. but some hot bitch with a bad attitude still has the fact that she's a hot bitch going for her."

him: "not really. she won't have anything genuine."

me: "but she'll still have more than me. and even worse? a girl like me who is actually like me, a nice person, with a good attitude, cannot compete against a hot bitch with a good attitude. and don't tell me i'm hot. because you know what i mean. the girls who are hotties and know how to play the genuine card will always fucking win."

him: "i'm sorry, marie. i have to beg to differ. they don't win. they won't win. they will lose."

me: "that's so not true, dood."

him: *shrug evident in voice* "no, actually. they don't win. trust me."

sigh.

and the worst thing about the whole job situation is this:

i really like my job.

i'm addicted to the fast-track world of publishing, the weekly turnover, the quick pace and how fast my day goes. i'm addicted to my cute coworkers, who crack jokes and bring me toys and make me smile. so i'm doing all i said i was doing before -- updating the resume, faxing the resume, reaching out to old contacts, but i wish i didn't have to do it. in fact, i'm still hoping to find reasons to not have to undergo this change when i was perfectly happy before.

because, get this -- my boss has been super nice to me ever since the little "discussion" on tuesday. hasn't given me a fucking whit of trouble. there has only been one icky incident with him since, and he wasn't even there. the story? well, i went to let his daughter in his condo, as i do every afternoon, and the satellite dish wasn't working so she wanted to watch a movie. rush hour 2. even though it was a canadian version, rated pg, i still made her act out various scenes for me to prove she had seen it before as she claimed. and there is only a dvd downstairs, and it was a vhs, so we went up to her dad's room where i could put the tape in the vcr because it was too high for her to reach.

and. there was a tape already in the VCR. and it was called "amazing f*cks 5."

EW.

and boss' daughter goes "what movie is that?"

and i go "oh, it's some weird artsy movie..." whilst simultaneously shoving it far, far, out of her reach.

"let me see it," she says. "what is it called?"

"oh, i don't know. something in french." i replied.

this seemed to placate her.

see, my lies are so bizarre how could you think they were anything but true?

i'd like to thank the members of the academy for being so supportive to me during my recent job crisis. here's the overdue update:

yesterday i oh-so-calmly confronted my boss about the ad. he assured me that he was not looking to replace me, but basically reamed me out and threatened me and informed me a million different times that he doesn't think i have very much work to do, he cannot see how the child-shuttling is distracting, and he insulted me a million different ways.

so i've pretty much made the decision to move on, based on his reaction. i don't have time for details now, maybe later. but i have updated my resume and contacted people who offered me interviews before and after i took this job. i'm going to send my shit out, get some interviews, hopefully secure a position and submit my letter of resignation.

but there's a part of me that is reluctant to do so. i really love all the other people i work with. they're great, hardworking, inspiring. i love my boss' kids. and as louise stated in the comments, getting another job sucks.

it's funny, though. when i went to let my boss' adorable 9-year-old spunkster punk rocker of a daughter in his condo yesterday, we ate some snackwells devil's food cakes and chatted a bit about school and stuff, and i told her to call her dad, like she does every day.

she wrinkled her nose and said "i don't wanna call him. i hate him."

"what are you talking about?" i said. "i know you don't really mean that."

"he's fat and he's ugly and he's mean and he yells and he never listens to me!" she blurted out.

testify, sister, i'm thinking. but what i actually said was, "[name]. i know what you mean. sometimes i get so mad at my parents. and i think i hate them. and i know it's tough being nine, thinking for yourself, being an intelligent and together kinda girl, when no one listens to you. but remember how much your dad loves you. you should hear the way he talks about you!"

to which she replied: "that's only to impress his friends."

which is the saddest and most world-weary thing i've ever heard out of a nine-year-old. it made me so sad. i tried to convince her otherwise, and she seemed happier. at the root level, she's wrong, but on a superficial level she's definitely right, which is fucked up.

then she said "you should hear the way he talks about you to people."

i told you he can't get enough of me!

i got a cute haircut from adrienne. she is so ridiculously hot it like hurt me to stare at her whilst she was cutting my hair. she was at the show in the city the other night, too.

more later.

but i do not think this is the way to start an eclipse. must go into fast-forward.

also:

i will learn lessons from this job but i will not punish myself. i did my fucking best, better than i've ever done in something so mind-numbing and disassociating. it managed to not feel that way for once, and i'm hoping it was me and not where i was working.

i will find something far far better somewhere else.

happy place. happy fucking place.

i am having a severe episode of panic.

i'm pretty sure my boss is looking to replace me. i've been taking calls for a "bookkeeper" all day and i finally found the damned advertisement myself. in it, my boss offers salary and benefits to a bookkeeper/admin assistant who can "run the office." in other words, my job. except with benefits, thanks.

so now i'm at a crossroads. one of my coworkers suggested i play it cool, don't do or say anything. but this was before the ad. my dad thinks i should say something.

why can't i make a fucking decision for myself?

marie's top ten eclipse goals:

1) pay bills -- tickets, loans, purchases.

2) clean room. get rid of lots of stuff.

3) start keeping a food journal, to monitor fruit/vegetable/water intake. use journal as tool to improve diet.

4) join gym. go to gym. experience bliss of health.

5) paint room. a nice pale sage.

6) organize poetry. edit. compile. what have you.

7) save money. send out resumes. prepare for impending move and possibility of different future.

8) obtain cell phone. no, really.

9) clean out car. get car washed. car smells bad.

10) believe in second chances. maintain faith. know it really is getting better all the time.

this weekend was about as tumultous as the pre-eclipse weekend would be expected to be. the eclipse is tomorrow, so a lot of things are coming to a head: chandra levy is found, skakel is convicted, j lo and puffy get back together.

my work troubles have come to an interesting place. apparently my boss is hiring me an assistant. at least that's what he told everyone else in the meeting the other day. but not me. which makes me wonder if she will really be my assistant or my replacement that i am expected to train. hmm.

anyway i was very very glad for the workweek to end. friday night i went out with d and k to our local. it was a pretty fun, simple night. the nets game pretty much broke my spirit to a certain degree, but so be it. the highlight of friday night was definitely being serenaded. see, there was this really lousy band playing. during a lull betwixt songs someone screamed out "play some carpenters!" and i was like "yeah, carpenters!" and this chick next to me, who had short blonde hair and looked like aimee mann said "i love the carpenters." and i started singing "rainy days and mondays." then she started singing, and i swear to god, i have never heard someone with a voice that good from that distance. she sounded like the ghost of karen herself. i was almost in tears. k and d came over and we made her sing "voices carry" and d made her sing eternal flame. he was really cute about it, too. "do you know that song, eternal flame?" her: "yeah." him: "do you know who sings it?" her: "the bangles." him: "well, could you, um, sing it?"

seriously. if i ever get married i want her to sing dramatique 70s and 80s hits for at least two hours at the reception. this woman has the voice i dream about, the one that i wish i had so i could sing "gloria" and "fame" and "total eclipse of the heart" with the necessary power.

saturday started out pretty nice. tara and i took a trip to ikea. i got a lamp, some organizers, a mirror, a lantern, and a few other little things. all for under $65. bargain!

then k and d and i went to the (south orange) village to catch a chartered (read:lots of drinks) bus into the city for our friends' record release party. i won the cd raffle, but that was pretty much the highlight o' the night. at one point d and i just started fighting, and it was pretty downhill from there. i was crying in the bar and the bartender was trying to cheer me up. she actually ripped a napkin out of my hand and said "no crying!"

the bus broke down about three blocks away from the venue on the way home. we ended up wandering around until we found the christopher street path, which we took to newark. from newark we took a taxi to south orange. on the path and in the taxi this boy i kinda know was snuggling with me. he's nice, i've known him for awhile. and i didn't mind the snuggling. but i definitely wasn't trying to go any further than that, thanks.

then we went to this party filled with 19-21 year old girls and 19-23 year old boys. i wanted to ralph the whole time and could not wait to leave. d seemed to be having the time of his fucking life, however. and after a lot of snarkiness and drinking and what not d uttered this statement:

"we will never not be friends, marie. seriously. till death do us part, okay?"

um. thanks.

so that makes it okay that later that morning he was yelling at me, telling me the real reason we broke up is because i'm so paranoid, that it has nothing to do with my looks or anything else, it's because i can never be happy just being happy, there always has to be something wrong. but tonight we talked and he apologized and didn't even remember the details of freaking out on me.

i have to train my mind to reside only in the happy place.

happy place. happy place.

close your eyes, give me your hand, darling
do you feel my heart beating?
do you understand?
do you feel the same?
am i only dreaming
or is this burning an eternal flame?

i believe it's meant to be, darling
i watch you when you are sleeping
you belong with me
do you feel the same?
or am i only dreaming
is this burning an eternal flame?

say my name
sun shines through the rain
a whole life so lonely
and then you come and ease the pain
i don't want to lose this feeling
ohhh...

my life is so fucked up right now that it would not be productive to bitch and hash it out here. i am so mad, so fucking mad for so many different reasons right now.

for instance, my job.

i've explained before that my boss has tyrant tendencies. but sometimes he pulls shit that is so trifling, so obscure, and requires me to go so far out of my way whilst showing no appreciation and continued bitching that i want to slit my fucking wrists. this has been a banner week. here's the letter i wish i could write him:

Dear Boss:

I am not a secretary. True, I am your secretary, but it is not what I am. I am a real person. An intelligent person. A person that you are incredibly lucky to have working for you.

You see, dear boss, I don't mind running the occasional child-shuttling errand. Your kids adore me, thanks, and the feeling is mutual. In fact, I wish I could spend more time with them just because someone should. But let's not get into that. What I mind is driving half an hour round trip to only return to the office to be sent out again immediately for the same fucking half hour trip. What I mind is your poor scheduling resulting in your bad attitude and riding me like a carnival pony.

What I mind is being interrupted during my work to run said errands and then listening to you bitch because my work isn't done. Fucker. I don't have a clone. Leave me alone if you want the work done. And don't bitch me out and tell me I didn't give you your messages properly because YOU DID NOT LISTEN. And don't rush me off the fucking phone when I call. I have important things to say, and you like hang up on me then have the nerve to yell at me for not telling you sooner.

I realize I am about five or ten minutes late every morning. I know you hate that, but you should be glad, for that is my only flaw. Beyond that I am a perfect worker, one who has stayed at least an hour late every day this week and who readily shuffles her priorities -- YOUR priorities -- as needed. I am a fucking can-do girl.

You don't know what I can-do, bitch.

And while you're out chasing whores you met through escort services and/or AOHell Dating, checking your fucking personal email forty times a day, I am working. It's called behind the curtain, where the wizard works. Emerald City doesn't run on fumes. Look the fuck into it.

So don't you dare -- DARE -- call me stupid or imply my mental facilities are somehow beneath yours. I repeat: I AM NOT A FUCKING SECRETARY. I am slumming, truly. I will not be here forever. I just need to make some money.

And if you ever talk to me like I am slow/retarded again, I WILL EVISCERATE YOU WITH WORDS AND MAKE YOU SOB.

But you are making it harder than it is worth. And I WILL NOT QUIT. The sick thing is, I know you like me. But I also know you are bipolar. Not just because I picked up your prescription a few times. BECAUSE IT FUCKING SHOWS. And guess what, honey? I could outfox, outbitch, outwit and outlast your ass in any tyrant rampage.

Basically, I don't want to have to make a 50 year old man cry. Don't fucking make me.

Sincerely,
Dame Margaux Bohemia

the best quote about sports ever, i read in today's sports illustrated:

"jason [kidd] and the Argo-nets setting sail in the marshes of new jersey..."

or something like that.

i realize that i am writing a lot but none of it is good. none of it is deep or possess'd of any great measure of feeling. it may come as a great surprise to some who know me that i am a person of quite shallow and simple pursuits most of the time.

as in, i think a lot about boys. in fact, i construct shamefully fancy and complex dramas in my head involving myself and whatever boy catches my immediate fancy. for a period of about a year in the late eighties, it was jordan knight and occasionally joey mcintyre, but never donny, danny, or jon.

all of my fantasies then and now were typical. i could write a good romance novel -- girl and boy fall in naive, seemingly blissful love, boy breaks girl's heart through acts of violence/cheating/joining the dark side. boy maintains obsessive love for girl. enter benevolent third party. third boy party, of course. is first boy red herring? second boy and girl maintain painfully strained and bosom-heaving relations which culminate in bitterly brief albeit satisfying moments of erotic discourse. okay, fucking. first boy discovers relations. then a duel occurs.

at that point either:

* the girl's lover is murdered by her original, less worthy suitor. girl cuts off all of her hair in grief. the mean one makes her a farm wife, always with skin too pale and soft for the fields, mind you -- and he is deeply, chauvinistically possessive. the sex is typically aggro.

*the girl's benevolent suitor nobly lets the mean suitor go, even though his throat is almost pierced by his sword. the mean one is begging for mercy and secures his less worthy status thus, publicly. white knight rescues girl to the mountains. commence soft-focus fucking and eventual having of babies.

nowadays i hardly ever dream about famous boys. i think that sort of true love for the famed died for me with river phoenix, perhaps surging mildly now and again for the likes of the violently sexy ralph fiennes and virulently, infectedly sexy benicio del toro. mostly now i quickly supplant whatever drama i am constructing with a face i really see, someone i actually know, or see often enough to give me slightly new material.

this clearly endangers my relationships. i have recently realized the intricacies of the precipice on which i stand. how much of what i see is what i want to see, how much of my existence is padded by fantasy? this is when writing comes into play. creative writing i mean. and poetry. when you realize the line betwixt fiction and reality is so deeply blurred that you might as well start telling the stories, slightly altered, perhaps even used as mere jumping points, to spin these things you are always in danger of spinning in your real life.

mostly i am terrified that i am a drama queen, and i am not capable of fully dealing on any level. but then i think: who the fuck do i know that fully deals with anything? who truly reaps the consequences of every action, who accepts anything all the time? certainly not me. i don't know how to take no for an answer, when i don't want to hear it. i can be stubborn as all hell. not to mention a surly bitch. but most of the time i am not these things, and yet these things are so delicately sewn into my inherent character that they become nonthreatening to those who truly know me.

like my writing, for instance.

i am getting the fuck over it. over being afraid to do it, pretty much. over being afraid of it backfiring all over me like a bad tire, sins i didn't even knew i had committed and then some.

and i have things to be happy about. like. my bills are slowly but surely getting paid. i am able to do fun things. i have security. i may be able to make something of myself someday. this amazes me constantly.

because i messed up their link before here is some new deal propaganda:

this page features some charmingly unattractive, red-eyed, and awkward photos of the band. bad hair, frat boy posturing and jaws askew. it's funny because they're the most pulsatingly beautiful mass of music/men on stage. not to sound like a total teenybopper, but dan, the bassist, is a sublime spectacle of a man. a gentle man. a man a girl could love. i mean it!

and on to the reception room:

The organ case includes a marquetry panel featuring a lyre and two horns while the room's stained glass window depicts a man playing a lyre.

i'm blatantly taking the tour during lunch tomorrow and becoming a bonafide edison dork.

now i am credit cardless and torturing myself with my good ticket karma by searching for tickets i cannot now pay for, like ninth row string cheese at darien lake. which i really should go to because i am already missing string cheese at bonnaroo (could not get tickets) and radio city as i'm already attending a festival that weekend. thanks. actually i'm working at that festival avec katie and d. we signed up for parking crew. you know, the kids with the flags. heh. so it's free and we get tee shirts, and actually get to contribute to the festival scene from the inside out. and it will be fun!

um, point five seconds ago, basically, i had nothing to look forward to this summer. my horoscopes said everything would turn around in june. they were right.

for one: today i moved into my new office at work. it's across the street from llewellyn park. the gorgeofabulous glenmont estate that belonged to thomas and mina edison is on the edge o' the park. check out the stained glass window that exists on said property. it portrays a casually bored penelope, perched next to her loom, waiting for odysseus to return from the trojan war. or as they say oh-so-politely on the website:

A large stained glass window admits light to the stair landing. Attributed to George Payne of East Orange, New Jersey, the window features Penelope, the wife of the Greek hero Ulysses, as she awaits his return from the Trojan War. Symbolizing the faithful wife, Penelope also reflects the Victorian concept of the home as a moral center, and the woman's role to ensure a proper home life.

or as we say in new jersey, thanks.

apparently my ticket karma works on more than my car! and with my car it only works in a bad way, as in my car attracts tickets like a flame to moths!

however tonight i scored two basically FRONT ROW tickets in the BEST PLACE EVER for the trey show at PNC, my favorite hometown venue, thanks. not exactly front row but close enough. so d and i will be able to stub down tr and katie, who bought their tickets like a month ago but did not score ones anywhere near as good, thanks.

YAY.

i have this bad habit of having poetry come into my head full force when i'm doing other things. like driving or being at a very loud show where everyone is dancing and there are no pens in sight. this happened the other night. and the only overly-poignant bit i can remember is:

sorry girl
i can't wear your ring
and play guitar at the same time

or something like that.
oh, fucking rockstars.

i have had a tumultuous and exciting weekend.

friday night i was pissed off because d. was supposed to call me to go out and i ended up locating his whereabouts via a friend and accosting him at the bar, where he was happy to see me and not mad that i was grumpy and stressy and what not. he had two of his friends from work with him, older mexican (i think) guys. they had just been to the strip club. the guys kept buying me beer and pointing out to d. that "the outside beautee does not madder. eet is the beautee eenside that counts!" and winking in my direction suggestively. anyway, we had fun.

saturday i was hung over as fuck and had to work, packing shit up for a couple of hours. this did not make for a happy me. the office was unventilated, hot, and i felt achy and miserable from the heat, the packing, and the hangover. i did what i had to do, left, napped, and drove to brooklyn. we went to the show. it was great. dan grew out his hair into a spiritual, ryan princeesque shag.

and he was wearing clogs.

then her car was eviscerated in the streets of manhattan.

today i hung out with bess, amy, richie and the mysterious charles. their apartment is fucking amazing thanks. the walls are constructed out of like linen, glass bottles, and bob marley's old dreads. that's how spiritual the place is. i couldn't get over the view, even if i could not identify any of the obvious buildings i've lived .5 seconds from my entire life.

i love my life-affirming friends!

also must get these. gotta love the summer planning.

i will go mad with joy upon attending these shows. i have not been this excited for a show in a long long time. whee!!! sloan!!!