July 2006 Archives

I've been trying to tell myself this week that summer romances are overrated. Disdain and retreat is after all the last refuge of wounded pride. I don't even know what I want exactly. Non-rejection would be nice for a switch.

The past couple of weeks have just been a series of painfully demoralizing misadventures. I'm sick of the freaks, they just make me feel worse. I've been stood up, rejected, non-optioned, and made to endure ridiculous monologues about exes, pharmaceuticals, and dysfunction. It's bad enough trying to go through internally trying to get back where I was in some respects with being kicked halfway back down the hill. Even though I feel like the most well-adjusted girl in NYC in comparison to some of them, stick a fork in me, I'm done.

In the meantime, I'm focusing my dissatisfaction on Love. Okay, the décor kinda sucks. It's more than a little heavy on dark cave meets acid trip with that random picture of MLK Jr out of nowhere and the flow stopping door that separates the dancefloor from the rest of the place is super ill-advised. But, the best soundsystem and usually stellar lineups and it's always TOTALLY EMPTY. Okay, it's been not empty once for Alexander Robotnick, but that's one time in the damned near 10 that I've been there. A crying shame really. That place rules and with one good party, it could be amazing.

I went with PrincessNella, celebrating her birthday by dragging her around town and getting cheap drinks in this NYUcountry bar until the screechy idiots drove us out. The painfully empty party was fun. Sweet, glorious techno. Some random cornered me (literally) and decided to chat music with me. He was like "is this house? Or techno? I can't tell the difference. It sounds like progressive house to me" and I shook my head at him sadly. Boredom kept me from walking away until having practically pinned me into the narrow space and traded cards and asked me for my AIM name, he was casually all "I run a record label...with my wife. We have two kids..." and I gave him a well-deserved "WTF is wrong with you?" face and made an escape. Gah. I just don't know if it's them or me at this point.

I'm so boring that I have my apartment all to myself for 4 days and the most exciting thing I can think is "yay! Now I can finally clean!" Sigh.

This week's pet peeve: guys who think they're too slick for their own good. They're so transparent and just end up looking stupid and greedy. In some ways, I've given up masterplanning. It never really works out as planned and/or usually takes up more time and energy than I'd rather be devoting. Nowadays, I'm either into it or I'm not with gradients for both. I'm trying to avoid unnecessary trouble. I'm tired and working on limited time.

I'd rather occupy my time riding around Brooklyn and thinking up fun little summer mixes:

Roni Size/Reprazent -- Share The Fall (Full Vocal Mix)
Faithless -- Insomnia
Daft Punk -- Too Long
James T Cotton -- Oochie Coo
Voom Voom -- Bounce
33Hz -- Hot Flashes
Kudu -- Love Me In Your Language
Willie Hutch -- The Glow
Talking Heads -- This Must Be The Place (Naïve Melody)
Thievery Corporation -- Originality
Steely Dan -- Pretzel Logic

Comments are back to normal, thanks to Jay-V decoding the coding shit I couldn't wrap my tired brain around. Dope!

ETA: Check out my latest Soulseek spoil: Wille Hutch -- The Glow. Yeah, from The Last Dragon soundtrack. And what?!

Most of the summer has been a blur. I've been baked to a Hershey bar color and spend most of my free time outdoors, riding, walking, and catching shows in the park. June and the beginning of July wasn kinda rough for me on multiple levels, but I'm bouncing back. In the spirit of life picking back up, when one door closed (with a Photoshop coda. Luckily for me, I never said I wasn't a bitch...), another has opened. Life really is just too short at the end of the day. And there's no rule that says you can't be zen and over it and still be gleeful at eyewitness accounts they've fallen off hard. All's fair in love and war. It only took 25 years, but I think I've finally stopped being a glutton for punishment.

In the shit that figures category, when I finally reach the point to start riding my bike to work would of course be when the temperature is damned near 100. And I do live at the top of a mega Brooklyn slope and work at the bottom of one. Good times, no doubt. I should arrange for the ambulance to be waiting for me when I get home tomorrow.

New worst habit: checking my work email at home. I can't escape!

I had the best Saturday last week. PS 1 (which is apparently $5 before 2pm...good to know!) for Warm Up and browsing the exhibitions, then to the Water Taxi Beach which has the distinction of being rad yet kinda bizarre at the same time. Good food, drinks, DJs at night, and if you just focus on the sand, you might think you're not overlooking the toxic waste dump also known as the East River. And a Justin sighting! Then to that party I love so much where I put myself off smoking for a good month I think by indulging in that treat that made the night so weird that other time. This time, however, I was borderline tripping and barely functional when The Director and his crew passed through for a minute. I was out of there by 3:30 which is just about unheard of for me and was kinda fucked up until at least Monday night. Eh. Started off well enough I guess.

Looking ahead a bit, I'm marking my calendar for a mega lineup at Summerstage and Chicago in mid-August. Should be fun.