Kitty Power

Oh Shit!

Fucking Christmas on the last fucking day in July!

And Bill's posting Nona Hendryx songs. Oh, lovely day it is!

You've Got Your Leather Boots On

The Sea and Cake, All The Photos
Depeche Mode, Something To Do (Black Strobe Remix)
DRS, Gangsta Lean
Cherelle, I Didn't Mean To Turn You On
Green Velvet, Answering Machine
Royksopp, Only This Moment

Aaron, formerly known as The Outer, is a very mean man. I told him last week that I was gearing up to see Green Velvet and he called me a nu-raver. Just...no. I swear, a girl goes to a few parties where they're still spinning that goddamned "Never Be Alone" (let it die, fuckers, it's like 3 years old now) and then she gets tarred by association. Pish. I'm actually going through a major house and techno phase. Three fave songs of the moment: "Shake and Pop;" Atjazz, "Love Someone;" and Andreas Kauffelt and Toby Izui, "The People."

I originally had big music plans for the weekend, but I went to the Battles show Friday night and they were especially kickass, but it was kind of a series of misadventures. I won tickets from a contest, but missed the confirmation email by leaving work not minutes before and didn't get to say I'd be there, so that ended up costing me $14. The show was originally supposed to be a doors @ 8, show @ 9 deal, but the concert got combined with the party/show that would've happened after it, so everything was pushed way later. First band went on at 11:30 as was finishing up as I was outside waiting to get in (no big loss). Then, the second came on at 12:30 and their set was just...a lot to ask at 1am. Not to say they were bad, it was just a bit too jarringly psychedelic noise rock for the middle of the night when you don't know when you're finally getting out of there. Not to mention, the in between set music was disjointed as hell. I was sitting down and tired by the time Battles came on, but it was really worth it. It might have been one of the best shows of theirs I've ever seen. But, it killed any urge I have to see another performance for like...a good week.

I Was Delayed, I Was Waylaid

I've been having a mini nostalgia trip today. Once upon a time, I really looked like my mother. And I didn't fret about the perceived thickness of my neck. And I was really vain and referred to my stomach as perfect. And the night that picture was taken, I was wearing black satin, cut dangerously low in the back, and I made jaws drop. I also drank shitloads on an empty stomach and ended up doubled over and dryheaving in a heap. But, I still was pretty hot.

I still have that dress here in my closet, pushed back into the corner, sad and neglected. I could probably still get it on...a quarter way before the seams ripped. I won't even pretend that it'd still be able to zip. It fit like a second skin then, but draped flatteringly. I'd need a lot more material nowadays.

I've been feeling kinda hit or miss healthwise and I made the step of joining my closest Y last week. Swimming and steam rooms and all of that supposedly help me feel better. Buying a swimsuit wasn't the semi-traumatizing trip I expected it to be. I'm a lot more realistic about my body and its limitations nowadays. I think I panicked more at the gym when I realized I'd placed myself in the high traffic area of the locker room changing and then when I had to sneak into the aquacize class with my little towel barely acting as a shield and all eyes on me. It's one thing to be mentally comfortable in your skin and have other people see you in it in bad lighting. But the class was fun and I kicked ass, bad knee and shoulder be damned. Maybe there's hope for me yet.

Last Friday night, I wandered to Williamsburg for a show at a venue I've seen only good shows at and amuses me by changing the decor every time I go there. I tangentially knew that the show was put on by this kid I'm conflicted about on a few levels. And I strolled up and there he was. We met in one of the random ways I can meet people when I'm feeling deliberate and the episode itself was fun if a bit tame. Strolling about the Slope on one of the hottest days of the spring, chatting aimlessly, and watching tv is strange on the surface, yet it was also perfect in a way. I so rarely just chill with someone I don't know well. Underrated it is. I've seen him around since then, usually at shows, and he's disarmingly friendly, but the outside venue communications lines seem to have dried up. I don't really feel anything but kinda off-put. He's an interesting guy and has a lot of the things I said I was looking for on my post-boy list of Mr. Next attributes. He's got some of the too cool for school trappings, but I felt that he was a stand up non-pretentious sort of person. Maybe I was wrong and the vague shallow hipster impression is the real one. I'm suspicious of people who put up the fake front whether they like you or not. It veers too close to the Shady school of life. Then again, it seems to work for him, so what do I know?

I ended up in the balcony next to a guy being a "badass" and sprinkling beer on people. I may have pointed out the slope kid (and his stupid shirt) for a splashing. It was wrong. The devil made me do it. But, I was still surprised when dude got inspired and practically dumped the whole can on him. Sloper looked up all aggro style for a second, but the moment passed. I ran into him later and he was asking what the deal was with the beer thrower. I feigned confusion and wandered off.

I can't help myself from playing the what if game as far as he's concerned. Well, he's not the only one. Sometimes I look back on the old pictures and think that if that was me now, I'd never lose. And then I remember the circumstances around the night this picture was taken when I couldn't quite hold onto the attention of my spring semester focus at the time and senior year in general which was like one misadventure after another. The grass is always greener on the other side. But I think at the end of the day, I'd just like less rocks on my lawn.

Hey Mr. DJ, Let The Beat Play

My new fave commercial. I think the bemused British chuckle does it for me...and dude being like "I'd be happy with just one." I think I realized as I watched it that I had never heard Becks speak before. And damn, he sure is blond.

I'm about 95% free from this mega-project I've been devoted to for most of the past couple of weeks. It looks pretty dope if I must say so myself. (Ask me off-site if you're remotely curious about the link.) While I've been mucking through it, me being me, it's not like I totally stayed at home...at least not on the weekends. I might still be a little burned out from the out and about every night of the week thing from a month or so ago. I'm old and tired, I can't roll that (much) anymore.

The other weekend kicked off early Friday evening when I rolled from work (Summer Fridays never seem to work out as planned lately...) to the monthly happy hour of this downtown agency my old job collaborated with. TrendVickster came along and we chatted and drank and oohed and ahhed the company head's brand spanking new iPhone. He tried to front like he was nonchalant while fumbling through the controls and the whole spectacle got a meh. TV and I split a slice of cake (what a nutritious dinner!) and I was off to the wilds of Bushwick to party and get a fangirl thrill.

It might be the Brooklyn girl in me but I don't get why Bushwick is hip. I hear the name and I think nowhere worth going. Williamsburg is vaguely understandable being that it's super convenient from Manhattan, but Bushwick is just out there and it really hasn't changed much over the years. I got off the train at Morgan to find this place and turned a corner to feel like I was in a horror movie. One where the zombies come out from the empty lots and seemingly abandoned warehouse buildings to drag a poor unsuspecting girl in the wrong place at the wrong time away to feast on her brains. And then I walk down the street to see something or another filming and this converted factory building with a gourmet supermarket and cafe and little hipsters hanging out on the bench in front. And I walk another block and it's back to zombieland, with the faint sound of techno coming from a roof. I hobble my way up the stairs and the joint is packed with hipsters from god knows where, most looking fresh off the road from Bumblefuck, USA and some real neighborhood kids amusing themselves. I was feeling antisocial and wandered across the street to this random bar that I'm a little in love with now. I chilled with the bartender and randoms watching Saturday Night Fever (one of those movies that you realize is super fucked up when you actually really pay attention to it) on DVD. I went back to the roof to satisfy my thrill (oh so dirty sexy pretty!) and left just as I heard the sirens coming to shut the party down. Back at the bar, I ended up in this overlong conversation about work and the crazy admark industry and I kinda felt like a very fulfilled nerd. And then called a cab to drag my drunk ass home to my doorstep. Good times.

Saturday's vague highlights was marvelling at party locations nowadays. I'm just waiting for someone else to do a laundry party at this point. This one was in some random ass loft next to a gas station and I saw Abe and other folks I know. I had a spazzy moment with my current fave DJ from the party that I'm becoming diehard about where I told her how much I loved her podcasts mixes on the bathroom line. Ah well.

Last Friday got me back to 419. My knee hurt, so I perched myself on the back bar stool and was content to sip on something and people watch. But, noooo...whenever a woman is sitting alone somewhere, it obviously means that she's dying to get picked up, right? Wrong! First dude slid across within 5 minutes and he had sub-game and I was beyond monosyllabic and after some uncomfortable minutes, he finally went away. This other dude rolled in all fake thug in a hipster party and sideglanced me for a while. He was easy on the eyes and I may have noncommittally looked back once or twice. His big move was telling me to let him know when I wanted a drink because he could hook me up and then saying he'd be right back and SMACKING ME ON THE ASS as he walked past. I totally gasped and him booking it was the only thing that didn't have me getting up and hurting him, lame knee be damned. Who the fuck seriously does that? Jesus Christ. It's bad enough that being by yourself in the midst of people and stuff means you have to get damned every bullshit pass in the place, but the ass slap is beyond disrespectful. I was fuming. I even broadcasted it to my dodgeball list in fact. I was bitching about it later on to this random who amusingly looked on when guy #1 and the slapper tried one after another to kick it to me again upstairs on the patio. The slapper was really close to getting a drink thrown in his face (he doesn't know about me...I'll do it) when he was mewing that I'd gotten my own drink instead of letting him get it. Fucking lamer. He was pretty beat later on when I was chatting up the random too. So strange that ass slapping isn't much of deal sealer.

In the best of circumstances, I'm admittedly difficult to meet at a party. I loathe being hit on. If you try, you're deaded. In fact, you probably just wasted your time bothering with the walk over because I'm not trying to hear it. Where the random vaguely succeeded where the other two failed (though the slapper torpedoed his own chances) was that I'd given him "can you believe this crap?" exasperated glances during the loser parade and when they left me alone, we had something to chat and joke about. In a nutshell, I might minorly be a control freak and I hate feeling like a piece of meat. Not that I like doing all the work, but I don't respond well to the "you're my prey and I'm pouncing" methodology. YMMV I suppose.