Kitty Power

I Know You Need It, I Need It Too

I'm a terrible slacker, I know. My summer output has been pretty anemic. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

The highlight of the summer was the Daft Punk show at Keyspan. Trendvickster and I checked that out together. My souvenirs (besides an obsession I couldn't quench until I found a bootleg recording of the whole damned show and a desire to go to Vegas for that festival around Halloween) were pretty shitty photos and vids via my terrible cameraphone and some glowsticks that are looking pretty pathetic two weeks later. And I survived a forty minute wait on line at Nathan's and came out with a wine cooler in a big cup and some delicious mutant frog legs. It was fun jumping around at the show and being a part of the big roar of the crowd. My only nitpicks were the shafting of Face To Face and how irritated I was by the sound of Harder, Better, Faster, Song the third (and possibly not the last) time it got mixed in with some other song. But, that stands as #1 on my show of the year list so far. Maybe GZA/Jamie Lidell next month can come close, but won't top for sure.

Besides that, I've been chillin. This summer has been all about the lazy routine. Sunday evenings, one of my more recent neighbor friends and I meet for drinks, takeout, and Battlestar Galactica. Tuesdays after work, I splash around in the pool at the Y doing Aquacize. I've been making random pilgrimages to my new fave non-local local bar. Last Thursday, I was propped at the bar, wincing at a terrible sketch on that incredibly unfunny show on Comedy Central (cookie to you if you can take a wild guess on what show it was) and got into a conversation with this random next to me about the horribleness. Which led to talking about politics, work, travel, love, life, and all those things. And it felt nice in the way it can when you feel like you've beat the odds and actually made a connection in the most random of ways. But, I saw him off with a "have a nice night" and "maybe we'll see each other again." You never know how those things will play out.

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.

If You Really Knew The Answers, You Wouldn't Brag About It So Much

There's not much I don't love about the summer. Away with the sweaters and coats, on with the lightweight clothes and flip flops. It's mostly all good as far as I'm concerned. I spent most of the spring hustling for work and all that related stuff, so now I'm trying to reap the rewards and have some fun. Health-wise, I haven't been feeling a 100% for a while, so I feel more determined to plow through it and try to feel as close to the old me as I can get nowadays. And how do I do that exactly? By doing a marathon week of events/shows/being out and about.

I've been out every night since Tuesday, after a Sunday and Monday of rest after a bit of a wild weekend.That night I went to 419 and stood in the corner of the patio drinking overpriced drinks until I made an escape to Brooklyn to see an awesome show by the Yohimbe Brothers at Zebulon. That's one of those venues that I'm always amazed that I don't spend just about all my time at. I've seen some kickass performances just stumbling in there randomly. Wednesday was going to Soundfix to catch The Sea and Cake's in-store and getting annoyed at the crowd and the shitty opening band who just droned on and on (same problem at the Webster Hall show except their set might have been 3x as long). At the store, most of the people left when that band finally released the stage which was incredible to me. Oh the power of indie hype. Both nights, TSAC ripped it. I've got a major soft spot for them. I was theorizing Thursday night that they all look like teachers I wish I would've had in high school. Sam is English, John's Calc, Eric is Drama, and Archer is the science teacher I would've spent a lot of time thinking inappropriately about. I have to get around to checking out the new album. Friends of friends I randomly came across in the audience Thursday said it ranks high up there with the older stuff. I was happy to hear Mr F, Parasol, and some others I've forgotten between now and then. Good times x2. I got the fun experience of the bartender remembering my drink on the first pass, so every time after that she was like "another gin and tonic?" with the unspoken drunkie on the end as the night wore on. If you had to endure 45 minutes of that middle band, it'd drive you to drink too.

Also Wednesday, I went down to Dumbo at this newish venue, a coffee shop that apparently turns into a big event space nightly now. The show was old school latin soul and it was a good time. The thorn in my side is this guy I keep seeing around. I used to have a bit of a crush on him and go out of my way a bit to set up the opportunities to interact with him, but now he just annoys me. His general reaction is to just look at me as if I'm supposed to run up and give the full court press. I don't even care enough anymore. He's not all that. There's just something about him that doesn't make me want to try. I take that as a bad sign.

Friday night, the recently back to NYC Trendvickster and I did up the hipster event in Greenpoint pretty big. Well, I did and she was along for the ride. As I'm getting older, I'm starting to finally distinguish between the good and bad (for me) liquors. The borderline out of control episodes of the not so recent past: fueled by rum. A good indication that the night is going to end with something rather inappropriate (though pretty fun): scotch. Left to my own devices, I chatted with former associates through my old job and confessed my slight crush on one of their coworkers to more than one person; played a lot of pinball; would have some pretty scandalous photos if the photo booth wasn't busted; and was part of traumatizing some random who just wanted to go to the bathroom. All before 1am. And it's not even the first time I've misbehaved in that space, despite the name change. I think I might have to avoid that spot for a while. Good thing I've never claimed to be especially angelic.

Saturday night had me at Studio B, mostly leaning and watching instead of dancing like I wanted because of a hurt foot. The funny thing about going out frequently again is that I see people I know a lot more often. Which can go either way in terms of bad or good. In Flagranti and G. Rizo were great, but I was pretty disappointed in Mr. Oizo. He really couldn't mix for shit and the space between the songs and/or the abrupt switch overs were really jarring. Ah well. Fun night regardless.

Rest Your Sad Head and Let That Shit Go

A moment of silence for Helga, my formerly indestructible HP that conked out on me. I had it about two months shy of 8 years, so I can't be mad and getting above and beyond my money's worth of it. I've been saving up for a shiny laptop for while and today I bought another HP tower that I'll pass along to my mom once I get my piggy bank ready for the laptop buy. A $400 computer was still lightyears away from what I've been working with all this time. Luckily, I've been slowly migrating my info to my external hard drive for a few months now, so no big info loss. I'm still vaguely confident that I can transfer settings, but it remains to be seen. That poor computer survived 8 years of moves, dust, good writing, bad writing, many IM conversations, angry emails, overlong blog posts, music downloads, and days and nights of overwork. The new computer clean slate feeling is kinda interesting. I feel like everything happening around/with me right now has something to do with salvaging the good pieces and/or rebuilding from the bottom. I don't mind really. Change is a very good thing.

The other week found me venturing into Midtown on a Saturday night. Very strange since the last thing I do when I leave it on Friday evening is clamor for more. I was off to check out this new to me band that I'd been digging for more info about. The show was in this art gallery, hidden in the shadows of office buildings and delis and theater row. The space was transformed into a maze with sculpture and writings decorating the walls. I wandered in, looking for the music that was promised to be at the end. I saw a band, not the one I was there looking for, sitting around and taking apart equipment. I looked at them, they looked at me, and wandered away. I came across this guy, looking like an antsy hipster complete with the shaggy hair, hoodie, and classic sneaks (shelltoes in this instance), and we struck up a stilted conversation as I asked where the refreshments were hiding. Our chatting would reoccur as the night passed. The place was on the miniature side. Three turns and you were either out the door or back where you started. I tried to wait patiently for everything (the set to start, the drink girl to replenish the supply, a lightning bolt to hit this girl who started some story with "not that I'm a racist, but..."), but mostly aimlessly walked around and around. That guy was from SC visiting for the week and one pass we talked about the upstate region and its little cities and towns. I felt a twang slip out and I missed my old summer trips for the quickest of seconds.

And then the band played, mostly acoustic with the music going low as the mike-less singer sang. I was mesmerized by the bass, all strings and neck. I stood in the corner on a bucket and tried to keep my balance and take a pic or two with my shitty camera phone. Almost at the end, there was competing noise from a sax player and drummer playing out front on the street. They wrapped up quick and suddenly and everyone ventured outside. The discordant noise brought down a tourist to complain about her lack of sleep. She walked about and fumed helplessly and everyone watched the showdown between her and the saxophonist amused. I used the lull to stroll off the next destination. There were no more fireworks to be had there that night.

I had a choice of parties to go to with one big possible drawback to them all. I was playing the shell game and trying not to be where The Boy could end up. But true to form, I paid my money and bought my first drink and looked to my left to see his friend and then him sitting there. Figures really. I kept to myself and this random I knew from the neighborhood where I used to work and he hovered around like the mosquito you can't quite kill and finally just ghost. I coped with the Long Island Iced Tea special and chugging to calm my nerves. Too bad my stomach wasn't so happy as time went on. I spent the next day at home lounging like Sheba and considered how fun it would be to live somewhere where my past wasn't always been thrown in my face.

Tuesday, I attempted to see a show by the old faves, but fatigue and the noxious crowd turned me back. Instead I went to the 2nd show of the week by Saturday's group. There again was that guy from SC. We had another strange conversation and he confessed that he was at the show for lack of a better option and stir crazy. I gave my condolences on that and perched myself by the bar hoping for a good watching angle. It was a good show again and I was happy that I got it together to see them. That guy had disappeared before the show was over. I hope he had a good trip.

The Rolls and Waves

This past week, I've just been trying to keep my equilibrium going. I'm one of those people that need a neutral balance or else I'm going to fall into the hole. Last Thursday was a pretty shitty day, for instance. I got beyond drenched out in the rain, had some very not so good interviews, found out my insurance was cut off, and just felt super alone and loserish and overwhelmed most of that day. That great mood carried on to early Friday when I tried my best to just stay under the covers and cry before I got the call about some more interviews and then had some drinks and tried to perk myself up.

I ended up at a big party at 3rd Ward that night. I was determined to enjoy myself and succeeded. There was an annoying interlude with this random who latched onto me early and wouldn't leave me alone. He was too old, marginally funny, looked like a lost member of X-Clan (well, not that there's anything wrong with that part), and had this really irritating habit of singing in my ear. I had to break out some stealth moves to finally shake him. Good thing about huge warehouse parties is you can go hours withough running into a person again. I ran into Benny and Tim and ended up talking with Benny about their group and an upcoming show. He said that they were looking for singers to do background stuff and I (strange for me) volunteered. Er, haven't done more than entertain my cat in four years. That's going to be an adventure. And then I wandered around and around for hours before escaping at 8am into the insanely bright sun. It's always tough strolling in somewhere in the dead of the night and finally accepting that it's daytime and you need to go home. We party hard.

I made a new friend Sunday and I shall call him Red (for obvious real life reasons). We went to Floyd's and didn't play bocce (which is almost blasphemous) and then to see Disturbia. Which made me really hot for Shia LaBeouf, until I found out that's he's not even 21. You'd think I'd be on some what's good for the goose is good for gander since I'm hard pressed to think of the last guy I dated/liked/whatever that's not older than me, but yuck at younger guys. I'm sure I'll change my tune in 5 years or so.
Last night was another Battles show. Most of my time was spent wishing bodily harm on this group of jerks who decided that no matter what the song, a mosh pit was needed. The boy came over at the end all "you're here, cool, I was going to text you to see if you knew about it, but here you are." Blah. He should make himself useful and get me a damned Battles bag. I've talked so much about it this week that the crazed need is awakened.

This week was kinda tough. I've been worrying a lot about the job situation, natch. Good/bad effects: weight loss. The "so stressed that I'm despairing" diet works wonders. But I've been working my ass off the past couple of weeks and it paid off with mad interviews and finally today, a new job. I'll be freelancing as a PM/producer at an agency that could eat my old one for breakfast, so I'm really excited. And I even have nothing but goodwill (today at least) towards my old boss for forcing me onto the market to make a living wage. Yay for me!

Same Old Trip It Was Back Then

I've been listening to a lot of 90s music. Tis strange. A kid at work has been blasting decade themed music every Friday lately and I requested grunge and C+C Music Factory for the other day. Listening to 90s stuff makes me feel like an angsty kid again. Strange how those songs just bring all the weirdness back. Good thing this was nostaglia week I suppose.

I'm kinda upset about work. I feel like the situation is getting worse and it frustrates me to feel like I'm basically in the same position as last year, except halfway in the poor house because of the paycut. Adulthood blows. PrincessNella and I are masterplanning a trip for March again. The main draw for Miami is lessened a bit this year, so maybe California this time around. I've got a little under six weeks to get my license -- I've decided that since my learner's permit (shut up, I grew up three blocks from the subway and they didn't do driver's ed in my Manhattan high school) is expiring, I'm going to get a damned license instead of being embarrassed by renewing the fucking thing -- so maybe we can even tool around in a rental. I promise to avoid crazy LA drivers and fire hydrants.

A rather bizarre thing in my world right now is modern technology (yes, as all encompassing and vague as that is). I feel like I'm getting more socially inept as I get more connected to things. Recently, I've been friended by these DJs I see a fair amount out and about since I'm on their mailing lists and they play the shit I like to hear and all. And they've been vaguely communicating with me via these technological things and for me it's like "well, now what?" I'm strangely too chickenshit to bridge the gap and being a known unknown freaks me out. Dilemma, dilemma.

In a fit of randomness, I ended up swept back into the Sapph scene tonight. Crazy C and her ragtag bunch of friends. Being around them makes me amazed at my lack of a drug addiction. The super blast from the past was The Brit and his brother. His brother is a nutter and he's so obsessed with my laugh. He makes me feel self-conscious, especially since he has a totally different picture of what went on with me and The Brit than what did (which I'm sure he didn't try to set straight). Speaking of him, we didn't speak at all. It's been a year and a half damned near and we barely know each other anymore at this point. The episode was fairly painless. How different my past year + would've been if I'd had some barely worth recording flirtation that never got off the ground with the boy. But, as I thought to myself bitterly one day, the wrongs are always the easy ones to catch and the hard ones to throw away.

Everything Leads To The Big Bang

I was feeling pretty blah heading into the long weekend. I'd worked the dead week at a mostly empty office and all those things that I actually had to be getting done, just weren't happening. And I had a nice demoralizing convo with my boss. All in all, I could've comfortably laid in bed until New Year's Eve. But then I wouldn't be me, would I?

Friday was a miracle day: off work way early (not that it helped me in my fool's quest at Circuit City) and had an honest to goodness fake date that wasn't a disaster (well not from my perspective, but what do I know?). I was engaging, cracked jokes, made fun, made cute, and was unashamedly terrible at video games. We wandered around the greater downtown Brooklyn, chatting and laughing. It was...nice. I didn't think I had the capacity to be lighthearted and cool anymore. Occasionally, I surprise myself.

Way later that night, I ended up wandering around the Financial District after an ill-advised detour to Williamsburg. I was on my way to one of those parties I'd miss if (really, it's when about now) I leave NYC. And it was what I hoped it would be: good music, packed with people, more than a handful of those I knew and liked. I even got some blasts from the past: The DJ strolled in looking like death warmed over (drugs are bad, kids) and an old 68 High/Wes buddy (I was feeling inappropriately warm currents there. Let's try to pretend that didn't happen). I even ran into the boy gang from the building's 10th floor. I'm amused at how they travel in packs. The guy from 10 that I like sometimes despite myself rescued me from a confrontation with this random. I had been standing on the wall minding my business when this sweaty fool came in my face saying I had dissed him. I was gearing up to give him a good neck roll and stream of obscenities when 10 guy stepped in on the pretense of chatting with me. The weirdo kinda stood along there for a second before he went across the room to randomly spring up on the next girl. Again, drugs are bad.

Saturday night, Alafairnadia and I went to a party near the Gowanus. She left a little early and I made lemonade out of lemons by recruiting my nearby work friend Banana to the festivities. The whole place was a little bizarre: optional costumes with a table full of props to choose from (I passed), the planned bonfire with a wooden contraption, and the highlight had to be the giant stuffed Shrek packed with dry ice and then blown up. I would've hated to be a neighbor on that night. The two of us momentarily fell in with a pair of freaks. The ringleader of the two was flirting and at the same time saying "why do people think it's weird that I go out without my wife? Do you think that it is weird." Umm, perhaps a bit. And then the shy sidekick who wheeled around the backyard in a wheelchair and uncomfortably humped my leg. Good times...or something.

And then New Year's Eve at Alafairnadia's place. The early on crowd was packed with board people talking about the board and I thought my eyes would get stuck in the rolled position. Let's talk about the internet at a real life party! So fascinating! And let's use our board names because it's not like we're real people with real names! Super! Ugh. We hit the stroke of midnight on the roof watching the fireworks from Prospect Park. Another fun ringing in the new year with my friends. Let's hope '07 blows '06 out of the water. At this rate, it wouldn't take much really. A group of us wandered off to Studio B for minimal dancing but maximum chatter. I randomly found someone who had made the move from here to the West Coast some years ago and spent way too much time drunkenly talking about how I needed to just drop everything and go. Definitely not news to me. I'm not long for this town, but I plan to enjoy it while I still can.

I Can Feel It In The Beat

I'm holiday partied the fuck out. The whole week has been a blur of coworkers and I travelling in packs and imbibing and mingling and acting (a little bit) like fools. It's interesting actually working in a fun part of the media world for a switch, so I can actually be social me instead of always wearing the mask like the old place. The sad part is that our work party isn't even until next week, so I wonder if I'll even be able to do anything but whimper at the sight of alcohol by then. To avoid that, I've grounded myself through the weekend to stave off another bout of the 6am dry heaves. My liver was threatening to commit suicide.

Tuesday's party was in celebration of the passing of the 21st Amendment (which ended Prohibition and all that). Our lovely clients were the sponsors and all of us who slaved on it got to run around and drink ourselves stupid. My coworkers rule. It's always a pleasure being around them. Getting there was a big adventure with the meeting on a strange corner and then shady random (damned good actor) giving us directions. We ended up being the first bunch at the party...which wasn't that cool, but it evened out. We were mingling furiously. A few years back when I was newly returned to NYC and barely in my 20s running around with late 20 somethings/early 30 somethings, I wondered where the hell all the guys my age were. Now still running around with early 30 somethings, the guys my age have appeared from a secret mist or something. And they're some accomplished cool ass fuckers too. I can't bring myself to date or "date" any of them (yet), but seeing them makes me happy. Likewise, these random packs of 23 year olds everywhere. They're so earnest. It almost warms my cold bitch heart. Erm, sidetracked. So, to make a long story short, we heart media boys and the ad world and open bars. Amen.

Except when some of those media boys see you at parties and spazz on you. Wednesday's party was another company's holiday party that we all got the 11th hour invite to. Yes, I will be there with bells on to drink your top shelf spirits and stuff myself with hors d'œuvres and maybe even dance if i can be persuaded. Imagine my surprise when I came face to face with this random who lives near me that I've passed some meaningless time with. Well, I actually wasn't that surprised at all. It was established that we both worked doing the same type of shit, though his company is like 5x the size of mine. I was even amused when he visibly blanched when he saw me across the room. Kids nowadays aren't skillful enough at playing it cool in front of pseudogirlfriends and coworkers. So much for that one.

Wake Up and Live Forever

Note: this post has been liberated from the unpublished archives and I was just too lazy to update most of it

August was a super strange month for me, with a lot of deja vu-inducing moments. Wacky neighbor friend who gets a little besides himself after some drinks? The DJ looking cute but ultimately ridiculous to me? A boy who should be in the past, but I'm having random hangouts with him where I just kinda shake my head and wonder why? What fucking year is this really? And I've been on my broke as a joke diet and looking downright early 2005 lately. Sayonara, chipmunk cheeks! Until the next round of cheeseburgers at least.

And me flitting about until real life ultimately comes slapping me in the face. Trying to be a grown up is really hard work. Sometimes I'm juggling like a pro, others things just get broken and I have to get out my superglue and try my best to fix it. I've spent a lot of time thinking about social superficiality and the few things and people that really have brought me joy in random, flighty ways. It's funny that I went in a week from saying that everyone's social MO is to greet drive-by style to wishing that I had broken myself from that pattern with the ones who were really special. Like the wonderful AG, gone now but briefly a bright light in the after dark world for me.

I've definitely seen more shows lately than I have in a while. PrincessNella and I went to Amsterjam thanks to a guy at work with connections. Busta: weird and leaning on the newer shitty material and not looking so hot. LL: the awesome! He did songs I forgot I knew from all through his career. But, he teased us by not going totally shirtless. He's looking less bullish lately. It would've been super hot. Foo Fighters: I really thought I sorta liked them until this show. They did the newer hits which blow and every song just ended up annoying. That might have been because the mosh pit erupted right next to me. Fuckers still do that shit? Christ on a cracker! We escaped to the lovely scene of a chick giving her pedophile boyfriend bus head in the corner of our eyes. As my dad used to say before he went all suburban, "you pay your fare, you get a show." Eww...I'll pass.

We wandered through Queens lamenting the utter lack of post-10pm eats and ended up in a spot familiar to me, near where Trendvickster lived before her big Chicago move. I marvelled at the time I used to spend in the area and how long ago the bulk of the '03 hijinks seem. Then off to Greenpoint where work and my life combined in fun ways. I felt really glad about how different everything is for me than it was six months ago. I don't regret the leap a single moment, even though many of these months have been painfully tight. The happiness will always win out.

In the past month, I've seen a few celebrations of love and commitment. I'm in a place where I'm happy to see really loving couples because I think "one day, that'll be me." I don't feel a rush, but in doing this ridiculous palling about with the boy, it makes me feel more acutely what I'm missing. There's not really anything I can actually do about it, but just sigh I guess.

They Got The Steely Dan T-Shirt

I'm such a lady, but I'm dressing like a ho....aurgh! Shoot me. No more VMA clips. I'm a little amused by the resurrection of Timbersnake. It only makes me feel worse for my real 'Nsync fave, JC. Dude doesn't stand a chance in the pop world at the moment. He'd be better off doing some random ass XLR8R-approved techno/electro collabo and trying to recast himself as hipster avant garde.

Banksy v. Paris: video | flickr set | news article. Maybe it just makes an asshole but I think you almost deserve to get a doctored version with "That's Hot" on a megaloop if you actually purposely go out to buy a Paris CD. [via Abe]

Interview snippet:

10. What do you think of laptop DJs?

Its whatever, I dont think anyone likes seeing someone checking their Myspace profiles for new messages from hot girls during a set.

If youre gonna act like a performer, then do something magical.

Laptop DJs should be hidden in a black box because its distracting and very unflattering what they are trying to do.

Ouch.

I've been having more than a few moments lately (especially when I start to think about the upcoming new apartment hunt) when I think it might be fun to pick up and go somewhere new. And then I remember I can't drive and/or speak more than the basics of a foreign language and that I'm broke and then that nips itself in the bud. And then I had one of those "it can only happen here!" couple of days and I really forget about that.

Thursday night, I left work and went downstairs to the boy's lair. We're friends it seems..at the moment...I guess. I'm just the type of person prone to silly entanglements, but I'm trying to get better. (In an aside, I've decided to blame my guy friends for that. Besides them giving me mostly ineffectual advice, I must be the only girl in NY with a horde of attached guy friends who know nothing but...other attached guys. What are the fucking odds for fuck's sake?! Since I'm left to my own devices, all I've got is recycling and the internet. le sigh.) We palled around about dumbo, then went to the birthday party for this band guy I used to harass the hell out of. The boy intro'd me with a "you remember Candice..." and I got the unsure blink of recognition, but at least he didn't say "you're the bitch who used to get on my nerves!" I might have if the situation was reversed.

Everyone at the party besides me and a handful of people were giants. I'm about average height, so it's very strange to be somewhere that 95% of the crowd is 5'10"+. It makes me wish I had a spare pair of heels stashed in my bag to at least be in the same atmosphere as everyone else. One of the other shorties was this random who was very weird. She and the boy are friends of friends and they were chattering away. She looked at me once like "are you lost?" and then again after some time had passed like "hmm..you're not going away..." What did I do? Well...nothing. I was drinking and passing the time, I didn't really feel any way about her besides amusement. When he wandered away for some reason, she gave me the grilling (why do they do that?!) and I was pretty blase. She perked up when I said I lived in the Heights and she dropped that her boyfriend lived a block over from me on Lincoln. Well...bully for him. Soon after, she poofed and I'll admit I got a slight thrill dropping to the boy about her bf living in my hood. He kinda visibly deflated. I might have hid a snicker. Good times. But, some good advice: let's just avoid the hero at 3am, even if someone else is paying. It'll just make you feel bad the next day. Seriously.

Saturday night, I was representing for the office at a coworker's DJ gig. Also there was this guy we work with that I had a crush on until I realized a) we'll always be working together, so it's to my best interest not to be that into him b) he resembles a young Tom Cruise circa Risky Business and reminds me of how much I always hated that guy with his dead eyes and chicklet teeth. Poof! Crush gone. Biggest thrill of the night was hearing "Sweet Freedom" and then spazzing with the DJ partner about how much we love Michael McDonald and how a yacht rock mix would be the sweetest thing ever. Yacht Rock...bringing people together. Also, being at a party in Williamsburg with the '06 crowd of FOA hipsters made me feel like I was 40 years old. Deliverance now!

Alafairnadia and I took in a show at the shores of the Gowanus Sunday afternoon. I love shows in random ass places. We heard good music, got a new DJ hero, and even got to see Justin...though saying hi almost got me a broken foot. Ouch. Amusement was making a bathroom line friend by talking shit about how slow the people in front of us were and running down how we and others reacted in other lines. Kids gotta get their kicks where they can I guess.

So Does Everybody Else

First, the quotables:

"What ruins polka for me is that it's all guys from Minnesota singing about milk and cookies"
I laugh. "Or cheese and bread!"
"Or the Mall of America!"

"Okay, I've figured it out. They're either gay or German or gay and German."
"I can see them being all those possibilites."
"Yeah, they totally seem like they're gonna make out. They need to just get it on already."

"That's the cute girl? She's not even that cute!"
"I. Know!"

More TK.

I'm On It

Er, so I really fixed the comments this time. Sorry to Alafairnadia and the creatively named theglow@shonuffizabeeatch.com for the rejection. Re-comment away!

It's a fucking scorcher in the city. 110 heat index for today and Wednesday. Utterly brutal! Needless to say, the bike is staying at home until it has passed. I'm really not trying to pass out from heat stroke in the middle of Fulton St or something.

To all those who've expressed their concern over the past post: eh, you know me. It's usually all doom and gloom cryptic-cakes, but not for the reasons you'd think or as bad as I made it out to be. It's mostly all good. Minus the fact August is going to be a really financially tight month for me. No Chicago trip. Sorry, Trendvickster and David! But, guess who's getting lean and mean? Try the girl who lives on the top of a hill and has to carry her bike up four flights of stairs!

Weirdness of the week: I inadvertantly got the urge to check up on Farmer and I found out that he's like buddies (at least photographically) with my favorite Soda waitress. No way! Why he can't be friends with the bitch we all hate who almost got her ass handed to her last week? Ugh. He's tainting everything!

We're very much on Ghostly's jock right now (and so is XLR8R!) ...and in a parallel aside, if you can identify this DJ (we suspect Bodycode cause that's what we think we heard at that party), you might be my new best friend. ETA: It's Adam X. Music critics are good for something after all! We should've known better to listen to an idiot tripping off Sparks. He did play Bodycode though, if I'm not mistaken. Speaking of that party, it was fun as hell and kids were even dancing. But the obscene amounts of alcohol might have helped with that. I even quipped: "since when do fucking hipsters like techno?" That is the question of the summer.

Believe it or not, someone called me "Candizzle" yesterday and my head didn't explode. I only made a half-hearted threat of bodily harm even. While smiling. Ugh. I'm getting soft in my old age. I'm such a sucker for a pretty face.

She's Pretty And I Like Her, But She's Too Well

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.

Digital

I Know You, I Live You

The dilemma I face when I'm home and avoiding responsibilities: to buy the PS 1 summer season pass or not? I think I went a grand total of twice last year, but going halfsies with someone wouldn't make it too bad. (Like my mom likes to say, the less time I spend in bars, the more money I'd save. Should we let her know I'm not in bars that much anymore because I'm too busy chained to my desk? I don't think she believes it anyways.) Though it's still hard as hell to get there for my house. We shall see.

Dilemma #2: when shall I plan my weekend trip to Chicago for? Original plan was to go mid-July, but yeah...ain't happening. (You know what's sad, I work so much now that I was actually really beat about having two days off for the holiday because that was two less days to build into the production schedule, which is gonna make this week a bitch and a half! Help, I'm a pod person!) I guess I'm waiting until August now. I need some sort of activity to plan my trip around. Paging David the Chicago social director!

In general, I'm having a really bad month, but I'm trying to look on the bright side when I'm not mewing. Ever been like exhausted on multiple levels? It sucks. I also got the "I think of you as a really good friend," not as stinging as "I think of you like a sister" (Thank God. That one is like the basis of justifiable homicide or something), but saddening and infuriating all at once. I think I'm hitting crazy depressed cat lady territory. Mew. I blame the rain. Umm can I get a dose of wild and exciting summer stat?

I'm Back With An 808 Cause I'm Bossy

Help, it's 80,000 degrees in my apartment. The cat and I are considering laying on the floor in front of the AC to sleep at night. And it's only June, so August is gonna be a real blast. Sigh.

Thursday was one of those old school nights (where old school means like two years ago) in terms of just simply being out and about. It was nice to leave work on or close on time and I went off to the special "Arrivederci, Mr. Daily Heights!" happy hour. Without him and the site, my neighborhood social life would be a lot different I'm sure. Post that, I was off to meet friend C somewhere in NYUcountry and partake in free spirits. The journey continued to Aaron's party where he practically cheered when I said the blog was as good as half dead. Tsk, tsk. I think I've finally found my motivation to write more, y'all!

I was caught up in a nostalgic moment leaving there and went to Sapph for the first time in forever. What a waste. Nothing there even remotely appeals. Between that, Rothko closing, and more scary pubs than you can shake a stick at, I'm ready to just to declare that part of town a wasteland and not go back . Not that I've been there much in the past couple of years anyways, but you know.

After all that, I went across town to the 8th Circle of Hell a.k.a. The Meatpacking. Did you know they charge $3 for hot dogs from a cart in that neighborhood? Utter bull. Shudder. Did I really used to hang out around there all the time? That's how I feel just about everywhere in town lately. Did I used to hang out in this space when it was Tapis Rouge and now these bitches are selling pimp juice for $5? Lame, lame, lame. Now that going there has become a novelty, I can totally just write Manhattan off as a waste of time generally. Except for $1 vodka drinks at Lit and open bars. There's always time for that.

I met up with the lovely Claudia and her friend at a place I probably never would've wandered into on my own when we discovered we were about a block away from each other. Dude was gorgeous, smart, funny, with an actual career, and 25 years old. Er where are those guys in Brooklyn? I'll trade my infinite supply of 28, I mean 27, year old artists for a guy my age who has his shit together. Not that a guy like that would be interested in me anyways. Meh. I'm not as bitter as I might sound, but I'm going through a frustrating period. Guys. Can't love them and can't kill them.

And then a trip to 419. God, that place is like forever perfect. Even with the sniffer assholes. I waited 10 years to get into the bathroom and out came a trio looking like the fiends they were. And what did I find on the mirror ledge when I went inside? A lost bag of sugar! And I trashed it with a toss. I considered being elaborate about it, sprinkling a path to the toilet and flushing it or whatever, but it wasn't worth the effort. I come out to seethe fiends waiting outside. I walked past and went back to the bar. They sit across from me and keep glancing my way. Finally one comes over.

"Hey."
"Hey."
"Did you see anything in the bathroom when you were in there?"
"Huh?"
"Did you see something left behind in the bathroom?"
"Er, no."
"No really, you can tell me. I won't get mad."
Blink. Sneer. "I don't know what you're talking about."

And he walked away. They kept looking at me from across the way and one stood up and went back to the bathroom to do a real search I suppose. They found what they were looking for and went dancing happily for the rest of the night. Pathetic.

Standing at the bar, I caught sight of this guy I knew who used to work there and the last I'd seen, had gone off to greener pastures. I expressed my confusion to the chattering guy sitting next to me and he said that dude was now the manager. Weird! I chatted with the guy and after all these years, he still remembered my old drink, a glass of Taylor's 10, and gave it to me on the house for old times' sake. I can't believe I used to slide up in there drinking port all the time. Times sure change! But, it is nice to be remembered.

She Smells Like 2am

In my slight hiatus, I've: worked and worked and worked (working until almost 1am on a Friday night is strangely not the bomb. Who knew?) and listened to music (James T Cotton and She Wants Revenge, ho!) and played silly games with the boy and became overtired and was a bit of a homebody for a while there and/or stayed in the confines of the B69 axis (going to Manhattan is like a novelty to me now. It's kinda amusing) and experimented with the camera on my new cell (Jay-V sees an invitation for seduction and I see the colossal grocery filled sized bags under my weary little eyes. Not to mention the chained to my desk diet working for me.).

To that end, I declared Saturday night would be the end all and be all to celebrate the homestretch of my insane period. My treat: banana bread, the special kind, sold only at the party I look forward to obsessively every month. I had imagined that the vibe would be on the chill side with all the little college brats disappearing for the summer. So just picture my face when I strolled up and found the line halfway down the block.

Still, I waited patiently and fought my way through the colossal amounts of people inside to get to the magic table. "Banana bread?" I said hopefully and the woman smiled at me to pull out the special baggie of heaven. I scurried off with my piece like a kid ending a candy store pillage and scarfed it in mere seconds. Magic? Magic now? Not quite. I think I feel something. Do I feel something? I dunno. I'm being neurotic and overthinking. I'm so in my head that I can't tell if it's working or not. Gah. Fuck this. I need this to work. I need another piece. Ever been utterly useless brainwise? That was me circa 2:30am. It rules.

Just my luck, I ran into a random from HS. I can say this is a kid I never really thought about at all, now or then. He was our grade stoner, nice enough in the less than 10 encounters I had with him in 6 years there. Only notable because I remember him being overly concerned with me leaving at the reunion a couple of years back. And here he was gushing about high school being the best years of his life and who he still hangs out with and vaguely reminiscing with me while moving steadily closer. I had a strange sense of worlds colliding interacting with the sheer potency working its way through me and mumbled a vague something before bolting further into party. Where I came face to face with the boy.

"I'm so happy to see you," I murmured, despite also remembering that we were in the middle of a days long freeze and still looking over my shoulder for HS weirdo. But, he smiled and came out with a string of apologies and I smiled too. Oh, young...distractions. And the smiles are short-lived against the typical push and pull. We wander our seperate ways.

I am conscious of music and spectacles and people through a distant fog. I'm feeding off the energy of the environment and just happy. I meander my way around and around and as things work, I run into the HS guy again. He talks to me near the scupture maze and I'm slightly surprised to find myself mindlessly chatting back. I feel a tap and see the boy's friend giving me a quizzical face with a side glance at the HS guy. I greet him warmly, while feeling annoyed and amused. The old cock block. He disappeared soon after and I bolted again after a few minutes when the bizarre vibes became too much again.

And I walked around and ran into the boy again. We danced and chatted and left for White Castle and the B48. Two wishy-washy people equals the constant push-pull. But, I know how to fix that. He later shakes his head at me and smiles despite himself. "You just do whatever you want to, don't you?" "Yes," I say with a smile. He knows he lives for it.

What Is The Question Again?

To start off with an aside: Prefuse @ Summerstage on August 13th! Woo! Now, I feel even less regretful than I did yesterday (that is to say not very much) about totally skipping the May and June dates. I love summer in the city. Everyone swings by for free sooner or later!

Jamie Lidell show #4: ridiculously amazing. Alafairnadia and I made good on our promise and trudged the whole er, 7 or 8 blocks to Southpaw. Jimmy Edgar opened up his set kinda shakily.and we wandered around, coming face to face with Justin. He's my personal gauge of if where I am is gonna be good time or not. Ain't no party unless he's there, etc. I'm amused when people say that about me. I barely even go out anymore and free and/or cheap drinks are my standard of fun really. Anyhoo, we wandered back and the Edgar set picked up considerably. I'd never heard of him before, but now I'm a sorta fan. Yay for new music!

Jamie came on the stage and killed it. It was very techno heavy (but not as meandering and noodly as the Rothko show), but had straight up versions of things like my fave song "What's The Use?" and "Music Will Not Last" plus the Edgar/Lidell live collabo for "When I Come Back Around." "Game For Fools" and "Multiply" as the encore. And the encore was when things got interesting. He had to go the audience participation route. Too bad most of the audience was filled with utter fucking freaks. This one chick, who we'd been contemplating beating with a shoe for most of the show since she was running around screaming and vamping, was the first one to the mic and was all "Jamie, I want to rock your world!" Then came the guy who said: "I want to make romance in your body!" Er, what now? Not to mention the other clowns who decided to house the mic since they got confused and thought they were on Star Search. And all that before everyone got on stage and this "singer" decided to torture us with her painfully off key melodies before breaking into a rap. Chaos. And that was our cue to bounce.. David quipped when I was telling him the story that perhaps Jamie Lidell is the hipster Usher. Could be...

Amusingly enough, the one piece I forgot to mention about that party is what became the thing today. I work the floor above this company that's a big shop for music people of a certain ilk and am forever seeing these kids who work there in the elevator. Especially since there are only two and all. For the first week or two of work, there was this one kid I was seeing just about everytime I rode it and then one day riding my bus. And then there he was at the party! Curiosity killed the cat, etc, so I introduced myself to him saying we worked in the same building and stuff and he was all, "oh. yeah. I've seen you around" completely disinterested and intro'd me to some other guy who supposedly worked there too and disappeared. I was like "okay, dick, fuck you too" and didn't think anything else about it since I stopped seeing him after that as those things go. It'd be one thing if I was hitting on him (I wasn't), but a) I'd had a lot of $1 vodkas b) I was still the new girl around the office/building and I was just excited about running into someone I recognized from there c) I'd had some open bar stuff too before those $1 vodkas, so I was just being happy drunk friendly overall and him being kinda lame pissed me off that much more.

Fast forward to today when I'm coming out the building and dude's standing on the curb with some boxes. I wasn't going to say anything at all, but he's all like "hey!" I reply "hey" in a whatever tone and go about my business. Later on, I'm sitting at my desk and I spy this dude at the office door talking to one of my coworkers. And then he looks my way and waves. I kinda frown and look around all "is he waving at someone else?" and then wave back with a sorta puzzled expression when I establish that I'm the one. And then dude comes inside and walks over to me and starts shooting the shit like "hey! remember we met at that party? I wasn't sure if you recognized me earlier. I'm DJing the office party tomorrow" and on and on. And I reply kinda half frowning, hella confused. He blew me off and now he's acting like we're cool or something? See, this is why I've given up on guys for the time being. They're fucking bipolar. Plus that was embarrassing because I could see my coworkers all "hmm...who's this random?" And I'm dreading having to shoot the shit at the party. Utterly lame. Moral of this story: no point in being nice to the douches on 10.

Flash Forward

I need a new computer desperately. After too many years of service, my girl is about 3 months from the scrap heap. I'm trying not to get too heavily seduced by the iMac at work, especially now that the Mac action I remember well (a.k.a. the computer being a total fuckup) is beginning to rear its head. Laptop? Desktop? Mac mini? iMac? Decisions, decisions...

I'm getting back into that old habit of raging and working during the week and taking Friday as the day to go to bed at like 10pm and get a breather. It's weird getting up around 8:30am on a Saturday morning well rested, and also to see all these text messages and voicemails like "you out?" but the good night's sleep is amazing. I'm loving the new job, even if it's kicking my ass a bit. It's hard for me to be clueless and I'm working hard to soak up all the knowledge I can. Every frustration is a lesson at the end of the day. I still don't regret a thing though. It's so worth it.

Last week was a bizarro blast from the past type deal. Except for a silly little crush that I'm intent on not letting get anywhere, I'm detoxing from liking anyone and the inevitable crappy patterns that follow. I came to the conclusion that it's pretty much a waste of vital energy and I'd rather be hanging out with my friends or getting in shape to ride my bike to and from work or staring off into space than being as frustrated as I used to feel all the time. Life's too short yadda yadda.

Anyways, I was at a friend's party and saw that guy who had given me his card some months back. I'd been running into him for about a week straight and got like 0 recognition. So, I walked up to him and started shooting the shit and then he remembered and was sorta flirting with me just like he had before. So, the pessimist in me was right and the cards don't mean much. Weird. Over that, I was wandering around at the same party and came face to face with The DJ. He's looking like hell, must be on the sniff and water diet. Our common friend mocked him when he turned away and I mentally patted myself on the back for having all that just kinda stall from the start. Dodged a major bullet there. Last Friday was my inaugural "stay in and sleep," so I missed the "Farmer has taken up residency in the nabe" bombshell. It's one of those things that sorta amuses and irritates me at the same time. We saw him Saturday and he looked ridiculous and out of place. It's not really worth thinking much more about on my end. I'd probably hardly ever see him anyways. Out of sight, out of mind.

I'm really looking forward to the rest of the spring and summer, especially now that I have two cents to rub together again. I was painfully broke for a good month and it's nice to let go of those "how am i going to make ends meet???" nightmares. I'm starting to get back into my swing of things. Looking forward to the Four Tet DJ Kicks. Catching Jamie Lidell Wednesday at Southpaw (hoping for more Bowery/m3esque and less Rothkoish). We're loving and hating Hot Chip at the same time. They're so fun on record, but total wastes of time in person. Though, I am giving them one more chance in the summer -- because it's a free show. They're playing South Street Seaport in August, if i recall correctly. Something random to leave you with: I've got almost the whole dance routine from the Sean Paul "Temperature" video memorized. Love it!

And You're So Hot For Me

I have returned!

I shirked my blogging duty in Miami this time around because...well, because I was just too lazy to do it. I was on vacation after all. The weather wasn't the hottest and the Summit wasn't as cool this time around, but in terms of good times and relaxation, it was tops.

The trip started off "fun" as Farmer and I went out boozing the night before my 8:30 am flight. I, being me, had left most of the packing and stuff of that nature until the last minute, so I got to have a delightful mostly drunken allnighter session of getting my shit together before heading off to the airport with no sleep and general muddled idiocy. I discovered in my journey that AirTrain takes Metrocards...but not unlimited ones and now hate the confusing ass Atlanta airport that used up my 40 minute layover just trying to find out where the fuck I was supposed to be. The Miami hotel was kinda budget, but that pool and oceanview with a pretty decent sized room was totally fucking worth it. I dragged my exhausted ass across Miami Beach to a party featuring Prefuse and friends -- very heavy on the friends -- DJing and was that girl at the party barely fighting the urge to nod off in the corner. I finally gave myself a break and went back to my room after a while.

Every other day is a blur. I boozed, I danced, I laughed, I chilled with friends, walked around, chatted with randoms, had fun, and looked forward to summer in the city when I could wander around in my flips on my home turf. I really thought M3 was terrible this year. Too scattered, sound not so great, acts not so inspiring. The better performances: Jamie Lidell (though he said after the set to the dude standing next to Alafairnadia and I that he was rubbish, he was pretty stoked when we were like "you were awesome! We can't wait until your Southpaw show!"), Curumin, J'Davey (even if the chick's voice got on my nerves), Vitalic (yay techno!), She Wants Revenge (just on stage presence alone -- singer dude is totally the Prince and Robert Smith lovechild), Hypnotic Brass Ensemble, Bugz In Da Attic, and The National Trust. I missed a lot of acts I would've like to see because the presentation was just fucking boring for most of it and I would just wander off. Better luck next year. The most fun was random ass parties either in West Bumblefuck or with spring breaker randoms where the music was just fun to dance to and I did until my knees ached. Good times, even though the weather kinda sucked (75 with a breeze is not that hot really...I wanted to fry!), UPS is fucking incompetant (8 days for an overnight package...good job!), and Farmer, house- and kittysitting, kept calling me with things going wrong to stress me out.

The best part to me was coming home after all that to finally be done with my month of leisure and back to the working world. All Brooklyn, all the time for me now. Farmer's actually living with Ant and I for the moment, which is kinda amusing and surreal. We're cleaning together and making dinner and shit. It makes laugh because I think, "didn't I used to hate his guts? And now we're friends?! Weird..." Times change and kids grow up. Or something. Here's to a good spring regardless.

From Here To Polarity

Favorite thing said to me on the birthday: "Your music is really turning me on." Peaches is good mood music for a relapse.

That reminds me of an exchange I had a few weeks back. Dude was like, "so what kind of music do you listen to?" and my response was: "techno. And Man Man, and Prefuse 73. And The Sea and Cake. But mainly, techno." I'm not really sure where that answer came from.

The Kelley Polar show was fucking something. I've seen some spectacle heavy shows in my day, but it took the cake. It was like Ladyhawke the musical. Pretty fun and entertaining though. Dude was wearing armor strung through with Christmas lights that would alternate being lit and not. The kicker was the disco lights deal with the chest plate during the encore. Woo boy. The crowd was pretty much dumbfounded through most of it and after a certain post, most just gave up the gaping to chatter. It reminded that I don't really like the KF main stage as a venue. And if there was any justice in the world, that would've been an M3 performance. Drunk people at the Surfcomber's heads collectively exploding. Ah well. Always hope for next year. I appreciate songs like "Ashamed of Myself" that I barely gave half a listen to before a lot more now.

The birthday itself was pretty low-key and consisted of me watching soaps and lounging (like every other day last week) until sundown approached and I started to feel like an idiot for neglecting to line up any real plans for the day. Katebklyn and the boy came to the rescue and I went from drinks to more drinks and fun chatter to even more drinks and the whole day perked up. It was a nice day and I feel like I have a really good life. The night winded down a bit unexpectedly, but ultimately a lot of fun. The birthday party was overwhelming yet very chill. The DH posse represented in full force, Wes friends rolled through, PrincessNella, A, and Trendvickster had oldest friends bragging rights, The Director and girl came, my mom hung out with everyone, and I drank most of those lined up drinks and shots without a wince. I am a professional after all. It was a little hard to get up before noon and hit the shopping trial with PrincessNella the next day, but I survived. Saturday night wasn't the nice weekend cap like I would've hoped though. Between a homicidal cabbie, overly aggro dudes everywhere at my favorite party, and the boy holding me hostage with his emo shit (ugh...we just don't work!), I was really stressed and unable to even enjoy myself. Fucking sucked.

Less than 10 days until I go to Miami! Woo! I need to make some money and get my trip list together. And the strangest thing I've noticed lately: the more weight I lose, the younger I look. Weird.

It Really Didn't Make Sense, Just To Leave This Unresolved

I'm going to try to challenge myself and post more. Especially since I'm going to have a bit more time on my hands soon -- well, until I fall into the work pit that is. I don't have much to say really. Planning the party in the nabe (next Friday night: my house or the less annoying local? Dilemma!), trying to extract myself from the dead end situation with the boy (I just can't continue to be excited about someone who I feel isn't excited by me), going show announcement crazy (two Man Man shows! Kelley Polar! Sam Prekop & Archer Prewitt walking distance from my house!), decorating the home space. I have yet to buy my Miami tickets (to leave Wednesday or Thursday? Aurgh!) yet I'm so there mentally already. I've realized this week that I've never quit a job the right way, like with a resignation instead of "well, I'm leaving the town, so I guess I'm done" or qutting in a fit of pique. It's kinda frightening actually!

The weekend was fun! Man Man show #2,876,305 was a good time. Kate Ace Fu threatened/promised/proposed running around in hot pants and she brought back bad memories of the infamous trampled by a guy in a yeti suit night and I had to fill Alafairnadia in to the story. People have really fucking shitty show manners and I am a rager, so they generally heard it from me. Really, what's up with standing an inch in front of someone and not only blocking their vision but also invading their personal space? Sure, it's gonna be cramped and that's to be expected, but when you can't even lead with an "excuse me," you can eat shit and die and I'll tell you as much. I was heated! From there, we were off to Jay-V's birthday celebration and I kicked myself for not going to the ATM since the bar had a $50 minimum. Ugh. We made a Scenic pitstop and had no sign of the random of indeterminate origins. He joins the mythical ranks of boys seen only once (or twice) that inspire a bit of mental headslapping and wistfulness down the road.

(As an aside, there's one custom I'm still trying to get my head around as "real" adult: giving someone your card. I actually had a long involved convo with PrincessNella about this. I dont' have a card -- though I will soon I believe -- since I don't have any official business or whatever and/or am still stuck in the "well, let's trade numbers or email addys" mode and/or shy away from things like that since I'm a networking dumbass. Weeks back at a party, this dude gave me his card. Business card yet not 9-5 business and it had all his contact info if I wanted to get in touch I suppose. He's stupid cute and I'm thinking the odds of seeing him around again are pretty slim unless I grease the wheels a bit. But the retardation comes in because I don't know if I got the card on a "hey, contact me and we should get to know each other" thing or if passing out cards is just the thing to do when you meet people a la the new handshaking. I can't deal with cards. I'd rather someone call/email/My Space message me, but of course, I do understand that if they don't have a card with that info, how would they know how to contact you? Everyone can't be a computer junkie with a lot of time on their hands, photographic memory, and craftiness I guess. I'm fucking stuck, man, because I kinda do want to get in contact with him. Advice someone? Anyone?)

Saturday night, I wandered off to Nublu and did my typical holding up the wall thing. I really like the place, but something about it always makes me super inhibited, even when I'm having a good time. I dunno what it is. Saw Justin who apparently spotted me at the Man Man show, but didn't even say hi (I don't actually mind, I'm just amused at busting his chops about it). Sunday had me up early (for me) and going to gym before I'd even had breakfast, then cooking and rearranging my furniture and stuff to make my bedroom feel like less of a crypt. I tried to bribe the tallest guys I know (Farmer and the boy) with home-cooked dinner to help me change my lightbulb which has been out for embarassingly long by now, but no dice. I'll just keep ruining my eyes and squinting in the lamp light, guys. Nice to be loved.

No Parking On The Dancefloor

Okay, I might be overindulging this week. I woke up crazy fuzzy Thursday morning and convinced myself that my cell phone was lost the night before. I went back to Subtonic and searched all over, feeling super discombulated in the meantime. I, of course, didn't find it and began considering the fucked luck of losing a phone 3 months before gettting one practically for free and thinking I'd do an eBay search for a new one. And also that someone might be calling Madagascar from my phone. (Phone aside: my contract is up in May and I was thinking of getting a 917 number again. Anyone think it's worth it? The two people I know with landlines's long distance bill would thank me.) I moaned and whined about it all day and night, only to get home at 2:30am and discover that I'd left it my pants from the night before. (Yeah. I'm an ass.) And then I went on Friday night (and got a case of the fuzzies when bartenders at 419 I haven't seen in a good year and a half recognized me) and vomit is never a good look. Now I just feel like refried shit. I'll rest up tomorrow and Monday.

But the past couple of days have been fun. Alafairnadia and I went to a Playgirl party where they gave us the most swagtastic goodie bag (toys for days, dude) I've seen in a while. I saw yet another ANTM judge in the flesh -- which brings my grand total to 3 plus my wacky encounter with Janice. Since Twiggy doesn't count, Tyra and I crossing paths is now inevitable!.The mag itself sucks donkey balls. Way to make naked men really unexciting, ladies! The female nudity is about neck and neck in it for one thing and the whole thing is just thin and toothless. The only advertisers are like Boys Gone Wild and bigdickchatroom dot com or whatever. The best part of the night was free drinks, the not so much when the bartender kept coming up to where we were and then ignoring us. Lamer.

The most exciting part of my week has been a sudden influx of great new (to me) music. I DLed this really fun mix by Ulysses featuring "No Parking On The Dancefloor" (among other things I must get the names of) and I'm getting my Miami dancing conditioning on. I've finally accepted that I'm going to actually use My Space and I've been making friends with musician pages. Even discovered a new Prefuse production! Woo! (Speaking of him, "Illiterate Interlude" on the new album is hilarious. I actually have heard people say that about the last one. And people say dude doesn't have a sense of humor!) And I've somehow ended up obsessed with Gonzales and Cosmo Vitelli through some musical links I followed. Be my pal. Here's some songs:

TTC - Dans Le Club (Gonzales Piano Remix)
Daft Punk - Face To Face (Cosmo Vitelli Remix)
Push Button Objects - 360 Degrees(Prefuse 73 Remix)

And let me talk about this week's pet peeve: My job title is trafficker (traffic coordinator, if we want to be specific) and unless you work in marketing/advertising/production, you probably don't know what that means. (I, of course, don't talk about my job because I'd like to leave voluntarily and not be fired for blogging or whatever). But hey, I don't want to assume no one knows cause sometimes they'll surprise you. So when people do the annoying "what do you do?"/how does my job stack up to someone else's thing, I say "I'm a trafficker" and every FUCKING time, the reply is "human or drugs?" People, just no. It might have been chuckle worthy the first time, but now: no. Not original, just stop. Sorry. Had to let that one out.

And This Ship Will Sail, And This Heart Won't Die

Lately, I've been emerging from my cave in a big way and despite a few ill-advised late nights, it's been a lot of fun.

The most awesome thing to happen to me last week was getting a midday IM from Kate on Wednesday asking what I was up to that night. I had vague plans to meet up with the prodigal Alex, but was focused on trying to get through a shit afternoon at work. She let me know about a private Man Man show going on about 3 blocks from where I work and I was on that like white on rice. I hadn't seen them perform since last summer/fall and to say it's like a new band now would be the understatement of the year. So, I was stoked! I was wandering about the party, a-chattering with Kelly and Kate and Alex and randoms. The saddest news was hearing that I had missed out on an intro to my favorite writer ever. I've been joking since that it would've been a headline worthy event: "Blogger Shanks Critic MacGyver Style With Hairpin."

I wasn't sure what I thought in the moment of the show and all the new elements. I was trying hard to hear everything fresh instead thinking "X wouldn't have been done that way before." The new drummer is the shit as advertised and the present band member interplay is really tight and awesome. My overarching thoughts were that apparently guys in Philly look like lost cast members from Napolean Dynomite and that the group was even louder and noisier now, something I didn't think was possible. I got the new record (yay!) and I was really kinda bewildered on the first listen, but now I really love it. I can compare it in my mind to how I felt about Mama's Gun after Baduizm or One Word Extinguisher after Vocal Studies and Uprock Narratives: they did something I wasn't expecting soundwise and once I stopped looking for the carbon copy of what I loved before, the shining moments came out. But, enough of that. In a nutshell: beer hall + Psycho Beach party = the shizz. One of my fave new songs: "Tunneling Through The Guy."

Post-show, I ran into Aaron and friends on the street and made a detour to wandering the town with them before heading to the special version of Pure Fire, a party I've been meaning to check out for a while now. I was semi-bumbling and I propped myself up near the bar and drank water, while watching Poltergeist play out on a screen and chatting with some dude about the randomness of watching Poltergeist at a party. In writing my email address down to get on the mailing list, I realized I was probably drunk and stupid, and also since I haven't written print in so long that my former calligraphy class honed handwriting was looking kinda chickenscratchy. Bah. And I'm lame because the first thing that popped in my head to request at a grime party was "Pow." Le sigh. Would "Stop Dat" have been better? I dunno. After I left, I was thinking of that song though. I met and chatted with Chris about the podcasts that I hadn't been listening to until this past weekend...because my throwaway comment about being an iTunes hater got me shouted out in the weekend newsletter. Fuck iTunes(!), but those podcasts are great. One of them has "777-9311," one of those classic songs I always forget I adore until I hear it and the stars align...or you know, something.

But you know what I haven't done in the past week? For one, get a good night's sleep. But most importantly, not go to the Battles show. I just broke and tired all last week and couldn't do it. I heart Battles though and I would heart them more if I could magically find a Battles bag for sale like on their site or something. Ahem.

Wow, it's Valentine Day...just another day really. I plan to run straight home after work and curl up with the one I really love today: Helga. Happy VD!

ETA a special exchange with Alafairnadia:
Jamirakid: eww i'm chatting with the boy now
Jamirakid: i refuse to mention VD
Jamirakid: bah humbug to that shit
Alafairnadia: hehehe
Alafairnadia: VD?
Jamirakid: you know
Alafairnadia: er
Jamirakid: it's officially the 14th....
Alafairnadia: oh oh
Alafairnadia: I was like vin diesel?
Alafairnadia: sorry. I already anti-celebrated. I'm done.

Come Here, Baby, I Love Your Company

I've been thinking lately why I'll inherently never get ahead in certain spheres and just decided to opt out: I'm not a brown noser and I don't really stop myself from broadcasting if I think something is not worth the time. I can muddle through my own bullshit well enough, but I'd rather not have to deal with someone else's too.

On that front, want to hear a joke? The Plug Awards. That thing was an utter disaster. Unrehearsed, meandering, more people in the VIP section than the main floor at one point, shoddy production values, boring, and terrible in every sense. I don't even want to get into the "funny" little taped skits. The MTV VMAs has nothing to worry about. I was pretty sure that I spotted Shady in the crowd (surprise, surprise). I'm not really sure if he saw me or not (if he had, I'd probably get a random IM about it. Bleh.). The boy and I were wandering along and was just like "*shudder* We need to not walk that way." We stuck it out about an hour before making our escape.

Hanging with him was great. We met up near the venue and I pushed going to get a drink -- to ease the pain of staying late at work again and to kill some of the initial awkwardness. Despite a rough patch where he went off about marketing people and companies like the one I work for (don't give me that self-righteous hippie bull, son!), we were talking more over those two drinks than we may have...ever. Then off to the awards and to a Beans show at NYU which was the point of meeting up in the first place. We chattered and people watched, both confused by this thing one of the guy in the band had that was like a cross between a tape reel and a spinning wheel. Dude looked ridiculous throwing tape over his shoulder and we couldn't actually distinguish what kind of sound it made. I dunno. From there, more wandering and it was just insanely comfortable. Of course, it's up in the air like everything. I'm getting used to it.

Champion Sound And We Just Don't Care

Things are simultaneously very relaxed and very hectic. I'm trying to masterplan my WMC trip and decide if the formal conference really is for me or not. After all, I just want to drink some cocktails and go to shows and BS around as I choose. Panels and workshops for most of the daytime doesn't really help with that. We'll see. I'm on vacation for a good solid week and I might schedule a post-M3 day or two just to lay around in the sun. I really can't wait.

The next couple of months is looking good in general: the return of the prodigals Alex and Farmer, the trip, and of course, the birthday! It's 5 weeks from Thursday. Countdown to start shortly. 25! Strangely, I don't feel half as bent out of shape as I did turning 24. That whole changeover was the pits. I'm actually kinda looking forward to this one. I've been working on my resolutions. #1, 4, and 9 are interconnected and I've set a personal deadline of March 17th to wrap a lot of shit up. (Yes, I am going to be cryptic for now.) I'm pretty much focused on that and the trip only. Everything else is kinda whatever. I reached out to the boy (#8 and a little 10) in a random mood and we might meet up on Thursday and just chat-- though now that my lucky ass won Plug Awards tickets that plan is up in the air. I've hit the stage where I don't want him in the old sense, but I miss being around him. Best case scenario: it won't be strained. We'll see how it winds up.

The funniest thing that happened lately was a night out with neighbor friends Alafairnadia and Carnivore. Us three plus Carnivore's coworker drank free Sparks (fucking noxious!) in the basement of Lit all a-chattering. My age got brought up and the coworker said to me: "God, what year were you born? You're so young. Do you even know any music from the seventies?" I went *gasp* and said, "I can't believe you said that! I'm not talking to you anymore! Okay, for 20 minutes." And he would keep turning back to talk to me and I'd shake my head and he'd look at his watch and sigh. Silly, yes. I blame the Sparks. It makes you retarded. I did end up chatting with him again (before the 20 mins had passed actually. That's a long fucking time, man. I've got a short attention span) and when he headed off, the DH three headed over to the former Guernica.

There was a show that we completely missed, but we hung around at the bar just drinking and stuff. As I was paying for my drink, I ended up striking up a convo (as I do) with this random. He had like four beers lined up in front of him and was all "eh. I dunno if I should do this. I'm already borderline alcoholic." I raised my glass and replied: "aren't we all?" and we chattered from there. He had this accent that I could not place for the life of me. Kiwi? Bizarro Afrikaaner? I dunno. The others were off at a table and were beat with it fast approaching 4am, so Alafairnadia took matters into her own hands.

As I ironically said to Carnivore, "when I'm on the fence, she chats with the dude and pushes things forward" (even if I was really just chatting and not even trying to get more than dude's number or whatever), she was (unbeknownst to me) saying to the guy: "Listen, it's decision time. Either you take her home and fuck her or let her come home with us. You've got 5 mins to decide" and walked away. Yes, that's what she said. So then, he comes back over to me super serious and says: "I would really really like to take you home and sleep with you, I've really been having a great time talking to you, but I can't. My sister is really sick and I have to take care of her tomorrow, but I would like to hook up with you very much." I'm looking at him like he has 3 heads. Erm what? Who said anything about going home with him? I was way confused and though I connected it with something she had said to him, I didn't think to ask. I was just ultrapuzzled and then left. Lame. But, I did post a missed connection about the whole thing (because I'm not so secretly sappy, yes it's true). No response so far. Ah well.

My Mic Sounds Nice, Check One

Happy Fucking New Year!

We convinced PrincessNella to join us in our neighborhood to ring in the new year with the neighbor friends. She, Ant, and I went to KateBklyn's place where we saw most of the crew and Cupcake and drank and watched the fireworks and made merry. It was an awesome time and I always feel good about starting the New Year with friends.

Because I'm me, in the wee hours of the night, I was ready to keep the party moving. PN and Ant were off to bed and I was flying solo. I traipsed myself across Brooklyn via cab to go this warehouse party somewhere in Bushwick. It was crazy, crowded, and everyone was basically drunkenly hooking up where they stood, but I was amused. I got in for free (yay!), drinks were $3, and I even had some hijinks. Dude who invited me there is one of the cutest guys in NYC and when we saw each other, we made the move to do the kiss on the cheek and just missed. And kissed right on the lips. He grinned and I grinned and shrugged and said "happy new year!" Awesome. There was also my bathroom mishap where I was minding my business and wondered what that weird smell I detected was. Oh, it was just my purse on fire! I jumped up all "holy shit!" and dumped water on my charred straps. (This year is 2 days old and I'm already super slicker!) Later on, I'm chatting with the guy again and I'm like "this party is crazy! I'm setting my shit on fire because I'm retarded!" and we're talking about something or another and he said the phrase that'll usually make a single girl's blood run cold: "Oh, that's funny. My girlfriend says the same thing!" I'm pretty sure I made a face. Ah well. Flirting him is just fun regardless. But, I was pretty much done with the place after that and navigated my cheap ass home on 2 trains and a bus and got home around 7:30am.

I wasn't doing shit most of New Year's Day. I rolled out of bed after 2 and jumped on my computer like the addict I am. Some long buried random IMed me -- just like he did while the transit strike was going on -- all "hey, want to hang out?" you know in that sweaty naked sense. And my general response was "eh..." and I instead spent about 12 hours hanging out with my neighbor friends. A girl's gotta have priorities.

Music Makes Me High: Roundup Part 1

I actually may have discovered more music this year which really isn't that surprising guess. I did pick up and go to Miami for the express purpose of hearing music 24-7 and the rest of the year just followed. I learned a lot of things by osmosis and followed the musical links. It's been a very good year for all that. This year, KP was into:

1. Favorite New-To-Me Finds: Chateau Flight, Liquid Liquid, Four Tet, Handsome Boy Modelling School, Dub Trio, Beans, Battles, Diverse, In Flagranti, Dry & Heavy, most of the Massive Attack catalog

2. I Gave Into The Hype And I Actually Liked It!!: Jamie Lidell, Death From Above 1979, LCD Soundsystem, Dizzee Rascal, Kanye West, !!!, Fannypack, Kelley Polar

3. Most Awesome Bits of Revisted Youth: Nine Inch Nails @ MSG and Jamiroquai @ Nokia Theater

Anways, my best of what I was listening to all year, in no particular order:

Albums:
33hz, 33hz
Chateau Flight, The Meal
Death From Above 1979, You Are A Woman, I Am A Machine
Dub Trio, Exploring The Dangers Of
Four Tet, Everything Ecstatic
Jamie Lidell, Multiply
Prefuse 73, Surrounded By Silence
Run The Road
Sam Prekop, Who's Your New Professor?
Shawn Lee's Ping Pong Orchestra, Moods and Grooves, Vol. 2.

Songs:
Amerie, "Talkin About"
Damian Marley, "Welcome To Jamrock"
Fannypack, "On My Lap"
In Flagranti, "Bang Bang"
Jamie Lidell "Multiply"
John Legend, "Ordinary People"
Kanye West "Gold Digger"
Kelley Polar "Cosmological Constancy"
LCD Soundsystem, "Disco Inflitrator"
Mariah Carey, "We Belong Together"
R. Kelly "Trapped In The Closet Part 1-Infinity"
Tiga "Good As Gold"

Not Even New Shit That Wouldn't Let Me Go
Brandy, "The Ritual (Chateau Flight Remix)
Massive Attack, Mezzanine
The Jones Girls, "Nights Over Egypt"
La Caution vs. Chateau Flight, "Deserts et Lezards"
Dizzee Rascal, Boy In Da Corner
Urban Renewal Program
Asian Dub Foundation, "P.N.K.B. (Dry & Heavy Remix)
Boogie Down Productions, "The Bridge Is Over"
EPMD "Crossover"
Talking Heads, "Born Under Punches"
Disco D + Princess Superstar, "Fuck Me On The Dancefloor"

Favorite Shows of '05:
1. Winter Music Conference/M3 Summit -- March '05 -- If only for the sheer numbers of people that I saw including Los Amigos Invisibles, Tortured Soul, 33hz, Mylo, The Glimmers, Ellen Allien, Killa Kela, Digable Planets, Mark Farina, Donald Glaude, Marques Wyatt, Slam Dunk, Greenskeepers, Ben Watt, and more that I don't even freaking remember (and some I want to forget). It was music overload. Nothing even came close to topping it.

2. Dizzee Rascal @ Irving Plaza -- 4/23/05 -- I'd only started listening to him a few weeks before the show and I got my ticket on a mostly ulterior motivation, but the show was classic. A hip hop show top to bottom. Dude has massive stage presence and it's really impossible to look away. I was a fairweather fan before I got there, but seeing every song get twice the recorded energy made me a true blue.

3. Beans/Battles/Prefuse 73 @ Bowery Ballroom -- 5/7/05 -- It's almost hard to believe that I had never seen Prefuse do more than a little spinning until May...especially with me being all obsessed and all. So, I rectified that fully this year. He came and went earlier this month and I didn't even pause. No more Prefuse for another year or so. But, this show was the 2nd of the two night stand and Trendvickster and I did it up. I hadn't given more than a passing though to Beans (though I knew of him), so I was blown away by his performance. Full of personality that dude is! (and he's been really cool when I've run into him since.) Battles came from nowhere to blindside me the first night and I was still all about them the second. Likewise, Ian Battles is very nice, considering I badger him about that damned bag every time I see him. I think Prefuse could've banged a garbage pail along to a CD of the music playing and I still would've loved it, but live drums and keys along with the samples was the shit. It definitely enriched the flavor of the songs and gave it enough weight to fill the room and then some.

4. Dub Trio/Nisennenmondai/Tyondai Braxton /Prefuse 73 @Rocks Off Boat Cruise -- 9/18/05 -- As The Director joked, the incredible concert with no words. Awesome musicians every last one, but you know what? My favorite part was being on a boat on a warm fall night spitting distance from the Statue of Liberty. That was an incredible sight that I haven't seen in too long. That was a true "I Love NY" moment.

5. Nine Inch Nails @ MSG -- 11/3/05 -- I've never ever been to an arena show and I've kinda regretted it over the years. And then I remember that I'm usually broke as fuck. So, now I know that in an arena, you can barely see shit and you're just one of a mass of thousands of people, but dammit, it's exciting! You feel a part of something bigger than yourself. And it definitely helps when the band on stage is playing most of your favorite songs and the sound is immense going all the way to the back row. It rocked.

Measure By Measure, Drop By Drop

Man Man - Tear of Octopus (Adam Sparkles Remix)

I've been trying to figure out for the past 2 days exactly where I got that song from and why it's been unloved and unlistened to all this time. It's exactly the type of stuff I would've been loving all along: Man Man chopped up and gone borderline electro. Thank you, sir, may I have another? It fits the general wackiness of the weekend misadventures lately. It’s all been fun if occasionally borderline absurd.

Last Friday, neighbor-friend Lirio and I were off to Dumbo to do up some open bar action. I’ve resorted back to mostly not thinking much about that neighborhood at all since a) it’s shit inconvenient to get there from where I live b) my only connection to the place was the boy and…yeah. I was actively dreading the chance of running into him since we had to walk right past where he works and the place was about two blocks from his studio, but no dice luckily. The gallery has this sign outside that really pisses me off: New Tribeca. Come again? Dumbo really is bad enough. (“Hey, let’s name our ‘new’ neighborhood after this acronym that’s also a cartoon elephant! Awesome!”) But to then try to rename it after another fake neighborhood name where the new one would just be actively retarded? Oh hell no. Does anyone see any triangles or a Canal St in Dumbo? Yeah, I don’t think so. Stop smoking crack. And then in the gallery, the open bar consisted of vodka and Mountain Dew. Do you know how nasty that is? Plenty disgusting, let me tell you. That didn’t stop us from drinking, erm, 4, but it was really gross. If it wasn’t free and all, we would’ve had a real problem!

From there, we went a block over to this bar to drink hot cider with rum and pal around with the locals. I really like that bar because it looks so sleek and borderline fancy, but really is a cheap neighborhood joint. We watched the bartender literally throw this drunk dude into the street on his ass and got chatted up all over the place by the randoms. I ended up in this absurd debate with a guy from Manchester about who got the worst end of the stick: the working class in Britain or poor black people in America, but I really just wanted to ask him if he was perhaps Jimi Goodwin from Doves having set up shop in Brooklyn. Or at least related. The resemblance was kinda uncanny really.

The next day, I persuaded Alafairnadia to roll with me to this random art show/magazine party in someone’s apartment about 4 blocks from us. I figured it’d be good for a time killer and boy was I right! Everyone in the place was about 19 and most were totally socially retarded. Any slight feeling I’ve ever had of missing college house parties were totally erased by it. There was a makeshift bar in the kitchen with $3 40s or $5 unlimited rum drinks. The “bartender” actually had a measure to make the drinks with and she, by that point, was so trashed that she could barely get the liquid in the damned thing. Not to mention the annoyed looks of romantic rivalry passing through and the total absence of game anywhere. It was like a painful episode of “This Was Your Life.” Such a bad scene. And the “art” sucked.

This Friday was some sort of photo book show in Williamsburg with Lirio. [Oh, look at me, I’m such a hipster! All I do is go to art parties! No, not quite. I’m just a freeloading lush. I don’t know shit about anything except which liquor sponsors mean fun mixed drinks and real(ish) bartenders (and that would be Bacardi. Viva their marketing team!).] The place was a madhouse since everyone had traipsed through the fucking treacherous streets to just get there, so goddammit, we were gonna double fist those drinks if we wanted! All was cool until this aggro bootleg Mr. T asshole went nuclear when Lirio noted that he was practically knocking her over. Major prick. Then we met some randoms and I planted the seeds to bring back some old high school slang.

And then we leave and here’s where it just gets strange. We’re strolling down the main drag and we see this guy and a girl about to cross us carrying a Christmas tree. The guy is Ian Battles and I’m all “hey! You! What’s the deal with the Battles bag?” And he’s looking me like I’m retarded (which is the only way to play that) before he goes, “oh yeah, I met you at the Bowery show.” He blah blahs something about bags soon and I’m all “yeah whatever.” Maybe some time before the apocalypse, guys! So, I turn to the girl and I’m like “you’re [his gf], right? I’m friends with [the boy].” And she’s all “cool!” (The boy and she are friends.) We all stand around and shoot the shit for another minute and then it’s back to walking through the cold. The two of us were off to town to dance and I got home about 4am, scarfed down some leftover BBQ chicken, and was out like a light.

Saturday night was the party I adore so much. I met up with Alafairnadia after retrieving her from a few wrong turns en route. Fun dance night for sure, but I’m really not into the whole “woo! We’re dancing like we’re extras in Animal House to the old soul 45s” thing. Nothing I can actually do about it though. Two of the bands were interesting: this group of dudes that looked like professors who were finally playing their Sonic Youth-inspired songs somewhere besides the faculty lounge and this group with an amazing kick ass bass playing chick that really has inspired one of my new year’s resolutions to be take the fucking bass out the closet already and figure something out. I’ve had that thing since ’97 and I think I know how to play it less and less as the years pass. I almost ripped this girl limb from limb in my first try at the coat check line when she dumped all this fake snow in my hair -- and I'm still picking little hidden pieces out two days later. Grr. But, heaven is splitting a plate of pasta around 4am. The randomness for that night was running into one of the dudes from the Dumbo bar. Small world. For reference, I’m ridiculously vain and flattery really does get you everywhere. Well that and the right frame of mind natch.

The Song Remains The Same

First, a few reasons why I'm a lamer:

1. This whole "10 posts in 10 days" thing isn't going so well. I'm just lazy (and lame). Sorry.

2. Most of this weekend has been me lounging around all day in the house -- barely rising to eat -- and then emerging when the sun goes down like a vampire.

3. I was actually telling myself today that I need to give up on this weight loss/exercise kick because I realized that the first thing to go would be my breasts. We can't have that. I was flat chested for too many years to let them go! Yes, I am obsessed with my own tits. I am totally weird.

4. I've spent over $100 this weekend on nothing but takeout and booze. That sucks.

5. I was in H&M the other day and I heard this song playing and correctly identified it as The Arcade Fire, even though I've never heard them before. That shows you how much goddamned time I used to spend on ILM.

The weekend was pretty great though. Friday night, I did something that's been thwarted for over a year now: saw Lisa Shaw live. True to my lucky ass self until the end, I won tickets and VIP seating. I wasn't especially crazy about Canal Room, but free is always good and she was great. Then off to a few joints on C for Hani's (belated) birthday gathering. Drank, drank, drank. Then met up with my friend C on Chrystie and was bored. Waiting forever for the train and getting home about 4. I just enjoyed the novelty of leaving Brooklyn on a Friday night.

I took no less than 3 naps Saturday and did jack all day. Fucking wonderful. I met up with neighbor-friend Alafairnadia for Wing Wagon wings and whiskey and cokes at this local joint Mooney's. The best. And then off to Soda, another nabe place. Cider. Then I got the golden idea to walk from there (Vanderbilt and St. Marks) to Classon and Flushing. Why, you ask? Because when I drink too much, I get all sorts of dumb ideas and roll with it. Though, I was pretty soberish (and freezing my face off) after that 30 minute stroll. Thank God it was hot and crowded as fuck when I got there!

I kinda look forward to parties there all month. I first found out about them in February and have been going pretty steadily ever since. I got there a little before 2am and left about 8:30am. With the exception of last month with Trendvickster, I don't actually go there to dance. I drink and wander and people watch. This month had people I know DJing, so it was cool to chill with them for a minute. And Justin! Who I've only seen around once -- and that was his party, so it didn't count. He introduced me to his friend and was all "she has a site, etc" and I was like "hold up now! Just because it's on the internet, doesn't mean everyone's gotta know about it!" Or something...right. The royal we likes him though, he gives good hug.

I drank and wandered, drank and wandered. Started a-chatting with randoms. Lost my goddamned belt. Grr! Drank and wandered. Ran into this dude that I used to always see when I used to be a 419 resident. I told him that I recognized him and left out the part that I remembered he's a drug dealer as well. Drank and wandered. Helped this kid find his friend who was making out with a literal 16-year old. Drank and wandered until the place was practically empty and I couldn't ignore the bright ass sun any longer. Of course I stopped at White Castle, but since it was all day and all, I opted for the breakfast sandwiches. Strolled more than halfway home before I got tired. I was waiting for the B48, but it roared past me before I could make it to the stop. Goddammit. So, I took the Shuttle (I told you: stupid drunken ideas) to the 2 and collapsed until 2:30pm. Good times.

The highlight of the Sunday evening was QT with Ant and the cat, who is finally brave enough (after like 7 months) to let him touch her. But, she had such a spazz attack afterwards that it'll probably never happen again. Cats. She's 72, for christ's sake. You'd think she'd have grown out of the whole scaredy thing by now. She's just a big baby.

Doesn't It Make You Feel Better?

I've decided to turn back off the bad slacker path I've been on and do 10 posts in the next 10 days. I asked Jay-V on how long she thought I could keep it together and she said 4 days before I just forgot to post again. My guess was 1 day, but dammit, I'm gonna focus and do it for you kids!

The week's highlight was seeing Death From Above '79 in Greenpoint at this Polish nightclub turned into a rock venue for the night. Like I said before, I missed them at the NIN show (pesky on-time starting show!), so for $10, I figured it'd be worth it to finally check them out. True to me, I missed the first opener because my attitude is unless I know of them and have a bit of curiosity, who the hell cares? I'm kinda feeling blah about rock in general, so nowadays I'm pretty much only interested in who I consciously paid to see. That night it was DFA79 and Japanther because I'd heard the names and wanted to see what was up. I saw the band before them and wished I didn't. They sucked. The girl couldn't sing. They couldn't keep their equipment together. Waste.

This two man band thing kinda amuses me. I look at it and think, "geez, that's just a lot of work. Is it really that hard to get one more person?" But I think it's admirable when it sounds good and/or makes a lot of noise. Then again, I like basses and guitars, so only one is like "aww...some poor guitarist can't catch a break because of you guys. Maybe they'll start their own 2 person band. Or pull a Braxton and go solo with his pedals." Japanther were fun and noisy and they sang in mics rigged in old school telephone receivers. The drummer had his back to the audience. I was pretty much "okay...but I like this!" DFA79 are a perfect fit for that NIN tour. Probably better than Queens to tell you the truth. They've got some serious volume for 2 dudes and good songs, even if the singer is on Styx-style shit with all the trilling and yelping. But, they should never open up their stupid mouths.

Here's an idea of some of their stage banter: ""Let's talk about Tom Hanks. He's such a good actor. Like in Splash, he was trying to get rid of Daryl Hannah was splashing around in his tub and in Philadelphia, he was trying to get rid of AIDS splashing around in his body. Or like in Big, he was wishing that he could go back to being a kid. And in Philadelphia, he was wishing he didn't have AIDS. Oh you want us to just shut up and play, okay?" Or "I think we're gonna do a cover. Like that Kanye West song" *dude sings the video/radio version of the "Gold Digger" chorus* "Sing along, guys. Broke broke...oh you guys, you didn't say the word! You're all scared to say the word nigger. Well, we're not, cause we're Canadian! We don't have any African-Americans in Canada, just Canadians...oh...and Jamaicans and Haitians and stuff like that." *plays a bit of "Wait"* "Oh, I love that 'beat the pussy up' song!" Ugh. Can you believe I almost forgot they were signed with Vice? Well, they couldn't have that! I think it's general rule that the bands on that label have to be more than a little douche-like.

Winning the best friend of the week award is Farmer, who got off a plane from Houston and came straight to the show to hang out with me. And gave me hugs and tough love. (And everyone thought I was crazy when I called him my NYC-version of Tino!) According to the super wise Farmer, the general blah going on right now has about less than 5% to do with the boy and more to do with an overarching sense of "where the hell is my life going right now?" I'm going to be 25 in 3 days shy of 4 months and I'm finding it pretty hard to process. The road leading up to that birthday hopefully won't lead to another quarter-life crisis type deal as 24, but it'd be really good to wake up 25 and think that I have most things exactly where I want them to be. Right now, it's not there at really on a professional level, but I am happy overall about getting over most of the personal "real adult" speed bumps in not too bad shape. The one thing I hated was always feeling so removed in my own life, always making sure I recorded everything. The good part is I can just go out and do things, but the downside is in general I write a lot less about anything which is of course, Very Bad. The suggestion he gave me was to just refocus my energies on me: making a real nest out of that senior year looking minimalist joint Ant and I call home and actually doing something about the fixable stuff I complain about. He's completely right, so I'm doing it. I've gone to the gym three times this week and I've never felt better. Ant said he's already seeing results and I do love it when people blow smoke up my ass, so yay! I can get all strong and beat the snot out of all the assholes who say rude things to me on the street. That would be very satisfying.

I Was Looking To See If You Were Looking

For the record, my Halloween costume was Sarah Dash and if that prompted a blank stare, a