tweet tweet

there was a singer called tweet, i think, who did a cover with beck, i think, which i have somewhere on a cd, i think and i really like that song. that last i actually know.

in the morning now the birds tweet and chirp and meep outside and it's fantastically busy—shrill and cacophonous—and i don't mind it even in the early hours. it's a harbinger (which sounds like a kind of bird) of spring, though technically it's already spring so maybe it's a harbinger of mid-spring since it's still early yet.

there was more to this post. i deleted it. bye bye.

you're no longer welcome here

gobsmacking
scion
abstemious
amazing

a propos of nothing i put a temporary kibosh (oh that's another!) on the above writ words. just that i interviewed someone this morning. she used 'scion'. then i read a book review and walla—'scion'. and that reminded me how sick i am of gobsmacking too. and abstemious. as for amazing, it don't appear so much in media but it's overused anyhow.

so let's get out there team and find other ways to say things!

snuff said

this house is falling down around me. today's odor...weed pure and sweet. must be the grandson of first floor neighbor. RICH-AYYY! shrieks his grandma every now and then. he wears a 3/4 length fake fur and an earring in one ear, spectacles and close-shorn black hair and doesn't look me in the eye. even when i say hello.

when i came home yesterday there was a notice of fine taped to the front door because of trash violations. how hard would it be for the landlord to actually purchase trash lids? and to say to we tenants in this wee house, this can is for cans, this one is for trash, this is for paper? not too hard. and yet...impossible.

would it be a burden now to turn off the heat, april on the horizon and may on its tail, tomorrow s'posed to be 70, since it's like a steam room in my bath room and the wall in the kitchen near the radiator has, if my sniffer knows, emitted sufficient moisture to produce some invisible but stank mold. or at least moisture reacts to the paint. i hope (i think) it's the latter.

i saw a posting for an intriguing gig in new orleans. and this morning while running at the gym watched some morning news show in which the really big-toothed anchoress said something about 'how great is that?' i want to know: when did anchors start talking like characters on friends? i don't have television anymore, not since i moved, and i forgot how stupid a lot of it is.

dreamt last week that k and i were en route, separately, to thailand where we were meeting for a vacation. but we never established a meeting point and we had no way to get in touch. that's dicey.

doing a lot of introspection lately. but, here's my question du jour: can you do introspection? is it like doing macrame or a crossword?

my new favorite show (let me be exact: i have a television but it is only for dvd use) is weeds; i got ahold of season two already (i got connections see, like some people got pot dealers) and yet, it never makes me want reefer. it does make me want to lose 10 pounds. that's what i call, to quote alanis, ironic.

snuff club

i come home from work. t-g-i-fuckin-f...ya dig? and as soon as i walk in the 'foyer' of the little house in which i live on the top floor in a wee apartment, i am walloped. wait, no—WALLOPED—by the smell of wintermint or is it peppermint or medicated tums or some kind of minty-fakey smell that reminds me of wintergreen certs but like amplified one thousand and one times. so strong it's like sporty spice on steroids and is probably burning off the tiny microscopic hairs inside my nasal passage right now. and i cannot escape it. it's everywhere in here. it has shut out the air. even with all the windows open on a balmy march evening.

in the bedroom—where i go to turn on some radiohead because all week i've had this lyric:

i been around the world...i slept with who i like

floating around in my head and bursting out of my mouth in morrissey-like moments of ecstacy which i hope nobody at the office bears witness to—in there, it is almost suffocating. am i suffocating?

i used to like that taste of wintergreen. this has cured me. last time this uberstank invaded i went to my neighbors just below to see if it was coming from them. no. they said it was lady on floor one, teased-haired mom of landlord, and something about an at-home hair treatment she's fond of.

but that cannot be it. no way. too much stank. did wrigleys start making hair products? has she infused them through a humongous humidifier that expels this plagues through the pipes? i can't escape it. HELP ME! YOU! HELP! ME!

praise allah and jc and all the rest, soon i'm headed out to see lucinda wms perform. some pals of mine left me a msg one day that said they went ahead and got me a ticket without even consulting. ain't that sweet? didn't even know she was coming to town. heard her new record's weak. but if it gets me out of this factory of stinkity, it'll be more than worth it.

they're back...

computer woes. i haven't had internet at home for coming up on two weeks. and i called my dsl provider and then my wireless router maker (devil—thine name is dlink) and then my dsl provider and they did in fact help me. but they could not help me get the wireless router to work. stupid story short—i am wireless-less now and it's okay because when i got my router i quickly learned that it had a wee signal and i could not check my internet in my 'office' cause the router signal did not go that far (and the outlets and jacks in my apt are few and stupidly placed). so the router was a big fat waste of money. that money could have gone, for instance, to a sorely needed new undergarment or some comfy arche sandals, which as you are my witness will be mine soon enough.

now i'm back to dsl and i guess when i go online, it'll be at the dining room table. with the licorice box and the almonds and the blood oranges tempting me.

anyway, that's all a lot of boring boring, but i woudn't even be able to tell you that boring boring if not for dsl.

not too much else to tell these days. i guess i'll just go to sleep and hope for better dreams.

been a long time

since i rock and rolled.

in every sense of the word.

and just now i looked at the homepage of the grey lady and there was a headline that read 'inflation rose in february' but i read it as 'infatuation rose in february' and yet i am not infatuated with anyone these days. in fact, if there was such a thing as negative numbers in infatuation, that's where i dwell.

and moms and i had a little exchange about make-up yesterday and how i should maybe apply some more some more (that's intended repetition, like your curls mister t) and on the subway i did what i abhor when i witness it: i took out my make-up kit and i put on lipstick (dior! j'adore!), a wee eye shadow, even mascara (did anyone but me and r.k.s. ever see that movie with natasha richardson and chris walken and he says, 'my father used to wear...ladies...mascara'? or maybe that's not the right quote, but if you know it, you know it. and that rep is similarly intentional, mister universe).

i keep thinking the sun is shining in the window behind me...it ain't. it's sleeting and cold today. and now it's time to dine. in every sense of the word.

that's what friends r 4

who ever thought i might reach a day when i quote dionne warwick? surely not i. but now i realize that when i watched the oscars last weekend and beyonce sang and tapped her long-nailed fingers on her mic just a teensy out of rhythm, well, she learned that move straight from dionne's days on solid gold. and if you never saw that, and never saw the solid gold dancers shimming their jazz hands behind their asses in sync (both asses and hands), i suggest you huff it to youtube or where-ever and watch it. pronto! look out for the leggy broad with the long black ironed hair.

most memorable.

but here's what: stayed in tonight because i'm trying to get better and just watched a weepy but engrossing movie called don't move, an italian joint. and then i was thinking, when i paused it to get a tissue to blows my nose, about a converesation i had last evening over very tasty korean food (new joint in my 'hood) and my friend j.r. who doesn't read this blog at all cause she's busy, yo, and was my dinner companion last evening at that korean place. so, i was telling her about various dates there and here (we haven't seen each other in some time) and i was talking about that and this, pontificating on the disappointments and ego bruising that invariably take place in such matters. and she said;

'wait, one thing. what i don't understand about these guys is how stupid they are. i mean, i don't think there's a better catch around than you. they must be losers if they don't see that.'

(i'm paraphrasing, gentle reader, but that was her kick-ass jist).

and you know else? she's goddamn, one-hundred-per-cent right. so take this trophy and stick it up yer ass, cause we'll be back next year! (sometimes when i speak in tongues, i channel bad new bears, verzione originale. m'scusi).

anyways, i so loved her reaction, it was so innate and honest and heartfelt, that i want to take the opportunity to say how awesome she is...and not just for thinking i'm awesome...but also for reminding me that i'm awesome. and you're awesome. and yes, you too, in the corner with the racoon make-up and the hole in the your nose where the pierce infected you, poor darling.

so, let's get this party started, yo.

oh my aching kisser!

what a way to start a day! the times has an article about cosmetic surgery. i think. didn't actually bother reading it. just looked at the graphic and beheld all the things i could do if i had oodles of money and plenty more vanity. but the one thing that did raise my alert level from azure to violet was lip enhancement. should i collegen? are mine too thin? insufficiently lucious? at what point, what year, month, day, hour minute, second do they go from succulent to meager? from robust to prim?

me got worried.

the other day on the train i was fascinated by a fella who was asleep opposite me because the arc of his upper lip was oh! so! high! i wanted to get out a pencil and sketch it. then, i started looking at the arcs of lips all around me—some are planer, some seemed like a tiny, subtle hillock (the kind you might not notice if you were driving but if you were running, oh your aching legs!).

i considered too a photo project, lots of lips, just polaroid after polaroid of 'em,in rows and rows on a wall. don't steal that idea bozo! i'm taking it to the biennale!

anyway. if i weren't now just arrived at work (after feeding a chocolate croissant into a kisser of my berry own) i'd go the mirror and try to ascertain my own arc and plumpness. and then i'm sure i'd fret. just like the a guitar.

but mercifully i've got much other to do. so, dollface, adieu!