you take the good, you take the bad, you take it all, and a vagina eats you
made friends with people in my old apartment as i was moving. it figures, after living there two years and not meeting a soul, that it happens on my last day. moved to new home and lovin' it so far. difficult conversation with verizon today as i realize that dsl and i will be apart for 7-10 business days. went to community garden. played with two-year-old. missed soccer practice, missed (goddammit) samuel r. delany reading. finishing massive recommendations document at work. launched friend's site in time for his appearance on national tv. plotting new homepage design for me, myself, and i. sold first thing on ebay. found huge mac/netscape problem with this site, to be resolved. found this site, for which a screenshot says more than i ever could:
and blah blah blah. today is my birthday, and it's been kind of a busy week already. but party tonight, wheeee!
posted May 31, 2001 in crap, printteenage-prostitute-style
today is my dad's birthday (me, him, one of my older brothers, and my baby nephew are all within a few days of each other)–remember what i wrote two years ago on this day? passed out last night, teenage-prostitute-style, on my bed, all lights on, fully-clothed, and it's all because of cascading style sheets and dhtml. sometimes they just fry my brain.
jane, however, sez i'm quality:
i would say "stay tuned"
<from last night>last night it took an eternity to walk up five flights of stairs, because i was stoned. tonight, i'm drunk, and those stairs just flew by under my feet. there are movie sets all over manhattan, including one at the dive bar on the corner of my block. tonight i hung out with jami and coco and an anthropologist named derek and a packaging designer named iran and the owner of starlight and wonderbar, so now i'm gonna be able to have my birthday party at wonderbar next week. i'm a little bit psyched, since it's my favorite spot and i have a long acquaintance with it. if you wanna drop by, contact me for the details. also, on my birthday i'll be launching a new homepage design, followed by the rest of the site. i would say "stay tuned," but i think i've used that phrase before in this blog, and it seems a little lame to start tossing it around too much.</from last night>
posted May 24, 2001 in deliveryfor a "smooth" look under halters
from daily candy: "... witness petal tops, the latest lingerie must-have. they're small little daisy-shaped stickers that those who are fortunate enough to go braless can stick you-know-where for a "smooth" look under halters, tanks, tube tops, and any other type of fitted clothing..."
posted May 23, 2001 in crap, printregurgitate.jpg
C'MON
the subtext of my posting this, of course, being "C'MON GET A LIFE!!!":
-----Original Message-----
From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]]
Sent: Sunday, May 20, 2001 7:10 PM
To: [email protected]
Subject: [email protected], BAREBACKTOPP has responded to you
------------------------------------------------------------
*** PLEASE DO NOT HIT 'REPLY' TO RESPOND TO THIS MEMBER ***
Click on the URLs below if you want to respond to this member http://www.m4m4sex.com/perl/ads.cgi?singlead=16375&lang=EN
------------------------------------------------------------
I HAVE A 10X6 THICK VEINY COCK AND WOULD LOVE TO FUCK YOU ON YOUR BACK, LEGS SPREAD EAGLED!!!
C'MON GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!!!!
C'MON MAKE ME HAPPY!!!
:-)
posted May 20, 2001 in crap, sexa cherry has been popped:
i am now an ebay seller. are you dying for crowded house, trainspotting, or belle and sebastian CDs? you know who your daddy is.
posted May 19, 2001 in delivery, musicnew apt
i don't know who got me things fall apart by chinua achebe and phoenix eyes and other stories by russell leong off my amazon wishlist, but a big, huge thank you. this is totally cool.
moved the first things into my new apartment last night: 3 books, notepad, pen. golly i am broke. time to sell things on ebay. more on that as they appear.
posted May 17, 2001 in delivery, printback in new york.
whew. boy am i broke. but mom got a phat mother's day gift.
posted May 14, 2001 in deliveryblack blanc beur
checked out black blanc beur (which is now how i will identify myself: gay beur, or buttery, male) on my last night in paris. ordered my last vodka et pomplemousse, wallflowered for an hour, then danced mightily once they started playing some good ole hip-hop. dashed for the closing metro doors, red-faced, red-shirted (i need to scan a picture of my lansing firefighters t-shirt), sit down across from a woman reading the same issue of the economist that i purchased yesterday, take out my new yorker in some feeble, passive attempt at emoting "hey, we speak english together," and read to myself this quote by oliver sacks in "ghosts: the dazzling mystery of de kooning's last paintings," by peter schjeldahl:
style, neurologically, is the deepest part of one's being, and may be preserved, almost to the last, in a dementia.
the sticker from the coat check (flourescent yellow, number 477, scotch tape wrapped around it lengthwise) is still on my backpack (black, compact, north face, current contents include postcards from le depot and open cafe, expired metropass, muslim knit cap, notebook, economist may 4th and 18th, bbb flyer proclaiming "beur is beautiful!", e.m@le no.81 jeudi 10 mai 2001, cinnamon altoids). i wonder what this sweaty, tipsy, flagrantly non-french-looking man/boy looks like to the rest of the quiet, dignified passengers on the train. speedwalk back to the hotel, rush upstairs to order room service (club sandwich, cafe creme) before it closes in ten minutes, hop in the shower, throw on pink polo shirt and olive drab cargo shorts, and oh yeah, i'd read this earlier in the day:
for the j. sutters of the republic, the prophetic thunders and righteous wrath of frederick douglass and w. e. b. du bois and richard wright and james baldwin have dwindled to the mumbling ambivalences of freedom in a money-driven, publicity-mad consumer society. a metropolitan book party throngs into j.'s memory, and its panorama of up-to-date types includes this vignette: "the biracial who adopted a superficial militancy to overcompensate for light skin discussed the perfidy of ice people with the gangster rapper ashamed of a placid upbringing in a middle-class suburb."i agree with the vignette (it sure painfully sums up a lot of my college years), but not completely with the preceding statement. i'm only 24, but even i remember hearing my barber say the "n" word nonchalantly when he saw black people on the television (no way were they coming in his barber shop), people speaking to me in broken english or yelling epithets as i walked home from school, and middle and high school teachers even-voicedly telling us which classes, schools, majors didn't have black students. agreed, a lot has changed, but i'm not convinced that virulent, nasty racism is unpracticed by metropolitan, middle class, consumer society types in american culture (or cultures? damn this postmodern liberal arts education). posted May 13, 2001 in art, delivery, print, sex- john updike reviews colson whitehead's john henry days, the new yorker may 7, 2001
meetings
sometimes it can't be helped, especially when it's between two people whose personalities are loud online and quiet off. i've met (or re-met, or not really met) a lot—oh, what's the use; typing links is hard work; a lot of people, ok?—of people through this site, though, and the ability to associate a friendly face with a URL or email address is a simple pleasure that i now really enjoy. and i'm a friendlier, more welcoming person in new york as a result of the hospitality and kindness of others when i travel. so don't be a stranger, hear?
one thing's for sure, though: i need to get back to new york. i miss understanding what people are saying when they're being rude to me (i resisted a rare, ugly-american urge to throw the snotty cafe beaubourg waiter up against a wall last night), and i miss tompkins square park and my thuggish ruggish gym (even though my thighs and ass are nice and tight from walking everywhere ... very necessary during this weekend of creme brulee and croque monsieur) and getting my ass whupped at soccer practice and puerto ricans (not that the arabic guys in paris aren't sexy as all get out) and friends (although i do get better about personal email correspondence when i'm away) and the new york times (not that watching bbc and cnn and reading the economist hasn't been good for me).
posted May 12, 2001 in deliverymr. bojangles and tonie carroll
if you know me well, then you might know that there's one thing i like: clap clap clapclapclap clapclapclapclap dog show! so when, as we're descending the steps of the eiffel tower and discussing the lushness of the surrounding neighborhoods, you can imagine my delight when brandon and i sounded off clap clap clapclapclap clapclapclapclap it's lush! the best part is that he knows to do the molly shannon whip-lashing when he says it, and knows the dogs' names: mr. bojangles and rocky balboa. is it any wonder why i love this boy?
leeds 32, st helens 10. rugby on eurosport in my hotel room. oooh ... tonie carroll!!! my prostate just jumped.
istogrammi d'architettura
fell in love with le centre pompidou today.
- dado (1933), le massacre des innocents, 1958-1959. images of blood and baby. sans titre, 1960. whole room of it.
- a lot of work organized by color. a whole of room of rainbows, another one of cobalt blues.
- enough rope to hang yourself.
- atlas.
- carl andre (1935), hearth, 1980.
- yoko ono and i think john cage. 10th day: swim. swim in your dreams as far as you can.
- superstudio, istogrammi d'architettura, 1968-1969. villa cubica, 1968. tattoo inspiration!
- giuseppe penone (1947), respirer l'ombre, 2000. laurel leaves behind wire mesh, covering the walls fragrantly.
- trippy: seeing the same andreas gursky (aisles of brightly-colored candy) in paris and nyc within the span of two weeks.
rue saint merri
a little bit of homesickness and a lot of jetlag sets in on day four of paris. enjoying walking down rue saint merri because someone always gives me an appreciative look. walking up the slope of centre pompidou at that beautifully weird time when the sun is vanishing but it's not dark. getting lost lost lost. just got a new apartment back home, on 5th street between avenue a and b, the same street as tableau, anil gupta's studio, le gamin, bouche bar, and lavagna, around the corner from max and la gold finche, one block from wonderbar, maurice, and frederic. anyone need a summer sublet in the lower east side?
posted May 06, 2001 in delivery, sexpoulet roti
cab drivers with old, old jazz playing. wind and gray moody skies. fiending for the economist and bbc and cnn because i can understand the language. discovering the one black gay club (exotique club) in paris with brandon, and that bitch gets all the attention! handsome black dancer/waiter smirks at my attempts to order poulet roti (poo-lay) in francais. seeing black and asian people speak french. la fontaine du saint michel. melatonin. weaning myself off constaint daily e-mail checks. cave grotto-like urinals. the seine. cigarette smoke. staring down champs-elyseés. the instant, touching hospitality of friends of friends. to the 5'10" mixed black and white woman with the blond mohair purse and mini-afro that you twisted into pigtails in five minutes flat while sitting down and putting away your carry-on bag: respect.
posted May 05, 2001 in delivery