sweetheart, please wait!
i'm working on deadline to launch a site, so i ran to the deli to get something sugary and delicious. on my way there, i witnessed the following:
- a long white limo parked along avenue a with the engine running; the only person inside was a bulky thirtysomething white man with his head in his palm
- in front of the deli was an old homeless black man who was panhandling in couplets, including, but not limited to, the following:
- i gotta get high,
won't you be a nice guy? - ... cuz it's not easy,
bein' sleazy.
- i gotta get high,
- passing by a hippie who reeked not of patchouli but of baby powder as i walked down a (deli) aisle
- walking back home down avenue a, being passed by a very normal-looking black woman who was chasing the departing uptown bus saying, "sweetheart, please wait!".
r.e.m.
last night i had a nightmare that woke me up yelling and shaking; it was about something being ripped off my back, which might've been bedsheets in real life. then i went back to sleep and had a second dream of living in an old, precarious building on a high floor. i had to crawl underneath staircases and up ladders to get to my place, so high that by the time i was going upstairs, i was crawling on the stairs and scared to death of falling. i had a roommate (an irishman that i work with, who turned 29 last friday and has a restauranteur girlfriend) who was leading me across a grand antique-filled room, and somehow i accidentally walked across a huge inkblotter on the floor. there was a tenant who lived downstairs from me who was always weeping, and he looked at me through swollen eyes as though i caused it and wouldn't speak to me when i asked him what was wrong. when i wake up after having dreams like that, i wonder if my eyes are still moving around rapidly when they first open.
pacing the aisles at the grocery store, i accidentally bump into an old lady. she says, "why don't you bang me a little harder next time?" and as she's walking out, says to another shopper, "they look so civilized, y'know?"
you gotta at least give credit to new yorkers who aren't wallowing in kindness-inducing grief.
the get up kids are the only band that i started listening to because i kept seeing their name as a keyword on ebay.
posted February 25, 2002 in deliverywhat x-men character are you?
i. just. couldn't. resist.
look out and lock up your daughters, everyone, we're in the presence of remy lebeau (gambit). that's right, you're that smooth-talkin' cajun boy with a flare for making women swoon and a great love for all things shiny and stealable. sure, you're forever on the run from your past, but there's no reason why you can't run from it in style, oui?
posted February 23, 2002 in crap, printasynchronous
jami and i had an overdue after-work drink tonight and discussed burnout, boys, bands at nancy whiskey/nasty whiskey/skanky nancy's, and big bar's asynchronous small booths and exorbitant prices ($9 for a dirty martini on 7th street in the afterglow of a recession, shame on you). oh, and i lavished on the most recent installment of retail photography.
thank you, a list apart, for writing "how to write a better weblog" better than i could have. a few months back, i started compiling our thoughts on new year's resolutions for others, but mine were getting so bitchy that i couldn't stand it. this article actually makes me want to write, which hasn't happened so much recently.</violins>
just returned from la republica dominicana. some ups and downs, but it was a great vacation and great meeting the boyfiend's familia. i was so good about not essentializing when i was a politically correct college student, but i'll say it: i think latin american culture encourages dramatic, argumentative life and interaction. or maybe my new england wasp father/ chinese american mother/southern location discouraged it; all i know is that every member of his family is a character, and this i got through mostly sitting quietly and smiling as they went back and forth in español. got to see the beautiful altos de chavon school of design where he studied, as well as plenty of phat beach time. now i'm back at my newish job, which pleasantly allows me to bump into shang shang and ultrasparky every now and then.
every time i get on the L train i see someone else reading the book i'm reading: the adventures of kavalier and klay, michael chabon. it's good, but at page 200, i'm not swooning yet. during my week of job liminality, i went to the trouble of getting my first new york public library card, and the freaking holds i placed still haven't come through. listening to static. wondering if the fact that that factors into an anti-bloggie means that listening to radiohead while writing online is like writing poetry about smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee.
posted February 22, 2002 in deliverypetit jardin des rêves
reading through contact emails and found this, from xavier cahen:
le petit magasin [english below]posted February 21, 2002 in deliveryarrivée en septembre 1992 dans cette grande ville de new york, cette place me plut immédiatement. east village est un petit village dans une grande ville. côtoyant leurs destinés, je décidais de louer un petit magasin sur la onzième rue au 520 coté est. après quelques rénovations, l'espace pouvait accueillir mon travail, tentative de communication dans un pays étranger, de partage et d'échanges, d'intégration. j'installais "le petit jardin des rêves" et réouvrais ma vitrine pour le plaisir de nous tous. l'accueil fut chaleureux et même audelà de toutes mes espérances, le contact était là. je décidais alors de pousser l'expérience plus loin, je fixais une boite aux lettres sur ma porte d'entrée à proximité de la vitrine, du papier, un stylo et leur proposais de participer à un livre. en échange, je leurs cédais une partie de ma vitrine pour exposer leurs messages, de manière à leur rendre hommage à leurs donner la parole. puis, j'aménageais une place discrète derrière l'installation du "petit jardin des rêves" afin de dessiner les badauds et les curieux, tous ces messagers anonymes, ces voisins proches et lointains. cette expérience à donner naissance à un livre qui sous le titre "my little store" est un journal de bord regroupant 45 messages et dessins recueillis tout au long de ces 45 jours d'ouverture. hommage à ces gens sans "histoire," remerciements, cadeaux d'amitié d'une vie partagée.
le petit magasin: http://www.levels9.com/pieces/mls/
my little store
arriving in this big city in september, "a little lost, a little curious," i liked this place immediately. the east village is a small village in a big city. metting with destiny, i decided to rent a little store front on the east side on eleventh street, at number 520. after some renovations, the space could accommodate my work, an attempt at communication in this foreign country, of sharing and exchanges, of integration. i then installed "the little garden of dreams" and opened my shop windows for the pleasure of us. the welcome was warm and even beyond all of my expectations, the contact was there. i then decide to push the experiment further, i attached a mailbox on my door, near the shop window, paper, a pen and i suggested to them part in a book. in exchange, i gave up part of my shop window for them to exhibit their messages, in a way that paid them tribute and gave them voice. then i set up a discreet place behind the installation of "the little garden of dreams," in order to sketch the gawkers and curious, all these anonymous messengers, these neighbors close and far. this experiment gave birth to another installation "the little museum of souvenir" grouping together more than 106 drawings collected throughout the 45 days of opening. tribute to these people without "history," acknowledgements, gift of friendship from a shared life.
my little store: http://www.levels9.com/pieces/mls/
coloreugenics
i buckled and tried colorgenics, but i don't quite buy what spat back at me:
you are trying to establish yourself and make an impact despite the fact that everything around you seems to be against you ... putting up barriers ... but don't be unduly concerned ... you have the right ideas and come what may, they will soon be manifested and appreciated.but maybe that's because of the annoying grammatical errors that, of course, i had to fix before i posted it here. (..) posted February 13, 2002 in delivery"enough is enough." nothing seems to be working out as you would like it to ... and it has got to the stage where you feel as if you can't be bothered anymore. the way you feel is that it would be great if you could cut off from everything and take it easybe it only for a short time ...
you are a very choosy person ... demanding and exacting in your emotional demands and very particular in your choice of partner. you are self-sufficient and as a result of this overbearing nature you find it difficult to establish any depth of deep physical or mental involvement with members of the opposite sex ...
you are an emotional, sincere and impressionable individual experiencing frustration and unnecessary stress ... you are carried away by other people's enthusiasm and looking for that idealised relationship, be it in a business or personal situation which you are able to share with a mutual depth of understanding. you have lowered your defences in the past ... and you have been hurt ... so you are now extremely wary of being exploited. you are still ready to trust people on condition that they are prepared to offer you proof of their sincerity.
you are being very dogmatic ... insisting that there is to be absolutely no equivocation whatsoever about your achievements and accomplishments.
first day at the new jo
a decent, uneventful first day at the new job. downfalls included that my computer didn't arrive till 4pm, the first cubicle i've ever sat in full-time, and the 8:30am all-day meeting tomorrow. triumphs include the in-house gym facilities (with stereo and tv), roof deck overlooking the hudson river, and the boss who leaves promptly at 5pm.
it seems like just yesterday i was tiptoeing into a cavelike grotto of a design studio, nervously clutching my portfolio (including, i think, the chapbook that i wrote, typographified, and bound myself; some shitty black and white photos that took me hours lost to the limbo of darkroom to print; and two handmade books: quiet [inspiring quiet] and you stand on the shoulders of ... [inspiring through]). that job was crazy and we worked ridiculous hours and didn't know what we were doing, but i was lucky to have a first job at 22 where everyone else there was a twentysomething idiot too. every job since has gotten increasingly more grown-up just as i havemeaning that i'll probably be at an investment bank any year now.
focus on being in the dominican republic in a week and a half.
posted February 04, 2002 in deliveryre-downloaded
re-downloaded climbing up the walls, dj shadow remix.
posted February 03, 2002 in music