2 8 o c t o b e r 2 0 0 1 .
people who get called "overachiever" are the ones thinking "should" to themselves. this weekend i re- ceived my alumni magazine and, as usual, flipped to the achievements by year section. a guy that i was kind of friends with was listed. he and i both wrote, but he was better than me; we were both from the south; he was straight but it took me a while to catch on. he was black, i was whatever. when we gradua- ted, i was all about new york, while he chose grad school. he just got a job in the creative writing depart- ment of a major liberal arts school. for a second i felt a mixture of jealousy and failure, then i got over it and was super psyched for him, and now that that's mel- lowed, i'm wondering what i'd send to the magazine as a synopsis of what i've done in that time.
i should spend some quality time in photoshop to clean things up here. the grid stuff is meant to be ex- ercises in line and, well, grids, since i've been pon- dering criss-crossey tattoos and really like the spatial relationships that they impose on other things. so far nobody's said anything about them, but i don't mindi wanna run with it for a while and see what happens anyway.
reading carl phillips makes me remember devoting hours of an afternoon or evening to write a poem, and i miss that but also don't know how i'd do it a- gain. if you have an account on audiogalaxy, you can steal all of my mp3s, not just the ones that i link to.
i found realplaya.com in my referrer logs last week and wrote them who da fuck are you bitches? i like your site. mad props to them for not using the milquetoasty bloggerTM.
this weekend i shaved my head except for two devil horns, painted my face red, and wore a black hooded robe to a halloween party. i have so many pictures to show you crazy kids as soon as i get thee to a scanner!
things i've said too often this month: freaking/friggin. mofo. things i haven't said enough this month: oblon- gata. facile. heartthrob.
nobody hates it more than me when i don't update frequently. but there's not a whole lot going on. being in a food co-op is cool, because for shy mofos like me, you need an excuse (like working a cash regis- ter) to be friendly to people for no reason. doing vol- unteer work, like working on a new website for alp, feels good, because you can put some skillz to work for someone besides capitalism. having a boyfriend (i guess that's what he is) is cool too. still not quite used to that this time around.
yup, if you want a calendar, i can hook you up for 16 bucks. another grid. reading the newest collection of poems by carl phillips. won a contest (i just typed "content" by accident, jesus) on flavorpill, but flaked on the concert that i scored tickets for. in three days, saw my dentist (no cavities), doctor (no STDs), and nurse (for the vaxgen study i'm in). sat around on a rooftop for mr. vann's latest photo project (he pro- mised me some scans, and we all know ima skank like dat). sent a gift to my homeslice in nola (guess who). saw burnt money, that new fag flick about the argentinian lover bank robbers (there's a haunting, surprisingly loving scene near the beginning where one is extracting a bullet from the other's clavicle). listening to smetana's bartered bride overture, the last movement of glazunov's violin concerto, when alicia keys sang fallin' during the vmas with that off- the-friggin-hook earth, wind, and fire-tinged arrange- ment, and for inexplicable reasons, i don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love!.
thanks to a lovely person that reads this site, i'm quoted in yahoo internet life this month (the print ver- sion, not online, as far as i know). running to the newsstand...
so everyone got sick of blogging and stopped. i'm debating making a road trip out of going to my pa- rents' in california for the holidays. sure don't feel like flying back to new york right before new year's. but i don't know if i feel like sticking around, either. last night i dreamt of living somewhere else, and the main thing i remember was that the kitchen was cool and dark and there were white ceramic bowls with milk and cereal and sugar and stuff like that in them.
i joined a food co-op this weekend. call me crunchy, but i did it in college and some of those vegan urges just freaking stick.
you know what's one site i always like reading? fanolex.net.
on another note, i'm hating the way my homepage is looking. gonna work on another one soon, as soon as i get some freelance sites launched and out the door.
1 4 o c t o b e r 2 0 0 1 .
(thejustrhyme issomethingdesigned toi'mincline, itryinghold. the fold to shine - mos def, if you can huh! you can hear )
m- for magnificent
o- praise omnipotent
s- for significant
d- for type different
e- for effic-ient
f- the fly fisherman
one more non-black new yorker (not a coffee shop chick or white dude, though) that loves him some mos def.
was blessed with a new level in my shoulders work- out today; got to bump up five pounds. there ends my semi-annual blog about going to the gym.
spent the whole day in volunteer training at the audre lorde project, then met neil at el museo del barrio for an opening that he had to attend since he's gonna be teaching there, then back downtown and over the bridge for a birthday dinner in williamsburg. that bed- ford stop, goddamn, is knockout, nah, fuckin tko cen- tral. speaking of knockouts, not peter yawn johnson but rickson gracie in bruce weber's chop suey, ay papi. i'd never consciously known about frances faye, i didn't know enough about diane vreeland, and i'd forgotten how, before everyone found out how mean she was, what a stunning beauty naomi campbell was in her heyday, but this flick changed all of those things.
my sister, nephew, and niece were gonna come hang out and eat with me on sunday, but she called today and said i know this sounds lame, but i'm afraid to bring the kids to manhattan. and i un- derstand but selfishly think, what about me? are you afraid for me, that i live here? but i have it about a mil- lion times better than lots of other folks, so i don't like to say or even feel stuff like this.
i thought i'd have something interesting to say after hearing sir richard rogers, but i don't. i could hardly hear what he was saying in the rotten cooper union acoustics, and despite his cute powerpoint-opera- ting assistant, i was nodding off after a long day at work. you gotta give props to the mofo that designed the pompidou, though.
so that calendar with me in it is out on the news- tands, and i finally saw it. have you? want to? lemme know.
i really like the list of recipients in this email, and i'm kinda stoked that i'm one of them.
peep this list of chatrooms, then check out how full each one is. that shit tells you a lot.
