my spidey sense is tingling

i'm cranky. i've been cranky for the past month or so. i dislike the cold weather, though it feels normal. i'm lonely but practically everyone i know drives me insane. they're not doing a damn thing wrong either. i'm just so easily annoyed. i'm disgusted by my body but too lazy to do anything about it. i have a crush on my roommate jess but if a female tries to hit on me i practically scream 'get the fuck away from me, you dyke!' i have no energy and coffee makes me jittery. i wanna fuck but feel disconnected the whole time and can't get wet.
it's obvious that i need to work on myself.

a man slapped me the other night. i haven't been that angry for a long time. i could have hurled a pickup truck through a brick wall. it is not okay to hit women. it's not okay to hit me. i've been abused in past relationships and hate feeling powerless like that. spent the rest of the night looking out the window and, as corny as it sounds, imagining myself as a bird flying away. doesn't make any sense. it's like suicide; you just want out...whatever that means. but i'm not suicidal. just frustrated.

holy holy

tonight's the work holiday party. am i stoked? no. am i going? sure. last year's party, as expected, i got wasted and had unprotected sex with the best looking of my co-workers (that part was unexpected). this year will be quite different. for one thing i'm not getting wasted. not even sure if i should have a beer as it may spiral out of control. i have to work tomorrow. being hung over will make it unbearable. normally i do not have a drinking problem but in social situations, especially work-related, family or the possibility of seeing an ex i can't stop and that just makes it worse. if i don't end up embarrassing myself at the event i'll just feel like a total wreck at home. so, no drinking tonight.
the temp. finally dropped. freezing. am i still biking? you're goddamn right.
the dong in the picture glows in the dark, and it's not mine.

the axe

west coast struttin, one bad mutha, got a rattlesnake suitcase under my arm

phone

terry

terry richardson rules. i don't give two craps about what anyone else thinks. i'd be proud to have him as an uncle or something. not as a dad. too creepy. i imagine myself as him in this photo, one still-shoed foot propped up on the desk, probably listening to black flag or dk, the best choice for...whatever. some stupid dirty punk on the floor and me hi-fiving one of my girlfriends.
the fellow i've been seeing most recently is a rapper. this is a first for me. you assume he's black? assume whatever you want. there's a first time for everything.
last night i hung out with an old friend of mine. he crashed his bike earlier yesterday, breaking off half his front teeth, bruising his face and possibly breaking his arm? it shook me up pretty bad. he doesn't wear a helmet. half the time i don't either and i've wiped out before but when it's other people i get all freaked out. imagine a skull like an eggshell and i get the willies.

good god

i'm house-sitting for a friend of mine and she has a computer. it's been a while since i've used a real sit-down computer. that didn't make any sense. what i mean is i don't have a computer of my own (moral reasons...like i don't want to become a fat nerdy slob) and changed my phone plan so i cannot use the web on it anymore. it's still there but will cost me an arm and a leg to browse. and that's just stupid. computer time is very limited now. i like it that way.
i'm sitting here and a geriatric cat on the table keeps reaching out and patting my face with her paw, then just dug her claw into my lip.
today i'm going to allston ("rock city" whooo...ew. bitch please. people who seriously use that term make me ill) to hang out with a friend of mine, to be blunt a dude that's probably totally in love with me (when someone has had you as their phone wallpaper it's a given), a fellow painter who i hang out with to make art. i don't mind allston in small doses, it's even mildly entertaining on the weekends with drunks everywhere (drunks under age 30) but i couldn't live there again. today, however, is a holiday so hopefully most of the college kids will be gone. allston is a straight ghost town on christmas. today, who knows. today is just like any other day for me. i, uh, don't do holidays. the only difference to relish on them is that a lot of the city is dead. the only folks around allston on winter holidays are the non-college people who live there...homeless people and orphans. it's great.

what's new. burned out at work, saving up (whatever that means) to move; moving means whittling down my stuff to three large bags and whatever i can layer and living like an ex-con for a while, heating up dollar burritos at seven eleven, brushing teeth in public bathrooms, disappearing. i can't wait for this. the up-and-gos have got me. they dig their hooks in deep and pull me along like some goth dork with daddy issues doing suspensions.
tonight i'll hang out with a friend of mine who i've known for a long time. we have a love/hate friendship that at intervals makes me want to smash his head with my fist and also get him to move around the country with me. maybe that's what being married is like. i've probably bitched about married people in here before.
ok gotta run.

Actor improvises to take down robbery suspect

Actor improvises to take down robbery suspect

this is one of my roommate's cousins. he's no stranger to our house. the funniest part of this news story is that they left out hilarious details such as-
after dan fought the man down to the ground he started to pistol-whip him with his own gun, which broke as it was a plastic pellet gun. the news isn't going to say that it was a plastic gun because they want to keep people afraid. also, the attempted robber is in intensive care. a little harsh beating.

i don't think i mentioned this last time but someone stole my roommate's car (a different one) and torched it in roxbury. it went up like a fireball and there's nothing left but a frame and charred insides. however, she was covered and is now getting a grease car and a transport bicycle. so it was actually a blessing? this is the married couple i live with (married at burning man) who are planning in the near future to move to western mass and live in their movable home on someone's farm. they rule.

hustle hustle

no time for this thing. i also recently changed my phone plan so i cannot surf the internet on it anymore, which will save me some money but is a tough habit to break. i don't have a computer at home so hanging out at work is the only comp time i get. and this is fine. i don't want to be pathetically addicted to the internet, zombied out in front of the screen, thinking talking to people online makes us real friends. it makes me cringe.
money money. i'm so in debt it's giving me acid reflux. it could always be worse.
one of my housemates has swine flu. i'm pretty much expecting to catch it. she lives across the hall and we use the same bathroom. it's a large house full o' people but there's no way i can avoid contact with ... the infected. yesterday was her birthday and i felt bad that she's quarantined in her room. all the hand-washing in the world isn't going to help me. my immune system is for shit in the winter anyways.
one of my other housemates continues to amaze me with her diy hippie stuff. she made almond milk. like has raw almonds in bulk, soaked some until soft, blended them to make a liquid and then squeezed the liquid through hemp cloth. because she doesn't want to drink the packaged stuff, i imagine. it's amazing. our kitchen is a lab of random liquids and fungi and homemade dairy products from raw milk. i'm unsure about raw milk. she's on a totally raw diet. i cannot even steam squash correctly. i can't even make rice that isn't instant, the easy kind. i am domestically disabled.
a night this week...around midnight i suppose i saw the same blind fellow that had such an effect on me a few weeks ago. this time he was on the 39, going to the same area of huntington and south huntington. you know, pushcart of plastic-bagged possessions, massive b.o., the usual. when the bus stopped the driver actually helped him off the bus and cross the street. i wonder if this guy is newly blind. it made me think of the book "american psycho" where patrick bateman blinds the homeless guy. i think that book is fucking brutal and the movie is pussy.
uhh anyway, this fellow fascinates me. he seems so scared of life and just trusts people because it's not like he has a choice.

i guess i don't really have anything to write about. i watched a middle eastern guy and an asian chick have sex like two feet in front of me recently. THAT was a first. i watched. then i went home. that was it. i myself am a robot that shuts down and locks up. no one gets in, nothing real comes out. it's the only way i can protect myself these days.
also, someone was stabbed in the heart and died saturday night like a half block from me. shit knocks you upside the head.

finally

i'm moving to chicago early next year. fuck you, i'm moving, fuck yes.

koko sad

just playin'. koko loves cats.
uhhh what's new. let's see. party at my place last weekend went fine. i wore a duct tape vest for part of it. i also hung out in my room with some co-workers while one of them tattooed little lines on me. he then left some supplies there and i, sloppy drunk, experimented with them. i wouldn't say that was a mistake but i sure as shit won't be practicing tattooing under the influence anymore.

every now and then i get all worked up and am like "fuck it! i'm fulfilling my destiny of moving to chicago. next spring/summer/fall!!" and then it never happens. start dating someone new, nervous breakdown, job raise, whatever. shit happens. this week it struck me again. i've never been unhappy there. i can navigate solo. and even if i'm just pathetically milking the bliss of past memories in the city that will end quick when i settle there...that's alright.
i can handle that. i wish my sister would move back there. i wish ragstock was still gross vintage (it's changed. that goes for minneapolis too. i don't get it. at least the alley still smells like rotting garbage and piss). i wish i could have jamba juice and potbelly whenever i wanted. i wish i could strut up and down broadway with my skin burning from fresh ink and a big goofy drunk smile on my face every night. i wish my ex didn't hate me so we could go to golden nugget and then drink 40s (they were probably 20s) in an alley under the full moon. maybe those days are dead.
maybe i'm dilusional. (sp?)
maybe i'll miss blue bloods and goofy accents and old streets the minute i leave boston. there's plenty of irish in chicago. i don't know. i've been here five years. i need a change. i've gotta keep running. people around me keep dyin and moving away and i've gotta skip town. i can't settle. i can't get into something heavy here or get knocked up and then just stay. gotta go, go, go.
the infamous case of the "up and gos"

some typoos

i'm just exhausted.

since the last dude i was seeing ended it (and with good cause, probably) i've been running around like a crazy person doing all sorts of pointless things to keep myself busy. i think it snapped my last thread of hope for dating. now i am trying to pack in all types of things that i wanted to do before...or things that i just randomly came up with to fill the space so i'm not jaded and sad in my room. movies, painting in my house, trying to cook (i cannot make anything), parties (not really), working, some drawing, some reading, some casual boning, volunteering for medical studies.

a study i'm going to be doing is taking maca root to see if it helps my libido when it comes to anti-depressants. since i probably don't have a problem now it might turn me into a crazy nympho. i've accepted this. gladly.

another one is a dental study with vitamin d where i can't brush my teeth for a month. this should be a challenge since i'm obsessed with my teeth (and other people's) and will have to avoid sugar and shit. will it break me? maybe. do i need four hundred bucks? i guess.

last night/this morning i was waiting for the 39 on the corner of huntington and south huntington around one am watching a possibly homeless guy (giant cart o' garbage) feel his blind way with a cane around someone's trash which was blocking the sidewalk. this was a ways away otherwise i'd jump to help him. and he was shouting something, possibly "help"...now that i think about it i could've walked over there...anyway, it wasn't too cold but the fact that he had nowhere to go or wasn't getting there fast because he was a hesitant blind man made me feel shitty that i was about to go home and take a long, self-indulgent shower. this dude starts yelling out the window for him to shut the fuck up, then realizes that he's not just some drunk asshole and comes out of the apt complex in his pajamas to talk to him and lead him across the street to the pizza place, buys him food and then my bus came.
this blew my mind. maybe the guy was newly blind. maybe he was just nuts. but he couldn't get across the street and who was gonna help him at one am? i imagined him giving up trying to get anywhere and huddling behind the garbage pile, trying to stay warm.
but i can't assume that anyone who looks crazy/homeless can't help themselves. that seems to be a common misconception.
i have to go to work. blah blah blah

missin' out

when i was a miserable teenager growing up in small town midwest i always felt like i was missing out on something. i think a lot of this had to do with getting mtv in 1997 and seeing how other young people lived and thinking it was better than the way i was living. what i didn't know was obviously mtv is a small, distorted view of some fortunate/stupid people's lives. maybe in the back of my head i knew this. i was living in a very small house in a very, very small town and completely miserable. you know, the kind of small town where there's like one bank and you have to drive through miles and miles of fields and farms to find a meager shopping mall.
when i got a car it hit an extreme as i'd drive to minneapolis desperate for excitement, looking for people who weren't white, german and christian... a fucking Gap, anything.

shit done changed. now i've lived in cities, slept on the street, schmoozed, raging parties, expensive drinks, all that shallow shit...i can hang out in nyc by myself and not be starry-eyed. but but but! the most important part is that i'm not still pathetically aiming for that trashy/glamorous/vapid mtv life. i have to live in the city to feel... not isolated. i have to take the subway to feel normal.
it's give and take. i know it's bullshit. it's a facade. when i get into one of those depressed states where i can't even leave my room there's this nagging feeling that i'm missing out, people are having more fun than i am, i'm a loser, i am less than. these are the golden years and i should have more friends, more men. that's insecure bullshit!

and this is why i cannnot handle holidays. new years, st. pats, july 4th, halloween, even the winter holidays are kind of projected like they should be amazingly fun. shit, if you're not having the best time of your life on new years you must be a loser, right? that's the social pressure. so many people have said this halloween is stressing them out, they don't have a killer costume or massive party to go to, the social pressure is heavy.
i fucking hate holidays.

i guess all this blah blah is about social pressure. and i don't know if people who grew up in the city or people who grew up in the sticks feel it more. we both feel like we have to live up to something fun and exciting.
the winter holidays are especially heavy for me as i'm usually alone in the city. most people i know are from the area and do family stuff. and hanging out with other people's families makes me massively uncomfortable. my brother passed away in the winter and it totally shattered what was my family and any chance for normalcy...ever. i also met an ex on new years that i'm still having a difficult time "getting over" so the whole winter kind of sucks dick. lots of shame and sadness. for months.
that's probably why i get more guy-crazy in the winter; just want someone to keep me company.

ugh, this whole thing is making me pessimistic and it's too early.

puppy burrito

looks delicious
do you ever get stoked about something but secretly know you're getting in way over your head? selling drugs, fucking a married man, stealing cars, whatever. i'm not doing any of these things but i get that feeling every now and then. say i'm taking on a big art project and i'm like 'yeah, i totally can do this, i'm a pro' and then can't sleep because i just know deep down inside that i have no fucking idea what i'm doing and hoping that no one else finds out.
stuff like that.
moving on...
sometimes i'm eating some form of meat and i look down and consider what it is...or used to be...and gag it all up. meat can be really tasty , obviously, and i've tried veganism in the past, but i cannot resist things like bacon, etc. right now i'm eating a ham sandwich and just realized it looks gross, pink like it was just shaved off some pig's backside and i gagged hardcore. i think i can only enjoy meat if it is burned to a crisp or doesn't resemble any kind of flesh, like a chicken nugget or something. maybe i should just stop eating meat.

i'm getting into the baby-making age (which could be much earlier than 26 for others) where my body makes feelings around babies that it hadn't before. looking forward to it. adoption, however, is really important as well. i'm too nauseous and tired to get preachy. it's not getting ruled out, that's all.

maybe i'll surprise myself with getting in over my head. in the past i've been so unshakeable (sp?) at times that i felt an outer-body coming-of-age change. other times i've just thrown myself on the ground and screamed like a little kid. most likely i'm so numb inside that i can shake off a lot of fear and just go with it. that sounds pretty negative. maybe jaded is the word.

into you like a train

whenever the fall hits i start dressing like a newsie. i'm comfortable doing this as i longed to be a boy as a kid. when i have children i hope it's four boys. with goofy names like salem and mozart.

so the white man has decided to blast a hole in the moon with a rocket. that's a painfully real portrayal of a phallic object penetrating the symbol of womanhood. i know way, way, way back in the day the moon was considered a male symbol. clearly it's a female deity. i get my period on the full moon. my moods "wax and wan" with the moon, if you will. it's powerful. and they want to mine for ice (if it is indeed there) because we're greedy and are using up our planet's supply.
that's disappointing. i'm terrified and fascinated by space...like everybody else. i'm curious to see what'll happen. but really irked as well. believe that.

me worky now. no time.

sharp cheddar

they're opening a mcdonalds in the louvre. i'm not even kidding, though hopefully someone will prove me wrong. i'm not sure if that's worse than the one across from the pyramids and/or sphynx. ah, the world's going to shit.

sunday was awesome. i'm working on some artsy-type projects with people i actually do not know fr0m work, which is a blessing, as we spend entirely too much time together already. new people, new places, new. refreshing. i have an acid problem in my stomach. think i'll get a show or two at what was formerly herrells in allston. fortune smiles on...

also, sunday night i went to see the forgetters at great scott with a good friend of mine. forgetters, you may ask? whatever, look it up, asshole. i don't have to explain everything in here. it was awesome. now, my friend is a huge blake fan. the guy is his only hero. it meant a lot. i was stoked for him, seeing how much it meant. and he didn't make an asshole of himself asking for photos or gushing compliments or, god forbid, wearing a jawbreaker shirt. that's the ultimate faux pas. i think blake is pretty cool and i really like when someone is so open about their, oh, struggles with depression and don't sound like a total pussy. was caught off-guard by going to the bar early to see what time the show was and looked up from my stupid texting to see him walking towards me and getting close to hear me mumble some question about when the show was? or how much? or something lame. i think there was an earthquake in my vagina and my brain shut off. apparently they don't have anything out yet. and the woman in the band looked so much like kate mills that i kept thinking it secretly was her and that made her cooler than ever. whatever cooler means.

but i suppose the absolute best part was seeing my buddy so stoked just standing off to the side and watching. i don't have any musical heroes. or heroes in general i think. people that are already dead. if you've ever seen me at a lawrence arms show you'd think by my expression that i have musical heroes but i don't know. hero is such a grand term. i cannot apply it to anyone. though if you see me in said situation, be sure my pussy is quaking hard enough to make it difficult to stand. i'm probably white-knuckling it just to stay upright.

aaaaaaand it's time to work. the rest of the weekend was alright. haven't been spending much time at home. that's a drag.

feeling good. that's weird.

fffuuuck

On the 66 bus with a stomach full of gin in my cubs shirt. A saturday night in allston means a hangover tomorrow. Dunno what was at harpers ferry but there were a lot of white people with dreads. The mad ones mad ones mad ones kerouac you fucking drunk fucker. Such an open mind and then shut it away to live with your anti semetic mother until you died. What happened? What happened to you? What will happen to me? Here comes my stop. . .

cannot sleep

Is it three am? And here I have to work tomorrow, er, today. In mere hours. Maybe it's because I've been sick for three days, drifting in and out of sleep for fifteen plus hours at a time, using no energy, maybe because I've had caffeine tonight, maybe because certain relationships are giving me more stress than I can bear. Three am, totally awake and I can't stop wanking over chris mccaughan. Keep reaching for the skies, my dear. You'll fall asleep soon. . .

exes, exes

so...i think i'm getting dumped. again. wow.
how does this happen, you may ask yourself, and why so many many many many times? previously it has been a number of things: dude's too busy with his music career, dude's hung up on his ex, dude's a little fucking crazy, dude's got the same grandma as me (just kidding), dude's into anime porn and star trek, dude says he's into bdsm but acts like a little bitch when the time comes, dude's getting married. next week. whatever. these things happen. relationships end (and i'm using the term very loosely). has it been my fault in the past? shit. sure it has. then again, i do seem to pick out the crazies. what's that? you've been trying to sell me coke all night and still want a second date? ohhh alright. and so on and so forth.

there's been one, ONE ex that things ended mutually with. it was still difficult, of course, long and drawn-out and painful. we lived together. messy. but we're still friends and i can honestly say that i love this person even if we want to kill each other. daily. the end.

this one that i think's dumping me isn't crazy. normal in every sense of the word. owns a house, has a dog, carries a briefcase to work (i think). normal. makes me wonder if it was me this time. but i was so careful, so poised. i looked good, i was honest and funny, i didn't get stupid-drunk, i wasn't needy. and still...
when you start seeing someone and they tell you on the first date that they are not ready for dating at that time because they were hurt by an ex or they don't really do monogamy you fucking listen you stupid twat. i, however, am stubborn as a mule with my 'hee hee haa haa i'll get him yet! muwahaha'
yeah, great job laura. fucking idiot.


the photo's from salem.

test test testies

hmm. two pm and i haven't gotten shit done today. day off, slept in, un-restful sleep. feel like puking. sick, not knocked up. angry because i was going to volunteer at a red sox game meaning i'd get in for free and spend most of the game being able to watch, which i never have, and it's the end of the season, but i feel like crawling into a hole and dying.
need to get food, need to send some money to this small school, try not to crap myself (starting a blog on a sick day=naming it after the possibility of foaming my pants)
need to actually put on underpants as i've a giant hole in the crotch of these jeans.
doing some medical tests for cash, un-ethical things for cash (robbing old people? it's crossed my mind), trying not to be a total bitch to everyone i encounter daily.
my friend coco is moving to brooklyn and i'm really bummed about it. that's her in the top right, purple glove. she rules. this is an article from a chinese issue of marie claire magazine about the boston derby dames...i believe. unless that's a total joke. either way, weird.
no, i'm not in this photo.
ok, gotta go out and get shit done. "errrr day" i'm hustlin'-which is a recurring joke with my most recent ex, captain morgan. yes, that's his real name. a tattoo artist with the legal name captain morgan. fast, heavy, weird fling. can you imagine? duh. my friend abby told me never to date a guy with a tattoo of a labia-faced woman. good advice.