i. And The Closet's Been Shaking With Bones
Yesterday was an amazing morning and I'm hoping that there'll be many more mornings just like it in the future, and then I'll just post pictures of sunshine and ice cream, like Cute Overload. Ha, just kidding, you can't take pictures of sunshine.
Also, Lozo and I are going to consolidate our blogs into one blog. What do you think? We're pretty much the same person, except different. I'm gonna learn the rules of football. Gmail Adsense might freak out over this idea: "L Word Ringtones! Yankees tickets! Get Over Your Ex! Hookers! COFFEE EXPOSED! Get bigger muscles! Meet lesbians!"
[Due to my erasure of the previous post, not to be confused with the band "Erasure," some comments might not make sense right now. It's mysterious, like Unsolved Mysteries, one of the best teevee programs of all time. Have you ever drank Sugar-Free Red Bull? I'm drinking some right now. It tastes like liquid hellfire.]
ii. You're Still In My Blood:
First graf, old blog: I would undertake a number of death-defying life-threatening actions right now in exchange for a back massage. I'd even undertake a girlfriend for that purpose. I've taken like, eight Bayer Back & Body Pain, and my back is still in pain. Why? I don't know. Something that happened during the half-minute/5.5 hours I was actually comatose last night.
[South of Nowhere Recap Here]
I often wished I could grade query letters at the lit agency: "You're a great writer, this just won't sell, B+!" instead of giving out 1,000 rejection letters, 3 "let's take a look at the first 50 pages and then reject you" letters and one "send the whole thing, this might actually be awesome" letters.
My room is in an absolute state and I'm running out of cute underwear. Luckily, my not-cute underwear is still cuter than most people's underwear. My starred emails (star=Reply!) are sinking into Page 2 of my inbox, a.k.a. the no-reply zone. I don't think I've communicated with an extended family member in like, months. Apparently my cousin's given birth, and my other cousin's wife is about to give birth. Who knew? Probs most people but not me.
iv. Cute Overload
Wednesday!! We filmed some stuff for a thing that might lead to some better stuff. Look:
Converting To Digital
Let me feel your heart beat
You say potato, I say potato
Just try it on!
OMG Are We Really Doing This?
Let's do this every day, forever and ever,
except let's not wake up at 6 A.M the next time.
v. The Thunder and the Laughter
Anyhow so last week, near the end of our totes productive re-evaluation of direction meeting, this guy came up to the roof wearing a Wal-Mart style vest and he talked to us for about 15 minutes about why we shouldn't walk around on the roof. Something about the rain and how we'd fall through and die. We couldn't understand a word he said, his English was pretty bad, so mostly we concentrated on not looking at each other, lest we start cracking up, which would indicate right away that we didn't really intend to take his advice. I like to live on the edge, obvs. OF THE ROOF! JK. Remember this?:
Speaking of not sleeping: I slept for EIGHT HOURS LAST NIGHT. EIGHT!! (!!!)
Now I'm going to summarize my old post for you, which's good practice for me, 'cause I'm supposed to be summarizing our pilot right now. I have troubles with brevity [surprise!].
The post that was here before covered the following areas:
1. My inexplicable back pain, for which I tried a few remedies, including a pill Pharmer.org identified as Robaxin (left over from when I slipped on the ice in 2003 and tried to go to work anyhow but I was bleeding through my shirt and couldn't walk, so my manager was like "Urm, go home weirdo,"), about ten Advil, marajuana, some Bayer, spaghetti, moaning, more moaning, and additional moaning. I mentioned that I'd like some Percocet, which I've never taken but I imagine must be good because it's addictive, and then Zoey (my roommate) came to my room with a Vicodin, which I'm still saving because I think the back pain is returning right now as I sit here on the roof.
2. Things that I don't do when time's tight, including returning/placing phone calls, laundry, socialising, MySpace, going to therapy and sleeping.
3. Things I still do when time's tight, which include going to the gym (didn't go today though!), eating too much food, emailing Crystal, and writing my blog.
4. I not-preached to the not-choir, which I acknowledged I do often, as Mr.Duane Reade, G.W Bush and Ilene Chaiken also do not read my blog, yet I continue to call out to them like a ghost in the night who is screaming a lot.
Sometimes, when I've been out of touch for too long, my close friends protest reading my blog on the grounds that it's not a substitute for speaking to me. I then explained why I think that's retarded, in summary:
4a. If you read it, that's less backstory I've gotta provide when we finally do talk, thus increasing the amount of you-time. 'Cause I love you and want to know about you, obvs.
4b. It stresses me out to talk to The Protesters, because I get overwhelmed thinking about all the stuff I've gotta go over that I've already discussed at far too much length already right here. There's plenty of private stuff left over to talk about, obvs, this is just a good starter.
4c. It's my writing, it's a big part of my life, and it matters to me, so I find it kinda hurtful when you don't. (I didn't actually say that, but it was implied by my caustic and abrasive sarcasm.) Maybe it does feel weird to be an intimate friend of mine and read something accessible by people that don't know me like you do, but even though it's called a "blog," I spend time on it, and it matters to me.
From SIX FEET UNDER, the best show ever to be on the TeeVee:
Nate: Why do you treat me like shit all the time?
Brenda: Because I had a really fucked up life, and I use sarcasm to hide how ridiculously vulnerable I really am, okay? C'mon, Jesus, you know that.
vi. We'll Get You Fixed Up in No Time
I'm sure you're all on the edge of your proverbial seats regarding my back pain. Soooo ... last night I went to the gym and ran on the treadmill, which was bad idea Numero Uno. In my defense, I needed a brainstorming session and I can think really well when I run, and "Top Model" was on. In my offense, I ran for eight minutes. The rest of the time I spent on less demanding pieces of equipment, then got annoyed that it was so crowded (I'm used to the afternoon lull) and went right back home. Then I moaned for about five consecutive hours.
We have a subletter right now named Star, because Ryan is opening a show in Seattle. Because she's only here for a month, I can whine alot w/o worrying she'll worry that I might get annoying in the long term, and she still finds it endearing or at least pretends to. Also, she told me today that she DOESN'T KNOW WHAT A BLOG IS! So, there's that. What was the point of that? Oh yeah, she listened to me moan last night.
So, today: there's this place on 81st called Super Magic Fingers, and NO, that's not Haviland's uptown hideaway. [I love all the places in NYC with ridiculous names. You wonder why it is that nowhere along the "business creation" process did someone say: "Hey, P.S., 'No Pork Kitchen' is a stupid name or 'NO EFFIN APOSTROPHE'" or whathaveyou.] It's like, good massage place and it's cheap, and they fixed my back. Howevs, here I am on the roof, sitting with world's worst posture, thinking: Fuck. It hurts again. Also I just smoked like, 10 cigarettes in a row, and I don't smoke. Clearly I enjoy digging my own grave.
I think I saw your airplane in the sky tonight, through the window lying on the kitchen floor.
This is Uh Huh Her, which Roy amazingly called "Mmm Hmmm Her" and Natalie called "Uh Oh Her":
I just wanna fix you.
Tell me what to do
baby I will listen
Days will go unwritten
All the things you're missing,
tell me what to do,
baby I can fix it."
-Uh Huh Her
Last week we saw them and then talked to Leisha Hailey. Also last week, Stef took Carly and I to see Northern State and they were also amazing. I've met a lot of blog people in real life lately. I guess that means it's almost time for Lozo and I to go to a strip club. First I just need to finish this stuff.