| Andy Warhol |
[Nov. 29th, 2006|02:43 am] |
B was referring to the great unfulfilled ambition of my life: my own regular TV show. I'm going to call it Nothing Special.
"That forty-pound shopping bag full of rice that I bought in a panic is still sitting next to my bed" I said.
"So is mine, except it's eighty points and it's driving me crazy because the shopping bag doesn't match the curtains"
"When I look in the mirror I only know that I don't see myself as others see me."
"Why is that B?"
"Because I'm looking at myself the way I want to see myself. I make expressions just for myself. I don't make the expressions other people see me make. I'm not twisting my lips and saying 'Money?'"
Some critic called me the Nothingness Himself and that didn't help my sense of existence any. Then I realized that existence itself is nothing and I felt better.
When B got back from peeing, we compared makeup techniques. I don't really use makeup but I buy it and I think about it a lot. Makeup is so well-advertised you can't ignore it completely.
"You were just lying there and Billy Name was standing over you and crying. And you kept saying to him not to make you laugh because it really hurt"
- B telling A what happened when he got shot.
The building was a five-floor walk-up and originally I'd had the apartment on the fifth floor. Then, when the second floor became available, I took that, too, so now I had two floors, but not two consecutive ones.
This was when I started realizing how insane people can be. For example, one girl moved into the elevator and wouldn't leave for a week until they refused to bring her any more Cokes. I don't know what to make of the whole scene. Since I was paying the rent for the studio, I guessed that this somehow was actually my scene, but don't ask me what it was all about, because I never could figure it out.
It's the long life-spans that are throwing all the old values and their applications out of whack. when people used to learn about sex at fifteen and die at thirty-five, they obviously were going to have fewer problems than people today who learn about sex at eight or so, I guess, and live to be eighty. That's a long time to play around with the same concept. The same boring concept.
Some people can have sex and really let their minds go blank and fill up with sex; other people can never let their minds go blank and fill up with the sex, so while they're having the sex they're thinking, "Can this really be me? Am I really doing this? This is very strange. Five minutes ago I wasn't doing this. In a little while I won't be doing it. What would Mom say? How did people ever think of doing this?"
I get jealousy attacks all the time. I'm jealous at dinner that somebody else will think of something better to order than I did. A lot of times I do things I don't want to do at all, just because I'm on stand-by jealousy that somebody else will get to so it instead.
A movie producer friend of mine hit on something when he said, "Frigid people can really make out." He's right: they really can and really do.
My emotions made me abandon my style.
-Warhol on buying a puppy
I suppose I have a really loose interpretation of "work," because I think that just being alive is so much work at something you don't always want to do. Being born is like being kidnapped. And then sold into slavery.
The hardest work I ever had to do mentally was go to court and be insulted by a lawyer. You're really on your own when you're up there on the witness stand and your friends can't stand up for you and everything's quiet except for you and the lawyer and they lawyer's insulting you and you have to let him.
It's just as much work for an attractive person not to have sex as for an unattractive person to have sex.
I thought that young people had more problems than old people, and I hoped I could last until I was older so I wouldn't have all those problems. Then I looked around and saw that everybody who looked young had young problems and that everybody who looked old had old problems. The "old" problems looked to me easier to take than the "young" problems. So I decided to go gray so nobody would know how old I was and I would look younger to them than how old they thought I was. I would gain a lot by going gray: (1) I would have old problems, which were easier to take than young problems. (2) everyone would be impressed by how young I looked, and (3) I would be relieved of the responsibility of acting young-- I could occasionally lapse into eccentricity or senility and no one would think anything of it because of my gray hair. When you've got gray hair, every move you make is "young" and "spry," instead of just being normally active. It's like you're getting a new talent. So I died my hair gray when I was about twenty-three.
Sometimes you fantisize that people who are really up-there and rich and living it up have something you don't have, that their things must be better than your things because they have more money than you. But they drink the same Cokes and eat the same hot dogs and wear the same ILGWU clothes and see the same TV shows and the same movies. Rich people can't see a sillier version of Truth or Consequences, or a scarier version of The Exorcist. You can get just as revolted as they can-- you can have the same nightmares. All of this is really American.
I know a woman who calls somebody up every afternoon and says, "I'll pay you a hundred dollars to fuck me." Fabulous.
I don't think everybody should have money. It shouldn't be for everybody-- you wouldn't know who was important. How boring.
LYING IN THE BATHTUB WITH A PILLOW BEHIND MY HEAD MAKES ME FEEL VERY RICH-- Maybe it's an illusion. Of grandeur.
I only know one language, and sometimes in the middle of a sentence I feel like a foreigner trying to talk it because I have word spasms where the parts of some words begin to sound peculiar to me and in the middle of saying the word I'll think, "Oh, this can't be right-- this sounds very peculiar, I don't know if I should try to finish up this word or try to make it into something else, because if it comes out good it'll be right, but if it comes out bad it'll sound retarded," and so in the middle of words that are over one syllable, I sometimes get confused and try to graft other word on top of them. Sometimes this makes good journalism and when they quote me it looks good in print, and other times it's very embarrassing.
I'm a city boy. In the big cities they've set it up so you can go to a park and be in a miniature countryside, but in the countryside they don't have any patches of big city, so I get very homesick. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 19th, 2006|05:37 pm] |
Transcribed from the diary of Susan Sontag:
"My relationship to Harriet baffles me. I want it to be unpremeditated, unreflective-- but the shadow of her expectations about what an "affair" consists in upsets my poise, makes me fumble. She with her romantic dissatisfactions, I with my romantic needs and longing... One unexpected gift: that she is beautiful. I had remembered her as definitely not beautiful, rather gross and unattractive. She's anything but that. And physical beauty is enormously, almost morbidly important to me."
"The journal is a vehicle for my sense of selfhood. It represents me as emotionally and spiritually independent. Therefore (alas) it does not simply record my actual, daily life but rather-- in many cases-- offers an alternative to it."
"Confessions, I mean sincere confessions of course, can be more shallow than actions. I am thinking now of what I read today in Harriet's journal about me-- that curt, unfair, uncharitable assessment of me which concludes by her saying that she doesn't like me but my passion for her is acceptable and opportune."
"My 'I' is puny, cautious, too sane. Good writers are roaring egoists, even to the point of fatuity. Sane me, critics, correct them-- but their sanity is parasitic on the creative fatuity of genius."
"Poor little ego, how did you feel today? Not very well, I fear-- rather bruised, sore, traumatized. Hot waves of shame and all that. I never had any illusion that she was in love with me, but I did assume she liked me."
"I am in bad shape. I write it out here' I write slowly and I look at my handwriting which looks OK. Two vodka martinis with Marty Greenberg. My head feels heavy. Smoking is bitter...Nietzsche, Nietzsche."
"I am not pious, but co-pious" (<-- the entire days entry)
"My desire to write is connected with my homosexuality. I need the identity as a weapon to match the weapon that society has against me. It doesn't justify my homosexuality. But it would give me-- I feel-- a license."
"How many times have I told people that Pearl Kazin was a major girlfriend of Dylan Thomas? That Norman Mailer has orgies? That Matthiessen was queer? All public knowledge to be sure, but who the hell am I to go advertising other people's sexual habits. How many times I have reviled myself to that, which is only a little less offensive than my habit of name-dropping (how many times did I talk about Allen Ginsberg last year while I was on Commentary?) and my habit of criticizing people if other people invite it...I have always betrayed people to each other. No wonder I've been so high-minded and scrupulous about how I use the word "friend"!"
Sunday:
awake at 7:00- rage
call A. at 9:00
walk in central park
"I SHOULDN'T TRY TO MAKE LOVE
WHEN I AM TIRED.
I SHOULD ALWAYS KNOW WHEN I AM
TIRED. BUT I DON'T.
I LIE TO MYSELF. I DON'T KNOW
MY TRUE FEELINGS.
(Still?!)"
"A writer must be four people:
1) the nut, the obsede
2) the moron
3) the stylist
4) the critic
1) supplies the material
2) lets it come out
3) is taste
4) is intelligence
a great writer has all 4-- but you can still be a good writer with only 1) and 2); they're most important."
Sept. 17 (on a plane to NY)
Sartre: 'when people's opinions are so different, how can they even go to a film together?'
Beauvoir: 'To smile at opponents and friends alike is to abase one's commitments to the status of mere opinions, and all intellectuals, whether of the Right or Left, to their common bourgeois condition.'
"In NY, little or no 'community' but a great sense of 'scene'. "
"One of my strongest and most fully employed emotions: contempt. Contempt for others, contempt for myself. I'm impatient (--> contemptuous) of people who don't know how to protect themselves, stand up for themselves. My mind= King Kong. Aggressive, tears people to pieces."
"In California, a stranger is a [potential] friend until he proves otherwise; in NY, a stranger is an enemy until he proves otherwise. One uses up a lot of energy in NY by that hypothesis."
"My image of myself since ager 3 or 4-- the genius-schmuck. I allow one to pay off the other." |
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| More books to read |
[Aug. 2nd, 2006|09:09 am] |
Okay, so far this summer, I've read:
The DaVinci Code
Partly Cloudy Patriot (sarah vowell)
Chronicle of a Death Foretold
The Alchemist
The Solitude of Self
John Adams (almost)
(eh)
All in all, a far less impressive reading list than I had set out for. However! With my new position at Cosmic Cantina, all that shall change! John Adams had proven as much. Thus, I will continue to strive towards brilliance with renewed spirit! Books kick ass.
More books I want to read:
Hamilton
The Autobiography of Malolm X
A History of Their Own |
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| Reading List for the Summer so far... |
[Feb. 28th, 2006|09:31 pm] |
1. A People's History of the United States
2. The Second Sex (all of it this time)
3. The Feminine Mystique (all of it this time)
4. Gender Trouble: Judith Butler
5. The History of Sexuality: Foucault
6. Sexual Personae: Camillie Paglia
7.Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture: Ariel Levy
8. Undoing Gendder: Judith Butler
9. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capialism: Weber
10. Don't Think of an Elephant: Lakoff
11. Against Our Will: Susan Brownmiller
12. The Invisible Man: Ellison
13. Feminism in Philosophy
14. Prelude to Political Economy: Basu
15... |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 20th, 2005|09:56 pm] |
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Matan and I are coming to Burlingame! So exciting! I can't wait. We made reservations for my fall break and it's all I can think about! I want to go to San Francisco with him! Walk down B-game avenue! Visit Mr. Morgan...*sigh*-- until this very instant I hadn't missed home once since coming to NYC, but now I really crave it. I haven't been to CA since spring break. oh yeah-- Matan moved back to NYC in a whopping week. He's too awesomely in love with me I guess. Saturday i'm going to go to the east village with him and do work in a tea house across the street from the store where he works. I'll walk the streets, maybe shop, and bother him all day. I can't wait to be carefree again after the hell that is midterms. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 18th, 2005|09:42 pm] |
Today Matan left. He moved to upstate NY for a short time, and then it's off to South America and then to Israel. All said and done, he made me really happy. I decided this morning that I had to do something to break down my own preconceived notions of myself. I wanted to demonstrate that I could do something that I thought I'd never be able to do. I decided that I wanted to shave my head. It would symbolize this new step in my personal development. I woke Matan up telling him my revelation. He thought it was a great idea and took me to his barber in the East Village and held my hand as he had his head shaved beside me. We spent our last day together being bald and happy and totally ready for a new "chapter" if you will. What a perfect way to end our romance. Being bald is awesome.
We are supermodels without hair!
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 27th, 2005|11:23 am] |
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School is almost starting. I'm bored in the meantime. Let's see...what's new? I met every player on the Chelsea soccer team before I was thrown out of the hotel where they were staying. That was cool. I'm taking a 2 week break from the New Yorker before I return for the fall semester. Paris was amazing. That's all I guess. Until next time! |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 15th, 2005|10:09 am] |
Ah yes. AND this is Brandon's thing for me:
1. i've been dressed in drag twice in your presence.
2. i can't ever listen to david bowie without thinking of you.
3. grape.
4. buying my red converse shoes with you was hella fun.
5. my most vivid first memory was when we watched pulp fiction at your house. obviously this isn't the first, but it's a cool one.
6. bear cub.
7. dude, where have you been? i think i definitely need to come to new york soon.
Brandon,
I hope you are well and yes, yes you DO have to come to NY. That is exactly where I have been my love! And...a bear cub?! Are you saying I'm fat?!!!! |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 13th, 2005|12:15 am] |
Bonjour!
I am writing you all from the heart of Paris, France where i have traveled to be with my lovely family. The weather here is beautiful and cool, and I'm prepared to have an amazing trip (I just got here yesterday). I haven't updated in forever, so let me think if I've had any life-changing revalations...
I'm going to be staying with the New Yorker until January, which is cool. I'm reading books by Germaine Greer, Naomi Wolf, Virginia Woolf, Camille Paglia, and Susuan Sontag all at once, which is very studious and feminist of me... I'm excited for school to start, and I'm getting all prepared to move back on campus. Things are better than ever between me and Matan...I still think everyone should stop being online and go to the theatre to see Rize if you haven't. David LaChappelle is a visual master.
I think I have to go because John needs the computer. Au Reviour! |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 12th, 2005|03:06 am] |
*sigh*
Since Hannah took the liberty of posting pictures of my life on her entry (don't worry I'm not angry about it!), I have to do so as well in order to convey the fact that New York, me and my peeps are fabulous.
Um...yeah. Looks like wolverine. Plus, this is a candid picture, which more accurately depicts the idge.
Us on the Williamsburg bridge, he looks dumb here, but it's the cutest of me, so on the internet it goes.
Hannah at a restuarant where we saw Willem Dafoe
Hannah and Matan's tiny, hairy feet.
Me and MarySara
So there are pics...for more, refer to hannah's entry. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 10th, 2005|10:50 pm] |
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Hannah and MarySara left yesterday marking a sucessful visit for both. We played in Central Park, went shopping, ate a ton of food, and got tipsy. New York misses you hannah! |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 23rd, 2005|09:10 am] |
Haha- maybe I spoke too soon. I basically had decided never to call Matan again because he is self-centered and doesn't care about me blah blah blah and he certainly can't be bothered to call me if its a slight inconvienience to him-- so, goodbye forever Matan. Well, I guess I was wrong about his indifference. He came to the East Village last night and called me wanting to talk to me. So, I got together with him after work and was friendly and acted like nothing had happened. I thought for sure he would be satisfied with my shallow gesture of friendship and he would feel better about himself and not want to bring the time we had spent not speaking up. Wrong again. He really got into it with me and wanted to know everything. I just put it all out on the table for him. The overriding message from me was: Your treatment of me has made me feel like you don't care about me at all, and once you moved to Brooklyn, it would be too much of an inconvienience for you to have me in your life. Therefore, to protect myself, I wanted to ditch you first.
The conversation that followed was extremely deep and (on his part) very self reflective. He admitted that he takes people for granted very easily, but no one had ever tried to get back at him for it. This is the first time, said he, that he had ever made a gesture like this (hunting me down and forcing me to talk with him about it). He told me that tripple relationship which was friend to friend, boyfriend to girlfriend, and boss to employee, was somehow a sin, and that no one of these relationships was fufilled properly because we were spread so thin. Also, he's a jerk. But he told me that when he thinks about conversations we have when I get really passionate about anything, it thrills him just to remember hearing me talk about it- *swoon*- and that he would do anything to keep me in his life. Anyway, my whole theory about him was shot to hell because the Matan that I had decided I figured out, would never ever ever have spoken to me the way he did last night. Perhaps he's just fooling me and he'll turn around tomorrow and be an ass again, but for the time being, I'm just going to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Oh, and in the midst of our conversation, Lou Reed walked past us. I made eye contact with him and freaked out on the inside but I didn't say anything because he really looked haggard and I couldn't bring myself to bother him. It was fucking amazing though. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 17th, 2005|01:36 pm] |
It's official: I will never lay eyes on Matan for the remainder of my life. I came to his and Naama's apartment last night to have a tearful goodbye with her and now that she's gone for good, I really will never speak to Matan again. I have no hard feelings for him at all, but his place in my life has run its course. I feel really good about everything that happened with him, and how intense it was and how brief it was and how dissapointing it was ultimately. My relationship with him taught me what my vulnerabilities are and what my priorities are and I don't think I could have learned those things with anyone else in any other way. Knowing Matan has also made me appreciate other people in my life and value reflective qualities.
All the friends I've had in my life have been my age-ish and for all the bad qualities they've had, or I've had, its always been a more shallow badness in us because we're still growing, and there is time to change, and an opportunity to reflect because we're just kids. Matan is the first person who became very close to me who has just made the real step into adulthood and who is only sinking deeper into his weaknesses. I guess I never really believed that a person who I'm close to couldn't change, and it's a good lesson to learn that some people are damaged and always will be. In any event, nothing hurtful or dark happened between he and I, and not a single tear has been shed over him. I just feel vaguely sad for him and sorry for his lonliness now that Naama and I have both gone. Anyway, he was hot. Also, he's moving in with Ron (sexy manager #1) and they are going to be sleeping in the same bed-- I kid you not. Matan, the rugged, bearded soldier, and Ron, the effeminite nude model. Wow. From beginning to end, all my fantasises have come to life. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 10th, 2005|07:20 am] |
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I have a new job at a diner/cocktail bar in the East Village. It's called LoSide. I think Ryan (my friend from Turquoise) will be working there with me. I hope so! It's really cool and organized and everything seems efficent there. I am not leaving Turquoise though. I'll just work both places. Today I made $200 in tips in just ONE shift at Turquoise. Also, Michal has become happy again which has made me happy and I can't leave her! No news with Matan- he called me the other night and I was out having a fabulous time with a friend who is smart and considerate and fun and I just felt like so disinterested in Matan. I told him I'd call him back and I never did. I still haven't spoken to him since he was fired. Meh. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 7th, 2005|06:36 pm] |
Today at work I had a blast. Michal is now the floor manager and not a chef and she's really good. I liked working with her. She sat me down before my shift began and said "look, I'm not going to play stupid. You know I fired your boyfriend. Now, if you want to leave also, I'm not going to stand in your way." So I told her that first off-- Matan is not my boyfirend. Secondly, I told her that I do have another job, but I'll stay at Turq for a few shifts a week. I just can't leave there this summer. It means too much to me.
Anyway, since the restaurant has no senior manager now, all the owners and investors stopped by one by one to see how things were running. Turns out, ALL OF THEM knew what was going on between me and Matan, and they were all "So, whats-his-face is gone huh? Well he's an asshole anyway." I got advice from all of them individualy on what I should do about Matan. The thing was though, it was nothing I didn't already know. I'm going to "break up" with him big time. I already have in my head. Emotionaly, I feel nothing for him and I'm just BORED with his shit. Like, the itch I had has officially been scratched and now he's served his purpose. I don't know-- at Turquoise you really get caught up in an alternate reality. On the outside, things look different and now that Matan is not my manager, he just seems like a loser. That's EXACTLY what happened with my feelings for Ron. Once he was not my manager *phft* nothing. I mean, I was obsessed with him, and after he quit the restaurant, he called me to ask me out on a date and I was like, ew. I put up with a LOT of bullshit from Matan when we were "dating" just because I was caught in Turquoise delirium. Now, it's just karma. All the shit he pulled when I was attracted to him as an authority figure suddenly seems more real to me and it's made everything about him a huge turn-off. Well, anyway-- I don't really know what'll happen now that my feelings have died. In any event, it was really fun while it lasted. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 7th, 2005|09:24 am] |
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Yesterday Matan was fired from Turquoise. Michal was yelling at him about something and he snapped and just told her everything that's wrong with her and her business and told her that she's encroaching on his dignity-- so she fired him. It's a blessing really. That place is a mess now. It was so great when it was great, but it has become a terrible and dark place of work. I got another waitressing job in the East Village, so as soon as possible, I'm gone too. I think that Matan is going to go back to Israel soon because he won't have the same kind of income he was getting as manager of Turq. Well, he was fun while he lasted I guess. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 2nd, 2005|08:32 am] |
Well kids, it looks like I'm going to quit Turquoise. This is terribly sad because the truth is, of almost everything I've been through since I arrived in New York City, Turquoise has been the most valuable learning expirence. It has profoundly reshaped me in a number of ways and I'm sad to leave it behind. The truth is though, it's changed over there and the pay isn't enough for me to live on. There was a time when I would be willing to work for free there just because it was such a joy, but Michal has become mean spirited and hateful toawrds me (for reasons I cannot reveal via livejournal), and I won't take that kind of treatment for the pay I'm getting. Anyway, I applied to three places just now: a catering company located at an independant movie theatre and specializing in events for the arts (ooh!), a lower east side cafe as a barisa, and Thomas Keller's Per Se (one of the finest restaurants on planet earth). I'm hoping for the Per Se job because the menue is Prix Fix at $175 a person, not including wine. The tips are probably out of this world. The ad for servers stipulated that I didn't need "fine dining" expirence and that they would train, so I'm all about it. Keep your fingers crossed. I might still work a shift here and there at Turq, just as a gesture. Who knows what's going on with me at any given moment though.
Three days ago was Matan's two-month anniversary for being in New York. When he told me that I just about puked. TWO MONTHS?! Maybe I really am a psycho like he thinks. I've been treating him like a long-term boyfriend but I honestly thought he had been here for six months. Wow. He's another reason to quit Turquoise. I think that having the kind of relationship I have with him isn't condisive to a good employee-manager relationship. The drama is making me break out. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 27th, 2005|07:01 pm] |
Updating is hard when everything that is happening in your life is way too heavy to talk about in a livejournal. Let's just say that New York in the summer is hard, The New Yorker is amazing, my "love life" (ha!) is thrilling and miserable, and the restaurant is like a soul-sucking vortex of pure evil. There has been good and bad, and everything so far has been a valuable expirence.
I heart NY |
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| It's official... |
[May. 19th, 2005|07:36 am] |
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The New Yorker is the coolest and most fun job in all the world for all time. My first day was yesterday and I'm getting ready to head back to good ol' 4 Times Square right now. I don't have the energy to get into the glories of this job-- but let's just say that although the New Yorker is THE New Yorker, the actual office/staff is sort of small. I am the only intern in the visual department where I work with exactly 4 other people. I have my own desk looking over Times Square and they give me actual responsibilities. I get to meet with world-famous photographers (I met 3 people yesterday whose work I recognized from, like, the cover of Rolling Stone and Esquire) and act all superior while they suck up to me, desperately trying to get a print in an issue. Even when I have to do remedial stuff, it's like, the most fun ever. When I'm photocopying, I get to examine all kinds of prints and the staff of the NYer are just so fun. Elizabeth Biondi, the Visuals Editor, however, is the most horrifying person I've ever met. The photo editor was telling me that at the end of the work day she always stinks from "fear sweat." When Biondi is in the office, not a human voice can be heard and you get the feeling that if you staple something crooked, you'll get fired. In fact, I was told as much. She is the most demanding boss on planet earth. However, when she leaves the office, everyone is like totally bonded from complete fear and it's a party. ANYway-- I think that maybe this is the kind of work I want to actually do with my life. Being a photo editor is something that I might be good at and it seems like I'm going to really enjoy this work. Good feelings! |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 17th, 2005|09:42 pm] |
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Yay for location! Tonight is the first night that I'm in my new apartment, and at 3am I woke up with this dry hacking cough that was waking everyone up and making me feel pain. So, Rebecca and I are like "well, there's a hosiptal across the street, a drug store two blocks down, Barnard health services 3 blocks up...what to do?" So, I decided to go to the drug store where I bought everything they sold cold-related and I took a cab back. The cab driver dropped me off right in front of my door and positioned the car so that he could watch me go in. There are a lot of muggings and stuff that happen in my area at 4am at the doors of apartments. He said to me "remembah- most of us cabbies have daughta's." Isn't that sweet? |
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