"everybody wants ta get into da act"

Of heterosexuality, hipsters, and homicide.

2006-09-05T09:00:54Z

Also known as, Melissa's Labor Day Weekend 2006 LOL!!11!eins!1

I know I haven't *really* updated, as in, without the aid of surveys, printscreen commands, and the like, since January 4th. The thing is...when I have more interesting things to actually tell people about, that's when I can't find the time/motivation to write. But tonight I realized why I got into Livejournal in the first place...I've considered myself a "writer" since I was 8 years old. Like most writers, I've suffered from The Block. This block of mine has been rather persistent, not constant, more like a re-occurring cough, for about 4 years. Were it not for blogging outlets like this, I would probably not write at all. At least, not for any sufficient length to truly tell a story.

To break it down, I've had this journal about 2 years and 10 months:

2003: 2 months and 29 entries which gives an average of 14.5 entries a month
2004 before moving to New York: 5 months and 41 entries, average of 8.2 entries per month
2004, after moving to New York: 5 months and 31 entries, so 6.2 entries/month
2005: 10 months and 47 entries, so 4.7. entries per month
This year: 6 months and 9 entries, which is 1.5 entries/month

Summary: As I've gotten older, my adventures have come fewer and farther between.
Actual truth: My life has gotten stranger, less predictable, and too new to be able to write about, at least for someone always criticized as being "too descriptive" in writing assignments in school.

Next time, I will tell about my 5-week roadtrip I took this summer, and I will have pictures. As much for myself as youz guyz, as this roadtrip was a true chapter in my life. You know when you have a life-altering event that becomes a marker of time. Like "The first time such-and-such has happened since he died" or "The best time I've had since moving to whatever place". Well, this roadtrip was just what the reminiscence doctor ordered...10,000 miles, 19 states, 5 weeks...the first 2 weeks and 6000 miles by myself.

I will tell a bit about all that once I have the pictures ready. They're on my camera still, which has died, so I must get the memory card to a working device of some sort. Ah well. I had such a gay weekend, I wanted to get it out now, while I'm awake.

Friday:
I did a shoot for Playboy TV. It was for a reality show based on a NYC photographer named Andrew Einhorn. He was photographing us for his next book, and Playboy was filming him for their reality show about him, which starts in January. I believe our episode is sometime in February...
To briefly bring you up to speed...I've been posing in the nude for some student artists in the UES who go to Jacob Collins's Atelier. I've done it 3 times in the past few weeks, and I will be doing it every weekday in October. It pays well, and in cash, and in all honesty, it's the best thing I've ever done for money. I'm getting paid to be a human being, with a body. It's not sexual AT ALL, and requires nothing except full nudity. I don't get touched, and don't touch myself. I found the gig on Craigslist.
Sooo...I also found an ad looking for "naked happy couples." It looked legit, as it namedropped Playboy. I showed it to my boy one night after a party, thinking he would just laugh. But alas, he's got some of the exhibitionist in him as well, and emailed the dude with a picture of us. Just our faces. The guy wrote back immediately, liked us alot, and wanted more pictures, more revealing. We sent those, no nudity though, we wanted to get paid before showing any real skin. And next thing I know, I'm talking to the producer, who wanted to make sure my stomach tattoo was not offensive. I told him the story of Porkchop, as well as my ethnic background, and we were in.

The shoot was like 9 hours total. Basically, our "back story" was that we were married for 3 years and lived in TriBeCa. Lie, and lie. We've been seeing each other for less than 7 months, only met each other in January, and I live in the East Village while he lives in Bed-Stuy in Brooklyn.
It started with us in Central Park, and Andrew just kind of finds us having a picnic. You know...that thing we do every weekend! That took about 6 takes. And honestly...There was a lot of acting involved, considering this was a so-called reality show. If a guy came up to me in Central Park, whether or not I was alone or with a dude, and said he a photographer, then handed me his book of naked girls...he woulda got stabbed. But because I was being paid, and there was a camera in my face, I smiled alot, giggled mildly, looked to Seth, and said "We'll talk about it, and get back to you!" Yeah right! The Melissa we all know and love would have thrown his book into the lake we were sitting next to, called this mensch a pornographer, kicked him in the balls, and run to the park po-po. Ohhhhh my friends...it was a true exercise in self-restraint. Thank god I have the patience of a teacher these days.
Then the next part of the shoot was at Seth's place, in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. To Non-New Yorkers...this is the closest thing to The Ghetto that NYC possesses, I believe, at least, among Manhattan and Brooklyn. TriBeCa is in downtown Manhattan, where the Olsen twins supposedly live. It's rather fancy. The 2 areas couldn't be more different. But, like the producer said, "The magic of editing!" So Andrew comes to Seth's place, like it's a different day and we've talked about it, etc. Seth has 3 roommates, and his room is probably the smallest. So we shoot in his roommate Kate's room, with his sheets, though. The next part is outside, which was sketchy, because he has neighbors. And it ended in his living room.
This particular episode focussed on Andrew's inability to be in a committed relationship for any length of time. While he normally photographs naked girls, this episode was supposed to focus on couples, and how they managed to "keep it real" and "stay in love." Throughout the day, more than being photographed or filmed, we were asked questions about our relationship. Pretty ironic for 2 people who are probably still together because of their very lack of relationship-communication ;p.

The Central Park part and the very end, which was us clothed doing an interview, were not photographed, they were just for Playboy. Those were the hardest parts for me. I can be an incredibly good liar, due to my dead pan delivery, when I WANT to be. But when it comes to being asked to lie, I falter. I have a hard time letting go of my identity, my personality. So this shoot, which was "heightened reality", was harder than real acting. There was no script, it was us, just the playboy version of us...married, younger, and able to afford living in Tribeca just on income from being performing musicans! hahahaha! *wipes tears of incredulous laughter away* Another thing that was staged was this part at the end of the living room shoot. Andrew feels hot all of a sudden, the walls are closing in, etc. In other words, all the relationship talk was making him claustrophobic. He has to lie down, and we get him a glass of water. In the final interview, conducted by the producer, the questions revolved around being in love, Andrew's situation, and our experience that day. Seth and I had enjoyed posing naked, no doubt. But more than sexy nudists, we're smart, verbose, and nerdy. So that the interview was more of a show-off for us than getting naked. We spoke freely and thoughtfully, until the producer, Ross, would ask questions like "What did you think when Andrew had to lie down?" We both stared at the camera for a good 60 seconds, silently, because that whole situation was so staged, we couldn't give a real answer!

But at the end of the day, we got $500 apiece. We've already received a few photographs, which I'd be happy to share if anyone wants to see them. We'll be in Andrew's next book, due out in about a year, and the air time for this episode will be probably sometime in February. We're getting the DVD of it. Here's a photograph that's safe for work:

And yes...my mother knows what I'm doing. And she said, and I quote, "I'm so proud of you! You've gotten rid of sexual hang-ups that I STILL have!"

Ewww, daylight...I'll make the rest of this quick, I swear..

Saturday:
My fried Aaron works at a club in the West Village, which hosts MisShapes, some gay hipster party. I never would have gone, except that he got me in for free, and I drank for free. Also, Ashlee and Jessica Simpson were in attendance and very visible to me, which sadly, was the highlight of my night. I had bought some coke earlier in the night from a guy who brought his girlfriend along to my place, who smelled up my bathroom, no lie. Anyhoo, I drank free beer, till almost 4 a.m., at which time I was harassed by a tall blonde "stylist" from the Midwest. The drugs and drinking, and the fact that he partied, coerced me to hang out with him after hours, and we proceeded to tour the Hudson, one darkened doorway at a time, doing bumps. He was soooooo not my ideal anything, despite being very cute in a Justin Timberlake kind of way, it was entertaining to hang out with him. Next thing I know we're making out, and buying booze at a bodega at 6 a.m. In non-New Orleans world, doing this on a Sunday morning is a crime of some sort. Which is how I ended up being charged $17 for 2 24-oz. Coronas. The corrupt cashier threw in a couple of to-go coffee cups.

I invited Elton back to my place. No, I had no plans to get in on. I just thought he was interesting, in an ordinary kind of way. He also had his own drugz, which was a plus. So we continue to drink and snort, until he offers his ass-eating services. I declined, giving my bean-heavy dietary history as an excuse, and told him to sleep it off. We made out for a bit, but we eventually passed out around 10 a.m. till around 2 p.m., without removal of clothes or sexual touching at all.

Sunday:
Seth invited me to his place for a BBQ. I was still feeling the effects of the night before, so when I got there at 9 p.m., and he told me that he had a headache and wanted to lie down for an hour, I was more than happy to join him. There were a few people downstairs, doing lines and drinking, but I had no interest in that for once. Little did we know what shit was about to go down 3 hours later. We woke up around 2:30, noticed that everyone from the party had disappeared, and that there was a white van labelled "Body Examiner" in front of his house. We peered out the window and saw 2 dudes wearing latex gloves bend down and pick up a a dead body, right in front of his door. NYPD was all around, gathering up caution tape that had apparently been stretched around Seth's place and his neighbors'. We asked his roommate in the room next to his what had happened. And apparently we had slept through the cops knocking on the door in the midst of the partying a little before midnight, and asking everyone to look at the corpse for indentification purposes. It was no one anyone knew, by the by. The look on his roommate's face told us that it had been a fucked up, life-altering experience, not easily forgettable. The party had understandably disbanded after viewing the corpse. We had all known the area was rough, but to be the final resting place for someone was a new thing.
It kept me up the rest of the night, thinking about the differences between city and country living. I always assumed that if I die when I'm old, it'll be from cancer, and if I'm young, it'll be a car wreck. I live in New York, and like any urban setting, the chances of being killed by another human being are pretty high, higher than by driving, since I don't drive up here. It could be over like that. We all try to be healthy...eat organic, jog, stay away from 2nd hand smoke. One day while running for our cardio health, someone could just drive by and shoot us. When it comes right down to it, all the technology and computers and surveillance and weapons can't keep us alive forever, they can't even tell us when our time will come. That guy who got stabbed in the gut...did he know when he got dressed that day that he would die in those clothes? Did he tell his girlfriend or wife or mother he loved them before going out for the night? Did he get stabbed there, or just drag himself as far as he could, in the hopes of getting medical attention? Needless to say, my days of going to Bed-Stuy after dark are probably over. Oh, to really be married in TriBeCa!

Oh, and the Crocodile Hunter died. Coincidence? I think not.

evilpolkamuse @ 2006-08-11T17:29:00

2006-08-11T21:30:23Z

Poop and circumstance.

2006-08-02T18:13:02Z

Damn, how sad. Even my mom is getting hit on via nashville.craigslist.org

She told me about this, and I looked it up today to see if it was still there.

I know I haven't been posting. And I have alot of stories from the past 2 months or so, stretching from New York to San Francisco. I just haven't had the motivation. Since graduation, I don't want to do anything, let alone look for a job.

I've been seeing someone for almost 6 months. That's just scary.

I am, however, using myspace more than ever. Hit me up on that: ME

evilpolkamuse @ 2006-05-14T19:33:00

2006-05-14T23:35:25Z

You Passed the US Citizenship Test

Congratulations - you got 9 out of 10 correct!

Could You Pass the US Citizenship Test?

But I didn't cheat, so I'm not a true American.

I requested a can of pink spray paint, just for you.

2006-04-12T19:12:05Z

I'm lazy. And you've probably noticed, all my image links are busted. The image hoster I've been using for about 2 years shut down all free accounts a few months. I managed to save my shit on a Loyola computer during Mardi Gras (slightly random, yes). Speaking of...Brooke and Sandra...I was down there 2 weeks later for my spring break! I only had a few days, and I dind't get a chance to call you guys, but yeah, after mardi Gras, I went back down from like the 15th-19th or something hahahaaha.

I have my final recital coming up in 2 1/2 weeks...Blarg, more about that later. I'm stealing Christy's meme here. Oh, but as a sort of update...I went to a jazz recital over the weekend, then I partied with the jazz dudes at an apartment in the LES. I kept trying to pee in their closet. I swear, it looks like a bathroom, I was so high.

1.EVER BEEN GIVEN AN ENGAGEMENT RING?
Sort of. It was made of paper, given to me by an ex long ago.

2. LONGEST RELATIONSHIP?
See previous...almost 2 1/2 years

3. LAST GIFT YOU RECEIVED?
discounted beer and whiskey last night at Niagara, from Joe, if that counts

4. EVER DROPPED A CELL PHONE?
Only every day...once in a swimming pool

5. WHEN'S THE LAST TIME YOU WORKED OUT?
I live on the 4th floor of a walk-up, every day is a workout

6. THING(S) YOU SPEND A LOT OF MONEY ON?
Rent, basically.

7. LAST FOOD YOU ATE?
Some macrobiotic meal thing...spinach noodles, carrots, seaweed, with a weird sauce

8. FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX!
Their bulge...no really.

9. ONE FAVORITE SONG?
"Satisfied" Andrew Bird

10. WHERE DO YOU LIVE?
Manhattan, but mentally still in New Orleans

11. HIGH SCHOOL YOU ATTENDED:
Pearl-Cohn Arts Magnet, then Hillsboro...Nashville, TN

12. CELL PHONE SERVICE PROVIDER:
AT&T till they were bought out by Cingular

13. FAVORITE MALL STORE(S):
Eww. Dippin Dots??

14.LONGEST JOB YOU HAD:
I guess being a student, various work-study positions, etc. "Real" work (cough, splutter), the J. Edgar and Louise S. Monroe Library at Loyola University New Orleans, almost 2 years.

15. DO YOU OWN A PAIR OF DICE?
I guess I have a few.

16. DO YOU PRANK CALL PEOPLE?:
Hell yes, not in about 3 years, though

17. LAST WEDDING YOU ATTENDED:
My BFF's las June...I was de Matron o' Honor

18. FIRST FRIEND YOU'D CALL IF YOU WON THE LOTTERY:
Mein Mutter

19. LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR BEST FRIEND:
Hmm, a few months ago, maybe less, can't remember...I went up to New Haven to visit.

20. FAVORITE FAST FOOD RESTAURANT?
Paquitos

21. BIGGEST LIE YOU HAVE HEARD?
Ummm. I don't get this question. And no, that's not my answer.

22. IMMEDIATE VACATION SPOT?
Anywhere hot and humid with NO PEOPLE.

23. WHERE'S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO EAT WITH FRIENDS?
Mary Ann's Mexican Restaurant..."it's like a party waiting to happen" (Vegetarian Guide to New York, 2003)

24. CAN YOU COOK?
Yes, actually, I'm just usually too hungry to wait for food to be ready. But I've been cooking more lately, I have mad groceries, yo.

25. WHAT CAR DO YOU DRIVE?:
Sven, the 1986 Volvo 240 GL

26. BEST KISSER?:
I can think of a few...

27. LAST TIME YOU CRIED?:
In the dream I had early this morning, just before waking up...it had to do with moving to suburbia, and the time changing all over the place...and not being able to pay for parking, or some shit.

28. MOST DISLIKED FOOD:
Anything wrinkled, i.e. peas, raisins, etc.

29. THING YOU LIKE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF:
My ass. Oh, you meant something having more to do with substance and true essence...my ass.

30. THING YOU DISLIKE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF:
Failing eyesight?

32. LONGEST SHIFT YOU HAVE WORKED AT A JOB?:
When I used to work 2 full-time jobs, as a bartender and a librarian, it basically was 1 17-hour shift every day, for a month and a half.

33. FAVORITE MOVIE:
Hmmm, Clockwork Orange, maybe.

34. CAN YOU SING?
I'm a music student, it's required.

35. LAST CONCERT ATTENDED?:
Jazz bass recital over the weekend given by an NYU jazz senior dude. Last "real" concert was The Books at the BOwery, a few weeks ago.

36. LAST KISS?:
5 or 6 hours ago, I dunno, I was half asleep, hehheh.

37. LAST MOVIE RENTED:
God that's been months. Well, I still have a movie a dude loaned me a few months ago, that may be rental actually. "Nashville." I suppose I should get that back to him.

38. ONE THING YOU NEVER LEAVE THE HOUSE WITHOUT:
Yeah, I'd say keys there, and shoes.

39. FAVORITE VACATION SPOT?:
Busch Gardens, any beach.

43. LAPTOP OR DESKTOP COMPUTER?:
laptop

44. FAVORITE COMEDIAN?:
Mitch Hedburg...think I'll agree with you there, Christy. But we can't forget my man Bob Newhart

45. DO YOU SMOKE?
Yes.

46. SLEEP WITH OR WITHOUT CLOTHES?
Usually without, unless I pass out before changing.

47. WHO SLEEPS WITH YOU EVERY NIGHT?:
My E.T...and a certain human 4 -5 nights a week.

48. DO LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIPS WORK?:
Who knows, what's the point.

49. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU BEEN PULLED OVER BY THE POLICE?
Twice.

50. PANCAKES OR FRENCH TOAST?
Pancakes, but really neither.

51. DO YOU LIKE COFFEE?
Not really, but I drink alot of it.

52 HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?
My own special scrambling, with turmeric and rosemary.

53. DO YOU BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY?:
I wou;dn't say believe, but alot of things make sense.

54. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?:
Seth, the Jewish hippie band geek, at 2:53 a.m.

55. LAST PERSON ON YOUR MISSED CALL LIST?:
My mom, yesterday.

56. WHAT WAS THE LAST TEXT MESSAGE YOU RECIEVED?:
Ellie the fucking best: But i hate pussy?! 4:06 a.m.

58. NUMBER OF PILLOWS?:
4 or more.

59. WHAT ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW?:
Light blue fake Uggs (tall), black flowered skirt with beige lace crap (knee length), sleeveless black top with a square neck and raw seams.

60. PICK A LYRIC, ANY LYRIC OR SONG?
"As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death/I take a look at my life and realize there's nothing left." --"Gangsta's Paradise", Coolio

61. WHAT KIND OF JELLY DO YOU LIKE ON YOUR PB & J SANDWICH?:
Grape or strawberry...but if I had my druthers, blackberry preserves, mmmm.

62. CAN YOU PLAY POOL?
Sometimes astoundingly well, but usually embarassingly bad.

63. CAN YOU SWIM?
Not very gracefully, but I don't sink. In fact, I can't swim underwater at all. I'm also a master water-treader.

64. FAVORITE ICE CREAM?:
Don't really like that shit, my teeth/gums are too sensitve. I like strawberry yogurt with vanilla granola and fresh berries, if that counts.

65. DO YOU LIKE MAPS?:
Especially the MTA map on the inside of my apartment door.

66. TELL ME A RANDOM FACT ABOUT YOURSELF:
My skin looks bad in natural light...luckily, I don't hang out outdoors that much.

68. EVER ATTEND A THEME PARTY?:
Unfortunately.

69. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON?:
Late summer/early fall.

70. LAST TIME YOU LAUGHED AT SOMETHING STUPID?
The fucktard at the bar last night who asked me if I taught ESL.

71. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP THIS MORNING?
I attempted to wak up at 8 a.m., but, due to drinking last night, could only manage a little before noon.

72. BEST THING ABOUT WINTER?:
It's only 3 months.

73. LAST TIME A COP GAVE YOU A TICKET?:
A few years, but I have a lot of parking tickets.

75. NAME OF YOUR FIRST PET?:
Tweety, a parakeet (surprise)

76. DO YOU THINK PIRATES ARE COOL OR OVERRATED?:
Pretty cool, but not in the Disney sense.

77. WHAT ARE YOU DOING THIS WEEKEND??
Playing a BITCHEN SOLO on Christy's recital.

78. BIRTHDATE:
07/07....

79. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE:
Me, but gradually getting older.

85. ARE YOU ON A LAPTOP?
No.

87. ARE YOU SMILING?:
Ha

88. DO YOU HAVE ON EYELINER?:
Black eyeshadow-y stuff, I line the inside of my upper lids with it.

89. DO YOU MISS SOMEONE RIGHT NOW?
I reckon.

90. IF YOU COULD GO ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD WHERE WOULD YOU GO?
Greece.

92. ARE YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL?:
Gay.

93. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?:
On several people.

94. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NAME?
Stupid question, arrrrrrr.

95. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR BATHING SUIT?:
Black, naturally.

96. DOES YOUR SCHOOL START IN AUGUST?
I'm done with school, in about a month, hoss.

97. DID YOU GO ON VACATION LAST MONTH?:
Yes, Spring Break 2006 New Orleans woooooo!

98. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON A CRUISE?:
No.

99. DO YOU HAVE A SISTER?
No, nor a brother.

100. ARE YOU UPSTAIRS?
basement, actually

101. ARE YOU IN LOVE?
Nah.

102. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN THE HOSPITAL?
Yes, the kind with plate glass, if you get my drift.

103. DO YOU WISH YOU COULD SEE ANYONE PARTICULAR RIGHT NOW?
I reckon.

104. WHAT JEWELRY ARE YOU WEARING?
Ear/cartialge rings, labret ring, septum ring, tongue rings, navel ring...and a ring on my R.H. 4 that has been stuck on my finger since I was 12.

105. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO AFTER THIS SURVEY?
Urinate.

evilpolkamuse @ 2006-04-01T10:51:00

2006-04-01T15:54:24Z

APRIL FOOL'S....GO BACK TO THE MIDWEST FARMLAND, AND GROW SOME BRAINS! IT'S A REAL CASH CROP!

If you haven't seen my myspace page, disregard this post!

evilpolkamuse @ 2006-02-15T13:16:00

2006-02-15T18:16:31Z

It's a military open mic night!

2006-02-13T03:52:13Z

Subject from Friday night's show at the Knitting Factory...the Trachtenberg Family Slideshow Players.

I know, I haven't updated a while. Nothing very interesting to report hmmm...I have a shitload of students this semester, but not as many hours because the little pricks are mostly taking half-hour lessons. So, more work, more faces/names to remember, about 25 a week to be exact, but not more money. Blarg.

This is also that magical last semester wherein I receive my Master of Arts, and, ostensibly, merrily skip off down the long golden road to success. This is too stressful to think about, so how about a stupid meme, eh?

[The rest of the entry has been rated Rish, by moi.]

Five sexy pleasures, stolen from katherinemorrow
1. Sex wearing nothing but tall boots.
--Sometimes a short skirt with the boots is nice as well, especially for lap-straddling-on-a-chair sex but let's keep it simple. Besides, those damn boots take forever to unlace, by the time the guy gets done, I'll most likely hate him.

2. Nipple fondling, various.
--I don't like hard biting, but a small amount, in combination with mostly sucking, is not only very pleasurable, but probably also too much information for you people.

3. Having my ass grabbed.
--Sex or not. I mean, it's such a nice ass! But during sex I must have a hand on my ass cheek, preferrably my partner's, and preferrably my left cheek.

4. Extremely slow sex. NOT mechanical. I had a partner who, when I would say I wasn't in the mood, liked to beg, "Please, I'll just put it in, that's all!" I almost always gave in, and this would always turn into sex, that started almost imperceptibly slow, and innocent, and would become almost bed-breaking. He caould always get me with that one, and we both knew it.

5. Photography/videotaping are ALLOWED!
--Is this weird? I think I have nudie pictures of everyone I've slept with. I like photographing us during sex. If it's mechanically possible, video with sound is good. No faces, just where the bodies meet. Oh god, this is turning me on right now hahahaha.
Ok, you all is tagged, especially you, katchan!

Whoo! Ok, next topic. In reference to #4 up there...if any of you fine people happen to score a February issue of Glamour, yours truly is featured on I think p.154. Please don't ask me who the guy is in the picture, at least not in a pulic forum, such as this. Suffice it to say, this picture could be very damning if it were to get around to the wrong people. But I had to share, as it is a damn cute picture.

Oh, I will be in NOLA for Mardi Gras!!!!! I get there Saturday the 25th, and stay till the following Thursday. So peasantlass, you know what this means, right? Eye raping for YOU! I'll be sure to wear a skirt with an elastic waistband. Count me into any parade fun that's happening after about 3 p.m. on the 25th. "SUCKY SUCKY!...oh shit, we're at a red light, roll up the windows!!"

I will leave you all with a snippet from a recent AIM conversation with my mutant friend Mikey. And mind you, this is just a snippet!

(16:33:25) painsteak1: i will destroy you
(16:33:35) painsteak1: i mean, lol, what are you doing today?
(16:33:48) MikeyFreedomHart: ROFLMAO just hanging out and watching some brutal porn
(16:34:20) painsteak1: ah very nice. fine family fun. i watched deliverance last night. it had a little brutal porn
(16:34:27) MikeyFreedomHart: haha
(16:35:20) MikeyFreedomHart: that's exactly the kind of porn i'm watching
(16:37:04) painsteak1: toothless butt rape. i understand. i had a hard time not whacking off while watching it
(16:37:24) MikeyFreedomHart: it's not as hot as buttless tooth rape
(16:38:47) painsteak1: so, so, true. wow, i was on the phone as i typed that, and didnt realize it was typing "so, so rape"
(16:38:58) MikeyFreedomHart: hahaha
(16:39:24) painsteak1: "omg that guy is, like, SO rape, it's like, not even funny"
(16:39:46) MikeyFreedomHart: you talking about grandpa?
(16:40:01) painsteak1: grandpa is the new black

Rock n Roll Cleveland!

2006-01-05T01:05:06Z

I finally found it...an open coffee shop with WiFi! I'm at the Rue on Oak St. and Carrollton. Apparently, WTUL is now broadcasting from here, in the little upstairs balcony. Underneath which hangs a bannder reading "Rebuilding New Orleans, One Party at a Time."
Yessiree, New Orleans isn't nearly as devastated as I thought it would be, in most areas, but little things like 24 hour grocery stores, drug stores, coffee shops open past 5, etc., are a hot commodity. In my professional opinion, if I had never been to New Orleans before, and I didn't stray from the Quarter/Marigny/Uptown/Riverbend/Metairie area, I probably wouldn't know a Category 5 had been through. There is nowhere to park in the Quarter, and there are stll 24 hour bars. But I know better, I know that each bar should have more than 2 people in it, that there should be large number of choices for late-night dining, that 4 way stops are NOT the norm, and that City Park should have a lot more trees. On a scale of one to ten, with one being completely leveled ghost-town type of situation, and ten being exactly as I remembered it, I give the entire city, or at least what I've seen, about a 4.5-5.5. Keep in mind I've seen New Orleans East, Mid-City, Lakeview, part of Gentilly and the 9th Ward, and all the places that didn't get much damage. It seems like every single city block I've seen has at least 1 sign of something fucked up that befell this city. Whether a collapsed house, the spraypaint tags, an MP truck, downed street/traffic lights, uprooted trees, the ubiquitous piles of refrigerators and other discarded household items, or just the silent streetcar rails.

I will do a real update when I get my pictures developed. For one, I'm taking alot of pictures of the destruction, and for another, New Year's is kind of blurry, and the pictures will help to recount the night harhar.

But just as a word of assurance to concerned readers...New Orleans will DEFINITELY be back. Maybe not next year, or in 5 years, but even since I've been here I've seen progress. For instance, there are like 5 working traffic lights in the city, meaning 4 way stops everywhere, even really busy intersections. Most of the ones on Canal around the Quarter seemed to be working, except for the one at the intersecion of Peters and Canal. The first night I got in, it definitely wasn't working. But now, as of at least yesterday, the lights are now on! I know, it seems like a small step, but that's what it takes, and just seeing all the FEMA camps, people cleaning out their houses, Entergy people working on lines, etc., gives me an indescribably satisfying feeling, that people are NOT just going to sit on their asses and let my home rot in mold-infested squalor.

But yesterday, I did come across a thoroughly disturbing sight. I was crusing the Fly, which still looks great. I saw a Military Police vehicle parked under a tree. I didn't think much of it, honestly, I've seen a ton of those MP trucks and the MPs themselves since I got in. So I kept cruising, and saw 2 MP's walking towards me, in the direction of the truck. They were leisurely strolling, I guess off duty, despite being in uniform. One was even smoking a cigarette. Only when they were illuminated from behind with the setting sun on the Mississippi did I notice the assault rifles they both carried over their shoulders. In the middle of the fucking day, like 75 degrees beautiful weather, around kids playing frisbee and people walking dogs, and couples making out on the river. Two MPs carrying assault rifles. *Sigh* I really almost cried. I had to call my best friend to calm down. It was like some shove back into the reality of this city's recent past. As I did that though, my spirits lifted when I saw that the Tree of Life is still standing! A few pruned branches, but goddammit, that big ass tree is still here! I walked underneath it, as two hippies walked out from behind, trailing the sweet smell of marijuana behind them.

And I keep reliving all the shit I talked about this city in the last couple of years I lived here. I know we all did it, it was the love-hate nature of the city that keeps us coming back, if ever leave in the first place. And I take back every word with every destroyed house I see, black water marks ten or more feet high, flourescent pink spraypaint tags reading "Attic Exit."

Why I love eBay.

2005-12-08T22:09:37Z

Auction for a dead beat dad:

At first I thought the dad himself was for sale. But he looks a little big for a stocking stuffer. Coincidentally, he's shown here next to a Christmas tree.

Here's the URl:
dad=pig

It would be awesome if the proceeds from the sale went towards the purchase of a photo of a new and improved dad but, judging from her other items for sale, she would just spend it on Tommy Hilfiger cologne sets and X-mas themed socks.

In other eBay news, I lost my prosthetic eye auction ;(

Archie Bunker (to Sammy Davis Jr.): "Do you take cream and sugar in your eye?"

I am your voodoo doll.

2005-12-02T20:49:57Z

the ten things you can't say
1) List ten things you want to say to people but know you never will.
2) Don't say who they are.
3) Never discuss it again.

Hmmm, all different people? Let's see...

1) I wish only incurable diseases on you, and every loose-lipped braindead whore you bring to your bed, you bleeding heart Robin Hood-wannabe self-righteous middle-class cracker. I let you get away with more than anyone in my life. You never "found" me. I was never lost. I rue the day I first spread my legs for you. My deepest condolences to #11.
2) Anyone who believes "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" is a fucking moron, and basically, I should never have indulged your fantasy. I wish I'd never gotten involved.
3) The fact that you live vicariously through me does not inspire me, but rather, makes me wish I'd never been born.
4) Why did you only surround yourself with dopey people? Are you that insecure that you can't be around someone with half a brain?
5) I hope you're getting ass-raped as I type this.
6) You're obviously a person of very low quality. You deserve each other.
7) I pretend I can relate to you, though you never even offer me that much.
8) Sometimes, I'm not kidding when I flirt. Shhh!
9) I'm really sick of feeling like I have to prove myself to you. Most people think I'm a decent friend, so what gives. It's getting a little ridiculous, and just say the word and poof! I can disappear too. I really don't think I ask for much, but maybe it's time I started.
10) I wish I could see just YOU more, not the two of you. I understand it's a package-deal now, but I feel somehow simulataneously left behind in childhood, and well past my prime.

Come to think of it, I think I could say all those things to 1 person bwahahaha. Going to see Iron & Wine with Calexico Tuesday night. Should be good, plus the venue is like 2 blocks from my apartment.

I skipped my jazz piano lesson last night...what did I to in its stead? I spent $80 at Tower (new Andrew Bird, Calexico, Low, Golden Palominos, and new Fiery Furnaces), then stuffed myself full of Mexican food, then took a nap. I've been pretty slack this week. Is it the drugs? The rock and roll? The (lack of) sex? The last is my fault, I suppose. I've officially broken up with the 19 year old. After all of 4 days being back together. Details not forthcoming, unlike your mother's twat. Oh, and hadara told me I had to write about getting high with a hot Spanish pianist at my apartment last night after rehearsal, and being forced to watch some DVD of flamenco, while he clapped and stomped his feet on the floor in rhythm. My poor downstairs neighbbors. I can see it now: all Thursdays in their calendar have a note reading "11 p.m., Flamenco Night in 12F."

Of hermits and teenagers.

2005-11-03T05:26:34Z

I've been remiss in my LJ duties, I know. Since Katrina, nothing has really seemed very important in mine, or anyone else's lives. It still hurts to think about but I've been trying to go on.

I haven't seen anyone lately. I don't know, I feel ditched by about a dozen people. I know I've been pretty busy, and haven't done the greatest job of keeping the lines of communication open myself, but fuck: I teach 20 students per week, plus full-time school, plus 12-13 hours a week of work-study, plus practicing for not only my regular weekly piano lesson but also some new jazz classes and lessons I'm taking. Yeah, it's weird to live in NOLA for 6 years, only to learn about jazz in NYC. So maybe these people are just as busy, which is great. I still find it odd though. I don't particularly like New York City. But one thing's for damn sure: it certainly teaches you about self-reliance. If this city were a breakfast food, it would be an overpriced bowl of 7 million corn flakes.

But I'm by no means lonely. If by "not lonely" one can mean dating/corrupting/deflowering/etc., a 19 year old. What can I say? Desertion will drive a girl to the extremes of social decency. I suppose he's why I haven't been going out much lately, since he can't get into most bars, heehee.

Many random updates. I have a new "haircut", of sorts. I own and operate a skateboard now. I've heard some great live music, including another live Philip Glass deal. I changed piano teachers, before realizing I had been assigned to my old piano teacher for chamber ensemble this semester, so lots of awkwardness there. I went to a graduation ceremony entirely in sign language. I've been to a mall in Queens, which made me clinically insane. I hosted a NOLA refugee and good friend for a few weeks, blahdee blah.

Oh, and I have a kidney infection. Not too good. I felt a bladder infection coming on Halloween night, but I knew that I had no time to see a doctor on Tuesday, because I teach all fucking day, plus I have my own piano lesson. So I tried to stave it off with gallons of water and cranberry juice, only to awaken in the middle of Tuesday night feeling like my lower back and abdomen were going up in flames. So, after a fun-filled trip to the doctor, I found out I had a fever, high blood presure, and "lots of blood and pus" in my urine. Great. Especially when the doctor, Happy Benson was her name, told me that it could potentially lead to permanent kidney failure. I got some antibiotics, and I feel a little better, but my back is still killing me. I feel like I've been run over, and I still have chills. For maybe the second time since I've been here, I cancelled work tomorrow. I still have to teach, have my jazz lesson, and trio rehearsal, but I figured I could at least do without 5 hours at the library. My 19 year old has been quite great through all of this, even sat with me at the waiting room, though I was there about an hour total.

The lesson to be learned: No afterglow is worth basking in, if it's just gonna get you a gorilla's kidney in the long run.

So much for trying to fit in here.

2005-08-31T16:49:00Z

*Before we begin what is sure to be a very venomous post, I just want to say that my thoughts and lame attempts at prayer are with peasantlass, sparkfire20, corzyn, katchan, katnip21, weltall, musesick, michelia, ravencreature, and of course all us NOLA expats: Weston, Chris, Christy, Emily and Katie with our displaced loved ones and displaced sense of "home". (I was too lazy to do more code, sorry). If there's anything I can do, don't hesistate to call or email or text or send smoke signals or ANYTHING. I'm in serious debt with some recent bad additions to my credit that's keeping me from getting another school loan I need, but I'll be DAMNED if NYU OR my landlord get my money/resources if you guys need it more. My problems are bullshit, just bullshit in this grand scheme. I'm thinking of trying to get an extension for my rent just to make sure I can help out a little. At the least, let me know you're alive (haven't heard from Shercole, Brooke, Amelia, or Justin, Damian...hell, I'm even worried about Greg and his family so you KNOW I'm losing it)*

Onward.

I feel like I'm stuck in a 4 day long nightmare. I've slept about 12 hours since Saturday night. I've barely eaten, only a bite or 2 of something a day to take my vitamins. The body is supposedly like the world, 75 percent water. I feel like now my brain is emulating New Orleans, and is drowning. I've literally felt since all this shit went down like I'm moving underwater. It's an in-body, out-of-state experience.

And I don't even live there anymore! I can't BEGIN to imagine what my friends down there are going through. The uncertainty, the loss of everything, jobless, wondering about people who stayed behind, not even having a working phone. Not knowing if our city will ever...resurface. I remember a year ago being so worried about Ivan, because I couldn't imagine having so many memories tied up in a city that may no longer exist. But now, it's happening, and I feel so helpless stuck here 1200 miles away, going through a sort of existential angst.

And speaking of that...I'm ready to vomit at some of the attitudes I've seen up here, expressed in the smug faces of 8 million assholes who, for the most part, only know of a disaster when they can't get skim milk in their fucking lattes at Starbucks. People have surmised that perhaps this is "God's wrath," "Sodom and Gomorrah," or the just desserts of those "stupid people" who didn't evacuate.

To that, and to them I say: "You're fucking ignorant if you're going to judge an entire city by the 20% who stayed behind, mostly because they could not leave. You may not believe that outside your fair land of plenty are actual *gasp!* poor people, who can barely survive in the worst of times. It's a little more complicated than stepping out your Upper East Side brownstone and hailing a cab. IMAGINE HAVING TO NOW EVACUATE THE EVACUATION SHELTER. New Orleans is a broke-ass town, and it relies heavily on the fall to rescue the tourism industry which suffers in the summer, because of heat, crime, etc. You know the first part to flood, the Bywater? Say hello to New Orleans' projects, also known as the 9th ward. People who had so little to begin with now have NOTHING. How can you begin to compare that to 911??? How dare you ask me why I look so "somber." I didn't just lose possibly my REAL hometown, the place I wanted to return to someday and live out the rest of my days...I feel like I've lost even more than a friend or lover: I feel like I've lost a significant portion of myself, like having limbs amputated. My friends are now HOMELESS, assuming they're all even ALIVE. And sorry but not just those "lawless, lower-class black people" you're obviously so superior to in your fucking high-rises and designer shoes, but MILLIONS OF PEOPLE. You expect the whole goddamn world to celebrate anniversaries of an admittedly horrific disaster, yet can't see the gravity of a situation involving lives lost, jobs lost, ENTIRE FUCKING CITIES LOST. You think if anything happens somewhere besides fucking Wall Street it's not important." /rage

Sunday night I was on the phone with one of my closest friends, Michael. He stayed behind in Mid-City because, like many people, he didn't think the storm would hit until too late, and he has no car. We kept getting disconnected, it was getting very nerve-wracking because looters showed up, and I could hear them banging on windows and doors trying to get in. The phone cut off for the the last time about 1 a.m. I've called back hundreds of times, but no answer. Mid-City was where the first breach occurred. I heard on the NOLA community that he was seen sometime on Monday, but that was before the city began to sink. I'm numb.

I have no interest in anything anymore. I don't want to be here. I don't even know if I want to be in a world WITHOUT New Orleans. I know, it's a bit premature to make such apocalyptic remarks, and I'm really trying hard to be optimistic.

But I just don't care about anything anymore. I've probably lost my New Orleans, which I've always hazily envisioned as an anthropomorphized plump, sedate, temptress, cloaked in a rotting red velvet gown, who never says a word but smiles coyly at her many suitors. Why SHOULD she evacuate? She's lived satisfied, and she will die satisfied. But trying explaining that to a city, nation, and maybe a world of jerks who can't get off their high horse, high pulpit, high rise corporate position enough to see that the "little people", the bartenders and waiters and buggy drivers and psychics and underpaid teachers and chefs and artists and world-famous musicians scurrying for shelter on the roofs of their dilapidated shotgun houses might actually be more human than they could ever HOPE to be, yet with only their inate animal instinct to survive, intact.

New Orleans: Just take care of yourself and your citizens right now. We will defend you to the above-ground grave.

Goddamnit Katrina!

2005-08-29T00:32:18Z

Jesus Christ. I was planning on visiting NOLA in about a month and half. I wonder if it will still be there?

I will really, really miss New Orleans. Why can't hurricanes hit the Midwest?

evilpolkamuse @ 2005-08-27T20:24:00

2005-08-28T00:30:05Z

I can't update too much, as I'm paying for the use of this computer at an overly-crowded coffee shop. But, to those who are interested: yesterday, August 26th, was my 1st anniversary of being in New York City. How did I celebrate? Did I toast the skyline on my roof with champagne? Did I bask in the lights of Times Square? Sis I go to the Statue of Liberty? Hell, did I even get out of my pajamas and brush my teethu? The answer to all those questions, is No. I stayed in, got drunk on about 2 pints of blackberry brandy, watched about 6 hours of I Love Lucy then What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, stuffed my face all day long, didn't once step foot out my door. Now that I'm a New Yorker, I have to save my money for my exorbitant rent, after all.

evilpolkamuse @ 2005-08-19T15:45:00

2005-08-19T19:45:20Z

1. Go here.
2. Pass it on.

1.~How did you meet weltall? one of my underlings at teh liberry
2.~What would you do if you had never met sparkfire20? never know of the invention of GOLD BRACES!
3.~What do you honestly think of katherinemorrow? one of them there brilliant nerdy girls/horny sex maniacs
4.~Would or did poegirl13 and wehrkraft go out? uhh...doubt it, unless wehrkraft made an 8th inning team switch
5.~Have you ever liked delnyc? well, we made out. i guess that counts hahahaha
6.~If musesick died tomorrow, what is one thing that you would need him/her to know? thanks for the car help!
7.~Would katnip21 and emmylee make a good couple? not as good as katchan and emmylee
8.~Describe poegirl13 in 3 words: long last name
9.~Do you think misterchurch is hot? pass
10.~Would musesick and poegirl13 make a lovely couple? well poegirl is lovely enough for the both of them hahaha (kidding justin!)
11.~What do you think of when you see wehrkraft? knee socks
12.~Tell me something humiliating about emmylee: i've been in the same room while she took a shit... it was a bathroom y the way
13.~Do you know any of poegirl13's family members? just her dog
14.~What's poegirl13's favorite color? i don't know...red or burgundy maybe??
15.~On a scale of 1-10 how cute is michelia? 9.3
16.~What would you do if chelle_my_belle just professed their undying love for you? tell her firmly that i will NOT be her baby daddy
17.~What language does poegirl13 speak? english and serbian?
18.~Who is ravencreature going out with? some lucky gal
19.~Is peasantlass a boy or a girl? still on the fence about that one hahahahaa
20.~Would corzyn and chelle_my_belle make a good couple? hmmm, i could see that, except chelle_my_belle is married
21.~Who do you think katchan would be great with from this list? emmylee, ravencreature, or me
22.~When was the last time you talked to misterchurch? voice mail tag yesterday
23.~What is delnyc's favorite band? something metrosexual i'm sure
24.~Does katnip21 have any siblings? i don't think so...damn i have a bad memory
25.~Would you ever date poegirl13? if i liked girls
26.~Would you ever date poegirl13? that's the same damn question!
27.~Is katchan single? no, i think she's married or something stupid
28.~What is poegirl13's last name? i shouldn't say on the internet hello! but it starts with a dj-
29.~What is corzyn's middle name? something german probably
30~What is katherinemorrow's fantasy? being the first female president, and ruling the country in a bikin
31.~Where does peasantlass live? metry
32.~Would you make out with weltall? well i guess, now that i'm not his supervisor hahahaha
33.~Are sparkfire20 and poegirl13 best friends? not that i know of
34.~Does poegirl13 like poegirl13? i hope she likes herself, yes
35.~How did you meet corzyn? while bartending last summer. he was a customer
36.~Is misterchurch older than you? very much so
37.~Is poegirl13 the sexiest person alive? well, maybe second

evilpolkamuse @ 2005-08-09T18:05:00

2005-08-09T22:11:53Z

I just saw an old man help a blind man cross a street. The blind man thanked him, and continued safely on his way. The old man turned around and re-crossed the street alone, without realizing that the light had changed and cars were going. They honked, and ran to safety. This seemed like a metaphor.

A certain Brooklynite who shall remain namelss must have done some violence on my face Sunday night/Monday morning. I have a short, faint gash above my right eye, plus a bruise and general eyelid-puffiness. Plus, that eye is bloodshot all to hell. But that last symptom of a U.D.I could have been due to all the coughing and hacking I've done.

Beginning a journey tomorrow. Hopefully to sobriety. At least for a week.

There are no Lesbianic undertones in this entry. Or brassieres.

2005-08-05T19:42:57Z

Last nihgt was teh RoXoRz. I saw DEAD MEADOW at the Knitting Factory. Beautiful, beautiful music. Rarely do I get goosebumps from "new" music (i.e., not Stravinsky). Listen to this band! They will make you wish you were rolling and making out with someone for hourrrrrrs. Or maybe that's just me. But I wonder...those guys in the band...what do they put on their stereo to woo their ladies??!! What could do the job more effectively than their own music? But it would be weird to make out with a guy while you listened to his CD. Wait, I think I've done that before....a few times actually (different guys). Hmmm, yeah it was gay.

You can get away with saying ANYTHING to ANYONE if, and ONLY IF, your voice is so squeaky and raspy from being sick and having to shout over loud music, that you can't even use your "funny voices", you know, the ones I do? I'm stuck in Funny Voice Gear. I may never shift down.

"See the bartenders for more info"

2005-08-04T18:25:39Z

You should NOT NOT NOT go out and drink doubles of Canadian whiskey when you're sick with a fever of 100-101. It seemed like just the cure for my cabin fever, and it helped, but I think it took a few years off my life.

5 things I don't remember:
1. The last bar. I know the first was the Boxcar, but then...?
2. Did I pay?
3. I puked somewhere...where???
4. I don't remember leaving-->getting home-->going to bed
5. Why was my brassiere in my backpack????

5 weird things:
1. There is a temporary tattoo on my left hand
2. My clothes were in a pile right in front of my door when I woke up, except for my brassiere, which was still in my backpack.
3. I mysteriously woke up promptly at 11 a.m., but my phone alarm was set for 11 p.m.
4. I seem to become a Lesbian around my friend Ellie...
5. ...she just messaged me saying I left a bite mark on her neck, hmmmm

5 things for which I am thankful:
1. awesome female friends!
2. ukeleles!
3. Veruca Salt
4. Alka-Seltzer nose and throat medicine
5. Being in New York

Ain't that a kick to the head/scrotum to the ass.

2005-07-25T21:02:47Z

Well it finally happened. I bought porn.

It may surprise some people that this was a new thing for me, but yes, I'm not QUITE as subversive as I look. The thing is, I had been under the assumption for the last year that I *did* own porn, namely, one "Attack of the Cockface Killer", a NOLA-brand mix of gore, rednecks, drugs, heavy metal, bad tattoos, incest, toilet humor, bringing dead people back to life, and flatulent pets. And although the movie's opening scene was a young couple having sex in the barn (reminded me of katnip21's porn +barn experience), during which you can just barely hear, over the poor-sound-quality-induced buzzing, "You're a good piece of sister ass!" this brick in the long road of cinematic success stories was definitely not actual porn. At least according to my friend Ellie, and she knows.

Ellie was also where I discovered a quick, cheap, painless way to purchase porn: Lily, the tiny Asian woman who hits every bar in the East Village/LES every night, and sells people $5 Marlboros, bootlegged CDs, and, as it turned out "DVD porn five dolla".

Lily, bless her little illegal alien soul, showed up last night, as I was tying one on at the Odessa Lounge on Avenue A. I was talking with my bar-buddy Jack in a booth, and she walks in, saying "Cigarettes. CDs, DVDs, five dolla". Aha, this was to be the night. She had already walked away, and started her sales speech to the people sitting at the bar. I didn't know what to do. How not to sound desperate, dirty?

I yelled, "DVD!"

She didn't hear. I yelled again, and she turned around and smiled. "You want DVD?"

I nodded.

"Ok!" She started to untie the knot of a little black plastic bag she had on top of her little grocery cart out of which she peddled her wares every night. I thought my chances of social humiliation were pretty small now. I didn't even have to get up! I could sit in my cozy booth, sipping Anchor Steam, and be served porn. I relaxed too soon.

"You want DVD movie? Or DVD porn?"

Damn. "DVD porn," I stutteringly yelled across the bar.

She brought a little stack of burned CDs in cellophane, each one with various stillshots decorating the wrapper, giving you glimpses of what you were buying, because, frankly, I used to work at Virgin, and I'm used to porn having very specific, graphic titles, like "Edward Penishands". But these, being the cheap garden variety brand of masturbation bait, had vague titles that basically were all different versions of "Men Like to Fuck Women. Maybe in the ass"

Each one I picked up I would say the name aloud, to get a feel for its content. I was waiting for a gut reaction, you see, to tell me what to choose. Lily looked over my shoulder and occasionally echoed a title approvingly. Her English, I suspect, is mostly comprised of "5 dolla" Marlboro Reds" "DVD porn", and now I know, filthy titles of said porn.

So we sounded like:
"Ah yes, Latin Big Butts, this looks very well-made. Hmmm, oh and the Ghetto Booty sub-genre movie here, good to see it's so diverse, your collection."
"Yes, yes, ghetto booty!"
"Hmmm, I don't know Jack, these are all ass-related what do you think? Oh, wait, never mind, here's some girl-on-girl action.
"Yes, yes, that's good one."

I finally decided between one "Cumming of Age" type of movie, and something else, I forget, perhaps the Lesbian one. Finally, I decided that I liked the subtitle on the Cumming of Age: Young Girls Learn Hard Lessons.

"Yes, Lily, I'm all for girls learning lessons, you know. I'll take this one."

I gave her the money, and she left, and I was not struck down by God so damn my Southern Christian upbringing!

I somehow coerced Jack and misterchurch back to my apartment after last call at 4:30 a.m. No, you dirty little fucks, that's NOT where this is going. But we had some beers, smoked my hookah, spilled things, and listened to Daniel Dale Johnston. Oh Chris, you left your sleeves at my apartment. Oh wait, you never had them. Hmmmm, you better put out an APB for them right away.

Eventually my curiosity got the best of me and I put the purple burned DVD in my player, and was visusally-assaulted with borderline-retarded girls talking about how they were such good kids in high school, and they had never done anything like this before. It was quite low-budget, the set looked like the movie company's offices or something. The premise seemed to be: some girl would be in the middle of sticking one fake-fingernail tipped digit into her "hot little pussy", when lo and an behold, a man, totally nude, except wearing socks, would come in fuck her like the prized steed he was. This scene was repeated over and over again, between two different girls, int eh following order: masturbating leading to sex in many positions, old man sex, two man sex, blow jobs + money shots. Basically, you could tell what was coming up next by the color of the couch in that particular office room where the dirty deeds were taking place. They were also fond of spanking the girls while fucking them, and cumming in their faces. The "dialogue" was horrendous. "Yeah? Oh yeah? Yeah baby, I wanna cock in my pretty little pussy." etc etc. There were also a few interludes, thankfully very short, that I guess were of the "tease" variety. The girl would wave her cheerleading pom-poms around, say nothing, and mug the camera coyly. Or maybe just talk about how nice her cheap body spray smells, then spray it on her body and giggle. Those parts were so surreal, they reminded me of Teletubbies for some reason. "Let's see it again!" Maybe, because Teletubbies works for kids 0-2, in their sensory-motor stage, and it seems to move slow, because it's solidifying knowledge in the growing brain. Like these little comic reliefs in the porn, to just confirm the fact that you are, in fact, watching naked strangers have sex, so you can't really judge anything else in the movie, now can you.

Honestly, the sound of scrotum repeatedly smack-smack-smacking the girl's ass while he fucked her like he was using a table saw, is still etched in my auditory memory

If you don't cry it isn't love. If you don't cry, then you just don't feel it deep enough.

2005-07-20T20:03:24Z

So, I'm at work, and I just retrieved a handful of CDs. Keep in mind, this is New York University, it has a huuuuuuuge library, so many books they actually have their very own storage site in upstate New York for the overflow. It's also a premier institute of higher education. The CD at the top of the stack was: New Kids on the Bock "Greatest Hits" ("featuring 9 top 10 smash hits including: I'll Be Loving You (Forever), Hangin' Tough, Step by Step) I walked into my supervisor's cubicle and held up the CD, asking, "WHAT has happened here?" And was told, "Didn't you know? Those are revolutionary recordings now." Yes, NKOTB have become classics.

This reminds of me of some weird people I've seen on the streets lately. It's like New York goes through waves of having absolutely straw-in-hair nutso people littering the sidewalks, then they all get washed into another town, with the rains. Well, right now, the clouds are heavy with psycho people. A few days ago I was walking down 9th street to work. I hear some crazy man singing behind me, ostensibly to whatever music was in his Discman. Then I hear the familiar, "Miss? Excuse me, Miss?" I finally surrendered and turned around, expecting some early afternoon sexual harassment. Instead, I was suprised to find a fairly normal-looking middle-aged man. Normal, until you noticed his hair seemed to be slicked back with shoe polish, he had full sleeve tattoos, you could just see poking out past the sleeves of his candy-striper-esque shirt. He pulled his sunglasses off his face, and asked, "Do you think these are men's or women's frames?" He had a very effeminate voice, despite his Mafioso face. I was torn. I answered, "I'm sure they're unisex." He seemed calmed by this answer, put them back on his pock-marked face, thanked me for my input, and continued walking past me. My assessment of the situation was that he was worried that, in comibation with the stripey shirt, girly sunglass-frames would be a bit much. He adjusted his headphones and continued his Sprechstimme rendition of a song I have never heard, but seemed to involve the imagery of two men squatting naked in front of each other. I also distincly heard him crooning about stroking a "soft machine" as he continued his quest for total sidewalk insanity domination. I guess as long as the shades don't betray his inner queer fantasies, the fact that he's tone-deafedly singing about male homo sex on the Manhattan sidewalks at noon will go unnoticed.

Today, just as I was approaching Broadway from Astor Place, I found myself behind a Hispanic hetero couple. As per usual, there were a million flyer-ers all over the sidewalk, But these guys aren't as annoying as the "children's International" assholes, these guys were for gay rights. So one asks the couple do they "have a minute for gay rights?" The woman, in a thick Brooklyn-Latin accent, brushed him off with, "No baby, I'm on lunch right now." I passed her, but not before I heard her yell over her shoulder at the gay rights guy, "But I believe in you people. I got a brother who's gay. 100%!"

Eins...And dammit Brooke, I called Kat and told her to tell you Happy Birthday for me. Did she???? Well, she also needs to send my damn CD! Oh, and I have peeeeectures from NOLA. I wanna post em soon, it's just a pain in the ass. They're on a disc. I don't have internet access at home yet. And I just ran out of room at my free image server, so I had to get another one and blah blah. Soon though.

Zwei...Some administrative changes in my life which will not be discussed here, but I do have email ahem. There's also this wonderful thing called a phone. I hear all the kiddies are doin it.

Drei...My bestest friend will be in New Haven by the end of this week. That's like an hour from me. Her man is studying at Yale to get his Ph.D We will try to see each other once a week. It will be so nice to have an old friend in NYC. Don't get me wrong, lots of great new people up here, law students, musicians, bartenders, crackheads. But nothing beats history, you know?

Vier...Lordy, lordy. Andrew Bird tonight at the Bowery. Perhaps he will let me stroke his soft machine.

"Let's have a brown spirits taste-test!"

2005-07-12T19:38:55Z

Them's fightin' words now. Last night was spent at my usual Blue and Gold second home, but the bartender was feeling saucier than usual,and after my customary 3 or 4 beers and a Jameson busted out about 10 shot glasses, with the prologue: "I know nothing about whiskeys, Melissa, you've got to teach me! What shall we start with?" This after my elaborating on the finer points of the Canadian whiskey they DON'T have (Vo), and her hand-lettering on a napkin a note to the pervy owner recommending they buy some.

However, we were still resourceful, and I suggested we start with what some people consider to be finer Irish whiskey than Jameson's: Power's. I'm not a really a fan, but we both gave it a shot (haha, get it shot hooooboy). We voted in favor of Jameson's, but admitted that Power's at least tasted better than it smelled. Next was the only other Canadian I could stomach the thought of, Seagram's 7. Definitely not a winner, and I started again on my verbal praise for its fairer sibling, Vo, until she barked, "I know I know! I left him a note, shut up!"

Thus we moved into new territory...Highlands, to be exact. I know next to nothing about Scotch, having only drunk it about half a dozen times, but my questionable advice to her was: "Anything that starts with the word Glen- is good." She took my word, and poured us both some Glenfidditch. After we both snickered at the unfortunate name of the poor liquor, I tried, without being too Girls-Gone-Wild-Borderline-Lesbo to describe to her the proper way to drink Scotch, i.e., to let it roll around in your mouth for a bit before swallowing. After what seemed like a psssable Rolling Time, we swallowed, and decided that it was definitely the best so far.

I just remembered...I believe we then had some Bushmill's to, you know, let the Protties have some fun. There was a martini somewhere along the line because, try as I might, she's still a vodka girl. Eventually it was closing time, and the owner came down to lock up. I drunkenly slurred to him the merits of stocking Vo, while he confusedly pondered the note she had left on the register, and I stumbled home. I don't remember getting home, or going to bed, but there is a little cobwebbed lantern flickering in my memory banks, illuminating the few minutes in between, in which I put on my hippie friend Steven's CD, which I haven't listened to in like a year, and stood at my kitchen sink eating cheese and crackers. I woke up naked and with my lamp and the damn AC on, but miraculously with my alarm set, by my bed.

The order of mental processing went thus:

I
whoa, I actually remembered to get undressed, and set my phone alarm and bring it to bed with me...
II
...wait, why should I be impressed by doing those things? why WOULDN'T I have done them? I do them every night!
III
Yes, but there are those nights that I am a bit, ah, not fully mindful of the more practical nighttime duties which must be performed...
IV
...oh NOW I remember...last night was one of those nights! Yay, I hope I had fun!
V
Oh man, this means I might be hungover now, doesn't it?
VI
Yes.

I can't wait to get off work, so I can go home and piece together the puzzle some more! Laugh and point at my clothes which I probably flung all over my apartment...shake my head and tsk, tsk the cracker crumbs all over the counter...make sure to throughly check my Recent Calls, to ensure I only listened to my friend's CD, and that I didn't actually call him at 4 a.m.

And why the hell do I keep thinking of Biggie Smalls??

evilpolkamuse @ 2005-06-30T17:37:00

2005-06-30T21:43:41Z

So I was going to finish expounding upon my glorious trip, but have been too busy. Also, I get my pictures back tomorrow, hopefully, and will try to upload a few. In other news, I just now got a working phone. If I was supposed to call you in the past few weeks and didn't...well, I lost all my numbers at the bottom of an in-ground pool my last night, er, morning, in New Orleans -- so now it's up to YOU, dear friends, to call ME, in order that I may salvage my contact list. (Sorry we couldn't hang neverwhispered and katherinemorrow...Nashvegas was SO BORING without peoples' phone numbers and internet access not at Bongo Java!!!)

25 years ago today, I was supposed to be born. But I decided to wait, fatten up a little more, and put off impending Life Responsibilities for 1 more week. Which is when my mom's gyno mercilessly ripped into her, Caesarean-style, and forced me to join the world, and I had to sober up and stop nipping at the amniotic fluid, to join Real Life(tm). In other words: My birthday is a week from today. You should be ashamed of yourselves for not knowing that already.

"Congratulations, son, you're a meathead. But keep your fucking hands out of my underwear."

2005-06-16T16:53:35Z

Well, well, well, look who's back, and only a little worse for wear, though I can't say the same for my phone (more about that to come). New Orleans was great, Nashville was boring, and I'm back in NYC with my mom, who thankfully leaves tomorrow morning. Don't know how much longer I could sleep on my floor...

I bought a cheap throway camera, with a CD option, so I shall post some G rated pictures soonly. For now, a quick-ish rundown of my first time back in the Big Easy, since moving almost 10 months ago. (Oh, congrats to being the Unhealthiest City according to msn.com, wheeee!)

FRIDAY I was going through kind of emotional crap before leaving that afternoon. But, I swear, as soon as the plane started to take off, I felt sort of cleansed, and wiped free from all tension and worry. Such is the attitude so cultivated by life in New Orleans. I arrived with no trouble, and Britt picked me up and took me back to the Glimmer Inn, where I would be staying the next 2 nights, and also where the wedding would be held. I dropped my shit off at the quaint B&B owned by an older lesbian couple, and met some of Britt's other friends and family, including a strange raver-y guy named Nick, who had shoved so many drugs into his face, he spoke like a little sqeaking doll. Well, I don't know if that's the reason, but it's my theory. We hung around on the porch, smoking and drinking Abita. It felt so good to be back in the land of green and trees and gardens, and WARMTH and no horns honking etc. etc...words can't express how much I felt like I would explode from happiness at just standing on that fucking porch with these people and drinking ice cold microbews...

We soon all piled into cars and headed to Nirvana, the Indian restaurant Uptown where the wedding dinner was being held. They had an upstairs set up for all of us, and lots of good food, buffet-style. At this time I met Britt's biological father for the first time. That was interesting, I found out, at last, where Britt gets her inclination toward random bouts of projectile vomiting, so the "mingling" before dinner consisted of more Abita and telling Britt-puking stories.

There was a microphone, so Britt's and Dylan's moms thanked everyone at the dinner, and blah blah stuff, before handing them the microphones. Neither were very fond of such public speaking, so Britt made the corniest announcement in wedding dinner history: "I just want to thank my mom and dad for making me possible!" and quickly turned off the microphone. The whole thing was kinda weird, a lot of ex-spouse and step-parent stuff. Dylan's mom verrry recently left her husband of 30 years for another woman. It was all quite scandalous.

After walking into a swarm of flying cockroaches, I accompanied Britt's childhood friend Kat and and some other people to the Quarter, acting as navigator. We met up with B&D at XIII. And wouldn't you know it. Damn small town. We filed in, and who should be sitting at the bar but the Little Maggot himself, also known as Burn Victim of Yore. His head snapped in my direction as I walked behind him, and I could see, ouf of my periphery, that he watched me continue to walk. Poor thing looked terrified. We weren't there too long, but long enough to get some fucking Tater Tots, yeah! $1.50!!! Them sure ain't New York prices!

Eventually, the party disbanded, and I went back to my cozy room. I say cozy in the homey sense, the room was like twice the size of my entire apartment. They had a bathroom with a luxurious claw-foot bathtub, and all these fancy bubble baths, so I lay there and soaked and stared at the tall ceilings, with no noise to interrupt my calm, save for the lazy whirr of the cieling fan, and some crickets outside.

SATURDAY Day o the wedding! Got dressed in my fancy 1930s peach silk slip I cut off to be longer in the back, and about knee length in the front, to show off my huge buckly boots (note: no one in Britt's/Dylan's families gave me weird looks...after all, they've lived with Britt and Dylan this long). I even put on a modicum of make-up Shutup!Shutup! I found out I was being summoned to the Bride's bungalow. She was still walking around in a bra and slip when I got there, but seemed in no rush to get dressed, as that only required the donning of a $12 eBay dress. Abut half an hour before the wedding, Loyola guitar professor John Rankin came to serenade the wedding party. There was some confusion as to where the minister was, but he showed right before 11 a.m., photographer in tow. They took a few minutes getting light readings and shit, and trying to find good places for us to stand that wouldn't be in direct sunlight (this being a fairly gothy wedding, there was some pale skin to take into account). Finally, all was ready, and I swear, the ceremony was over in like 4 minutes. Basically there were no actual vows, just asking the bride and groom do they take each other etc., to which Dylan responded "Absolutely!" and Britt "Sure! Why not?" They then proceeded with some sort of French wine ritual, involving one of them to pour red wine, the other white, into one container, then pour from that into a glass, and both drink from it. I have to admit, standing there, next to my best friend of almost 8 years, it was hard to fight back tears Shutup!Shutup! what with the sun in my eyes, and trying not to laugh. But I overcame. And at the end, the photographer tried to get the happy couple to step down and take their little processional walk. Britt ignored her and encouraged the guests to start drinking. They all laughed, threw Mardi Gras beads, and took her advice.

Mucho champagne was drunk. The license was signed by the minister, the bride and groom, the best man and myself. I started getting tipsy and made my way over to John Rankin and started talking about random shit that turned into how bad NOLA public schools are. He's a weird guy, with a weird facial tic. All the while pictures were being taken, and I became Britt's bouquet-carrying bitch, but I didn't mind. At one point the photographer came up to me and asked if the wedding was Wiccan. I said, "I think Britt used to be. They're just crazy now." She laughed nervously and moved on. I guess we all did look a bit strange, what with Britt's long red glued-in hair, Dylan's bondage suit and dress shirt, me, Dylan's sister in belly-danceing attire with her piratey husband, the squeaky guy with his goggles, etc. Ah, it was quite a nice experience all in all. It was like 95 degrees, I felt like I was melting, the David Bowie-lookalike minister had sweat running down his temples, and yours truly started to rethink her previous stance on marriage Shutup!Shutup!

The reception was held at Muriel's, on Jackson Square. We all took some crazy shuttle, the old granparents, estranged ex-spouses, grade school/high/ school/college friends, siblings, people from Portland, OR to NYC (moi), all points in-between, and also Scotland. Drinks were imbibed in this lush bordello-inspired room, then we all wento into a bigger hall and started the long, awesome dinner. John Rankin was still playing, and then some little kid, I think one of the kids Dylan taugh at University School of Nashville, got up and started singing with him, standards, Beatles, etc. This kid was like 8 but man he had lungs, quite the little entertainer. I fucking hate children, and don't wanna see any popping out my hooha anytime soon, but gawddamn, if this little sprog had somehow turned up at my doorstep, I would not have turned him away ;)Shutup!Shutup!
Many toasts were given, including a great one by Britt's drunken grandmother, who advised Britt to let her husband be the boss, seconds after admonishing Britt's ancient grandfather for daring to try to take some photos. The best man delivered a drunken speech, as is the tradition, Britt's dad, etc. etc. It came time when Britt looked at me expectantly, but I just couldn't. I was getting fairly inebriated, and just KNEW any speech I tried to give, in all manner of good intentions, would come out as, "Well, I'm glad these two are so happy. Maybe one day I'll have what they have, but probably not. I'll never be loved, and this'll probably be the closest I get to the altar. But Salut just the same, you bunch of fucking happy-mongers," snot and tears mixing with make-up and running down my face, till someone, probably the bride, pulls me down by my arm. I saved thhose lines for the card I gave B&D, so I left it at that.

After Muriel's we went back to the inn and napped for a couple of hours, sleeping off the booze. At 7 a limo picked us up and 10 of us got a nice drive around the city. The best man presented his wedding gift (a purple crucifix dildo) and being all nerdy artists/professors/musician/academians we would occasionally roll down a window and ask another motorist for Grey Poupon. We drank more champagne, and made a few more choice remarks at the people on the street. We got dropped at XIII, where I bought a round of drinks and shots for all of us, like 10 or 12 people, about $50. Not bad. The limo picked us up soon afterwards, and dropped us off at the B&B. We got in cars and drove to Cooter Brown's at the Riverbend. Before going inside, we discovered, and this is fucked up, Britt's old car Yes, it was sitting at the RR tracks, taped up, but obviously still driveable. If there were any doubts as to whether it was actually her car, they were dismissed when, upon opening the unlocked door, Dylan found an old flight ticket stub with his name on it. That's New Orleans for you. Pretty shady when you remember that the auto place told them, a year ago, that the car was unsalvageable, and had a severely-cracked frame. Ah well, what can you do. Britt devided to take the gas cap back with her as a souvenir. Some pool was played, then back to the inn for my last night there. I wished I'd brought my vibrator, but I didn't know before I got into town that I'd have a single room...

More to come!

Taking a trip, I am!

2005-06-02T21:13:19Z

...officially, 24 hours from now I will be planting my feet on the sweaty, bead-covered, vomitous soil of my old New Orleans. I will breathe in deep the smell of beignets and Freon. I will have to shield my eyes from the nearly-equatorial sunlight. And in the short walk from the gate to exit of the airport, SOMEone will bet me $5 they know where I got my shoes. Ahhhhhh, can't fucking waitttttt

And to confess...the Melissa you thought you all knew (or, at least , knew of)...the girl who, as a child, used to smell the chairs right after someone got up...the girl who had to sleep off the effects of Klonopins and alcohol in her car one night in the Quarter, before being able to drive home...the girl who wore a complete ensemble made entirely from various pieces of lingerie when performing years ago, in her friend's composition recital...that very girl will be a Maid (Wench) of Honor at her best friend's wedding Saturday morning. She emailed me, asking me about a week and a half ago. Of course I said yes, even managing to squeeze out a few tears as I hit the "Send" button. Then I went online to research my responsbilities: uhhhhh
Let's just say, I'm PRETTY sure these duties are N/A in this case. Said best friend used to be a professional dominatrix in Kansas City, and made paying customers drink her urine. Anyone who can do that...well, I think she can figure out what kind of icing should go on her cake. Hopefully, I get to wear a special corsage, be featured in all the photos, and make her other female friends jealous. I'm up for all that. As she herself is wearing some kind of $200 rotting victorian wedding gown, I don't think I have to worry about color coordinating. She told me to "dress really weird" to show her other friends why they didn't make the cut bwahahaa My response? "Have I any other choice?"

In the meantime, I still have to get June's rent paid, pay my credit card bill, send off my NY state taxes, tidy up my apt. so my ma doesn't think I'm living in squalor, and finish copying my piano music, so that I can practice without lugging around a million books. I'll be in Nashvegas with mein Mutter 06/08-06/12, so I can get my piano/car/kitty/honky-tonkin'/cheap cigarettes fix before driving back up here. Yes. Nashville to NYC. With just my mom. She's staying with me for a few days, ostensibly to buy me stuff and take me and the old man out to eat (oh yeah, our six-month half-aversary is June 13th, awwww!)

Tonight is "Koyaanisqatsi" at Lincoln Center. I will be travelling solo, all the better to woo my REAL boyfriend, Philip Glass. And, I have my fingers crossed, but it appears that in addition to the live music, the film will be projected as well. Pleeeeeaaaaaase let this be true, Oh ye Saints of Multimedia. Jesus, my seat will be a soaking wet mess after 1 hour and 25 minutes of such masturbatory sensory overload.

P.S. Saw Episode III the other night. Not bad, but the acting?????? Samuel L. Jackson's shining moment HAS to be when he slipped out of character and became the "bad motherfucker" from "Pulp Fiction", "Well that's what the prophesy said, [insert "fool!"]