Tuesday, May 26, 2009


If you want this blog post to be funny and lighthearted, please bear with me.
I don't know if you will be too impressed.
But at the very least I want you to know I have some things I want to share with you that could change today or tomorrow or next year, I really don't give a fuck when.


Tally Dead Dead found something he wrote a month ago. It was a number of things written actually, but one of them corresponded to moi.
I was really flattered and pleased to know he develops theories on my being, also amazed at how insightful it was.
It said,
"A girl who does not know what she looks like, so she wears a mask to know what she looks like."

Very apropos, seeing as I've been reading a book called "Mindfulness and Psychotherapy."
My strange perception of self has lead me to read this text despite the fact that it is written specifically for licensed therapists.
I am not a therapist.
In fact, I refuse to even see a therapist, at least the traditional Freudian "tell me about your father" type.

This book really is full of gems, let me tell you.
Mindfulness is just about living in the exact moment.
Western psych tells us that if we feel sad or are "maladapted" it is because we are wounded. Our esteem, or our outlook, our personal mental state is scarred and is reacting to the rest of the universe in a less than advantageous way.
What I'm learning is this...
It is not about wounds at all.
When I am being in the moment, something will always be happening.
It is not that these things happening are inherently bad, or will lead to certain suffering; it is my reaction when I internalize and interpret it that causes suffering.

Par Examplay:
If some dude turns into a fagget and sends me some text I don't like the tone of, I can CHOOSE to let it affect my mindset or not.
The actions in the universe are so out of my hands, its not even funny.
What if I just looked at the text and let it wash over me.
OK. That happened. Wipe my hands of it. No big whoop.
Maybe later I can ask what it was all about.
Or not!
Thats the amazing thing, my brain can do whatever it wants as a response to stimuli.
Real talk.

Another solid idear:
If we practiced Eastern psychology, which is where mindfulness stems from, we would see that happiness is achieved more effectively when we abandon the idea that we are a separate entity.
You eat an apple.
The apple is not you, right?
You're holding it!
Theres you.
Theres a piece of fruit.
Not rocket science.
Even in your stomach its still not you right, because you could vomit?
What about as the sugars enter you and break down to become energy?
There is no longer this distinct barrier between the self and the object that was so distinctly "not you."
So who really gives a fuck about this whole "sense of self" hoopla?
There is no self.
Theres a bunch of conscious energy bound up in this body we walk around in, bumping into other stuff, trying to find all of these answers, searching for this unattainable answer.
And we think we find it by that know 'know thyself' journey.
I am not saying its a waste of time, not at all.
But there is a sigh of relief for me thinking that I don't have to know just who I am.
I could just shrug.
I could literally be a living SHRUG.
Its sort of like Wooderson from Dazed and Confused.
Shit just is how it is.
Right on right on.

There are so many things I am thinking about in relation to what I am an where I am and how I can move closer to this happiness monks and gurus and 'glass half-fullers' rave about.
I would hope one day that I'm so good at being happy that I can start working on being enlightened!
This is so far down the road it is almost laughable but a girl has to have goals, no?

Part of knowing myself would be knowing that my peace and well-being can not be transplanted into me via the acceptance from others.
There is no lover to fill me enough, theres no baby to adore me enough, theres no friend to support me enough.
And although it sounds bleak, it isn't.
I think its strangely comforting to know that no one else has that power.
I do maybe, if I work really hard.
I swear to god, I do.
So do you, by the way.

OK now say it.
Fuck you Krissy for being so self-righteous.
You smug little bitch.
You don't know shit about shit, you think just because you read some books and had a thought provoking day you get to bore the daylights out of everyone now.
I would be saying that if I were reading this coming from someone else.
But that my friends is because I'm an admitted Hater. Please note the capital H.
I hate on people like dogs pee on territory.

There is something on my mind in fact, and its about feeling rejected.
It is pretty all-consuming this afternoon and it has a real sting to it.
That makes me a hypocrite a little, considering all of the things I just said.
But saying it might help me get past it.
My fingers are perma-crossed at the moment.
Great thanks.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

I could name my kid Ladies and Gentlemen if I want to.


I met someone.

But now I'm back.

I don't have anything else to say on that topic so lets all just move on, shall we?

This is awkward......

I was also totally jobless for a few weeks there and was so beyond depressed I forgot how to drink, forgot how to write, forgot how to get along with people, and forgot how to get up before noon.
I don't think I realized my whole life was changing right before my very eyes, like going through puberty and getting your period in gym class.
There is a relation, I'm just not sure if its all that direct.

I don't even know what I want to blog about.
I don't even know if I remember how to blog.
Brace yourselves.

For starters, summer will begin soon.
Washington Square Park looks amazing and sounds amazing and today I saw Matthew Modine riding an orange bike around the fountain.
He is both taller and sexier than I had previously assumed.
The Deenster (what I am going to secretly call him)
is not in the fountain picture, but use your imagination plus this recent picture from some New York publication of Deenster on said ugly bike.

Part of me wants to discuss what he was wearing today and how his hair was darker, but I think I have already devoted too much energy to a C list celebrity and his jaunt in the park.

New topic.
Madonna, your boyfriend is a teenage homosexual and you are a senior citizen wearing school girl collars.
Please abort your mission to be the grossest woman on the planet right nyah.

Oh wait, I'm sorry, to be the grossest woman on the planet you would have to be wearing these:

I feel like those are used 'sexually'
and that makes me uncomfs.


Ew second trimester pregnant centaur hippie reading the news.
You look like you are made of dough covered in fleece.
I hate you very much.
You do not qualify and one of the 'coolest homemade costumes' as your website implies.

Time for another shitty famous person story.
This is a table full of old ladies who I assumed to be lesbionics, at Max Fish:

I could sit here for the rest of my life trying to determine why these people would ever be at Max Fish in the first place, but that is of little consequence.
The only thing that matters is that moments after taking this picture, they have to squeeze together a lil bit to make room for their pal coming to the table.
Cathy Mitchell?


Josh Hartnett.
Josh Hot-nett.
So Hot-nett sits with these women who he is apparently besties with, or maybe hes fucking all of their daughters I don't know.
It was weird and that is the end of that story.
Also weird, Tally Dead Dead came into the city that night and met Molly for the first time.
This is only something you would care about if you were one of the two of them.
But it was exciting and they are both tall.
And they both sort of look like mice.

I should get in the shower right now because Porto is coming over so we can buy dinner ingredients from Pathmark with her food stamps.
But I have more things to talk about I think.

This is who I spend my mornings with now:

If you give me a soft thing with fabric of many colors, I will look at it for 6-8 seconds I think. Then I will put it down and it will not have changed anything about my existence.
Judging by le behebeh's expression, I do not think we could say the same for him.
His head is very large and his feet very small.
He is one of the cutest things I have ever seen, even surpassing those pictures of chimps hugging kittens or otters kissing.
Those of you who have previously wondered why I continue to be a nanny, there you go.

end of story.

On a more terrifying note.
Chinatown continues to fail.

Capsizing buildings?
No big whoop.
Just rope off Pike Street for a week or so and hope the giant pieces of concrete teetering don't drop on the commoners.

This blog is now over and I am going to get ready to do this:

I shall return, this time with shorter blog hiatus.