Now you begin.

Dear Kenley Elise Miller,
Hello.
You look ready.
I love you.
Your Aunt,
Krissy

Eskimo Heart

“Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.”

Inuit.

Propers/BigUps/Paying Dues/Enjoyable Moments:

1. Go see CAPTURED at Collective Hardware 169 Bowery at 8pm tomorrow.



Ben and Dan are very special people.
Though they are both amazingly annoying, they are certainly driven and talented and awesome and I love them.
So.
That is the reasoning behind going to see their movie.
Support them?
Yes.
Do it.
Or else pay the price of being left out.

2. Crystal Moselle is also a little elf of filmmaking.
appréciez svp:


Bijules 2009 from crystal moselle on Vimeo.

fly over the forest howl at the moon lets do this.

Now onto me.
I have some thoughts today.
Here goes.

Opinion.
It is not ok to wear a half pony tail ever.
Unless you are Kimmy Gibler.

Even then, it serves a very specific purpose which is to make your best friend appear way hotter than she actually is in comparison to you.
There is something so gross about the half pony.
Lets call it the centaur.

Opinion.
I think white americans drink a lot more coffee than black americans.
I am basing this on early morning subway rides to work as well as daily observations of patrons of Le Pain Quoditien/Starbucks/a number of delis on Broadway.
I feel as though I would have to do more research on this topic to have it hold any ground, but then I realized another piece of evidence to support my hypothesis...
black americans on tv don't even seem to drink coffee.
Think Seinfeld, Friends, Frasier etc etc. Coffee drinking. You see it. Plenty.
Now think Family Matters, Martin, Bernie Mac Show etc. Did Carl ever sit around drinking coffee? Tommy? Anyone? I feel like the answer is no.
I mean, if I'm wrong I'm wrong. Which I am. Tons.
But this is something I've been thinking about for days.
Obviously I need a hobby.

Opinion.
Twitter is weird.
I never know if I am saying something worth reading or not.
About every 10-12 minutes during the working day, I refresh the Twitterific application on my phone. I apparently need to see what people I know are doing.
Mind you, most of the people who update constantly are people I don't know such as Shaq and Martha Stewart.
I am finding I experience on odd sense of terror when I don't check twitter.
Do I need to know that Martha Stewwies successfully washed her dogs an hour ago?
Yes.
Yes I do.
And that is the terrifying truth about our web obsessed society.

Opinion.
Seeing Morrissey in concert is absolutely not overrated.
Especially if its at Cargenie Hall.
Even if you are in the nosebleeds.
But I would suggest NOT trying to chug a 12 dollar drink in the hall just because you can't bring it to your seat. That is neither fun nor wise.

helloooooo doooown theeeeeeeruh.

Look at them all!
It felt like church is that bizarre?

Menacholy Moz.

Merry Moz!
Melange of emotion, I'm serious.

Not opinion, fact:
I should be wearing these shoes this spring.
So hopefully 800 dollars will drop from the sky.
Theeeinks!

Alexander Wang.
Alexander Boner more like it.
I would take these subs:





Also Fact:
I have retrieved an original Purple Rain Tour muscle tee of rare design.
That is the only thing that matters now.



Final thought of the day is that if Joanna Newsom does not put out a new album soon, I will start to get frustrated.
There are only so many times I can cry tears of joy listening to Cosmia in the middle of the night.

I am willing to bet you won;t watch this, you meaning everyone, but seeing her perform many times, she totally makes me love the magic of life!
I do not mean that even remotely sarcastically.
STALKER STATUS>
Jk I don't stalk her.
Anymore.
Jk I never did!



Or did I.


Heres another one!
This one literally breaks my heart and puts it back together.
I can't really stand it.


Video day!

Yoooooo!

Is it much that I feel I need
A solid soul and the blood I bleed
With a little girl, and by my spouse
I only want a proper house

I don't care for fancy things
Or to take part in a precious race
And children cry for the one who has
A real big heart and a father's grace

I don't mean to seem like I care about material things like a social status
I just want four walls and adobe slabs for my girls


Happy Vals girls <3

santo daime? eh.

I am really going to blow up my own spot right now so please do not be angsty when you get hit in the face with icky schrap(nel)

Seriously, I hate on tons of things about the universe right now.
Part of it is that my job is working with boogery kids, but i CANNOT for the life of me get rid of this 'cold'.
I am one of those cornballs who thinks its all mental like if I drink tea and envision white lights and cures from within I will just wake up healed.
I think the sting in my throat is less infection/germies more heartache/bad vibes.
And if you wanna talk about bad vibes, which I do, here it goes.

I am an idiot.
I have been walking around for years getting myself caught up in situations fully fully aware they are going to suck at some point.
Usually people use their foresight to avoid pain, I think I have accidentally been using it to collide with a shitstorm of dramz.
Then when things go exactly according to shitstorm plan, I'm like, "hey y'all! who feels like listening to me lose my composure? its time to cry and lay in bed feeling awful and hate my soft lil baby heart for being a total sucker."
If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you are lucky because it means you haven't been privy to my most recent descent into "I totally love this person so I'm gonna make it work" territory.
The best part is, this has happened at least 5 times since I was like 16.
I have zero skills in self preservation.
I am that dumb kid who stands next to the stove.
If I touch it agggggain...theres no way its still going to be hot...I thiiiink I should probably check it out...oh whoops that burns! Bummer! I'll be back to take another look see in a few minutes....ok I'm back. Still hot? I think I should def find out....
Yeah, thats where this is going.
Hot stove = hot stove.
Make the correlation.
Stop touching it asshole.
When it comes to matters of the heart, I am a stove toucher to the max.
The realness part of me would absolutely love to just vomit a bunch of sadness and anger onto the internet, but A. blogging won't fix the problem and B. I absolutely love and respect the person whos ruining my life right now, so I really don't think our private matters should keep being bitched about 'publicly'
I really just think the one thing I need to get a handle on is the weird spontaneous break into tears thing on the train.
Its a behavior reserved for folks with terminal illnesses, totally batshit crazy ladies, and people who have just been dumped by like, the person they have lived with for 7 years.
Something along those lines.
I am not one of those people.
But I strangely enough find myself sitting there minding my own business, reading some book, listening to Lil Wayne (not good crying music) and jesus christ.
Whimper. Audible gasp/cry noise. Tears. Shame. Ew. WHATTTT THE FUUUUUCK.
Oh sorry everyone.
Didn't mean to bum you all out.
Great job!

And I always think I'm over it.
I really really do.
But instead of being happier and moving on I just get angry instead.
Secretly furious.
Coping tactics?
Killing it!

Suggestion to self?
OK, I'm going to throw something in the river today as a representation of letting go of my pain and agony.
New age!!!!!!
Super lame and ps I'm not kidding.
I also might have to start a fire somewhere and say a little prayer into it.
Hi healing power elements of the universe,
its me again.
lets do this shit.

Or I will just read this letter out loud:

Dear God,
Love is so awesome! I mean it!
For a couple weeks or days or months or years its really the best.
You can point and laugh at the lonely people because when you are lovingggg, you're in a special club, and who doesn't love special clubs?
Then something shitty happens and you remember its all cyclical. Fighting, sadness, giving in, making up, fucking, relief.
Then like a week later you do it again!
Forever!
Until you decide you do NOT like love that much any more and you say "whatever suckers I'm riding dolo warrior status, being single is fun and awesome and loving is for cornballs"
So you do that for awhile until someone makes you laugh and you wanna hold their hand sometimes and do nice things for them. Oh whoops, not feeling very warrior.
Thats cool though, because remember last time, love was super fun, and actually you didn't fight or cry that much, it was mostly snuggling, right?
Oh yeah!
Then days or weeks or months later, oh bummer, actually there IS a lot of yucky stuff involved with loving, ew we have to have a talk??? That does not sound good. Then theres complaining and bitterness and just all new kinds of dramz!!
So actually God, I think when you came up with this whole concept you should have make human beings either insanely dumb, so they wouldn't think so much, or insanely smart so they could come up with an answer for how to 'make it weeerk'

(Tim Gunn shouts!)
So I have lots of love, but right now i think I should give it to meeee, and give some to you, also.
Because you are balling.

XOXO from Earth
Krissy






PS I'm cold but Manhatta you so pretty










PS speaking of the roles of love, happy 32nd birthday to Lance, hunny bunny of the distant past, who I totally wish I never knew in tons of ways, but theres no way I could say anything about learning to make it werkkkk without him in my life.

Commemoratio omnium Fidelium Defunctorum

Today is All Souls Day.





Those of you who love every opportunity to get shit faced and party, this holiday is like the ever popular Dead of the Dead/Dia de los Muertos.
I mean, I guess you could go to a bar and start yelling "this yagerbomb is for my dead grandma, heres to her getting out of purgatory!!"

But I'm not in that place today so I would rather not.

I think that religion itself is a bit confining and confusing and only mildly effective for the most part.
It brings many people in the world some kind of peace, like a weird little safety net for when their brain gets too analytical and the universe gets too scary.

But to each his or her own, I say.

I never look back and miss attending Sunday mass.
Ever.
The older I got, the more I felt like a nazi. The whoosh sound when everyone stands together at their wooden pews. The weird resigned tone of the prayer chanting. Its not really passionate, its just passive.

But there is something I still have great respect for, and sometimes I wish I had more devotion to.
Praying for things is not catholic or buddhist or jewish or anything else.
Its just human.
I know when I'm praying I am talking to the only God I know, which is within.
My favorite mantra (which is have pinned above my bed, which FREAKS PEOPLE OUT on some occasions) states:
be still and know that I am god
Saying that outload to yourself is just an affirmation.
All my reality is mine, its that simple.
Time and space and feelings and whatever I absorb was of my creation.
This is my everything and I can make it whatever I wish.
Resignation is just not appealing after I have prayed. Because it makes me thankful and reminds me of all the things I still want so very much for myself and for the people I love.

All I'm saying is, we all miss somebody.
We all wonder where they are and how they are and then sometimes we tell a story about them outloud to sort of bring them back.
And that makes people smile!

If you care, here is a traditional prayer for the dead in Latin.
Why?
Maybe you'll want to honor someone who the fuck knows.

Requiem aeternam dona eis,
Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Requiescant in pace. Amen.


Eternal memory. Eternal memory. Grant to your servant(s), O Lord, blessed repose and eternal memory.




All of my love to the people I would not forget, K

I write the blog before the title

I remember long long ago, yesterday morning, when it was not freezing cold.
I swear NY1 used the word Nor'easter to describe todays weather.
Somewhere between 6am and 9am I realized a couple of things.
One: I was still sort of drunk and moderately pukey and there was no Orangina left in *my mug.



*which by the way is the greatest mug in history, and when I say MY mug I am lying because its not mine but I wish it was.

Two: The rain was super intense and the thunder was scaring me.

Anyway I did something a bit out of the ordinary last night, I went to a photo show and actually found myself really interested in all of the work.



I realize its been said before, but America is crazy. Really.
This was a photo slide show with some great music accompanying it.
I guess it was about 45 minutes long and it was captivating the whole time!
Yes!
Captivating!
I don't know a lot about photographers, but I went with Katie and she told me that these people in this show are quite revered.
I was blown away, especially by the work of Eugene Richards and Brenda Ann Kenneally
Beautiful and devastating.
Not much else to say, the work speaks for itself.

Enough of that highfalutin; I know nothing about nothing in terms of this stuff

I am having a really hard time thinking and then typing and making sure it comes out it a way that makes sense.
I think I actually just need to eat pizza. Its like a brain bandaid for me.

So after the projection thing there was a bluegrass band playing, the singer is a friend of Katies and she has a lovely voice.
They sang some really fantastic covers. I liked when they did Jolene.
I did not like it when they sang the Thong Song.


dumps like a truck?
really?
how weird


Anyway, the night found a way to become typically Krissy when I gave my ATM card to run a tab and there was no money on it. I thought I had like 30 dollars, but that was totally a lie to myself.


Heres Katie getting a beer on the tab which can not be paid for.
Don't worry frowny bartender, we won't be coming back.

Four or six drinks later I get the card with a bill, she says it didn't go through. I say I'm going to get another card to pay, take my drink outside to finish it, and disappear.
Great job asshole.
Thanks god my "its complicated" person was home like 3 blocks away.
Because I definitely didn't have money for a cab.
Then I tried to watch True Blood and wore these glasses which made my entire skull hurt.
Pepaw prescription.



I would like to mention, I, unlike my complicated one, am not hip enough to wear things like this.
It just doesn't have the same effect.
I sort of just look like a sad jewish rabbit. I say jewish only because at that angle I remind myself of a very jewwy person I know. I think its the overwhelming forehead and nose.
I'm not being anti-semite everyone knows I fucking love jews.
I feel like this whole thing is going somewhere I'm not comfortable.
I really am not ready for pictures of me in Complicated's room wearing Complicated's glasses talking about loving jews.
I feel like its a window into a world of secrecy.
Get out of my secrets.
(people with blogs don't really have the right to bitch about secrets and windows and privacy and hush hush but some things just have limits)
(this is one of those things)

Maybe I should just move on.


Here is something about graffiti I love.
Hi, why would someone write that??
First of all, I read it and had all these Feelings!!
I was like
how dare!?
Don't you say that about Jack he was a good Catholic boy and he was probably giving Marilyn that snuggly lovebird stuff.
I bet he sent her tons of flowers.
I bet that had lots of role play sex with costumes.
Is that taking it too far?
Maybe.
But I could see them getting absolutely shit housed on some vsop and having fantastic little romps.
But then again.
Who knows?
Maybe he did have her killed.
Maybe she was one of those women who knows the dude is married and not available. But she still called the White House private line at 4am like Jackie baby I miss you. Then she would start crying and threaten to take every pill in the medicine cabinet if he didn't come over right away.
That could be enough to make anybody wanna kill a bitch.
Sigh.
Perilous waters of love.
Ships at sea, such a churning unpredictable sea.
Stephanie and I have a habit of comparing love to water and calling people ships. Or boats. Or canoes. Whatever they happen to be more like.
Example:
Oh Jane. You have had your rowboat tied to this dock for so long now that the waters have eroded too too much of you. You need to cut that rope and float away from the lake of despair and paddle to a great river of truth and passion. Cmon now girlfriend.
(this is what you say to Jane when you don't want to say, hey your boyfriend is the ill dickhead. please stop fucking him immediately.

On a sort of related note,


Katie bought this sexy book for me in Mexico.
I hope she stops "sort of" living there and decides to just live here.
I also hope someone buys me art supplies for Christmas so I can pump out some illustrations like this one.
Its pretty horrible and I love it.


Not horrible:

Being a nanny is amazing when the parent you work for gets their two year old son a guitar and he sits on Rody the blue horse and plays it.
They he throws it on the floor and walks away.
Why?
Because fuck guitars!

More not horrible:

My niece wearing an I LOVE HORSES shirt.
Thats funny, cause me too!

I would like to end with a prayer.

Dear Lord
Please stop stuffing my life with adorable babies.
I appreciate your efforts but its all too much right now.
Also thanks for inventing Italy because I love pizza.
I am going to order some right now and its going to be really delicious.
In closing, you are really funny and cool and I'm really excited that you created me in your image.
Love always,
K

No salt please.

I feel like I am about to mesh with the world of New York that I always hated out of pure jealousy.
The world where people my age work like 2 days a week yet manage to get their rent paid.
Where they like going to said part time job, and they are not exhausted at the end of the day. in fact, they want to go out for a beer afterwards.
They rsvp to parties on Tuesdays and actually go to them.
They eat dinner out at 11pm because they have a craving for raviolis.
They get drunk on days other than Friday and Saturday and and they don't regret it because it doesn't matter.
They don't have to get up at 7am anyway. NBD.
Sometimes around lunchtime they go shopping for a pair of shoes because they haven't bought any since last season.
On the walk home they run into a friend and walk around enjoying the breeze and eating bahn mi.
Who are these people?
Oh.
The happy ones.

Those FUCKING PRICKS.

I think I am on the cusp right now.
Its totally possible that with my new (and quite pleasant) job, I will be Free Time Conley (yes please call me that in casual conversation)
You can catch me somewhere on 2nd below 14th walking around SMILING (yes I do it from time to time) smoking a cigarette, stopping in book stores, drinking iced tea, listening to my ipod, reveling in the surprising August breeze.
Whats with that anyway?
The breeze is killing it this summer.
Every time I have a conversation, its like, "whats with the BREEZE?! Its Amazing! Ugh it feels SO. GOOD!"
Totally true, it does feel SO GOOD.

Last night me Jiji and Sam went to the Metal Mag launch party, which by the way.... not metal at all.
Its some artsy fashion shit out of Barcelona.
Everyone there was beyond fashion.
They had all traveled to a wrinkle in time where fashion isn't even a word its an allmighty Power.
I feel kind of like a dick in my little flowery dress and suede ankle booties. Looking like you are 15 is fantastic for getting laid, but not really anything else.
Men are perverts like that, and I take full advantage.

Anyway, this story related to the breeze.
It was super super hot in the gallery where the party was, thank god they were serving margaritas (with actual Cuervo what a nice surprise)
There was almost no way we were going to stick around for more than an hour.
No one in this city gives a shit about temperature control anymore.
Parties left and right... never AC. Not even highly effective oscillating fans. Its total bullshit.
They aren't going green they are just cheap bastards who are tired of astronomical Con Ed bills every month.
So without fail, EVERY SINGLE TIME there is a party, a gallery thing, live music, a screening, anything...
75 fucking people end up outside in the street smoking and enjoying the breeze.
I feel like its totally fateful and magical, God is like hey guys leave your drink by the door inside and get comfs on a stoop. Check out the breeze I'm blessing you bitches with!
Sometimes God calls us bitches yes. We were created in his image, but hes like you guys didn't do a great job, so I will call you names once in awhile.

My room smells really weird, like a wet bathing suit.
Worst smell ever.
I think its coming from my soul.
Oh maybe you should tidy up Krissy!
I will in fact tidy up, sure, because its WEDNESDAY and I DON'T HAVE TO GO TO WORK.


Enjoy the breeze!
(Nancy Glazier always killing it!)
(link=prints you could always buy me for my birthday AHEM September 5th)

Change Your Clocks.

Don't forget that!

Time is going by, things are happening.

I broke my phone long ago and it has been holding out for a couple months now, sometimes working, sometimes not. i basically bought it because I wanted 2MP camera and the radio capabilities. So i got the genius idea...maybe the next phone I get, I should buy it for CALLING PEOPLE.

Then I went on ebay and somehow ended up with this:


LG Shine!

Its called the Shine because its fucking shiny. The screen is literally a mirror. Sometimes when I buy things like this I realized I really truly am a girl and there is nothing I can do about it.
This is not a phone a man would buy.
Because in 5 minutes it will be covered in fingerprints and sour cream and onion chip dust.
Something will inevitably crack and I will be so pissed off I will want to kill myself.
Because when this phone stops being shiny, what is it?
Just another thing I bought that I hate.
I got it because its pretty, ok? So three months from now when I spill a beer on it or drop it in the bathtub while I'm gossiping with TallyDeadDead, don't feel bad for me at all.
I did this to myself.

I need phone numbers too, by the way. Which is a task I truly hate.
Who do you even ask for numbers from?
There is bound to be at least a few awkward moments trying to refill the phone book. Not only that, some people will really think that I want their number when I totally don't. And I'm a shit liar so I will probably just end up being like, nah I'm good. Really. Thanks though.


So lets get personal.
Then lets get physical.
Then lets get outta town.

I am a bit unfamiliar with the feeling, but I am almost embarrassed about my actions lately. (See most recent blog entry for reasons)
I go through these very absurd phases where I definitely drink too much and I stop being dependable and kind and I have one foot out the door of the acceptable behavior universe. I start to do things without thinking about how it effects the people around me and then when I get yelled at, I turn into a serious fucking jerk and fall back on the definitive Krissy statement, "Go fuck yourself i don't need your annoying ass anyway. Kick rocks pal."
You can interchange those words with other words, but its always the same idea which is: Yes I see youre mad, no I don't care, and in a way, its funny to me.
I usually don't mean it, but I am prettttay pretttay convincing when I am in the mood.

Unfortunately for the poor souls who I emotionally abuse at times, I do not believe in therapy. i don't want to be a Pavlovs dog, I don't want to be taught "new innovative ways" to shut the fuck up and be an adult. I don't want "external support without judgement" or an "impartial ear."
Because I see that as the great manipulation.
To be listened to by a stranger. And they give you that calm look. But behind that there are calculations going on, so clinical that you stop being a human and you become a problem for someone else to solve. I am not a Rubiks cube, I'm just an immature jerk. Thats really it.

So as I have said before, and will surely say again. I. am a work in progress.

And one day I won't just be a jokester. i will also be fully humbled and openminded and considerate. And I reeeeeeally reeeeeally think I can do that.


I promise.
But for now, give me a break.
(Insert Kit Kat bar reference here)

Deeper still.
If you have the patience time or desire, i suggest you read this. I suppose it is where my reflection stems from as of late. I know people HATE to read things on blogs that are not about sex/fun/parties/gossip/being hip but I still want to share it, because I have been reading it over for awhile now and its something I want to bring to the table.

QUESTIONS TO AND COMMENTS BY SRI RAMANA MAHARSHI:
Atyashrami, teacher, poet, self inquiry advocate


What is the path of inquiry for understanding the nature of the mind?


That which rises as 'I' in this body is the mind. If one inquires as to where in the body the thought 'I' rises first, one would discover that it rises in the heart. That is the place of the mind's origin. Even if one thinks constantly 'I' 'I', one will be led to that place. Of all the thoughts that arise in the mind, the 'I' thought is the first. It is only after the rise of this that the other thoughts arise. It is after the appearance of the first personal pronoun that the second and third personal pronouns appear; without the first personal pronoun there will not be the second and third.




How will the mind become quiescent?


By the inquiry 'Who am I?'. The thought 'who am I?' will destroy all other thoughts, and like the stick used for stirring the burning pyre, it will itself in the end get destroyed. Then, there will arise Self-realization.




What is the means for constantly holding on to the thought 'Who am I?'


When other thoughts arise, one should not pursue them, but should inquire: 'To whom do they arise?' It does not matter how many thoughts arise. As each thought arises, one should inquire with diligence, "To whom has this thought arisen?". The answer that would emerge would be "To me". Thereupon if one inquires "Who am I?", the mind will go back to its source; and the thought that arose will become quiescent. With repeated practice in this manner, the mind will develop the skill to stay in its source. When the mind that is subtle goes out through the brain and the sense-organs, the gross names and forms appear; when it stays in the heart, the names and forms disappear. Not letting the mind go out, but retaining it in the Heart is what is called "inwardness" (antar-mukha). Letting the mind go out of the Heart is known as "externalisation" (bahir-mukha). Thus, when the mind stays in the Heart, the 'I' which is the source of all thoughts will go, and the Self which ever exists will shine. Whatever one does, one should do without the egoity "I". If one acts in that way, all will appear as of the nature of Siva (God).




Are there no other means for making the mind quiescent?


Other than inquiry, there are no adequate means. If through other means it is sought to control the mind, the mind will appear to be controlled, but will again go forth. Through the control of breath also, the mind will become quiescent; but it will be quiescent only so long as the breath remains controlled, and when the breath resumes the mind also will again start moving and will wander as impelled by residual impressions. The source is the same for both mind and breath. Thought, indeed, is the nature of the mind. The thought "I" is the first thought of the mind; and that is egoity. It is from that whence egoity originates that breath also originates. Therefore, when the mind becomes quiescent, the breath is controlled, and when the breath is controlled the mind becomes quiescent. But in deep sleep, although the mind becomes quiescent, the breath does not stop. This is because of the will of God, so that the body may be preserved and other people may not be under the impression that it is dead. In the state of waking and in Samadhi, when the mind becomes quiescent the breath is controlled. Breath is the gross form of mind. Till the time of death, the mind keeps breath in the body; and when the body dies the mind takes the breath along with it. Therefore, the exercise of breath-control is only an aid for rendering the mind quiescent (manonigraha); it will not destroy the mind (manonasa).


Like the practice of breath-control, meditation on the forms of God, repetition of Mantras, restriction on food, etc., are but aids for rendering the mind quiescent.

Are you there God? its me Krissy.

This is what happened last night.
It is by far the most revealing and intimate thing about myself I would/will ever put on some stupid blog. And that makes me feel very silly.
But I want my friends to feel how I feel, because it is wonderful.

kristycottonly (3:11:27 AM): i am crying!
kristycottonly (3:11:35 AM): i had a dream!
gosling83 (3:11:39 AM): WHY
gosling83 (3:11:41 AM): what?//
gosling83 (3:11:43 AM): what happened?
kristycottonly (3:11:57 AM): i could hear morrissey
kristycottonly (3:12:14 AM): and i saw a white egg frying but it had been two eggs
kristycottonly (3:12:19 AM): and it looked so lovely
gosling83 (3:12:24 AM): yes
kristycottonly (3:12:50 AM): and then the two eggs began to get cut apart lkike razored into two separate shapes
kristycottonly (3:13:07 AM): and a male voice from far away whispers
kristycottonly (3:13:18 AM): dont, im afraid!
kristycottonly (3:13:25 AM): becasuse they are separating
kristycottonly (3:13:33 AM): ad a female whispers
kristycottonly (3:13:41 AM): we have to it is ok
kristycottonly (3:13:48 AM): and the male whisper says no no
kristycottonly (3:13:51 AM): and is so afraid
gosling83 (3:13:56 AM): wow
kristycottonly (3:13:58 AM): and it keeps cutting
kristycottonly (3:14:14 AM): and suddendly it sparates an it in constaellatioins in the sky
kristycottonly (3:14:33 AM): and time in going slowly ro my eyes but its like years
kristycottonly (3:14:36 AM): but no time
kristycottonly (3:14:47 AM): ans then the two shapes collide and become a new thing
kristycottonly (3:14:57 AM): like a cluster
kristycottonly (3:15:11 AM): and the female whisper says i cxan feel you!
kristycottonly (3:15:30 AM): and they are happy and they are in and out of the screen in my head
gosling83 (3:15:40 AM): i odnt even know what to say
kristycottonly (3:15:41 AM): and then back and hit someone else and become another thing
gosling83 (3:15:45 AM): just save this concersation
kristycottonly (3:15:54 AM): but with some of their peices still togther
kristycottonly (3:15:57 AM): with some blue
kristycottonly (3:16:00 AM): and some animal
kristycottonly (3:16:08 AM): and some eactother
kristycottonly (3:16:25 AM): i can feel they happy and whole in their hearts!
kristycottonly (3:16:30 AM): and i work up crying!
gosling83 (3:16:39 AM): a bad cyring?
kristycottonly (3:16:42 AM): and i could still hear music that was in my head
gosling83 (3:16:43 AM): or a overwhlemed crying
kristycottonly (3:16:48 AM): overwhelmed
gosling83 (3:16:50 AM): with all of this?

gosling83 (3:16:52 AM): are you ok?

kristycottonly (3:16:59 AM): yes i just woke up tinking
kristycottonly (3:17:09 AM): i must have seen this somewhere
kristycottonly (3:17:09 AM): but where?
kristycottonly (3:17:11 AM): i dont know
kristycottonly (3:17:21 AM): i thought it ws a memory of something like a movie
kristycottonly (3:17:24 AM): but its not
gosling83 (3:17:44 AM): it sounds like a strange sceience film
kristycottonly (3:17:53 AM): it wasnt eggs like human in the begginning in was like a chicken egg with no yolk
kristycottonly (3:18:06 AM): i sw them crack and sizzle a little
kristycottonly (3:18:15 AM): just had to clarify that
gosling83 (3:18:32 AM): i asssumed it was chicken eggs
kristycottonly (3:18:36 AM): and i cant think of the morrissey song
kristycottonly (3:18:40 AM): i can hear it a little
kristycottonly (3:18:45 AM): its like the saddest song
kristycottonly (3:18:50 AM): but not
kristycottonly (3:18:53 AM): its sweet
gosling83 (3:19:49 AM): i just hope you are ok though
gosling83 (3:19:53 AM): not shaken to omuch or anything
kristycottonly (3:20:08 AM): im fine now
gosling83 (3:20:13 AM): ok
gosling83 (3:20:14 AM): good
kristycottonly (3:20:18 AM): i ws just so something
kristycottonly (3:20:24 AM): and i wanted to tell you
gosling83 (3:20:52 AM): thank you
gosling83 (3:20:54 AM): i am glad you did
gosling83 (3:20:56 AM): i felt the rush
gosling83 (3:20:59 AM): if that makes any sense
gosling83 (3:21:02 AM): i am glad you remembered it
kristycottonly (3:21:22 AM): yes
gosling83 (3:21:55 AM): are you going to go back to sleep
kristycottonly (3:22:02 AM): yes
gosling83 (3:22:10 AM): ok good
gosling83 (3:22:18 AM): go to sleep
gosling83 (3:22:21 AM): lets talk tomorrow
gosling83 (3:22:22 AM): love you
gosling83 (3:22:24 AM): thank you for sharing
gosling83 (3:22:25 AM): xxxx
kristycottonly (3:22:30 AM): love you xx


* so I went through and played a bunch of Smiths songs trying to see which one it was in my dream.
It was There Is A Light That Never Goes Out.

It feels very foolish to have faith until you remember why you do.

Get on tappa theeat.

Awesome's Creek

So yeah, Tally Dead Dead asked me how it went hanging out with this guy (blush!) the other night
and I was like ummmmm AWESOME.
Then he said, "Oh, Awesome's Creek?"
Sometimes I get so pissed off when Tally says funny things I should have thought up ages ago.
Ugh.

Ok, today was awful. Really!? Why!?
Because it's Tuesday, forgetful! You know how I feel about the Tues.
Poosday.

I was walking in drizzle around 2:25 this afternoon pushing a stroller wishing I could just put my hands in my pockets. January has truly fucked up my knuckles. Sigh.
I'm waiting to cross the street at 66th and 2nd, and this little boy and his mom come out of Dunkin Donuts. I'm waiting there just observing while this awful troll of a kid
has an appalling temper tantrum.
He's bitching and doing the crocodile tears thing and his mom is just basically ignoring him. She's not even reprimanding him. He's just acting disgusting and bratty, I know what thats like, I'm a nanny. Sometimes you just have to act like it's not happening, but this went to far for my liking.

Cross my heart and my legs, seriously, next thing I know, he just rears back his bitty foot and tries to KICK a PIGEON.
Like he wanted it to die. It just ruffled up its feather and wandered off, because luckily enough the kid was no real threat, horrid aim.
I think about kicking pigeons all the time, we all do. But I've never actually done it. I'm an adult, but seriously. What?
It's like when you're driving on a highway and you get a flash in your mind of just whipping the steering wheel and careening off the road for no reason. Impulses, really awful destructive ones. Yeah, I'm super hateful and I scowl at the birds and picture them dead and buried, but thats not the point.

Anyway back to antichrist kid.



I was thinking to myself, what a total asshole. But then i thought some more and decided it's not really his fault. He's a little kid who lives in New York. Pigeons are nast. Rats with feathers. I'm an adult with common sense and I have to restrain myself from the impulse to kick regularly.
Suburbs are good for something I suppose.
Less anger toward nature, because nature is less haggard looking outside of the metropolis. And there's less poop in the suburbs somehow. All the New York creatures poop wherever and just stroll around like they own the joint.
Pigeons vs Humans.
The day will come.


After that whole sitch I thought my brain was decomposing so I listened to In Rainbows on the bus on the way home from work.



The bus is awesome sometimes because it's masturbatory when idling. Don't front y'all!
Vibration aside, I think I discovered a new plane of existence.
Thom Yorke is so genius, so sweet and beautiful.
When he writes a song I wonder how exactly does he know that it will make me weep gently?
Sigh.
Sometimes I love music so much that I can't take it.
I would rather be blind than deaf. I hope god doesn't think that was a challenge cause I really don't want to be blind either.
For once, I am struck almost speechless. When I try to talk about music.
Because I can't make it. I can only love it and love it and love it and I think it is one thing that can make people feel sane again.

I just think if I couldn't hear music I would forget myself.




"I am all the days that you choose to ignore
You're all I need"

class in sesh

I thought of Prince on the train this morning. Nothing new, I think of him at least once a day then give MYSELF the speech you have all heard. In my head. About how he is the greatest musician of our time.
I have done college dissertations on his album catalogue.
I have flown to L.A. to see the opening show of his tour.
I have sat front row at MSG pissing myself reveling in the glory that is.
I have stopping liking people solely based on the fact that they "don't get it."
I BELONG. TO HIS FAN CLUB.


Shut up.


I have spend drunken hours playing his shit to people who really really do not want to hear it.
I stop the tracks and lean in close to Person A or Person B, breathing my stank vodka fumes at them and say things like,
"LOOK.
DO YOU FUCKING HEAR THE STRINGS?
DO YOU HEAR THEM?
ONE MAN! ONE MAN. ONE MAN AND A PASSION.
A PASSION YOU COULD ONLY DREAM OF YOU ASSHOLE.

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE DUDE.

YOU OBVIOUSLY DONT GET IT.

FUCKING JERK."

Sometimes I sing too which is totally worse than the speeches. It's just appalling.
My mum played Prince in the house when I was wee. He is literally the man in my life. The smallest sexiest dwarf of a man.
With relaxed hair.
And bitch boots.


Unfortunately, the man has blocked all usage of his material on the internet. Hes a sly fuckin fox!

So in the place of him, I give you a decent runner up.
When I first heard a live recording of just him and a piano, performing this song I was basically like DAMN yeah how COME. HOW. COME.
The perils.
The modern perils.
I feel 16 again.

PS. If you read this post and then skip the video, you're a bigger jerk than I thought.

Go to school on this one.