You may have noticed a! I guess I may have been spending too much time checking out my friend Thomas' fotolog The Use of Fiction. A few days ago I decided that my clients fantasies were SO much more interesting than what was actually going on in my life that I would start sharing them with you; however my last few calls were short and somewhat boring/inappropriate.

Me: Hi there. Who's this?

client: This is John and I have a huge cock.

Me: That's nice John, why are you calling me today?

client: I want you to suck my knob

Me: Really John, that's not what I'm here for. I'm here for you to serve me. Are you ready to descend toward poverty in my name?

client: I want you to suck my cock.

Me: John, that will never, ever happen. If you are lucky, I might allow you to suck some cock while I watch. Would you like to be my little slut John?

client: No, I want you to suck my cock.

Me: Wow John, not only are you a pathetic insignificant male, you are stupid too. Did you see my listing on the web or did you only hear me on the phone?

client: I heard you on the phone and I want you to suck my cock.

Me: Aaaaahh, I see. Were you mezmerized by my sexy voice? Do you need a strong woman to take advantage of you?

client: No, I just want you to suck my huge cock

click....What the fuck? There are dozens of chicks available for straight up phone sex, why call me? All of my listings say "DOMINATION." My phone intros are about "Let's MAX OUT your credit cards" and "Professional Dominatrix demands financial worship." There is no cock sucking involved in those two things! Whatever, I promise I will relate a better call soon.


So guess where Tori & C were at 5 am christmas morning? The pix are HOT and they both maintain that they didn't see another soul until 5 minutes after they finished the shoot. I've been spending quite a bit of time doing Keen/Niteflirt calls and am thoroughly enjoying myself. Particularly this financial domination fetish. Sure I got gifts as a prodomme. I own a $2000 custom made David Menkes 5 piece leather outfit and yes I was flown to London to attend the Rubber Ball a few years ago. However, I have never before been given straight up gifts. There were always implications, insinuations, the slave that bought the leather for me stopped seeing me because I chose to go out with friends on a night that he said he "really needed me." And the trip to London was great, but I had to suffer through attempting to teach my client's girlfriend how to really dominate him, since even though they switched, he completely topped her from below. Today, in addition to the cash I earned from his phone calls, a client sent me a $50 Amazon gift certificate. I bought three items that were on my wishlist: the Audition dvd, Martin Gore's Counterfeit CD and a hot air popcorn popper. I am particularly pleased since at the time he sent me the gift certificate, I had not yet received a single gift this holiday season and was somewhat bummed about that. I have since collected an Elizabeth Arden Red Door Spa gift certificate and a bunch of Happy Bunny stuff. I LOVE HAPPY BUNNY!!!! I haven't gotten it yet, but I fully intend to purchase the item below: Is it perfect or what!?!?


So it seems that even though I am stuck in a record/bookstore for over a hundred hours a week, all of my interests are of the prurient variety. My boyfriend recently took some pix for a friend of ours who will soon be a SuicideGirl. She has "gone pink" which I guess means they'll be posting her nekkid pix very soon. Her name on that site is Tori, so check her out. They talk nearly everyday trying to figure out where to shoot her next set as the powers that be over there are sick of bedroom shots. They want something more creative, so current locations in the running include the subway (but she heard that's been done before) and they both independently came up with the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park

So I had a session last week. It was phenomenal. He was a client I picked up on, he is my best client from that site and to date I have earned $714.74 chatting with him while he pays $2.99/minute. Over the last few weeks he has gone on about what a heavy masochist and complete pain slut he is and after the day I had following my last post (laptop fell & the screen shattered, the shop flooded because the community access tenant upstairs can't flush a toilet properly) I had plenty of stress that I was looking forward to taking out on his ass. And so...I did. Afterward I walked something like 30 blocks in the cold feeling powerful and sexy. I'm sure it was a combination of my swagger, my shiny blow-job-red lips and the leather boots I was wearing, but more men checked me out during that stroll than have in the last three months. I am not particularly interested in what psychological defect I have that causes this chain of events (domme-work=immediate increase in projected selfworth/attractiveness) and as unhealthy as it may be, I'm glad it exists.


I have new daily reading: Belle de Jour diary of a london call girl. I guess having stuck my toes (literally, hehehe) back into the sex industry has sent me looking for other intelligent, still sane people who can actually separate their sex work from their real lives. It isn't that I haven't met a few at our dungeon, but they are rare. I stopped at the new studio tonight on my way to break into my old boss' apartment to feed her cats. The dungeon moved over 2 months ago, but I haven't done any sessions and have been lazy about checking it out. Misa was there doing a photo shoot, and it was terrific to see her. There are only 2 rooms up and running for now and I have an intense preference for the red room over the white. Of course there aren't any pix up yet on the web to show you, but I'm sure they'll be there eventually.


My week in review: Sunday night--deep stress and fear regarding pending visit with Dr. Zaroff for neuro-psych evaluation as recommended by one of our couples therapists due to excessive memory issues. I'd never experienced this fear of going to the doctor's office. I haven't had a root canal and my childhood dentist was a family friend. My first gyn exam was with a friendly middle-aged woman who was upset with her assistant for having had me disrobe before meeting her; after inserting the speculum, she had me sit up and handed me a mirror so I could "see what's going on down there." No doc related stress ever. But this time I was really scared that I was going to find out that I have a tumor, or brain eating bacteria or even that my brain had irrepairably atrophied from lack of use and that within months or years I'd be a drooling idiot. In short, scared. So Monday afternoon, C and I go in for the hour long preliminary interview, he leaves and I spend the next five hours arranging colored blocks, trying to recall grocery lists, filling in circles with #2 pencils and naming animals and colors. The results? I'm "of superior intelligence" with lower than average short memory/thought organization processes and once I start taking my effexor regularly and deal with the depression/mood swings/ADHD that have been present since I was 16, I'll be fine. Tell me something I didn't know when I walked in the door!"


For someone who works well over 100 hours a week, I am suddenly very busy outside the shop. Well, not really, I guess babysitting for a 5 month old, going to MORE movies and being paid to chat via keen isn't actually a social life, but it feels good. Tonight C and I made three sets of conflicting plans. The first was to see Gone With The Wind, but we thought that was tuesday. The second was the one i was actually interested in. Ben Lee playing a Jane Magazine party at Bloomingdales. But the third is the one we will actually attend, a documentary about Gary Wilson a possibly not even one hit wonder guy. He had this album in the 70s, but it seems to be a NYC rock culty thing, so of course we'll be there.


Went to see Gone With the Wind up at Loews 34th st for their classics @$5 last night, but it is playing thursday NOT tuesday. So instead we headed down to Union Square and saw Alien (the director's cut) followed by a "sneak into" Scary Movie 3. We already bought tickets to YOU THINK YOU REALLY KNOW ME: THE GARY WILSON STORY up at Lincoln Center for Thursday, so I guess I will remain a GWTW virgin.


I spent time in my bed last night for the first time since wednesday night. Thursday night I slept @ C's mom's apartment in Queens which we are finally packing up for storage, now that she's been gone a year and a half. The I worked until Saturday evening when I went to see NEW MODEL ARMY!!!. They haven't played the US in 10 years and I found out about the last show the day after it happened. Not only did I go to this show, I got in for free ('cuz I was on the list, yo!), but I went to the early and the late show!!!! Joy. Joy. Joy. Then I came back to work, until Sunday afternoon when it was time to head off to AMMI for the Tim Burton fest (let no one tell you that the Batman movies are worth seeing) followed by Kurosowa's Seven Samauri. It is 50 years old, over 3 hours long and undoubtably one of the best films I have ever seen.


Happy (belated) Birthday brain bleed! It seems I've been posting every now and again for over a full year. I really thought it had only been a few months. While I was officially NOT doing my work today, I found this interview with Adrian Tomine on bookslut. I haven't read Optic Nerve in years, but I remember giving away multiple copies of 32 stories because I felt my friends NEEDED to read it.

How sad and wrong is it to take advantage of the incredibly difficult housing situation in NYC? There are so many crimes to choose from! I charged two-thirds of my rent for a (maybe) 5x7 room in my railroad tenement that I cut through to use the toilet. At least my roommates over the years chose that particular indignity. Yesterday, my boyfriend and a friend, who has posted on craigslist for potential roommates for her oh-so-punk, exceedingly dingy Williamsburg place, decided to start videotaping the interviews. Surreptitiously, of course. But how entertaining does this whole little exercise become, when the bass player from a one-hit-wonder band shows up to check out the space and starts talking about the b-list celebs he hung out with the night before? And how he woke up sans cash & cellphone? hehehe, I'm so easily amused.


I set up a webcam at work! It was up for quite awhile before any of the staff even noticed. So glad they are an observant and responsible bunch! So it is actually not completely public, basically only you & I know the link [edited 1/15/04 to add: sorry kids, the link is no longer active, so I have removed it]. But for those of my friends who have been sending me the "I'm worried, are you still alive?" emails, now you can check in on me anytime you please.

My other current timewasting obsession is my listing on keen/niteflirt. Uh-oh I just put links to both of my jobs in one entry on my anonymous blog! Whatever, since I've only ever gotten 2 comments on the damn thing and all search engine inquiries that end up here are people actually looking for info on bleeding brains (not of the zombie variety), I'm not all that concerned. After all I'm obviously some attention/recgnition seeking loser anyway, right? Want to hear a little confession? I edited my bio page on the shop's site to include my whole name because I was dissatisfied with the results I got when I googled myself.


Wow, I just heard about something very sad. Elliot Smith killed himself. I just put on Needle in the Hay, his music never depressed me, I found it, just maybe vaguely hypnotizing. Excellent background/soundtrack music.


As per usual, I've been deeply neglectful in my blogging duties. I'm still going to OA meetings, but am somewhere deep in a relapse. Last night I bought a box of Entenmanns eclairs and started eating them on my walk home. But I actually did not log on to whine about my relationship with food. I was properly wasting time at work when I googled crayola for a listing of colors and at their site I discovered that you can order a-discontinued (retired) colors and b-a whole box of any color you want! How cool is that?!?! Just wanted to share.


I have cried about food so many times in the last week. This weekend was particularly fraught with moments. On Saturday I ate brunch with my sponsor in the West Village and met C at Old Devil Moon afterward, where he was eating our typical fisherman's breakfast. I had just eaten less than three hours prior. I was not hungry. However, sitting in a restaurant, not eating and watching C's biscuit ritual proved to be more than I could handle calmly. Each spoonful of peach preserves that he spread across the biscuit bothered me more. The craving and desire for that food was so intense that I started to shake. I actually had to get up and walk out of the restaurant. I felt insane. It was a fucking biscuit with peach preserves. So I sat outside and was about to make some OA calls so I could share my insanity, but then the shop called my phone and I had to bring it in to C. I went back out and looked at my meeting list and planned out which ones I would go to this week. That was enough. I didn't go to the bakery across the street, but mind you I was well aware it was there.


Today I have seven days of abstinence, but due to my work schedule I will not make it to a meeting today. That sucks, is it totally selfish and egotistical to want that wild cheer because I haven't abused myself with food for a week? I used the phone tool for the first time yesterday with someone other than my sponsor. He had recommended 4 calls a day--one to someone in program longer than me, one with less time, a friend and him. Last night my phone rang and it was someone from OA! We chatted for about 20 minutes and I am SO grateful that she called me. I hit a meeting right after and left feeling really good. After the meeting i called a few other people whose numbers I took from we care books, but got 2 machines before I got a person. At first she seemed a touch uncomfortable with my call. We don't know eachother at all other than the 2 sentence exchange we had nearly 3 weeks ago when I took her number. But she quickly recalled me and after some fits and starts, we talked for about half an hour. Yay! I think it is really important to hear the different ways that people have experienced OA and their path to recovery. Are my three minutes up yet? Thanks and my favorite thing to hear at meetings is that little bit after the serenity prayer..."Keep coming back, it works if you work it, so bring a lot of love and don't pick up you're worth it."


Four days abstinent. Random every meeting when they ask for a timekeeper, I always want to volunteer. I think of myself as that sort of helpful/leader type person, however I never do because I'm petrified that I will fuck up. Last night the woman next to me was keeping time, she got up to go to the bathroom and just handed me the watch. She was gone for 10 minutes! I timed 3 people, everything worked out fine, but I was REALLY relieved when she returned. She was only back for 5 minutes when she shared and passed the clock off to me again! I nearly panicked. Of course it worked out. I'm not a moron. I am however, obviously deeply disturbed.


The vacation itself was wonderful. Two bad things did happen, my grandfather passed away and I got a severe sunburn when I fell asleep on the beach our last afternoon. I'm really OK with my grandfather passing. He was 95 years old. Not that anyone can or should say how much living any other person deserves, but he did plenty. After nine days of abstinence, I ate compulsively in the shiva house and can now only claim 2 days.

C and I saw 2000 Maniacs today and the rest of the weekend includes plans for Pink Flamingos, Rebel Without A Cause, Contempt and She-Devils on Wheels. Sorry, I still seem to be in chronicling mode rather than reflective. Soon enough you damn voyeurs!


Bad bad blogger. nearly 2 months this time. Please ignore the previous rant. C had the date wrong, we did in fact get to see an advance screening of the Hulk and it sucked. As I ran around saying in the days that followed, "Bad CGI makes me angry...." The big news, are you ready? I joined OA last Saturday. For those who are not 12 step fluent, that's Overeaters Anonymous. Yep, that's right, my name is Sela and I am a compulsive overeater. I've commited to myself that I will do 90 meetings in 90 days and see where I am. I've been going to meetings for 5 days and I've been abstinent (that means eating according to my food plan) for 3. I got an interim sponsor at my first meeting and he seems terrific. I feel good, the meetings completely vary, as far as content and there are ones I like tremendously (no pun intended) and at least one that I will never go back to. Regardless, they are inspiring. I feel so text book about the whole thing. My mother totally fucked up my relationship with food, I've been on diets since I was 9, I'll eat really healthy and well in front of people and completely binge behind closed doors. I've met a few really supportive people that I feel I can trust and overall, so far, it is a great experience.

That being the big news, here is the big excitement: Snee and I are going away for the weekend! Complete luxury and pampering on the Jersey Shore. We are staying at the Grenville in Bay Head and getting the "A Day At The Sea" package over at the Sea Spa and Salon at The White Sands. I would have chosen to stay there, but they have a three night minimum, and we do not have that kind of time. The B&B that we are staying at is right by the beach and a short walk to the spa. I am completely psyched! I'm slightly concered about the OA thing and being away, she can and will eat anything she wants and I am typically very bad when I am with her, but I feel strong and I've looked up meeting info out there and I think I can make it.


Besides seeing all those damn Asian flicks this week, I also got fucked out of a free advance screening of the HULK. I was a very cranky girl. We discovered an hour before the show that C had accidentally deleted the email that disclosed the secret location. We rode the motorcycle all over town with me dashing into over a dozen theaters to ask "Hey, are you doing a super-secret, AMMI members only screening of The HULK?" They all said no.

Fifteen minutes after the movie was scheduled to start, we gave up and as we cruised through Times Square I asked C if we could go to an arcade. He said he thought they had all been closed down and I whined in my head about how 42nd Street was so damn wholesome I couldn't even play graphic violent VIDEO GAMES! But then...he parked the bike by Port Authority because just outside the bowling alley there are still VIDEO GAMES! We did NOT play Dance Dance Revolution, but I did play a boxing game where you put on these huge rubber mitts and supposedly it tracks your ducking and blocking and you actually make punching movements to score. I knocked my guy out, but my heart was beating so fast after one round, I gave up the gloves to C. I promise I'm done babbling, but one of the BEST parts of this week is that I got a digital camera!!! Nikon coolpix 2500. I love it! here is a shot of someone playing that boxing game:

Movie Overdose? Never!

In the midst of attending Asian Films Are GO!2003 C and I are also managing to attend some of the Czech Horror fest at
and last night we hit Sunshine's midnight show of
The Apple
. A disco-opera from 1980 envisioning 1994, it was a complete box-office bomb...this tidbit from stinkers says it all:

When this awful film played at the Paramount Theater (now the El Capitan) in Hollywood for one week in November 1980, the film's distributor, Cannon Films, offered souvenir soundtrack records to moviegoers on their way in (albums to the first 100 and 45 RPM singles to the next 1,000). After the first showing ushers had to stop giving the records out because the few customers that paid to see this disaster started throwing their 12" vinyl LPs at the movie screen and around the theater like Frisbees during the film. No rips in the screen, thank goodness, just big dents.

However, we loved it.

This past week I watched the following films (in reverse chronological order):



THE PHONE (102 minutes)

BOUNCE KO GALS (109 minutes)

VERSUS (119 minutes)

DOUBLE VISION (110 minutes)

COMPANY (155 minutes)

RUNAWAY PISTOL (84 minutes)

BREAK OUT (105 minutes)

SO CLOSE (111 minutes)

TOO YOUNG TO DIE (67 minutes)

THE MATRIX (not reloaded)



THE PIED PIPER 1986, 55 mins. Directed by Jirí Bárta.

THE PIT ,THE PENDULUM ,AND HOPE 1983, 15 mins. Jan Svankmajer.

THE EAR 1970, 94 mins. Directed by Karel Kachyna.

Still to come:

ICHI THE KILLER (124 minutes)
PING PONG (114 minutes)


So, my boyfriend and I continue to cheat on our couples therapist with our other couples therapist. Yes, we have two and yes, we see both of them weekly and no, neither of them know about the other. They serve entirely different purposes. Or, rather they meet different needs toward the same purpose. She is very focused on the practicalities of living and working together and gives us homework assignments like be honest every time I smoke or clean the cat litter every day. He tends to be more analytical and focus on the why rather than the how of us being together.

I continue to sabotage this attempt to fix/figure out/resolve/improve our relationship by managing to forget to take my antidepressants for a week and subjecting my loved one to severe mood swings and general abuse. I love him, so you would think this wouldn't be so damn hard, right?

We continue to see more movies weekly than any other people I've ever met. This week we put our Pioneer membership to good use and saw Willard (which disappeared from the regular movie theaters less than 3 weeks after its release) as well as Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl, which met his needs as foreign, preferably japanese with much violence and mine for gangster slickness, even though we both know it was a Tarrantino rip off. I also saw my first Hitchcock films ever over at AMMI a few weeks ago. For the record they were 39 steps and North by Northwest.


OK, so I've been a bad blogger. It is so much like the journals I kept when I was younger. If nothing was actually happening in my life, I would pontificate on nothing at all for pages and hours. However when life got exciting three months would get reduced to two pages of outline/notes that I figured would get filled in later.

Today I may have overcome a significant phobia. Horror movies. I am nearly 28 and until the last year had successfully avoided anything even vaguely resembling a "scary movie". However C loves them and has repeatedly begged me to get over it. We have pinpointed the why and what of my fear. When I was about 4 or 5 I somehow watched Karen Black's Trilogy of Terror. In the house I grew up in there actually was a stone tribalesque warrior statue brandishing a spear. Fast forward 5 or 6 years and two of my cousins are holding me down on the couch trying to force me to watch Nightmare on Elm Street. All I recollect from this trauma is a guy (who I later found out was Johnny Depp) getting swallowed by his bed and it belching up blood. That was enough to make me break free and run upstairs screaming. Thus a psychotic aversion to horror was born. C has figured out that I am particularly adverse to any movie with a boogie man. So in a moment of weakness I agreed that the time to get over it had come and I agreed to watch Friday the 13th parts 1 through 3 in preparation for next week's midnight showing at Sunshine of part IV. Truth be told, I have been getting my feet wet over the last year by watching Carrie, Jaws and The Shining. All movies I would never have agreed to watch without C's prodding and all movies I even enjoyed. Last week when we went to the Museum of Natural History with my high school best friend and her amazing, adorable 3 year old son, she and C proposed watching the Jason movies at her house, a neutral territory. Guess what? It worked, I wasn't freaked out and even found them amusing in their ridiculousness. We took the bike up to the bronx, she made lunch on the grill and we had a great time.


Reasons to be cheerful, part 17. Instant Karma. Background info: The lines at the Peter Stuyvestant Post Office on 14th Street are legendary and obscene on a daily basis, the secret to a short wait is to be there at 8am, when they open or on Thursdays after 6pm (it's their official late day, but no one ever knows or remembers, so the place is usually nearly empty). Due to the length of the lines, the frequency that we mail stuff out and the war our shop has been waging with their staff (they want us to get a postage meter, we think it is too expensive), I have developed a system for whenever I end up being the person to bring the mail order to the post office. [HELLO, run-on-sentence!!] Basically, I come in, drop my bag on the line and proceed to weigh my packages at the scale. I go back and forth between wherever my spot is on the line and the scale area, so that if it takes me half an hour to weigh the packages, I've also spent that half hour moving the bag forward in the line. Dual time use. Clever, I know. Until today. An ASSHOLE joined the line behind me (or rather my bag) and when the line moved forward, he stepped around my bag. I then came over and with a smile, moved my bag ahead of him and explained. After I had moved the bag about three times, he made a fuss and told me that I was either on the line or off of it and some other shit. I started to argue with him and then decided it just wasn't worth it. He was an idiot and the line wasn't that long anyway. I was annoyed and had thought about saying "FINE, fuck you. I was here first, so I'll just keep my place on the line. I will NOT weigh and sort my packages. It will take the clerk 3 or 4 times as long to help me and you will just have to WAIT, asshole." But as I said I didn't. I'm sure part of his anxiety about me being served before him was because of the number of packages I had and he was worried about ME taking too much of his precious time. So I went back to the scale, weighed everything and joined the line. About 12 or 15 people had gotten on in the meantime. I waited. He was so inept and took SO long at the window, that I ended up being the next customer at the window he had used. As the clerk was finishing up with my stuff, he came back and put a stack of manila envelopes with one priority mail envelope on the bottom into her window. She actually said to him, "Did you put a stamp on the priority mailer?" He said yes and left the post office. She finished with me and flipped through his stuff. Guess what? He didn't put a stamp on it! I don't know if he was trying to get over, thinking they would just send it through, or if he honestly made a mistake. Two other postal employees had sort of gathered around her and they strated talking about him, how he had treated me on the line and the fact that his package would just have to go back to him. Heh heh heh. A tad ironic don't you think? Got interrupted by a call from Tibbie, who is currently in the hospital. Steam lost and WAAAAAY too much work time wasted.


This rant will be brief. After an all Aussie brunch at 8-Mile Creek E (our resident convict), her husband M, their visitor G, C and I headed over to Agent Provocateur at E's request. I was mildly interested. I own my share of gear, mostly vestigial from a life I am no longer living. Their stuff is beautiful, totally creative, however, they do not carry my size. I asked what size they go up to...36F. Basically Barbie only! GRRRRRRR!!!! Honestly if I had been told the basic 38C or D I might have not been offended (my 40DD, is not all that typical) but the fact that they are catering to bodies only possible with severe distortion, really annoyed me. Can a 36inch back even support that much boob?


My friend Snee recently had to give up her $20 tweezerman tweezers at JFK due to new security measures. As if TWEEZERS?!?!?! were a suitable weapon to hijack an airplane with! Well, here is where they all end up, in case you ever were wondering.


feeling voyueristic today. Check out Other People's Stories. Reminds me of the Moth's events. Growing up I never participated in the storytelling contests at school. They were very popular and kind of a big deal, my class always had a citywide finalist or winner. I may have dismissed it as a drama person thing, which I was not. I was a poet/goth/geek/whatever you call a teenager who wears all black all the time girl. That is not to say that I was quiet. I had much to say and there are hundreds of pages yellowing away in the closet at my mother's house to attest to that. I was not any more or less alienated than anyone else. I just didn't know it then.


The first thing C told me when I woke up today was that Mr. Rogers had died. This is sad, sure there'll always be syndication but unless they find kiddie porn on his computer, a little bit of sunshine and joy is just gone from this world. The cnn obituary seems to confirm that he was as impossibly good as he appeared. Honestly, I sort of doubted it, especially with the ordained minister part, but then I learned he was originally from Canada and as stereotypical and potentially wrong this is, I could completely believe in him. In my experience, Canadians are just nice and "whitebread" all around.


OK, here's the deal. I work in an extremely overcrowded used entertainment shop. Think Collyer brothers. Now envision the rain we had last weekend, monsoon should come to mind. Now put them together and you might be able to understand that I have spent most of the last 4 days drying the 100 gallons of water that fell through the ceiling off of CDs and videos. Beyond the tremendous amount of merch that we lost, my keyboard got fried. All week I had notes in my brain about things I wanted to blahblahblog about. Like, C shot 60 buck. A perfect score on Big Buck Hunter. Of course, knowing him, he will now need to get all 60 with only one shot each! We were so socially active last week! In one 24 hour period, we went to a taping of
Last Call with Carson Daly
(Luke Wilson from that movie Old School that we saw and loved last week was on along with
Ben Lee
), then we hopped in a cab like in the movies and somehow made it from Rockefeller Center to Mercer Street in about 12 minutes, and made it to our seats before the house lights even went down for Lost Highway: the Hank Williams Story and the next night we saw the final installment of the Ben Lee & Friends series at
. Which may or may not have been recorded. Busy, eh? I am sleepy and cranky and still have an hours worth of cleaning to do before I can go home.


So the word of the day is typical. and maybe pretentious. What was I thinking when I named and described this blog? The brain bleed thing was probably an infantile idea about seepage and these entries just dribbling out of my mind and across the web. Snotty but possibly acceptable, however this french phrase that I learned in high school from reading Death, couldn't remember, got the spelling correctly from a google search and have NEVER even used in a sentence is really going too far.

I'm feeling dissatisfied and incomplete. Of course everyone (or at least every 16 year old girl and 35 year old housewife) does. I'm afraid that the lack of time I spend on my art/self/anything not related to my significant other will cause me to lose it, whatever it is. Since this syndrome is boring and pathetic, I only feel worse about it. Damn it, if I have to suddenly have a late twenties crisis, couldn't it be in reference to something unsual and interesting? No, it can't and it isn't. Same old shit, feeling unloved and at the same time afraid that any "I" or "self" has been eclipsed by the "we" and maybe even the "he" of our relationship. There is some major breakdown between my synapses. We had a huge talk last night/this morning trying to hash this out. I hear everything as critical and as a personal attack. I am smarter than this. I know I can be introspective and perceptive and --tive my way out of this funk.


I have a Blue & White G3 running OS 8.6 and a G4 cube running 9. I love my macs. However that love is being well tested. This morning the dreaded flashing question mark came up, but the angels at digital society repaired the hard disc, gave me a clean install and everything seemed fine. I even installed a chunk of new memory and am currently running a speedy slick 640 MB of RAM. But now, it is past business hours and the speakers are no longer being recognized, so here I am with no sound, except for that grand startup flourish. Grrr. frustrated.


My baby and I are going to eat steak tonight! We have reservations at Sammy's Romanian on Chrystie Street. I haven't been there in years, it is exceedingly expensive and artery hardening. I can't remember if this slogan belongs directly to them or if it is from a review, but the catchphrase is "The only green things on the menu are Heineken bottles." C has never been. I know it would score negative points on the romantic atmosphere scale, but I think it will work just right for us. Yesterday i was wandering the West Village looking for V-day gifts for my darling, when i walked past Joe's Dairy, a fresh cheese shop. I got excited, he likes cheese! He even belonged to the cheese of the month club as a child! I walk in and they are actually making the cheese. Totally fascinating to me, I do not cook or build so anyone who can really do things with their hands completely impresses me. I end up buying a hunk of smoked mozzarella with slices of proscuitto rolled up in it. On my way home I stopped to visit a friend at work and when I showed it to her, she turned it on its side and said, "You're giving your boyfriend a cheese vagina for Valentine's day!" It's true, the swirls of prosciutto do uncannily resemble some labial folds. I laugh aloud everytime i think about it.

Today's triumph is recording from C's minidisc player onto my G4 cube. Due to an amazing little invention called the imic, which we learned about on the ever useful I went to battle with my sound control panel, but I am victorious and now the totally illegal recording C made of a show we went to recently now resides in itunes.


So, the week of not sleeping and going to movies continues. Last night we had free passes to see that Amelie chick's new movie, He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not (À La Folie Pas Du Tout). She's lovely. The unusual POV construct is clever. The story left me mildly annoyed but C said he was saddened by it. Basically, we know so many crazy girls, he could see this actually happening. No spoilers here, so after the french romantic thriller, we killed some zombies playing another shooting game. I guess I haven't yet mentioned the Big Buck Hunter game and C's obsession with it yet. I'll go on about it some other time, but for now, just know that there are only 45 players in the entire country better than him and he has shot 59 out of 60 buck. Oh god now I sound like one of the geeks! Anyway, people were coming up the escalator for a movie and we followed them into How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days. We stayed anyway, with the idea that free movies are always worth sitting through. You could count the guys in the theater without using your toes and every one was obviously on a date. God it was awful! And I am known for my appallingly hollywood comedy taste in movies. That seems to be changing though. For some reason, I no longer find the super shallow stereotypes comforting and amusing, but offensive. I've always accepted the flat supporting roles as "just doing their jobs" but recently I am HATING that the successful women are either cold bitches or sluts interupted steam has been lost.


C and I went to the American Museum of the Moving Image last night to see David Cronenberg's new movie Spider. He was there and did a Q&A afterward (it was part of the Pinewood Dialogue series, we also went to see Alan Parker & The Life of David Gale the night before.) Afterward, C has a book to be signed (like he always has SOMETHING to be signed) so we wait on line (see that damn dialect survey regarding this in line vs. on line crap) to do a quick meet/greet/sign session. I had planned on being quiet and just letting C do his thing. Once we get to the front however, I decide to say "I had never seen any of your films, then he took me to 9 of them in one week." Cronenberg asked where and we told him about the festival of his work last year at Anthology Archives. Then me being me of course, I whacked him on the leg or arm with the roll of paper towels I was holding (we took the motorcycle out there in the snow) and said "The Brood gave me nightmares!" He said, I was going to ask how you were after all that or how you survived. Funny.


Listening to Modest Mouse's"Trailer Trash" on iTunes right now. About 2 months ago, C and I each found songs we had been on the hunt for, for over a decade, within one week of each other. I still haven't heard mine as it is on vinyl (and yes I know it is a sin, but we do not currently have a turntable set up anywhere), so is his, but he found an mp3 of it when he got back from England. I know the suspense is killing you. His song was "Police Officer" by Smiley Culture (1980's UK reggae guy) and it totally holds up. I am fiending for more from this guy! Mine was (and kind of still is) "Roll It Up" by Success-N-Effect. all I could remember for year was the chorus and the opening sample "You're out there on the street and you don't know what time it is?!?!?" I know it will probably suck when I finally hear it, but it's stuck in my brain from intermediate school!
Bleh. I'm back. Finally recovered from the mad xmas retail rush. Current fascinations include the Harvard dialect survey. and this band/guy mellowdrone. Just really popping my head in for now.