I'm hoping the ick that I've started the day with will be banished by the glorious drugs from SP.
I feel like ass and don't feel like celebrating at all. But I will make the crescent rolls and go visit the peeps.
A & G in the hood.
D & M on northside.
M near Carytown....not sure I can swing that, but I'll try.
The busiest evening in weeks and I'm feeling like staying in bed. Bleh.
Still heating the house with the oven. So very sad and hilarious at the same time.
I can't wait to have my own place. Or to move the heck outta the RVA for a while. I need a change.
____________________________
And the more optimistic part of the blog:
The things I'm happy about at the close of 2008....
my friends take care of me | I feel like dating again | tons of stories related to my decision to date again | I don't see the last person that broke my heart...and on the off chance that I do, I feel sorry for him and don't want to be with him | I have steady freelance and a nice boss | I have enough money to travel | I have amazing friends that let me stay with them when I travel | I'm poor enough not to really be affected by the shitty economy | my neighbors are nice | I have breakfast / brunch regularly with awesome peeps | I love where I live (even though I need to get out of here for a while) | I feel loved and supported on NYE 08/09
Love and preciousness everybody.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Christmas Eve 2008
A lazy beginning to my day.
Distractedly cleaning my house. Half-heartedly working.
Heating the house with the oven. Jen would be crying to see this.
Finally get the motivation to go get my crack coffee from Buzzy's.
Friends at the Hill Café. They close at 9 tonight so we can eat here. Gift the candy to my neighbor who says it looks like I'm delivering drugs.
Buzzy's is empty. I order my food.
My phone rings. It's 4 and I can't believe it.
I finish my order. Answer my phone.
There's time before the ride home. A walk around my favorite part of the city.
I'll wait there so we can walk over together.
Trying to eat now. Trying to breathe. Trying to not be anxious. Trying to read. It's not working.
Red shoes at my table. Walking to Libby Hill. The minutes pass like a flash.
Someone calls. He's saying "my friend Jolinda" to the person on the phone.
I think it's the first time I've heard it spoken.
The park is lovely as usual on this warm, grey day. There's talk of levels and layering of music. Painting colors at dusk. Tweaking parts to create a feeling. Color correction and controlling expression through the details. We're geeking out about the same things, but not the same.
There's a yellow house for sale at the end of the block. In my favorite park. He wants to see it too. We explore. The back yard is awesome. Wouldn't this be a great place for a cookout? Agreed. Amazing view of the city. Quiet block. Old trees. Lots of work though.
Walking and talking. Finding and knowing your own expression. Knowing where you want to go. Having confidence to go your own way. The 3-week trip to the other side.
Excitement about the latest recording.
A new variation. Of course I'd like to hear it. And when I do, I can't help but smile. Sound sculptures. Created piece by piece. I listen to it in the kitchen. Then I have to listen through headphones. It's amazing either way. The vocals, claps, stomps, that piano from the coffee shop, slide guitar fading in and out. I'm so through. And I know it. Actually I've known it for a while now.
It's time to go. Brief hugs. Like the kind between pals.
I try hard not to be disappointed. This has been an awesome time. And I'm glad to have been here. Today.
7 p
Hill Café again. Dinner with my bff SP and K to the J.
It's so nice to have this place close by and open on CE08.
Deliciousness.
I've had a great day.
Distractedly cleaning my house. Half-heartedly working.
Heating the house with the oven. Jen would be crying to see this.
Finally get the motivation to go get my crack coffee from Buzzy's.
Friends at the Hill Café. They close at 9 tonight so we can eat here. Gift the candy to my neighbor who says it looks like I'm delivering drugs.
Buzzy's is empty. I order my food.
My phone rings. It's 4 and I can't believe it.
I finish my order. Answer my phone.
There's time before the ride home. A walk around my favorite part of the city.
I'll wait there so we can walk over together.
Trying to eat now. Trying to breathe. Trying to not be anxious. Trying to read. It's not working.
Red shoes at my table. Walking to Libby Hill. The minutes pass like a flash.
Someone calls. He's saying "my friend Jolinda" to the person on the phone.
I think it's the first time I've heard it spoken.
The park is lovely as usual on this warm, grey day. There's talk of levels and layering of music. Painting colors at dusk. Tweaking parts to create a feeling. Color correction and controlling expression through the details. We're geeking out about the same things, but not the same.
There's a yellow house for sale at the end of the block. In my favorite park. He wants to see it too. We explore. The back yard is awesome. Wouldn't this be a great place for a cookout? Agreed. Amazing view of the city. Quiet block. Old trees. Lots of work though.
Walking and talking. Finding and knowing your own expression. Knowing where you want to go. Having confidence to go your own way. The 3-week trip to the other side.
Excitement about the latest recording.
A new variation. Of course I'd like to hear it. And when I do, I can't help but smile. Sound sculptures. Created piece by piece. I listen to it in the kitchen. Then I have to listen through headphones. It's amazing either way. The vocals, claps, stomps, that piano from the coffee shop, slide guitar fading in and out. I'm so through. And I know it. Actually I've known it for a while now.
It's time to go. Brief hugs. Like the kind between pals.
I try hard not to be disappointed. This has been an awesome time. And I'm glad to have been here. Today.
7 p
Hill Café again. Dinner with my bff SP and K to the J.
It's so nice to have this place close by and open on CE08.
Deliciousness.
I've had a great day.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday.
Folk music.
Fan.
Drinking glove.
Vans.
Wall street hair.
Gel.
New chucks.
Beards.
Cords.
Random party.
Carnival.
Friends of friends.
Honey whiskey.
Radiohead.
Vinyl.
Sink.
Green design.
SCAD
Can toss.
Balcony.
Warmer inside.
Chin tilt.
Piles of coats.
Oreo cake.
Dance party.
Water.
Music room.
Short walk.
Good company.
Cold rain.
Brief hugs.
Drive home.
Saturday.
Fan.
Drinking glove.
Vans.
Wall street hair.
Gel.
New chucks.
Beards.
Cords.
Random party.
Carnival.
Friends of friends.
Honey whiskey.
Radiohead.
Vinyl.
Sink.
Green design.
SCAD
Can toss.
Balcony.
Warmer inside.
Chin tilt.
Piles of coats.
Oreo cake.
Dance party.
Water.
Music room.
Short walk.
Good company.
Cold rain.
Brief hugs.
Drive home.
Saturday.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
2 week rule
Evidently, the jack-holes on match have a 2 week cutoff rule.
It goes like this:
1. Contact the lady
2. Be awesome in everyway
3. Spend meaningful time with the lady
4. Make plans with the lady
5. Fire / flake out on the lady
...all in the course of two weeks.
I give up. I'm going back to missed connections.
It goes like this:
1. Contact the lady
2. Be awesome in everyway
3. Spend meaningful time with the lady
4. Make plans with the lady
5. Fire / flake out on the lady
...all in the course of two weeks.
I give up. I'm going back to missed connections.
Monday, November 10, 2008
why i love/hate/love again Church Hill
I can walk to work in 30 minutes on a beautiful sunny fall day.
Friendly workmen greet me as I walk by. Greet. Not cat call. Smiles and hellos.
After a long, boring day at work, I can walk back home again through empty streets lit by lamps. The leaves are pretty, even in the dark.
I can walk up to my front door and notice...
that my bike....
is missing.
No.
It's effing stolen.
W! T! F!
UGH!
I hate this neighborhood!
You have to chain and double lock everything down! And my friend gave me that bike for my birthday. Those effers!!! Gawd dammit I hate thieving bastards!
And then...
at 9.
A knock.
On my front door.
It's my neighbor.
He says the roofers who were working on his house saw some boys take some bikes from our porch today. The roofers chased them down in their van. One of the boys dropped a bike and the roofer brought it back. The other bike is gone.
I go across the street and see my other neighbor bringing the bike out onto their porch. I look closely at it, and holy effing ish, it's the bike my friend gave me for my birthday. I thank my neighbors. We introduce ourselves.
Now, I'm making pumpkin bread for them and for the roofers.
I'll deliver it tomorrow.
I love my neighborhood.
Friendly workmen greet me as I walk by. Greet. Not cat call. Smiles and hellos.
After a long, boring day at work, I can walk back home again through empty streets lit by lamps. The leaves are pretty, even in the dark.
I can walk up to my front door and notice...
that my bike....
is missing.
No.
It's effing stolen.
W! T! F!
UGH!
I hate this neighborhood!
You have to chain and double lock everything down! And my friend gave me that bike for my birthday. Those effers!!! Gawd dammit I hate thieving bastards!
And then...
at 9.
A knock.
On my front door.
It's my neighbor.
He says the roofers who were working on his house saw some boys take some bikes from our porch today. The roofers chased them down in their van. One of the boys dropped a bike and the roofer brought it back. The other bike is gone.
I go across the street and see my other neighbor bringing the bike out onto their porch. I look closely at it, and holy effing ish, it's the bike my friend gave me for my birthday. I thank my neighbors. We introduce ourselves.
Now, I'm making pumpkin bread for them and for the roofers.
I'll deliver it tomorrow.
I love my neighborhood.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
the plain girls
I love how cooler-than-everybody mean spirited scenesters who have no career and live at home can give people labels. Really?
Get a job. Get an apartment. Stop name-calling and judging people like you're still in middle school. Stop trying to pick up people in the same 3-bar cesspool that all your friends have been making history in.
Maybe try being nice to people for a change...even if they're not wearing the latest AmericanApparelUrbanOutfittersNeedSupplyIndieHipsterScenesterSweaterTasticCoolClothes.
Get a job. Get an apartment. Stop name-calling and judging people like you're still in middle school. Stop trying to pick up people in the same 3-bar cesspool that all your friends have been making history in.
Maybe try being nice to people for a change...even if they're not wearing the latest AmericanApparelUrbanOutfittersNeedSupplyIndieHipsterScenesterSweaterTasticCoolClothes.
Stupid betches that hum along at concerts
Shut up yo!
Nobody paid or drove 3 hours to hear your ridiculous off-key hummings that compete with the extremely talented musician and singer on stage. We get it. You know ALL of the lyrics. Eat a cookie and get over it.
If I were a ninja, I would chop your windpipe!
Nobody paid or drove 3 hours to hear your ridiculous off-key hummings that compete with the extremely talented musician and singer on stage. We get it. You know ALL of the lyrics. Eat a cookie and get over it.
If I were a ninja, I would chop your windpipe!
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