Balancing Act

My First Time.

This memory occurred to me yesterday after "accidentally" going home with a pair of gloves that were hidden in a coat at the thrift store. I also bought a pair of really amazing white studded boots. Anyway, the memory might become a short story...

The first time I stole anything it was close to my fifth birthday. I was still living in Queens with both of my parents, long after their disdain for one another had begun but three years pre-divorce. We were shopping for a Christmas tree in one of those typical parking lot gone pine tree factories that begin to appear just before you're ready to accept that it's already Thanksgiving. The kind of places that made me promise myself at an early age that I would someday raise kids in this city, if for nothing other than the inescapable smell of Christmastime in New York.

In the tree lined lot two blocks from our building, I fell in love with a branch spray painted white with a faint silver shimmer that glistened in the brisk yellow dimmed air, and I wanted it more than anything I had ever wanted before. With the kind of confidence you rarely find in a 5 year old, I walked up to my mother and asked if she could buy it for the front door of our 6th story apartment. Without knowing at the time that she would skip meals in order to buy quarter pound containers of seafood salad for me, I could not find reasoning for her stern "No" and tucked the branch under my zebra print down coat with neon pink lining as I ducked into the next row of pines...

I Got More Legs Than A Bucket Of Chicken

I just realized how much I'm gonna miss Patrick Swayze...

Dr. Everything Will Be Alright

1984.

This is the year I was born. It's also the name of a book that was banned in Communist-era Poland, which my mom talks about as if it was some mind opening anti-Bible that had something to do with her moving to America-- which it doesn't. I'm a product of these four numbers, through and through, raised with a "Video Killed the Radio Star" mentality, a short attention span, and an urge to get my "money for nothing, and the chicks for free."

Happy Anniversary?

I just realized a year ago today I started this blog. Weird that I got the urge to write the same time of year again... I promised myself big things, I guess. Seems some sort of realization came to me after the Olaf Eliasson opening at the MoMA. 

Well, this Friday you can catch me at the Guggenheim's first installation of the It Came From Brooklyn series. I'll be wearing a Martin Margiela dress and Anna Molinari heels, hoping to guise myself in the name of bigger and better things. 

Eternal Sunshine of the Exhausted Mind

I remember sitting in my 4 bedroom apartment on the top floor of an old Victorian on the Berkeley/Oakland border, surrounded by the smell of lingering weed smoke, hot sauce, and 19 year old male. I had been living with three boys for the better part of the year, and was sick of watching Braveheart and the Food Network, although part of me longs for those days now. Whenever I'm asked why I moved back to New York from the mellow sunshine of Northern California, this memory comes to mind.

Curled up with my pseudo brothers on our oversized futon couch, watching Eternal Sunshine, bursting into tears over the flimsy fence on the dunes of a snowy Long Island beach. This was the one thing I missed most about home-- the confusing texture of your foot searching for stable ground below snow, only to find more moveable particles. 

I haven't watched the film since, and it played in McCarren Park tonight. I am stuck in bed paying for my weekend, where I spent most of my day talking to one of those boys. Tomorrow I have doctors appointments all morning, and that brings me back to that Victorian house-- with the graffiti "Get Well" USPS sticker and paint marker drawn rose on my bedroom door.

I Could Use A Little Turning

It was all so innocent then-- skirts too short, lipstick too red. Back when MTV set a mood, rather than displayed a hot tub stereotype. These days, I actually understand what these songs are talking about. But then, I felt I understood feelings and words I was years away from experiencing. Although I guess I've never been in an R&B troupe, or had a boyfriend who drove a Bentley...

I am pretty sure, though, I uttered the words "I put that on my life" to a boyfriend once-- in his black Nissan 240SX, with a sunroof. Oh Foxy, once upon a time you were our lackluster Britney-- raw, truthful, and a soundtrack to my teenage naivety.

When It's All Happening, You're Bound To Get The Summertime Flu

I've had an amazing couple of weeks. Ok, months. Wait, years?

But yesterday was NOT fun. After quite the epic Sunday, definitely got home around 1:30 in the afternoon on Monday after waking up in the blazing dusty swirl of sunshine on a friend's couch in Greenpoint. Somewhere between Simian Mobile Disco's dance inertia and drinks in styrofoam cups bought by members of a certain Brooklyn band, I lost my head. 

Nothing like waking up to another month of self-proclaimed sobriety with the worst hangover of all time. Which, in turn, has become some sort of monster cold. Now, I'd like to take a moment to thank Jesus for coconut water and dance beats to get me through my days of irresponsibility... Thanks for lookin' out, kiddo!

You know I LOVES it!

It's All Happening

Me & Lauren were in touching distance of Mr. S. Carter during this performance, and both got teary eyed. Such gays we are...

Una Solución Para el Insomnio, Por Favor

I took a nap yesterday for the first time in months. This is the sort of accidental happening that only occurs out of utter exhaustion, and ends in my being cranky for the rest of the day. Instead of waking up refreshed and revitalized, I wake up swinging.

I haven't been able to sleep during the day ever since I was a child. My worked to the bone mother trying to put me down for some sunlit rest, buying herself time to carelessly flip through a Vanity Fair. And instead, I'd throw a fit- hopelessly and unconsciously worried that I'd be missing something.

I still have trouble sleeping, no matter the time of day/night. Laying awake with the fan circling dreams that I won't remember over my head, wondering what I could possibly be missing (in New York the probability is that you're missing something every second of the day) until I fall into a restless slumber- finally. Only to sleep through my alarm, miss brunch with a friend from out of town, push back a deadline, and be stuck doing laundry until my next obligation.

If you're interested in what exhausts me so, take a looksy here and here.

In other news, and hence the seemingly unrelated photo above, I'm looking for a new apartment. 2-3 bedroom, dog friendly, a loft around the Morgan L stop would be ideal (since I love my 'hood). If I don't find the perfect place, I'm seriously considering moving to Mexico (no joke). Adios! 

This Guns for Hire

I decided I'm gonna start writing here again. Who better than to kick off that party than Mr bruce Bruce himself!?

I guess once upon a time the ladies thought he was sexy. This always creeped me out because he looks a lot like my uncle. And that guy's an alcoholic...

Anyway, it's good to be back-- all self-obsessed and stuff once more.

Consciousness Fix

During your interaction today notice how often your responses are reactions. When a friend tells you something they did or how they are feeling, notice how automatically certain comments come off your tongue. These are programmed responses.

Today, if people have difficulty connecting with you, perhaps you need to retool your programming.

Story of my life, y'all. Thanks Kabbalah for constantly reminding me what a piece of shit I am...

Funniest Thing I've Seen All Day? Week?

Asian Invasion Finale

Last night, after the most delicious scallion pancake ever, I crossed the Wburg Bridge to check out Tokyo! at the Sunshine on Houston. Michel Gondry did a little introduction for the film, being 1/3 of the equation of this portrait of a city. I love how magically confused he seems at all times. It's all about the focus on the subtleties of life, and Mr. Gondry tells us how the most inspiring thing about this wonderous city on the island of Japan was the 'lack of the shyness to sleep on one another on the train', and also his realization that in comparison people walk like horses here in America.

Gondry via iPhone

(SPOILER ALERT)

In his 30 minutes of Tokyo, Gondry's Interior Design depicts a girl who is very much like the buildings in the city, one never touching the other. Her transformation into a useful being touches upon a sort of butterfly in reverse ideal. Gondry's vision can only be explained by what my mother calls fantasia (read: with adorable Polish accent). 

Leos Carax's Merde, with all its apocalyptic flare, kind of missed the mark for me. Although entertained by Mr. Merde's crazed gait, a Delicatessen-esque entrance into the world, and his slap-stick gibberish, Carax fell short of allowing us to sympathize with this literally misunderstood villain-- leaving me unmoved by his death sentence. But I will admit that I am looking forward to the New York edition.

And finally, what I believe to be the most affecting story told within the triad-- South Korea's Bong Joon-ho with Shaking Tokyo. Ok, so I happen to be a sucker for low dialogue loner romances, which I'm gonna go ahead and blame on my feminine nether-regions, but precision camera movement acts as an ethereal invitation into the world of a hikikomori in this tale of seclusion and rebirth. Moved by the fainted beauty of an innocently risque pizza girl, this man's emergence into the blinding sunlight put an approving smirk upon my jaded New York lips. 

Who Wants To Be In My Band?

Hats off to Pitchfork for making my night.

Um, did I write this?

Sadly, no.

But I should've--I would've even made it to the show, as I was desperately seeking ticket. I'm so bummed, I could just blog about it. And I thought I was the only one that wanted to bone him!? Although sometimes people can just go too far with their comments: 

you guys, NO. he is THIRTY SIX. THIRTY SIX YEARS OLD with that haircut.

I will forever defend boys with big noses and bangs. FOREVER!

Like a Heart That's Been Hung in the Sky

Check it- FREEwilliamsburg debut, ya'll.

(read: in Britney Spears twang, of course)

Who doesn't love a little Deer Tick on the eve of a Hallmark holiday, huh?

Row, Row, Row Your Boat.

Swoon's at it again. Pure genius. I'm still so in love with the print I snagged at Brooklyn Museum's 1st Fans screenprinting event last month.

My feelings are mixed about Flood, though. I think I'd love it if no one talked.

(Snow) Day & Night

Every time it flurries enough to cover the ground, my mom and I feel compelled to send each other photos of the snowfall. Here is the most recent exchange:

Music makes the people...

Looks like we are back in business, folks. Finally!!

And when I say we, I mean it all figuratively like. As in, we, the musical babies of the age of Aquarius. It's just a test run for now, I guess. But boy, those rainbow colored horizontal blocks sure do make me happy.

Oh hi, by the way... I forgot to go to bed last night. 

Lions, and Tigers, and... X Ray Erotica?

From the cute, naughty, to just plain wtf!?

Belgian artist Wim Delvoye is kinda my favorite thing right now. Let's not discuss how I tapped into his work-- just enjoy!

He also 'saves' pigs from Chinese slaughter houses... to tattoo them. Only to eventually be killed-- then skinned or stuffed to sit pretty in a gallery.

 But I guess if I was living on borrowed time, I'd like to be a 'growing painting' too, right?

Yea Yeahhh!

I am currently fighting back the urge to jump up and down in a frenzied dance panic on my bed.

Why?, you ask.... 2 words, names rather. Matt. Kim. (There's a little & symbol in there somewhere too, but the whole 2 words thing sounds so much more dramatic). Sometimes Brooklyn feels like happiness, and these kids bring it! 

(Best shot I got, as I was busy dancing my face off)

The powers that be left a ticket at the door for their Record Release Party at the Music Hall of Williamsburg last night, and I just can't get enough. I'm literally sitting here listening to their new album Grand-- which I'm gonna go ahead and guess is named after their street of residence in good old "East Williamsburg". 

I was super excited to find out that Spank Rock was supposed to be a surprise guest, but here's a big surprise-- I missed them bc I was glued to the bar downstairs. Ha! When I finally made my way to the bouncy kick of drum upstairs, I pushed myself thru the jumping crowd to the front of the stage, where I eventually got kicked in the face. Totally expected, as I avoided this scenario at all previous Matt & Kim shows (sounds like McCarren Park, Halloween, etc.), I mean at this point I wouldn't have been surprised if Matt himself jumped into the crowd to specifically kick me in the face. Although, now that I think of it, it might've been him...

 I've decided I'm the definition of a hot mess, and these two lovebirds are the epitome of Brooklyn. I mean, c'mon, take a looksy...

If you're living in an industrial neighborhood in Bushwick while there's snow on the ground (like myself), you'll know exactly what he means by 'these shoes are poor man's ice skates', and that's the TRUTH, kid.