Remote Locations

Blogging from a remote location. Trying to make the permanent switch without too much muddy water under superficial bridges put in place to drive me comepletely insane...


Oh and new pictures and career developements coming soon.


can you say cryptic?

The Old Song and Dance

In all of my infinite fabulousity (and trust me it is over 9 thousand) I can not seem to obtain happiness from the same venues as before. My steps are slower, monies have dried up, and companions are leaving at an alarming rate. Why is it that when people haven't seen you for a while one of the first things they ask is 'how's the love life'? Is this one more area of socialization I missed out on by reading and being good at math?

Maybe I am only sensitive to this question because the answer is a constant and stagnantly abysmal reminder that I am STILL alone and undoing this status is a constant psychological struggle.

This brings me to recent events- The Pond is starting back up, the higher ups have yet again changed their backing name (no comment) and once again familiar faces come together to crank the wheels and work the gears for fun, experience, and profit. While I don't mind this, it's old hat, what I do mind is the sinking feeling I get of never being good enough, for things beyond my control like my physical appearance.

Yes, I'm black, lesbian and female- the most visible invisible minority around- and yes I lack the amount of intimacy I would like to have, but that in no way gives someone the right/privilege/nerve to insinuate that I am an ugly dyke fuck up- at least not to my face. Which is usually my problem, I don't have an issue with certain people not finding me attractive, what I have a problem with is that being howled in front of my peers and colleagues as an amusing epithet to be attached to my character. I mean really? ... really?

I am starting to learn (with painful accuracy) that the only person that can take care of me is me. With that being said, I can't burn myself out on trying to make others happy or dance for "mr charlie" if all they are going to do is kick me down. It is also why I have started looking into medicinal (the legal kind, don't get excited) venues to let out and untangle this mess that is reality versus perception versus fantasy.


Can you say the doctor is in?

And Then the Bubble Popped.

Lackluster birthdays, fleeting autumnal flings and a fledgling freelance photog career have all been in the works lately.

I met R- girl through the only thing that actually provides me with social interaction (cbd) with the same sex. We laughed, and conversed- I spouted a dirty sentence in another tongue and she didn't cringe, (keeper obviously). She kissed me quiet, we took it further and she actually kept in touch (quite the first) and I thought this might be the one- so what she's leaving the country, touts vegetarian eateries and frolics about nature- I tried to hold on, but not too tight as I am oft prone but she cut the cord and made a run for it, like they all do.

I was called at the eleventh hour and given buzzwords like bond girl; sultry; mysterious. I was told to bring my camera and capture a young "entertainer" and schlep all the way to midtown in the middle of the night. I get there, with drinks and laughs but when it was time to get down to business- this was no bond girl and the only mystery was how was I going to make a lack of light and shiny fabrics look flattering on a newly pudgy frame. Four hours and 200+ frames later I was called an amateur (for not bringing lights) and ready to shoot off my big mouth before being yanked for a cig break, causing my target to escape unchastised - but hey I got paid right?

The rest of the weekend was spent working more than twice as hard for free- being drained of my control, opinions and general good nature. Both of these situations I learned way too much from, which is really the mark of growth right?


In a confusing romantic turn, I was actually pursued (for once) by a younger, poetic bisexual- shaky premises abound I remain aloof of this entire genre.

The birthday outing I had planned (barely) was washy at best. We hit up a clothing store doling out free booze and compliments for my new look

which was going well until Fernando's guest started throwing tantrums and Zach refused to show... I guess disappointed is to be expected in my old age.


So now I lay here, tweaking photos in photoshop/winning online game site badges/haphazardly working on my sweater and planning yet another new fashion awakening I can't help but wonder if all of my side projects are just a distraction for what I really want but am afraid I can never have.


can you say zonked?

Almost Back

The foot beast has finally been cut and drained!

I'd like to give a shout out to my man Dr. Chen and his swat team goggle combo mask.
Now there is nothing but a temperamental hole and a clear road to recovery, so I am almost back to the fabulous- to fill in for the lack of schooling that will be going on there will be much creativity afoot.

Sketching, Photography, Video, Sewing, Magic!


can you say macro plan?

Slippery Slope

The non existence posts have been replaced with combination drugs and howling at the moon. I went to the emergency room to see if they could cut and suck this lump on my foot and was promptly told that they would not and by promptly I mean after 7 hours and the introduction of an ass-out-gown which I tied at the hip to provide modesty and flare.

The little pimple that made my toes numb morphed into a true blue abscess that shoots salty daggers through my entire body at a moments notice, like every time I breath or try to go to the bathroom by myself. It has been a bit of a miserable little existence. The sexiest words to me right now are "spontaneous rupture" or the no harm no foul version of the cut and suck method I've been siding with through this whole ordeal.

Upside? I learned during bath time that it makes my leg incredibly buoyant, also mom has provided me with a neo to go capsule that I can spray on tightening skin without actually rubbing lotion on anything.

I feel like one of those morbidly obese people one would constantly see on television, being cut out of their house and air lifted to a hospital. I can't walk, standing still for more than 10 minutes at a time is painful and the only thing getting a workout around here are my lungs when I've made a wrong turn in my newly formatted bed (for optimum foot raising options).

this is week two of what started out as itching skin that I had to sponge down and vacuum up every once in a while. Now I'm outsourcing all of my needs and whims on the family and gathering multiple idle threats for it since they aren't the Florence Nightingale types. But a positive outlook is the key I guess, at the end of all this I may be too fat to fit in any of my clothes but I might just be big enough to fit in everyone else's!



can you say medicinal haze?

The Technicality of Day 3

In two hours I will need to take more magical pills

can I just pause for a moment and express my love for Fefe Dobson?

oh and how I saw Simon Doonan at whole foods while on a fruit salad and parfait snack run, of course I stared like hick into the sun and tripped all over myself- yea I'm that girl.

anywho, my foot has been getting better, there's a blister on it that makes my toes go numb when i press on it but I'm counting it as the process, I'm also hoping my inner surgeon does not take over and slice it open to let the pressure (read: evil spirits) out.

Yesterday was Natasha's birthday, I wanted to be there but I'm not enough of an in control drinker to not drink in a bar if I'm feeling well, so it would have been a bad deal all around but I sent my best wishes and headed back home to continue my "regimen".

My ichat status read "meds a-plenty" and I got an instant message from Tatiana inquiring if I had a xanax hook up. What a fucking bottom feeder, you would think after not talking to someone for years and after multiple imposed failed attempts to "hang" that one would stop the crippling charade that we are any kind of cordial acquaintance.


I even resisted the urge to reply with something snide and undercutting


can you say growth?

Dr Feel Good

In a further attempt at self betterment I went to the doctor today, found out what I suspected before the 3 weeks ago when I made the appointment, which was that my foot is infected and heavy duty drugs are needed. I am honestly just happy she didn't consider lopping it off.

Erythromycin: an antibiotic
may cause diarrhea, vomiting, abdominal pain and other gastrointestinal disturbances. (yum yum)

fluocinonide: corticosteroid

couldn't really get much info on the adverse effects of this stuff but the good doc did tell me to keep it away from my eyes and to wash my hands after applying it so mom suggested I put it on with latex gloves.


all in all I've taken/applied two doses of each and all's clear, the early 20's invincibility sector of my brain won't allow me to think that the stomach trouble can treat me worse than bad bourbon so in a week or two I will be able to toast to good health!


can you say tip top shape?

Epic Fail

My cartoon ambitions have fallen by the wayside... most ambitions really- does anyone even read this thing?



can you say listless?

The Week Was Full and Everyone Knows It

So this week was pretty eventful, from my job interview that was entirely unbeknown to my interviewer to spending the wee early hours of Zach's birthday with him and yet another one of his canadian school brood.

Angels and Kings tuesday was filled with more people who don't mind having their picture taken than I have not since encountered since pride day. My Harajuku Lovers bag finally came today and I didn't have to verbally sodomize UPS to do it (for once). Full face worth it and I got it off Ideeli which is great because my main problem with designer things is that I can't afford a bag for 75 dollars when I know it probably took 8 dollars to make.

For about a week now I've been coveting the idea and reality of owning a ukulele or a uke as they are known in "the biz" and so I did a bit of research and got up and out with the intent of buying one but the store I went to was trying to give me the hard sell on something I did not want! So I trotted off with my 60 dollars completely ukuleleless which of course can only be akin to an absolutely travesty. I guess like most good deals, I'll have to settle this online.


can you say disconnected?

Sad Excuse for a Cartoon Saturday!

In the name of being true to form, a cartoon- badly drawn but very informative story of my ever loving life.

People to Stay Away From

The last two days have been filled with outlandish debauchery. Which is fun in small doses, like arsenic.




This is how the night usually starts, on the train, so full of hope and vigor and anticipation. What awaits ahead but a question mark. That look usually morphs pretty fast, especially when the people who invited you out in the first place dash the outing before you're even out of the Bronx.

With lemons like that I took my lemonade to USQ park to pal around with whoever will have me and there was a lull spot in conversations where we went separate ways. On my little voyage around the park I had an encounter with a distraught twenty-something who insisted on borrowing my phone, since I felt a slight karmic need to do better in general (and if she tried to make off with it I could probably take her) I handed her my beloved.

She called up a guy named Dave and left him a message, the nature of the one sided conversation made the impression that she needed space but the fact that MY phone is in her possession didn't allow that privacy. Her second call to this Dave person was a little more volatile, she called him an old wrinkly fuck and shouted at him about his small member.

Just when I thought things couldn't get more awkward she decides to call another guy named Danny, who apparently also doesn't think she's hot enough. The situation got really out of hand when she decided to start crying and flailing and the skaters in the background were complaining of their session being ruined.


My phone made it out of this ordeal unscathed but I am definitely done doing nice things and girls named Colleen are on my list of insta-crazies. I've met a few, they all seem to be a little off, what don't I know about this random person?



can you say awkward?

Lost Self

No good deed goes unpunished, like when you stay home for a week after a rabble rousing night of free booze and public urination. I lost my ID- a gut wrenching reality made painfully clear after trying to buy a pack of smokes.

Whenever I lose something I usually imagine it sitting in its hidden crevice, laughing at my frustration. It really doesn't help that I look twelve, but it's not my fault that "black don't crack". I can probably pass off an expired back up until it turns up, if it ever does.


I've looked everywhere and I really don't want to re-trash my room for it but I may have to.

There is also the nagging feeling that:

I will never work in this town again, and to a workaholic that really is just not an option.

That all my blatant promotion is really just going by the way side- if blogupp can't help me, who can?

I am getting older by the second and will soon be the lezzie version of a cougar.

can you say suck?

Sad Excuse for a Cartoon Saturday!

So to keep in a normal creative spirit and exercise the other side of my brain I will be implementing SECS! At the very least- feel free to express your immediate artistic competency...

ideelie

Shopping, the best of therapies.

The second best of therapies? Free things!


http://www.ideeli.com/invite/pixiefever

so join in and lets work on that second one shall we?


can you say solicitor?

Re-Energize

I finally got things done today. Gee it sure is time consuming distracting your mind from your perfect school schedule being dropped and ruining non existent job prospects...

On a much better note, the lack of readers that attend this blog (seriously folks- get with it), will be happy to know that I have re-purpled my hair and even gathered up enough gumption to mani/pedi myself.





The biggest improvement would have to be that I can actually see my floor! I knew I had one.




before:


and after:


And those lovely digits.



Self pampering is essential. Especially when all the doors slam shut and the windows close in and the lungs start to seize in the middle of a heavy sleep and you wake up in a cold terrified sweat.... Yup, a new coat of paint, visible floors and purple hair fix all of that.



can you say well put together?

Rain Rain Go Away

I sit in a gilded tower of sorts, and by sorts I mean the second to top floor of an Eastchester project building. The borderline monsoon that has been going on all day and into the night is just the perfect excuse to sleep off the seven organic vodkas and pineapple that went on last night. Open bars are in fact the great equalizer, a scenario where us common folk can taste such exotic concoctions is what life should really be all about. They are like the liquor version of robin hood.

I am trying to square away another opportunity to wear my new shoes, if the weather will allow me. Since they are of the payless variety tromping around in the rain is certainly out of the question. Being in the rain under most circumstances is out of the question and I havn't the faintest clue where this phobia came from. It might go hand in hand with black woman's aversion to getting her hair wet, mixed with my personal aversion to most sprinkler designs. Instead of investing in a strategy to overcome this I simply let people know that I'm an "indoor cat".

Hopefully the rain will subside so I can leave the house, or I will make a further mess of my room and mother will look at me like I've just fallen off the wagon.

Grey Gardens Redux

My room is a disaster zone.


Something has to be done about such a menace right now. I have been fiddling with the idea of lofting my bed and adding shelves, the problem with this is that if I invest time money and energy in a space I will most likely stay there. I definitely do not want to stay here and quite honestly if I did not have so many allergies, I would be just fine living on the street- harsh but true.


can you say panic?

No Rhyme or Reason

After a month of being purple, I have contended that my abnormal hair hue is in fact magical.
Approachability, instant conversation starter, and random people ask to snap my picture. out of the blue. on the street. Who knew?


Behold, mid way through a marathon of open bars and other liquid adventures. I found myself in new shoes and hot hair still impressed that someone was silly enough to give me champagne and pineapple juice in copious amounts... I left for yet another venue on the list Public House's top shelf was calling my name and it was a chance to drink whiskey that doesn't make me fight.


Exhibit A.
Her name is Alex and after an increasingly boozy conversation that spanned various political/social fulcrums I was equally entranced and terrified of her. I don't know who said it first but 'fake it 'til you make it' pretty much summed up most of the night. which worked out pretty well: I danced, (read: dropped it like it was hot), refused to say a negative thing about myself and lent myself fully to the moment - which in present company- wasn't hard. Is this what it feels like for people who are physically attractive and not entirely damaged to the point of seeming insanity that would bring down a baby rhino? On the name of everything up there, I could surely get used to that.

Though I will have to tone down a few things, many of which are present in
Exhibit B:
1. no more letting Fern hold my camera
2. less romping in west village alleys
3. invest in a better ( erotic tug proof) hair pinning strategy to preserve 'do in mild hail storm.


at any rate, it was a pretty good night: wine/women/song? check.

Fabulous On A Budget

Calming down off of my bill paying headache, I decided to escape my house for another round of high end cancer and understated adventures.



Since the economy is in a tailspin and my usual track of menial labor has been threatened, gone are the hours spent trying on shoes at DSW and hello to Payless, which is not that much less when you're broke. Mark my words, I will have them!



Of course all that plotting and coveting works up an appetite- hence the dinner of champions! discount Häagen Dazs, chocolate chip pound cake and sicilian pizza- all before the dreaded night rain.


Can you say winner?

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I grew a few

From Gunhill With Love

I have invested in a digital SLR, and I say invest because that little fucker is gonna make some money!

Or at least it will propel my jane of all trades persona that has been developing. Since my pliable mind needs to be utilized in more lucrative ways and in a meritocratic society the proof is in the pudding if I build up more proof and pudding I should be cooking with grease! (excuse the puns it's dinner time). In any case learning for learning's sake will at the very least make me a better conversationalist and don't we all love a little pillow talk?

I love how I talk to a ubiquitous audience like it actually exists and I am not just taking up space on the internet that could be used for something ever so much more useful like civil rights reform or eco-friendly green living ventures. Anyway folks, as it happens ever so often I have been filled with this sense of being a freelancer- which makes sense since most people in the entertainment industry are unless they own a means of industry.

In hindsight quite a bit has occurred since my last post. I was laid off from the pinnacle holding barge of wasted dreams and resources. It played out like a bad, cliched break up, if it's not me and it IS you, why am I the one being kicked out? But I have grieved the misconstrues of my talents in such a venture long enough and being laid off in such a shoddy economic climate means unemployment benefits which honestly I've been waiting for since Black Hound. Instead of counting on such murkily understood benefits I opt for a savings account and just flush it when my customer service wears thin or off completely.

School came and went and yet my credit card still has not been charged which is strange, it is already time for midterms and I have never been one for cramming massive amounts of microwavable knowledge into my dome cumulative exams like midterms and finals are made to test what you've learned up to that point: if you've learned nothing, that will show and if you don't know that you haven't learned anything or learning was not your prime agenda before those 16 hours before the exam well that's a red flag in itself.

I was stranded in Brooklyn, Jefferson stop on the L train, and lemme tell you that block screams rape me at 2 A.M. After thwarting an hour's worth of mobile Mexican sexual advances in the cold under the influence of no alcohol at all, I retreated into the train station and made my way home another two hours still stone cold sober for something I did not even want to go to which is where I kick myself but trust me the deserter is in for a fate much worse.