Lovely Lindsay

The first photo is of Dina Lohan with baby Lindsay... Bizarre how similar Lindsay later turned out to look, and how utterly floozy-like Dina looks here. You'd think with a new baby, you'd slightly tone down the hair-dye and make-up...

Pretty

Can you see this? When I walked out of work today, this was the first thing I saw when I looked up. Pretty, magical city.

The Incredible Power of Projection

"Not so easy, that one. Let's see - obviously he would love to be a starlet himself, and most of the best hairdressers and make-up artists don't like[read: prefer] women - many men in the business envied/adored women because they couldn't be [glamourous] female stars themselves. Next best thing would be to detect and correct 'errors' in starlets, I guess. The incredible power of projection at work."

OK, before the person that wrote that gets utterly freaked out that I copied it here... The actual reason I'm copying it here is 'cause I miss talking to you. Stuff that's so obvious yet subtle hardly ever gets said, yet I think it and you are able to express it, and I miss arguing about it and floating along in it afterwards.

But as I get older, I realize that my desires are often projected. I want something/someone SO MUCH, and so "they must want me too." Not so. Someone once said that New York City is the city for getting over someone. I believe it. Though it's not as clear-cut in the Age of the Internet, when reminders of another's thought processes are there every day, if you are weak enough to want to still seek them out.

Aside from the above late-night philosophical stuff, in reality there're the (below) public online exchanges between the one you want and her own pick that you have to look at:

i love you more:))
*melts*

etc. etc.

I may be outraged at the dumbness, but that's my problem to get over.

Doris Day By Night

I love it. It's my blog and those of you who come here of your own volition also just have to subsequently read my weird "sex dream" stuff! heh-heh! ;P

Anyway, in my dream Tuesday night, DD and I weren't really having actual sex. But we were both young women who were together, at a party with older people (maybe on a boat), including parents and friends of parents. What I remember most vividly is that at one point I started running my left hand up girlfriend Doris's leg in an admiring fashion. (I was sitting below her while she was standing.) I was paying all mental attention to her and her leg, but then I realized to my horror that I had unconsciously been simultaneously running my RIGHT hand up the hairy leg of one of her father's creepy friends. I hadn't realized what I was doing with said right hand until the guy (55-ish, red-complected, puggish nose) started chortling and looking around in a self-satisfied manner, with people noticing... I remember thinking, "Oh shit! What in the world have I been doing!" and then grabbing Doris to go into another room so I could explain things to her. Things would just be OK once I talked to her. Which they were. But then her parents started knocking on the door. We had to let them in. Earnest conversation which went on forever and ever. I just was CRAVING being alone with Doris. And then we finally got rid of that family group. Only to have some of MY family members then knock on the door... I remember giving them much shorter shrift ("You've got to GO!"), since I'd already been through the much harder round and didn't have the patience for another minor round... Once they left, the room changed to a nightclub filled with odd-looking men, and Doris coming on to many of them, leaving me sitting by myself...

Still, the vibes were overall very good, though. I remember being tense wondering when all the family members would get the fuck out of the room, but I wasn't tense when "Doris" was flirting later (unlike my real-life self would have most likely been in that situation). I woke up then feeling happy, and initially couldn't remember who I'd been dreaming about! I knew I'd had a nice sex dream and ran down a list of potential subjects: Joan Crawford, Julie London, some real-life women, etc. Nope... Finally, when I was walking out to the bus-stop, it hit me... Doris Day! I'm not obsessed with her, but her vocals on her "Day by Night" album ARE sexy as hell, and I've been missing it greatly (left my copy at my first roommate's).

"The sky was gorgeous, so were you..."

Sometimes New York weather is crappy, but more often than not I walk around and look up at the sky and thank god that I'm here. With always this first line reverberating in my head:

The sky was gorgeous, so were you

I've been unable to come up with the rest of the poem. But there's a beautiful love poem just waiting to come out from that first line.

And miles to go before I sleep...

I felt foreign in Texas. I'm better now, much better, in New York City (love saying that strong, sexy name) and my newly-beloved Jersey-suburb of Weehawken (love saying that funny name, too).

Both my psyche and my body have adjusted. I was a size 12 when I got here 7 months ago; now I'm a size 6. I'm not unnecessarily tense any more. Seriously, back in Austin I used to get tense in generic situations like grocery stores. At the Weehawken Pathmark (a big-ol' grocery store with everything in it a la Texas, and unlike the tiny grocers in Manhattan, where you can't find anything) today I was involuntarily whistling and doing little dance moves along with the piped-in '60s music. And I was whistling on my way home, carrying my bags. I was whistling while I was putting up my stuff in the kitchen. I used to be mightily irritated by people who whistled in public. I always thought they were being pretentiously, preternaturally, fakely cheerful, putting on a show for others. Well, after my own whistling today, I must apologize for doubting the motives of others in the past. Maybe all those people I was mocking in the past were just feeling happy and light-hearted and glad to be walking around!

["Needles and Pins-uh"---listening to right now, had to get up and JUMP and sing]

What the above has to do with the snowy picture...Ah, no games. Julie posted that on her blog. I still like Julie. And then I got to thinking that my mother's maiden name (from northern Germany) is the same as many last names in Norway. And would I be comfortable in northern Germany/Scandinavia? I think so, but is it a genetic thing? Do I think Norway's attractive just because of Julie or because "my people" came from northern Europe and the genetic memory's imprinted in me? Or do I just like the Scandinavian women I've met since I've been in college and am projecting that on Julie?

I [Heart] Weehawken, part 2

This place is perfect for me. Reminds me a bit of my old house in Austin, which I'd lived in from 2000 to 2007. That house was built in the '30s, this one built pre-WWI. I like the funkiness and character of both places. This new place is about twice the size of my Austin house, though. And with a gorgeous sun-room! (That metal sculpture in the window is especially neat-looking at night, with the light from the room behind it.)

I fell in love with it the second I saw it, even though my roommate's ex-roommate had just moved out and there was stuff tossed about everywhere. It cleaned up real nice. My roommate has been out sailing in Maine for the past 2 days and I took it upon myself to organize all of his books scattered about. (When he lived here with his old roommate, the place was kind of the roommate's---his furniture, his decorations, etc. When the guy moved out, the place was left rather chaotic---not even a trash-can in the kitchen or rug in the bathroom, for instance, and Paul's stuff scattered everywhere. That's one thing I kind of like---my first NY roommate had lived in her apartment for 25 years. My second owned the co-op apartment, had lived there for 7 years, was very proprietary. Here, though Paul's been here for a couple of years, his roommate was here first and Paul always felt like a "second-class citizen," as I've felt. Now there's a relatively empty place and both of us excited about thinking of things to do with it. (We'll see what he thinks about my book, and kitchen, organization once he gets home!)

How cool are these shoes

I bought these a couple of days ago on 14th Street, after I'd gotten paid and could buy anything I wanted. After paying my bills, all I wanted was these Vans.

Proudly, I wore 'em to work today. And nobody noticed! Well, 'til the end of the day, and then one guy who I knew was gay perchance locked in and noticed, "Those are really great shoes!"

They ARE great shoes! ;P

I [Heart] Weehawken

I took some pictures of my new 'hood at twilight Saturday, but they mostly came out dark. I'll wait 'til the sun is bright on one of the upcoming autumn days and give you a glimpse of how neat this neighborhood is. But in the meantime, here's a shot of the Manhattan skyline and of the park near my home and some inside my home:




A night or so after I got here, I was in the kitchen with my roommate; a screen door leading to the back yard. (The first time I'd seen a screen door or a back yard since leaving Texas 7 months ago.) I heard a strange sound: "Is that your cell phone?" I asked my roommate. "What IS that sound?"

It was a cricket! In 7 months I hadn't heard the sound of a cricket (or any nature sounds)! And when I finally did, I thought it was a cell phone! Jesus, it's like I'm from Manhattan or something! :)

Mirror in the Bathroom

Me in my new home.

While I realize the importance of having a "core self," the actions and attitudes of others can't help but intrude on that self (unless you're a completely insensitive asshole/sociopath who never feels vibes from others). I have figuratively been in hell for the past 7 months since I arrived in New York City. Not because of the city---every time I'd step onto the streets, I'd feel excited and hopeful and grateful and GREAT. It was always coming home that was the problem.

Typical conversation with my first roommate (found long-distance via Craig's List):

FRAN (knocking on my room door): I made dinner. Do you want to eat?
ME: Oh, no thanks. I just ate an hour ago while I was out.
FRAN: (standing there)
ME: (smiling politely, repeating) I already ate. But thanks.
FRAN: (pushing past me into my room, lying down on my bed) What's your problem? You've got a real problem.
ME: You asked if I wanted something to eat, I said I already ate. What do you mean, "What's my problem?"
FRAN: You've got a real problem. I don't know what you're trying to do to me, but there's something going on.
ME: Really, I'm not trying to do anything to you. Um, I'm working on my Joan site right now and need to get some stuff done. Can you get off my bed?
FRAN: No, I won't leave. This is my apartment. This is my bed. You just won't admit it.
ME: Admit what?
FRAN: You're so repressed. You're so German.
ME: (big sigh) What do you WANT, Fran? I said I wasn't hungry. And I'm busy. Say what you have to say and please get out of my room!
FRAN: You're in love with Joan Crawford.
ME: Yeah. And...
FRAN: You think that's normal?
ME: Who gives a fuck? It's none of your goddamn business what I do in my room or who I'm in love with.
FRAN: You'll see. You'll come around.
ME: Meaning what? That I'll fall madly in love with YOU?
FRAN: You just want people who don't want you. Like Julie. [I'd earlier mentioned Julie to Fran in passing. Fran quickly became obsessed with this "rival."]
ME: Internet Julie? What?
FRAN: You want Julie. Just admit it.
ME: Julie was interesting. You're not. Get out of my room.
FRAN: I won't get out of your room. It's my apartment and my room. You love Joan Crawford. You love Julie...

And it would escalate from there. I had a variation of the above conversation at least 10 times during my 5-month stay in Fran's apartment. If you haven't lived through such a thing, you have no idea how psychotic and horrible it is.

I was about to go on to my second awful roommate, but the above account drained me so much that I'm tuckered out with the whole issue. In short, my second roommate didn't want me in the living room when she got home. (Though I was paying the majority of her monthly mortgage.) She wanted me to scuttle off to my tiny room once she got home, and she also didn't like that I bitched whenever she brought loud, drunken friends over at 1 in the morning. A drunken friend of hers also called me on my cell 5 times one night, threatening me to get out of the apartment, or she'd have her "state trooper boyfriend" plus the police AND fire dept. escort me out... That kind of thing is ridiculous to hear, but it does wear on you when you keep getting those calls...

Suffice to say, the man that I moved in with this past week has been a dream. I absolutely love the apartment, I love how considerate he is as a person. (For example, one morning he was doing the dishes and the clattering woke me up. I didn't say anything, but the next day he asked, "Was I too loud this morning?" I admitted that, yes, he had woken me up, but no big deal... His response was, "I'm really sorry. I didn't know you could hear that...") And, this weekend, he was going to the Poconos with friends and invited me along... I didn't go, because I wanted to get settled in to this new place, but how nice of him to invite me!

The Hamilton-Burr Duel

I read about this as a kid, in the book "Burr" by Gore Vidal. (Yes, I was reading books like that when I was 10.) And then, once I got to the NYC area at age 40, read more about it... Today I finally visited the New Jersey site, across the Hudson from Manhattan, where the two actually fought. It was interesting to me to see the Manhattan skyline circa 2007, then imagining it circa 1804, at the time of the duel.
Only the very tip of Manhattan Island would have been "filled in," the view across the Hudson for Hamilton and Burr in 1804, nothing but trees...

Thanks to Paul and Paul for taking me on a tour. I've been so bereft of any good feelings recently, thinking everything was my fault... It was so nice to walk around with you guys, strangers to me until today, and talk and talk...About relatively bullshit stuff like liking Joan Crawford, and then also about stuff like what it felt like to die, and to love God... In your everyday life, you usually don't get that kind of sustenance... Even if I don't see you guys again (and I hope I will), it was neat to meet you. What we did today in a couple of hours was exactly how I'd like to fall in love with somebody of my own. (I.e., drinking vodka first in honor of Joan and then just because...talking about everything under the sun, visiting landmarks...) You guys are special.

Jesus H. Christ

This kind of thing is horribly ridiculous. I've been living with my new roommate for a month now, after 5 months of being with a completely psychotic roommate who kept coming into my room night after night... (I didn't leave THAT place immediately because I didn't have the money. Finally, after one particularly horrible night, I begged my mom for money, which she sent.) The new roommate (a butch lesbian) seemed completely normal and "sane." Tonight, though... A female friend of hers came over and started completely dissing me, in my face, saying dumb teenage stuff like, "You wanna fight?" Where the fuck that came from, I have no idea, but my TEXAS then kicked in: "Yeah, I'm from TEXAS, I DO WANNA FIGHT, you creepy, drugged-up bitch..." (My roommate had told me earlier that this particular friend was manic-depressive and on meds.)

I would have LOVED to have actually fought with her and punched her in her idiotic face. My personal thing is, I don't physically fight or look for fights without provocation. But WITH provocation... you bet, no problem. Bring it on, you stupid piece of shit... I would have punched her in a second, had not my roomate pulled the "guest" away. (Incredibly, later in the evening, this same idiot called me 4 times on my cell phone.)

The whole thing is completely idiotic. I'm only involved in this 'cause I moved to NYC and didn't have much choice of where I could live. And so subsequently have to deal with these fucking freaks... I'm completely amazed by all of this... Why am I fucking involved in any of this? It amazes me that such shitty people are anywhere near my life.

Celeb spotting in NYC

Today while standing outside my work-building near Union Square having a smoke, I spotted Elvis Costello and Diana Krall, rolling their twin-baby-stroller right by me on 5th Avenue! (I initially had no idea it was either Elvis Costello, or Diana Krall--- they both looked short and frumpy and non-attractive... at first I looked at them just as I'd glance around at anyone... And then I did a double-take. I still wasn't sure it was them, but noted the stroller for twin babies... When I went back inside, I did a search on the Internet for the kids o' Costello... Sure 'nuff, he and Krall had had twins last year!) BTW: Krall has been positioned as being a diva-in-the-making... uh, NO.

Berlin Berlin

The last (and only) time I was in Berlin was when I was 18, 24 years ago in the mid-80s. Reagan was in power, the Cold War was still on, and when us tourists (my mom, me, and my brother) were visiting Berlin from West Germany (back when the country was split between East and West), we had to stop by several East German checkpoints, where they all checked our passports. (The East German soldiers who came on the buses were ridiculously young. At one checkpoint, the baby-faced soldier looked at my passport, said, "American?" When I nodded, he nodded back and smiled broadly and said perhaps the only English word he knew: "OK!")

Here's the thing: My mom is German, and I have official German citizenship (dual, along with America), since my mom was still officially a citizen of Germany when I was born in the '60s. I was recently talking with an acquaintance who loves France but who can't live there because of the residency/work laws for an alien...He pointed out to me that, as a citizen of Germany, I'm also officially a citizen of the European Union... I can frigging go wherever I want to go, and, not just GO there, but WORK there and STAY there...

You know what? What the hell.

"Life Underground"

I love being new to New York, and I love being old enough to not EVEN be concerned about image or about being seen as a "tourist." I've been here for 6 months now and I've already taken a completely touristy ferry tour to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, as well as a boat tour around the whole perimeter of Manhattan Island.

I got a new job in Union Square a week ago, and one thing I noticed in the Union Square subway links was these little "Life Underground" figures by artist Tom Otterness, placed in the subways in 2001 (according to a plaque I read). This subway station's a huge one and everywhere I walked, there those odd little figures were. Nothing quite compares to Norway's "Sinnataggen" park statue, but I still appreciate NYC's attempts at being publicly off-beat.

Union Square

A year ago, I was driving daily from a barren, isolated parking lot to a fast-food drive-thru for lunch (and feeling deeply depressed every time I left the building and looked around at nothing). And now, this is where I'm having lunch!

Union Square is so vibrant. I know, "vibrant" is an over-used trendy word, but I can't think of any other way to describe what all is going on there... Nothing in particular, but yet everything. It's hard to explain, but people are just putzing around here and hanging out, and it's interesting as hell to sit around and watch. It's like a bee-hive or an ant-colony---people in droves going about their business in a fashion that's highly organized, yet the onlookers are welcome, too, and definitely part of the "scene." Like on the subways, there's occasional eye-contact made, but then complete personal space given, an overall sense of non-judgmental-ness...

Some have written about New York City as being "impersonal" and "cold," but for me personally (my personality, my temperament), I don't particularly LIKE having to phonily "make nice" and pretend there's a heart-felt connection when there's not. I like wandering around and having daily---sometimes witty, sometimes obnoxious, sometimes utterly sweet---interactions with other people; I like the SURPRISE of it.

I just read in the NY press that NYC Mayor Bloomberg is spearheading a campaign to attract tourists, specifically trying to counter the image of New Yorkers as "unfriendly"... As a neophyte to the city of 6 months who has asked countless random New Yorkers on the street for street/landmark directions, for bank directions, for advice on pizza places, for you-name-it, I must say that I don't see why this campaign is necessary. From what I've seen in my 6 months here, New Yorkers are absolutely cool about being helpful and nice. I've had small-store owners give me incredible bargains on packs of cigarettes, waiters give me advice on where to live, Metro police officers help me swipe my subway card when it wouldn't go through...

I felt self-conscious in Austin, like I had to "act a certain way" to be perceived as "normal" and "competent." There's so much going on in New York City that no one gives a shit about "how you appear." What seems to matter here (thankfully) is simply that you "get the job done," whether you're a garbage collector or a trannie performer or an office worker or a business mogul or a model. The atmosphere is so free-wheeling and accepting, yet with the underlying coda of "competence." That kind of ethic is so utterly SANE to me.

Shock-headed Peter

http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.gutenberg.org/files/12116/12116-h/images/004-t.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.gutenberg.org/files/12116/12116-h/12116-h.htm&h=619&w=600&sz=51&hl=en&start=1&tbnid=fd2dwMj5e8hQLM:&tbnh=136&tbnw=132&prev=/images%3Fq%3D%2522shock%2Bheaded%2Bpeter%2522%26gbv%3D2%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26sa%3DG

The above link is so long it's probably shit, but do try to find the 1844 German "Struwwelpeter" (in English, "Shock-headed Peter") online. Subtitled "Merry Stories and Funny Fables" (by Heinrich Hoffman), it's anything BUT merry or funny! It's all about kids who do bad things like play with matches or don't eat their food or suck their thumbs... And, boy, do they pay the price! Their getting burnt up or dying of starvation or getting their thumbs cut off in these "fairy tales" is weirdly brutal, but fascinating!

My German mom was born in 1941 and this book was a part of her childhood, which she read to me when I was little. Its weird, utterly evil, frightening illustrations have been ingrained in my memory since I was a kid. Until recently, I had no idea that anyone else had even seen such a thing! (Just recently the "Ovation" US cable channel had a program about some British guys who were touring with a stage performance based solely on the book. The stage show was cheesy---a big unshaven slob of a lead singer dressed in pseudo Weimar-Berlin garb emoting about "Fire! Fire! Fire!" But the fact that someone had been inspired by this book was still interesting to me.)

John Lennon "Some Time in New York City" lyrics

Standing on the corner
Just me and Yoko Ono
We was waiting for Jerry to land
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand
Singing, "Have a marijuana if you can"
His name was David Peel
And we found that he was real
He sang, "The Pope smokes dope every day"
Up come a policeman shoved us up the street
Singing, "Power to the people today!"

New York City...New York City...New York City
Que pasa, New York?
Que pasa, New York?

Well down to Max's Kansas City
Got down the nitty gritty
With the Elephants Memory Band
Laid something down
As the news spread around
About the Plastic Ono Elephants Memory Band!
And we played some funky boogie
And laid some tutti frutti
Singing, "Long Tall Sally's a man."
Up come a preacherman trying to be a teacher
Singing, "God's a red herring in drag!"

New York City...New York City...New York City
Que pasa, New York?
Que pasa, New York?

New York City...New York City...New York City
Que pasa, New York?
Que pasa, New York?

Well we did the Staten Island Ferry
Making movies for the telly
Played the Fillmore and Apollo for freedom
Tried to shake our image
Just a cycling through the Village
But found that we had left it back in London
Well nobody came to bug us
Hustle us or shove us
So we decided to make it our home
If the Man wants to shove us out
We gonna jump and shout
The Statue of Liberty said, "Come!"

New York City...New York City...New York City
Que pasa, New York?
Que pasa, New York?

New York City...back in New York City [my note: this lyric is really "what a bad-ass city!]...New York City
Que pasa, New York?
Que pasa, New York?
---------------------------------------------

The 1972 Lennon/Yoko album "Some Time in New York City" is a rare one, but for some reason I found a copy in 1983 in a mall record store in Fort Worth, Texas, of all places! (They also had a re-issue copy of the now ultra-rare "Two Virgins"!!) I bought "Some Time" while I was hanging out with my best friend Ginny, and I remember spending the night over at her house that night...and then listening to the thing over and over and over and over, to Ginny's eventual annoyance!

Ginny was a Libra---a calm, placid soul by nature---but this album stretched her limits of tolerance! I remember in particular the "John Sinclair" song, with its "gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta set him free" alleged "chorus"... I think at that annoying repetition she finally put her foot down and made me take off the album! But before that song, there was also "The Luck of the Irish"---

If you had the luck of the Irish
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead
You should have the luck of the Irish
And you'd wish you was English instead!

A thousand years of torture and hunger
Drove the people away from their land
A land full of beauty and wonder
Was raped by the British brigands! Goddamn! Goddamn!

If you could keep voices like flowers
There'd be shamrock all over the world
If you could drink dreams like Irish streams
Then the world would be high as the mountain of morn

In the 'Pool they told us the story
How the English divided the land
Of the pain, the death and the glory
And the poets of auld Eireland

If we could make chains with the morning dew
The world would be like Galway Bay
Let's walk over rainbows like leprechauns
The world would be one big Blarney stone

Why the hell are the English there anyway?
As they kill with God on their side
Blame it all on the kids the IRA
As the bastards commit genocide! Aye! Aye! Genocide!

If you had the luck of the Irish
You'd be sorry and wish you was dead
You should have the luck of the Irish
And you'd wish you was English instead!
Yes you'd wish you was English instead!
------------------------------------------------------

Before she turned the record off, Ginny kept randomly interspersing/outbursting in our conversation, "Aye! Aye! Genocide!" and "Goddamn! Goddamn! Ireland!" ;p

I miss her a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot a lot. She was a cool kid from Georgia who'd just moved to Texas with her mom and dad, and then she met a nerdy freak like me who was into "weird" things (for 1983) like John Lennon and she had to sit there and interpret 1972 Lennon lyrics with me... When I went off to college in Austin in 1983, Ginny found someone else, but I hurt for her for 5 years. I remember it---5 whole years! Almost everything I did for 5 years I kept thinking of what it would be like had she been there with me.

She died in 1988. And up until the mid-90s or so she was still in contact with me. Not often, but when I'd be going through something hard, she'd come visit me in a dream, and I'd wake up feeling completely rejuvenated and hopeful. I haven't heard from her in years. I think when you're in the spirit world, it takes some effort and strain to get in touch with people in the actual world... I think she did what she could for me and then went off to be completely in her new world. (That sounds nuts, but... that's pretty much how it happened after she died.)

The Brooklyn Bridge

On my first birthday in New York City, two weeks ago, I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge (which opened to traffic in 1883 after 13 years of construction). I'm not of the knee-jerk "I like old things just because they're old" school, but in general it does seem that things of the past were constructed with much more care and aesthetic consideration. This bridge, for instance, is just gorgeous to look at, both close up and from a distance.










The last picture wasn't taken by me, but is of New Yorkers walking across the Brooklyn Bridge in August 2003, after a massive power-outage had shut down the subways. I had just been flown in to NYC for a job interview in June that summer. I didn't get the job, but that first glimpse of New York City gave me a taste of the city and a real sense that I wanted to be there. When the blackout happened a couple of months later, there was a photo of people walking home on the Brooklyn Bridge on the front page of the NY Times (which gave me chills), which I cut out and taped up above my desk at work, with my notation: "I should have been there." It took me nearly 4 years since my first visit, but...here I am, as I should be!

What a bad-ass city!

I was in such a deep funk in Austin last year. I quit my well-paying job just because I was being disrespected. And a friend told me, "Why don't you just move to New York, like you've been talking about? Now seems like exactly the right time."

I don't know that I would have done it if not for that casual conversation. And now that I'm here, I cannot get over how grateful I am.

I've never been religious, but I've been praying like hell for the past month: to get out of a horrible roommate situation and find a new place, to get a job... I don't say this like a religious fanatic, but rather sincerely: Thank you, GOD, for getting me through this.

Again, I can't say enough how grateful I am. For this beautiful city, for my new place, for my new job.

The "what a bad-ass city!" quote comes from John Lennon's 1972 song "New York City." I agree. It IS a fucking "bad-ass city," in the best way. I'd recommend it to anyone.

Come here!

I never thought I'd be sane again: December 8, 1980

Our life together is so precious together
We have grown, we have grown
Although our love is still special
Let's take a chance and fly away somewhere alone

It's been too long since we took the time
No-one's to blame, I know time flies so quickly
But when I see you darling
It's like we both are falling in love again
It'll be just like starting over, starting over

Everyday we used to make it love
Why can't we be making love nice and easy
It's time to spread our wings and fly
Don't let another day go by my love
It'll be just like starting over, starting over

Why don't we take off alone
Take a trip somewhere far, far away
We'll be together all alone again
Like we used to in the early days
Well, well, well darling

It's been too long since we took the time
No-one's to blame, I know time flies so quickly
But when I see you darling
It's like we both are falling in love again
It'll be just like starting over, starting over

Our life together is so precious together
We have grown, we have grown
Although our love is still special
Let's take a chance and fly away somewhere

Starting over

What a loser!

Another Joan Crawford webmaster just did yet another idiotic thing: Neil sent my dad an e-mail saying that I was going around online claiming that my dad had sexually abused me AND that I was writing a book about him!

For the record, my father never sexually abused me, and I'm certainly not writing a "Daddy Dearest"! Geez.

Neil keeps getting dumber and dumber: All those messages you send have traceable IP numbers, Retard!

How pretty is this!

The garden of my new apartment building. In general, I really love the flora of New York City and its environs. The city as a whole is so well-landscaped. When you see NYC onscreen from a camera angle aimed down at it, it looks like nothing but masses of gray buildings, but in actuality, there are trees everywhere. It's a very green city.

LL Rocks

You know what? Who gives a fuck if Lindsay Lohan drinks or does drugs... or chases people down the street in a "hijacked" vehicle, for that matter. (Oooh---I bet those 3 big club guys were really scared when Lindsay jumped in their car...)

Good for Lindsay for having an ounce of gumption and free will left in her after 15 years in show business. Good for her for daring to act weird in the face of the monotonous drumbeat of the media (including the so-called iconoclast Perez Hilton) that wants her smiling and acting fakely pleasant at all times.

I'm sure she'll "repent" publicly in the near future, but for now... keep those golden cuffs on your rear-view mirror, Lindsay. You're the most aesthetically pleasing wild thing since the 1932 Joan Crawford.

Birthday Greetings

I got this card from my brother for my birthday. The best part was the inside, with the quote from my brother RE 5-year-old nephew Townes at the upper left ("I told Townes that the girl on the front was you as a child. He says 'She looks cute, but she looks crazy!'"):

What cracked me up is that I could very much sense Townes's dilemma... Though the picture is NOT me, he thought it was (my brother has a warped sense of humor, similar to mine---it's a weird German/East Texas thing), and was trying so very hard to be polite... but then the REAL impression of what he saw just burst out of him!

When I talked to Townes on my birthday, I asked him when he's coming to New York to visit... Besides me, both of my brother's wife's sisters live here, too (Brooklyn and the Lower East Side), as does Townes' 10-year-old cousin, who just spent a week with my brother and family in Austin. My brother told me that Townes is very aware of New York and is curious about it. That's my goal---to get him curious and comfortable with the idea of the city at a young age so he'll visit and ultimately make it here by his 20s! (As opposed to my not getting here 'til age 41!)

It really is a special place. Not only is it gorgeous and interesting, but it's got more than enough substance to back up its glamour. People have referred to it as being a "hard" town, but what it actually is is... It's not a lazy town. It expects something of you. It wants you to work for what you ultimately get. To me, that's not "hard"---it's "fair."