Wednesday, November 19, 2014




Postponing papers to go to concerts, Lindsay? Taking cigarette/taking-crappy-pictures-of-the-moon breaks during math class? GIRL PLEASE you weren't even good at being a teenager when you were a teenager.

I have so much shit to do but all I am actually doing is perfecting my dream cast for HBO's gift to me. (Example, but mine's way better.)

Friday, November 14, 2014

how i lost fifty pounds in fifteen years





My heart is a radio, I'm holding it to my ear. 
To my left there is a dial I am turning it
s l o w 
trying to hear over my own breath
(listen.) 

A great deal of my brain space is used for wondering about the points of things. The origins of the points, the significance of those points to myself, but most often - where are the points? I try not to ask, "What is the point of you?" to a thing or to a person, because that is a rude thing to ask and it is vulgar to be rude. Also, because, I think, that, or should I say, I assume, or have been assuming, or have been trying to alter my assumptions so that I can be of a mind where - that is to say - I accept that points exist without needing them to empirically prove themselves. By virtue of the fact that we exist - whether that "existence" is the place of all our converging, subjective realities or is, as asserted by Charlie (or was it Frank?), part of a "turtle's dream" - we're all the same. Essentially. Right? Can we agree on that, can you agree on that for a moment? We all exist. Common denominators, people. Math is fun (and important for young ladies, and sleepy turtles.) So if I accept that, which I do, and which you have agreed to do for at least the duration of this for me writing for you reading (we've all accepted that we all exist, in case you're unsure), then assigning a zero value to anything is… problematic. And so, the points, there can't be zero of them. Existence is its own point, perhaps. And everything's doing it.

Pointily. 

I don't like people sometimes. I really don't. Which is another thing that is "…problematic" because of being a human and also because of being a human in a customer service vocation and also ALSO because of being a human in a customer service vocation located on the upper west side of Manhattan. And the truth of it is that the people I don't like, it is specific situations in which I do not like them. And here is where I ought to say, or where you are expecting me to say, perhaps, something like "Maybe I'd like them if I knew them in a different situation." BUT most of the time I probably still wouldn't, because they treat people like basura and that's neither my jelly nor my jam. Another time, probably not though, I'll maybe address my thoughts on entitlement and poor manners and the customer/employee dynamic but that time is not this time and so allow me to backpedal and then continue along the intended route. The route being, points --> not always having warm feelings toward people --> the part I am getting to now, and, praise be to Aslan in the highest, the last part. 

My not liking someone, in a situation or pattern of repeating situations, does not negate their value, or mine. 

We are each one of us a bundle of mechanisms, fine-tuned and developed custom for the paths we've each takenandaretaking through the existence that, remember we all agreed, we are all doing. Being. Living in. Sharing?Okay. And then the universe throws glitter confetti powdered sugar hand grenade handfuls of triggers down into our allarounds and shakes real hard. And we're all maneuvering, navigating, dodging, reacting, engaging, living, hiding, whatevering, through that terrible, beautiful storm. And sometimes, too many times, we treat each other as if we're not all maneuvering, navigating, dodging, reacting, engaging, living, hiding, whatevering. And we lose sight of the points that everything has. That everyone has. The valuable, valuable points. 

(Not always, though. Sometimes we're cool.) 

I don't know, you know. Maybe we are all just shaking around this place like tiny metal balls just randomly crashing into each other. But we're still touching. We can try to make that contact a little nicer. And when we feel like we're the only ones trying and why fucking BOTHER my GOODNESS these people are the WORST, well. We can try to remember the value, and consider how the pointiness might encourage growth or inspire change. Or something. 

So, my goal for this week is, of course, not eat any candy and become a full-time model. Also, to keep at the front of my mind in all my interactions with other metal balls THAT: everything is valuable, everything has a point, how can I use that valuable point? 

So, if I haven't said something similar to you lately or if you feel like you just need to hear it from somebody or, you know, anything: I recognize and acknowledge your value. You are valuable, and there is a point to you. 

I am not sure, however, if there was a point to this. Or wait, yes I am, that's what I just said. There is definitely a point. I've just, I seem to have lost track of it. Maybe take my eyes off the screen and take them into the shower, because they're stinky, these eyes of mine. Maybe post pictures of me eating first, though.



These are from the same day, but like, eight hours apart. The next chapter in my life may just be following food-based pop-up markets around. It'll be a lot like this chapter of my life, actually. 

Monday, November 3, 2014

flotsam! jetsam!





Yesterday it was burnt-marshmallow-winter-coat season. I felt pretty bad for all the girls running the marathon in sports bras and bathing suit bottoms, except then I remembered that they could run a marathon and I get tired walking up and down Central Park and I stopped feeling bad.

Today is I'm-not-even-finished-with-this-latte-and-I'm-already-ready-for-another-one season.