Everything new is old (everything old is new)

I'm feeling pleasant in the present. I'm not even miserable being at work. I'm just floating along, doing what the other workers do. It helps to leave the building, and I just spent an hour at Duane Reade. Yesterday I went shopping for Michelle and also just stared at stuff in Borders. There is a lot of shopping to be had around these parts, although I don't like crowds or lines. I like to do the zombie-window-shop-shuffle. That means picking up and examining things you're not even interested in, just killing time and preoccupied with something else. But I really feel happy today, haha. In less than an hour I'm going up to Harlem to meet my baby at her work, then we take Metro North to her parents' house for a holiday weekend, including Christmas tree decoration and everything.

simplify it

I really feel like I'm losing touch with reality here. Writing two posts in one day is reserved for when I'm feeling especially agitated or inspired, so I'm trying to work something out here. Although I closed my last entry stating that I have no friends, the truth is I have four friends total in NYC although they are not people I see often. One of them is my ex girlfriend and although I have enjoyed our rekindled friendship, she just pissed me the fuck off!! The Judger. Fuck her! What does she know? She knows nothing. She's more dysfunctional than I am so how dare she judge me and tell me what to do! Ironically, she was criticizing my public writing, i.e my blogs! She doesn't know about this particular blog and I don't write on myspace or friendster anymore, but I could tell she would have liked to know my exact blogger address, so she could criticize me some more! Obviously I hurt my friend's feelings awhile ago with some of my blogs on myspace! I already knew that she never liked my blogs and that she thinks they're "defensive," and she may have also said arrogant! She had a totally warped view of me and my blogs at the time we dated. She was offended by things that weren't malicious at ALL but simple stories or statements. Anything she can find wrong in someone she dates, she's appalled by it, as if she's Jesus, like in her dreams. She's so focused on the other person's flaws because she can't stand her own. That was the breaking point in our relationship too, when she was judging me over my desires to be famous, which she never understood or had compassion for. I know what she thinks of me, and how she judges me, projecting this fucking bullshit onto me! I don't even care that it seems true, her opinion, from this blog alone. I am allowed to write whatever I want, aren't I?! I'm not hiding anything! I might change my mind later or come to a higher understanding of something, but at least my blogs aren't sugar coated crap like hers! Duh I have too much time on my hands. But to tell me I shouldn't let Michelle read certain things? I don't need to protect Michelle from my feelings! But God, maybe I do. If she's right on this, I'm going to be even more upset. Is it true that I should keep certain things to myself? My friend says certain feelings and ideas pass, so it's better to not upset the other. I don't like that philosophy! I have a very strong desire, or perhaps a compulsion, to share and confess everything. I feel like I can't move past a mysterious feeling until I have confessed it. I have always confessed everything. I can't keep a secret. I want to share, I need to. I need somebody to know me and not just have me going through motions and playing a part that is appropriate. Then again recently Michelle told me to work on my impulsivity with sending angry emails. I so rarely do that anymore though! And it isn't the same as a blog. True, why don't I just write it in my private journal? Because I really want her to read it. If I'm in the wrong on any issue, I want to see how, I want her to tell me. But I don't want to suffer alone, that's all. Damn I bet Michelle wishes I would come home in a good mood. Maybe I'll take my friend's type of advice and pretend that I'm fine with the fact of today's misery.

fucking shit up

Well, you can see for yourself Mishy’s reaction to my thoughts and feelings of yesterday. Today I feel sick about it. It makes me not even want to write. I hate the bullshit that comes out of me and doesn’t even make any sense. I want to punish myself but it seems unfair. I’m not a normal person. Today at work everyone is chatting and laughing about the office party and I just feel depressed. It’s funny how different the same things look from a happy or depressed perspective. Everything on the train is sad. The whole city is gray. I have these two options: stay at this job forever or until I commit suicide, or try to become something better and fail. That’s a lose/lose, trapping me. I feel I’m holding Michelle back. She’s not even comfortable and confident on the ship now that I’ve criticized her in certain ways, even if I’ve tried to say all along, these are just my problems. They truly are. I don’t even know where it comes from, or why I feel like a tyrannical child. My old joke goes, fuck the baby. And my mind raises some old feelings of panic in the face of all this, and the feeling of panic makes me fucking panic. I don’t want to feel anxious like Michelle does. I have managed to stabilize myself, partly by holding this non-challenging job. Now the safety is providing me with hatred for myself and this fucking place and I feel the need to escape, as if one more day might be too much to stand. So, now I’ve pushed Michelle away too, when I needed something I couldn’t say or even put my finger on. Am I codependent? I feel I have no sense of self right now, so I hate being apart. Well I did some research and codependency isn’t quite my problem. What is my fucking problem? Then a voice in my head says, “nothing,” and just like that the whole thing could poof into the smoke of my imagination. Everyone knows I have too much time on my hands. But will I be able to handle grad school and teaching? I bet Michelle will want to go to her parents’ house tonight. Fine, let her go. Even though I feel panic and have no friends.

lonely on the internet and worried about death

This morning my friend called me sobbing because her cat was hit by a car this morning and died. This was at her country home in Woodstock, where Wayne, the cat, lived a very full, hunter-cat's life. My friend loved Wayne so much, and Wayne was such a good boy. Once a couple years ago or so I was sleeping out at the country home and Wayne brought me three mice over the course of one night, to kill for me on my pillow. This was horrific but it is a sign of love. I can't believe Wayne died today! It happens all the time, cats dying, but it's too sad for me to really accept. I can't imagine losing my Tatiana, ever. Contemplating death is much scarier when your heart is really feeling the love. In some ways, this is completely new to me. I know I have always had the capability to love, but used to deny and control feelings of dependence. Last night I received a Christmas card from my grandma who wrote about my cousin Keith who died of a brain tumor recently and how she anticipates seeing him in heaven. She also looks forward to seeing Grandpa, and wrote that she hopes the whole Wiens family is there someday. I am scared of anyone in my family dying because that's never happened to me before, but I don't NEED anyone in my family on a daily basis like I need Mishy. And Tati is mine. I'm a good mommy and I am responsible for her wellbeing and happiness, so that is a very deep love. But the one important thing is, now that I'm not alone, I feel I cannot be alone again. I won't be able to stand it again. I don't want it. I can grow like this, I couldn't move like that and just kept repeating myself. The main thing we do is protect ourselves. I didn't start to love because I was ready to, but because somebody I could relate to was showing me how. But every day Mishy sees potentially dangerous clients in bad neighborhoods, and she drives. I think about Wayne getting hit by a car in the country, and I say five thousand prayers per second to please, God, keep Mishy safe.

On another note, I just came from a gynocology appointment. I had to go since it has been around four years and they say it's important albeit highly unpleasant. I went to an Asian lady doctor. She suprised me with a rectal exam as well, and was really pushing in there and telling me to relax, as if. She said she felt something. NOW I have to go BACK, after taking an enema!!? WTF! I've never taken one before. I like the idea of being cleaned out. The doctor said maybe it's poo that she felt and asked if I'm constipated, which I'm not because I never am, but maybe it's my ovaries? I wonder if it could be related to my difficult cramps. I doubt it though. She seemed to have a slight smile when giving me the instructions, like laughing at me? I wonder if I'm being taken advantage of or humiliated in some way? Should I do the follow up?

I also called Hunter College today and asked when they would send the fucking letter telling me if my life is moving forward in the one direction or whether I'm as stagnant and pathetic as I feel. They said I could expect an answer in a week or so. I just want to be doing something useful. But I don't like the idea of being away from Mishy more often when the evening classes commence. Fuck it, chronic discontent.... etc....perfectionism is something I'm shitting out until I'm clean of it because it's waste, for sure.

Hell House

Last night MK and I watched the movie Hell House, a documentary about these losers in Texas who create a haunted house of “sins.” It was quite upsetting, as these “Christians” have the most infantile, shallow, petty conceptions of God possible, and are judgmental and self righteous in every way. They have taken a complex, mysterious, ancient text or collection of texts – the bible – and simplified it to fit their culture and their own (pathetic) ideas of right and wrong. I know most “Christians” do this, but the Hell House crew take it to an infuriating extreme. They trivialize pain and indulge their fantasies of painful situations so that their haunted house is a grotesque manifestation of hypocrisy. The create the following theatrical scenes: rape, abortion, a gay man dying of AIDS, incest, and more – with the point of each being the moment where the character either chooses Jesus/God or rejects him. The characters all reject God, that is, they express anger at God for allowing them to suffer, and are immediate banished to Hell, where the devil taunts and torments them “for eternity.” At the end of the haunted house, the visitors have the chance to pray and accept God. Unfortunately, they scared thousands of ignorant Texas kids into “accepting” God in this way. These types of evangelical “Christians” often talk about there being a war in this world between god and Satan, and how they want to “win souls for Christ.” These are also the same people who usually support real wars. They really don’t know anything about God, or Jesus.

The only thing I know about God, and I’ve said this before, is that God is indefinable and incomprehensible. It is impossible for the human mind to wrap itself around God. The western, scientific mind doesn’t want a mystery like this, but eastern religions have the right approach. All religions have some truth, and it’s good to search, to try to understand. But in the end, there are no answers, because we are too small, and the big picture is too big.

They are laying people off at my job again. I may or may not be laid off. If I am, I will try to take it as an opportunity. One door closes, another door opens. I will try to work as a substitute teacher, which I didn’t plan to start until next fall. In a way, I hope this happens. But money is a big worry. Everyone is worried about money. I have a hard time accepting that part of life – in tarot cards it is the pentacle. I resent that each person has to find a way to create financial and material security for herself and her family, especially when that security depends so much on outside factors, like the economy. But I’ve become stronger over the years, so maybe the struggle is good. This job I have now, it’s not a problem if I’m depressed, so I feel less anxious also. But then again, I have no real challenges or goals here, so that in itself is depressing. I still didn’t get the letter telling me whether or not I am accepted to graduate school. Everything feels frozen until I know about that. I don’t care if I’m poor, but I need to be able to pay my rent and buy food. That’s it! I love my home with Mishy. I look forward to going home every night. I hope I don’t become overwhelmed with anxiety and unable to be good company when my comfortable routine (this job) ends. I would hate to have her stressed over my finances. I want to be a support and great wife, not a burden or someone on the edge of despair and panic.

Where I am, right now

It is official. I’m not in a band anymore. Everyone says I did the right thing, and I can come back to music later. But can I? Is that really realistic? I feel so fucking sick about this. On the way to work I listened to a jam from practice and one song off the demo. I feel like the quitter part of me has triumphed, the lazy part that never wanted to go to practice or hang around in bars waiting to play, and wanted to go home as soon as possible afterwards. And I worry that I’m fooling myself by thinking that I’m capable of doing any other job besides the pointless one I have now. Could I really be a teacher? Could I work that hard? I feel I have betrayed a part of myself, by quitting the band. It seems like a real tragedy. There I had a talented group of musicians who liked me and we worked well together, and a member besides myself, who did everything: networking and setting up shows, managing the myspace profile, everything I was too lazy or anxious to do. I miss jamming. Last night I would have been at practice, and of course I was happy to go home, instead, to my wife. But a part of me was angry at myself, and still is upset. Why couldn’t I do it all? Of course I have to try graduate school, and to get my career going in that direction. I CAN’T work here forever. My salary is capped out, and I get bored and depressed doing nothing with my brain. The last show we did, in Albany, was one of the best! I received so many positive comments, and one person telling me how special our sound and dynamic was, and he said “never let them go. Never break up.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him or even fully admit to myself it was my last show. In some ways, I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to go. But knowing the musical quality was appreciated made everything feel worth it. And at the point I decided to quit the band, we weren’t getting any positive feedback! But aren’t I weak for needing that? It seems I’m too weak for everything. Why did I quit before I even started classes? Obviously I wanted to quit. I didn't even try to do both. Why? And will the same thing that made me quit the band make me quit graduate school or teaching when it gets hard? Ugh, what the fuck.

I’m sorry this issue has to cast a shadow on the fact that Michelle moved in, and truly I’m happy to have her with me in a daily, permanent way. I felt I couldn’t stand NOT having her living with me any longer. She seemed to be missing me less since starting her job, and me missing her more, but I know that we love each other the same. Life events make the love take different shapes in how it feels. So her stuff is all in my apartment now, and I love it. The many, many pairs of shoes, the furniture that was once in her childhood bedroom, all the books on suicide, drug addiction, borderline disorder, the DSM, I’m Okay You’re Okay, Prozac Nation, By Her Own Hand, the behavioral workbooks….they’re all available for my education now….the wardrobe that I’m taking advantage of along with the shoes (today it's purple kangaROOS), and the belts. She is the cutest girl ever. She had dinner ready when I got home last night! We are setting things up very nicely. She is working in bad neighborhoods though, and I am concerned about how the signs of drug activity affect her. She said she saw ten empty heroin bags on the street yesterday in Harlem and Queens. She only picked one up and then threw it down again rather than drool over the crumbs. Last night I had a dream that she came to the door of my house (some house) and was asking me to look up this map on the internet. She walked by me quickly but I grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to get a look in her face. She evaded my eyes but I caught them and saw the little pupils, which were almost translucent or purple, and I knew she was high. I started yelling at her, “You’re so fucking stupid,” and she became immediately defensive and walked away from me, and I recalled that I was acting like her first girlfriend, Amy. She was going to leave, but then started telling me about what a great day she’d had. She went to an amusement park and said the roller coaster was amazing. Then our friends Alicia and Jessica came over and I realized they all did it together. I started yelling at them, “How could you! You’re supposed to keep my girlfriend safe!” And they just laughed at me, and Alicia said, “Why? We don’t care if we die. JJ has OD’d in the bathroom a couple times before.” And I started hitting them, and I wondered if maybe I should just give in and do some too, but I knew it wasn’t right. Then I hit them with red dye on my hands and got it all over their shirts, but they just laughed, and said, “Remember when she tried to hit your mom?” about Alicia’s mom. Then I woke up from this nightmare and my baby was sleeping next to me, but I told her the dream, and then I went to the bathroom but I tripped on something on the way back and hurt my toe, so then I was wide awake and smoked a cigarette. The dream was so real, and horrible. I have more to say, but I should get to work here. (mindless work for a disturbed mind).

Mamouns

washington square park

Who I am / who am I

Sometimes I have wondered, am I really as crazy as I thought I was, and how crazy, and in what way? And then I wondered if maybe I was just pretending to be crazy because I wanted to feel special and different. Reading old letters, even from the beginning of my relationship with Mishy, reveals some real problems with relating and being close. She kept telling me about her strong positive feelings, and I could not believe it. She would throw theories out there and I would pretend I'd already thought of them. I would use humor and sexuality to thwart certain bends of conversation, it's so sad really. Well, at least now I see it, which means I am growing and I have changed.

One of the major problems I've noticed is this feeling of rage that will come over me. When I feel that way, and I still sometimes do, toward Mishy, it's as if no love could be enough. I feel like I want to be a matter of life and death, at the pinnacle of attention, I want ALL the power, but I also feel very scared. Mich doesn't really question or insult me in ways that will exacerbate it. She loves me. This week I'm having the horrible experience of feeling the rage surface but knowing 100% that it's irrational. So what do I do?

Well, I have to do laundry tonight. I just hate the thought of sitting in the laundry mat, thinking about all this. I wonder if it has anything or everything to do with my mother.

Big changes on the horizon

So tonight I broke the news to the gentlemen of dead muse that I will be parting ways at the end of the year. I feel sooo fucked up about it tonight! I wonder if I did the right thing? It's easy to say goodbye to something that is 100% bad or even 90% bad. But during rehearsal I felt love for the songs especially the latest one, and I felt impressed by our progress as a song writing team, and my own personal progress in that arena. I feel I have some talent and that I'm about to throw away everything I thought I was working toward. I felt like crying while singing the last song, and the boys looked very sad too. They are very disappointed and don't want me to go! But I still went through with it. I'm worried that it's just my chronic discontent that made me dislike going to practice and counting the minutes till I was out of there. But either way, I have to make a life for myself. I applied to school, and feel very determined and excited to become a teacher. I will probably still not want to do things and be miserable doing them, but at least I'll be creating a good living situation and doing something meaningful. I wonder if I'll ever have the chance to write songs again. Obviously I can if I want to. But I wonder if I'm walking away at a critical point, as if good things might happen for the band if I stay. But I think no one will ever come to shows, and I don't like doing them anyway. I'm never going to want to network and meet people so that they come, oh there are a million reasons why they won't come. And even if they did, nobody's going to pay me for that. I am just scared in general of taking this leap, especially the idea of leaving my secure job next year in order to do substitute teaching, which I view as a crucial step in the process of becoming a teacher, for me. I felt very sure of my decision, but after breaking the news and contemplating it truly being over, I feel so ambivalent. I'm almost feel like I don't know who I am because I'm reminded of how I felt when I wanted to sing in a band so badly and believed it could go somewhere. But I want a peaceful, meaningful life. I don't like hanging out in bars or want to travel away from home all the time, even if that were a real possibility. Maybe if I was younger and single, or had a different personality. I worry too much about Tatiana when I'm away from her, and whether she's going crazy missing me or what.

A very romantic date

Look at the turtles! And below, a picture MK will say isn't good, but it is good because of the expression of the mouth and how it's so damn sweet.

Here is my beloved love smiling, my favorite smile in the whole world. My only wish is to keep my little lady happy.
And here's Mishy when she started getting "sea sick" in addition to hungry, having to pee, and hot.

Heart Soaring and Making Shadows

The Cyclone

The results are in

Something is wrong with me. That's the beginning and the end of it. I was born this way. I go crazy sometimes. I hate it. I'm embarrased of the things I said and wrote to people. Oh well. Most of it I said here, and only MK reads, and she seems to like me the way I am. Nobody else ever has. My family says they do, but I still don't believe it, even if that's my own fault. There are flies in my apartment, how disgusting. I hope Tatiana kills them soon. She's trying. I feel very depressed now. I'm a crazy person! How can I be so hateful and rageful sometimes? I had a very nice childhood, my parents love me. They are cute too. I even still feel angry though. I need someone to be angry with and to rage at...what can I do? I'm probably just about to get my period. Actually, I know I am. I guess I'll just smoke a cig and go to bed. It's hot in here though. I am resisting bed. I'm eating american cheese and stale crackers. My mom is so good to me! My sister is a know-it-all but she can't help it! Why do I not love them? Why does it feel like I don't and that they really don't love me? I love Tatiana.

We prayed and asked God to keep us together for eternity

rats!

Last night I had a dream that I wanted to have a birthday party but I had to clean up the house. There were a lot of things to clean up. For one, my journals and writing was laying around and covering the walls and people were reading it and laughing at me. Then I saw a rat, and then I saw more and there was a major rat problem, and they were as large as small cats. But my cat, Tatiana, was hunting them and tearing the skin off their heads and blood started soaking everything. I said, "look, she's scalping them like indians!" Then I got out a can of raid and sprayed them, and they couldn't move and died frozen. When we realized they were dead (but still trembling) I knew I had to remove them. I suggested putting them in a bag and a box, but wondered how I might pick them up and worried about how they would start to smell. Blood was everywhere. I was wiping with a blanket, then I went to wring it out and the pool table turned pink with blood. All this time I knew I needed to get on the ball with inviting people to my party, but I only invited one person over text. The party was to be tomorrow, but I wondered if maybe no one would come anyway. I don't know why I dreamed about the rats, but the blood probably has to do with the blood smeared pages of MK's 2001 journal when she was cutting herself that I was reading yesterday. And obviously I'm not too confident about the contents of my own journal. I just read my own from a few summer months in 1998. It's crazy how hard it is to really remember things. I obviously wrote it, but only remember the most general or concrete aspects. I hope when I'm senile the memories come back vividly, I don't like to lose anything that's mine like memories. I think journals are the best things in the world. I'm so glad my Mishy has kept them all her life. If only she didn't throw some away! It's funny how sometimes there are lies or denial in the journals though, like trying to like boys and confusion about it.

My best friend and #1

I wonder what that dark streak is on my face in this last one? Is it a shadow?

I wish we lived like this

Journal Swap

Michelle has been much more determined and excessive with pain than I have been. But I'm glad her first love was more like me, in that she wasn't a drug addict or self mutilator because I see that isn't what MK finds the most impressive. I think she is attracted to innocence, sweetness, and kindness more than anything else. In her journals, it seems like all she wants is to break free from drugs and to love and be loved unconditionally. I said in some ways I wish I could've met her then, to really save her, but it's better this way. Back then she probably wouldn't have even liked me because I was into country music, butch/femme roles, and in other less petty ways we just weren't ready for each other. Plus she got the chance to get her life together on her own. For a while I felt jealous of one of her exes who is a more successful singer and a former if not current alcoholic and drug user because I wondered if MK would rather be someone cool like that than a dork like me.

Last night after our argument Mishy held me and Maren, my teddy bear, and said we are a family and that helped me calm down. Today I'm just repeating it over and over in my head like a mantra. Now I'm going to get into bed with Maren and try to sleep for an hour, but not all day. Maggie just text and we're going shopping so I can try to find this stupid dress for my sister's gay wedding. It has to be blue, purple, or green. She doesn't even care which shade. I haven't worn a dress for a long time though. Last night I dreamed I was trying to get on the train or Metro north and I kept being at the wrong entrance or wrong train and having to wait another fifteen minutes, and was freaking out. Then I met these two girls and they were trying to help me, and we were in a car. But then I realized they were doing some kind of drugs. The driver was giving it to the girl in the passenger and she was snorting it. In my dream I knew it was heroin and I'm sure I dreamed this because of reading the journals. Then I saw the train coming again and I made the girl drive backwards, full speed, toward it but we missed it anyway. It was a nightmare I guess.

Happy 9 mo anny!

Dr. Schumann and Brenda

Today I am going in for my second MRI. This is for the mysterious bump on my foot. In somewhat happy to be going again, since I enjoyed the first MRI so much. It was an extremely soothing emotional experience, like being in the womb, well, a giant mechanical womb. I really like Doshi too, that's the name of the MRI company. The girls at the front desk are nice, they were sweet to me when I felt upset because I couldn't get my earrings out (and still can't) and when I left my belly ring in the bathroom and the janitor threw it away. They put you in the MRI like a sheet of cookies into the oven. The doctor puts a blanket on you and headphones with white noise so the banging and droning noises of the machine don't overwhelm, and slides you right in. You stay in there for a half hour. The first ten minutes I cried very hot emo tears. I wanted to cry earlier, after the jewelry incident, because people being nice in doctors offices makes me think they will see my problems and fix them, and I cry in anticipation and premature relief. After crying I fell asleep, and every time the noises died down I hoped they would start back up and I could stay in there. Eventually, of course, it ended. But I am going back today!

I'm going back because the results from my MRI and x-ray showed nothing. They did it "without contrast" that time and now it will be "with contrast," meaning they shoot dye into my foot. Yesterday I had an argument with Dr. Schumann about the test results over the phone. Basically, he was saying he has no idea what my problem is, but that I should calm down and not be depressed, and that I should talk to the radiologist (as if I could get him on the phone!), and come back next week. He said maybe it's a fatty tumor that will show on an MRI with contrast. I was upset because I didn't understand that my foot even has fat on it, so how could a tumor hide in the fat? Then he said, "but you don't have pain, do you?" Of course I have fucking pain, that's the whole problem! I just wanted him to be definite about something. Instead, he made references to shoe insoles. We argued about who had ordered the MRI without contrast, he said he didn't, the radiologist did. I know this decision was made before the fucking radiologist ever laid eyes on my foot, because the insurance needed to know. Anyway, I said maybe Brenda did it, his secretary. He said, leave Brenda out of this, because it's his wife. He said they're trying to help me, and acted as if I should be grateful. I said, well that's your job, and it is! Our voices were raised and cutting each other off, then I hung up on him. :( Then I scheduled an appointment with a whole new doctor at the clinic by my apartment that's run by hassids and is shabby in many ways. Then I called MK and she seemed to imply I had done the wrong thing. So I got a stomach ache and went into the bathroom to pinch my arms and rock myself.

Then Brenda called and said she had scheduled the new MRI and I apologized for ending the conversation with Dr. Schumann abruptly and she said it was okay, they understood. So here I am, going back for a second MRI and with an appointment for next week even though he yelled at me on the phone. I should mention that I was already upset at the time of this argument because Sprint stole 35 dollars from me and the customer representative told me to hold ("you'll hear a couple seconds of silence...") and then hung up on me. I wrote them a letter though and they are reimbursing me even though they won't admit that their computer system is wrong and I am right: I haven't used picture mail or the internet since I cancelled the package over a month ago. But they value me as a customer, haha.

Regarding my band, I guess we are moving forward with song writing and not dealing with the tiny problem of getting people to come to our shows. The idea seems to be, if we write better songs, they will come. In my heart I know it's not true, but I like writing songs so I'm playing along. We wrote two new songs in the last couple weeks. One is a love song, here are the lyrics:

The world is old
The world is old
But this is new
Covered up, I discovered you

And love is old
Yeah love is old
But new to me
Buried underground, you found me

So what now? What comes next?
Right now I want to know the rest
Do we move out of the city
Into a home?
Can we leave at the same time?
Will we love at the same time?
Do we want it the same time?
Want to come at the same time?

I'm letting go
I'm letting go
And feeling free
Watching people on the city street

I understand
I understand
And I believe
All the answers are inside me

Hope is dangerous
And I should avoid it; is it contagious?
I try to consume it
See if they hate us; want to get wasted
Keep it a secret
Like a best friend should, till she can't take it
Tell it the same time
Tell it the same time

PS 1

Look at how happy MK looks to be hanging out at PS 1. She came to support me as I faced the challenge of handing out fliers, which I did.


I put this picture of Brian here because I like the image, and because I like him in many ways, despite causing problems that night and other times.

Angel

Look at my angel sleeping after the night shift at the mental hospital. She's trying to sleep, but I make it difficult because I keep sending texts. I went to the Beastie Boys concert at summerstage last night in Central Park. I like a lot of the beats, but the old school rapping really isn't my thing. I danced a little to show support for my friend Maggie, who is a huge fan and who brought me along. It was very hot and sweaty. There were a lot of guys. My friend said it was the best concert she ever went to, and I'm glad she had a great time. Her boyfriend is moving out of their apartment today and the breakup is official and final.

water is emotion

My True Personality

I just want it to be known that I think I am much nicer and sweeter in real life than it seems in this blog. I write when I'm at work, which is when I get in a bad mood, and I state things harshly. For instance, I love my parents. And I do not hate all old people. Sometimes I see my own words and behavior in the harshest light, somebody who is not loving like me.

weakness/laziness/stupidity

I just got a message from Mark that the asshole Brian will not be at practice tonight. Let me make one thing clear, if I were my old self I would quit this fucking band in a heartbeat right now. I would say, hey, fuck you! And that would be it. However, past experience has taught me that quitting causes severe ennui. Admitting the end when it’s really the end is something else altogether, and the right thing to do at that point is say goodbye kindly and decisively. I feel very fatalistic and apprehensive about the whole thing though. Thank god Brian can’t come tonight and we don’t have to play the fucking set-list or anything like that. There is a slight possibility that this conflict will deepen our relationship and we will move forward based on efforts that have hitherto remained un-blossoming seeds. On the other hand, much of what Brian said during his hateful, drunken speech is true. Bill really can’t play bass very well. After a while, he comes up with good parts, but his sense of rhythm is very weird and he plays around with it like a guitar, because he was a guitar player and just started playing bass a year ago, but still maybe some people could get the concept by now and he seems to resist, and I understand why this is frustrating to a drummer, but if Brian is going to quit then just quit, don’t rage behind the back… I don’t know. Of course what he said about me is true also. Is it? I can’t tell. I think it’s true though: I’m controlled and boring. But I don’t think he gets any of the subtlety of what I try to do (with lyrics and notes), he’s looking for some drugged up bitch in a costume to go wild on stage, and I can’t do that. But in some ways, everything he said is bullshit because his main point was that he wants more success in the band and “we” should do “whatever it takes” – meaning Bill should learn how to play bass and I should be wilder or something and also we should go to all these parties and/or shows and promote, when HE can’t even make it to practice half the time, he fucks up every song, he’s drunk and high every day, he never brings anyone to shows besides his saint of a girlfriend. Ah whatever, fuck him.

So, Michelle and I saw a meaty surprise on Saturday evening, on the train. The gentleman was in the T seat next to Mk and when I looked past her out of the corner of my eye I noticed the tip poking out from the cut-off shorts that were very short. I laughed loudly and Michelle got to check it out too, the little pink, meaty tip poking out. It was pretty gross.

I am so depressed by my job today but why should I write and talk about it when I won’t do anything about it? Hopefully inside I am slowly shifting toward making some big strides. I have been looking some things up online about classes for education. But my problem is: what if I take all the classes, obtain a masters degree in education, and am still terrified and overwhelmed by lesson planning? If ONLY someone would hand me a year’s worth of lesson plans and I had no choice but to teach it or only slightly improvise and then I would only have to stress over actually teaching them in the real live classroom, then… I could do it? My mom told me that my baby sister is working with junior high girls and they are black city girls and my sister will be a math teacher this fall. I’m so jealous!! Major, major frowns coming from me. Why can she do it and I can’t?? But they tell math teachers what to teach! Mine is so open ended. When I got my social studies teacher job in co-op city, it was totally up to me to plan for the year, and not in advance but as I went. Come on! I can’t handle that stress!! But god, I know I’m smarter than all these people becoming teachers, including my goddamn sister! Kids love me! When I was a camp counselor, they all wanted me to be their “mommy!” Plus I think of all the teachers I had, idiots! Bad breath, stupid, unorganized, boring… I could at least do that! Why won’t I let myself try? If only they would tell me the lesson plans! At what point in graduate school will they tell us what to teach? I don’t want them to just hand me the standards and say, “make your own lesson plans.” Why is this easy for people, including my sister?

Because of my weakness/laziness/stupidity, I work here. I’m starting to see that businesses run by the Hassids are shabby in general. Behind me, a whole row of plants that have been slowly dying since I started working here because no one waters them and the plant lady quit or never came back and they never replaced her. Why don’t I water them? I can’t remember to do it. I hate it though. A thick layer of dust covers everything. They exert great energy to save pennies by refusing to pay things like late fees on fed ex bills and not hiring people to clean the bathroom or replace broken things that just sit there and you have to make do. The lighting is dim and florescent, no windows, stains all over the gray carpet, pictures in frames that don’t match (pictures of the company owners schmoozing with Israeli political leaders). Why even describe? It’s just drab and ugly, that’s all you need to know. Everyone here is depressed and simply moving paper around for one reason or another with no real goals or motivation. I want more! How can I make it happen? What’s the next step? I’ve been looking up classes at Hunter. I could take one class at a time, maybe. But is the band going to be taking up my time or isn’t it? And if it isn’t, will I be doing anything with singing or music?

orb

I see you as a bright light
See it all, your one short life
Want to live under it alright

Depressy

Last night practice was horrible. I don't even know what happened. All I know is at the end after Bill left, Brian started screaming about how he sucks and he can't stand playing with him anymore. Then he basically said I suck too, that we hold back, that's why we're not getting anywhere, I just do the same thing, Bill can't play, it's not good enough basically for him but it's mostly all Bill's fault, these shitty shows with no one there, and he said I was barely trying last night but I was overwhelmed with the noise because it wasn't inspiring me and when I like a part I do sing over it, whatever now all my feelings about all of it are bad, and I never ever ever want to go back or see any of those assholes again. I see that it can't go anywhere, so why do we have to talk about it? I feel very, very gross today. I feel ashamed again. After all that encouragment MK gave me I had started to like myself and what I do and enjoy sharing my creativity, but now I hate it again. I hate them. I don't want to hang out with them and try to go to stupid parties and hand out fliers or CDs. I want it to be over! So then today I tried to look up some things on becoming a teacher and find out about some of the masters programs, if any of the schools offer health insurance if you go part time. Everything seems so hard! Nothing seems possible! I hate it here today. I hate my stupid fucking life. It's wasting away, what a huge waste, I can't deal with any of this. What am I supposed to do with myself? In this gray, bullshit office doing nothing! I have to pay rent though and have health insurance. What should I do?? I don't want to quit the band just because someone criticized me, which is what I usually do when my feelers are hurt, but I don't want to be a part of something no one will ever come to and then people start turning on each other. I need to be supported, I can't have people unhappy with me and thinking bad things about me. I'm so upset today. I have no love for any part of my independent life. What a failure I am. I can't even become a fucking teacher which every other regular person seems to be able to do. I'll never have anything, never grow up, and lose my mind in this building or at home once I can't stand coming so much I have to just stay at home. How did the future look brighter at other moments? I can only think of one good thing, and that's MK.

What's the point?

I definitely have a bad case of "what's the points" today. What is the point of going to practice? I don't feel like it. I don't want to do anything. I don't want to do any more shows, it's pointless. No one comes except the most important person in my life, but now it's been enough, better to end now before the hating begins. We will definitely have to discuss this at practice. It can't go on like this, I think we all feel it. It's depressing, humiliating, a waste of time to play for an empty room. Something has to change. We should just work privately on material and record it and do an occasional show or something, but not two per month like this summer. This is going nowhere. It's raining, I just want to be at home with my baby. I'm so over this job, but I can't quit. I want a new life. I want to be a teacher. I want to start doing that. I want an apartment with M. I'm so bored right now, feel that life is short, want to fast forward to the good stuff. Wish it was 2009. Hopefully my band won't do any more shows for a while, hopefully somebody will quit and there won't be anything I can do about it. Won't I be somewhat depressed if that happens though? I need a new journal. I feel like a bad family member because I didn't call anyone this week. I want a house with M, with cats and just doing chores and fun things now and then, like painting the walls or going to the beach. I just want us to have a nice life together, have some friends who come over to dinner, go home together when we go out, have her waiting at home when I get a cavity filled. Is it weird that the dentist office I went to yesterday is called A-Z Dental and the man fixing the apartment door had a van saying A-Z Doors? My whole face feels different since they fixed my tooth yesterday. My jaw isn't clicking and I woke up during the night feeling this open space feeling there where before was exhausted from the constant grinding. However, the haircut I gave myself looks horrible. I have no patience for it anymore. I can't stick to a system of rows or anything for making it even, I just cut pieces off wherever and quickly to get it over with. That's exactly how it looks too. I want to be a teacher with a nice haircut and lunch from leftovers that my wife put in the tupperware for me. What about when one of us dies? The Year Of Magical thinking, a play that we saw on Saturday, made the reality of this question loom darkly. I will feel better once we have a home together. Then I can keep my eye on her and feel somewhat in control of that. Today I ran out of time for making any sandwich so I'll go to Bella Stella and must get a large diet coke too because I need caffeine, I smoked this morning. It's interesting that although I never could picture marriage for myself, now everything depends on it... the dream contains everything. In the dentist office there was a picture of a house in the country covered in flowers and with shutters and everything, I kept picturing Mk and myself in white old fashioned dresses or hanging laundry or doing gardening, and sleeping in a canopied bed and having a barn with chickens for eggs but not to kill, and all this several hundred years ago when so many animals were not extinct yet. I don't like this century or living in a city. Imagine MK baking in the kitchen with her hair in a bun! Imagine me riding a horse in the woods, or riding horses together! I want to live the farm life. I want to go to a village dance and smell fires burning. I want to see stars. Pollution and extinction are irreversible. When we die I need to be reborn with her and I want to go backwards in time, and only forwards if everything will eventually come back to life.

blood sisters 4 life

Will the train ever come?

Trash

Last night we played at Trash bar in Williamsburg, and although we played well, only our girlfriends listened. When we first got there the room was full and I was surprised and excited to play for strangers. Then the other band called Deathface, which was not heavy metal as you might guess but a regular rock band who were okay, they were fine, and they packed that room - anyways they finished and EVERYONE left, except our girlfriends and four or five people at the bar, who didn't really pay attention. The band that would play after us arrived in the middle but didn't listen. I know because I usually watch everyone in the audience. I do not look at the floor or the ceiling but right out at people. It was so sad to see everyone leaving while we were setting up! Well, I don't help set up. I sit on Michelle's lap and she tells me wonderful things in my ear about how cute and talented I supposedly am, haha. I am so glad she came, despite being on day one of the flow again, just like at the last show! This was the worst attended show we've ever played. It was also perhaps the best sounding show we ever played. I tried to maintain a sense of humor and actually I felt way more positive than I did after playing at Otto's in that bright ass room with my friends so visible to me, way too intimate, way nerve-wracking. Last night, the guys in my band said from now on we're only playing on weekends, so I have to cancel the upcoming Tuesday night at FB. My friend offered me a midnight spot there, acting like it was the best one, although we declined and asked for the 10 o'clock, which he gave us, but now we don't want that either. It's funny how the "best" band is supposed to go last, but both times recently, there were even less people for the band after us. Last night the "main show" had two people in there. We certainly didn't stay since they didn't even pay attention to us. Anyways I heard them when I was in the bathroom and it sounded boring, and they were blasting it. Mark was very depressed when going home. I wasn't very, because I was still proud of not fucking up the two new songs and not being nervous (well what's to be nervous of with no audience?) but mostly because my baby was so supportive and flattering.

non-consentual makeover

I'm tired today. Last night in practice my new favorite song got a chorus makeover that made my part sound strange, new drum and bass parts. They sound good, but I liked the old way better. It made me feel depressed. We're supposed to play this song on Thursday and I no longer feel confident of my part.

All the tiny people in there