4th Ave., 9th St. - F

Eskimobot

For some reason the last post wouldn't let me add any more pictures. Hopefully it will work here.

Well my band left after the show because they were tired and it was midnight or so ... but I stayed. I had to since I carried nothing, did not commute from queens or ride in the car, and never do, I just show up, and I took a nap in the early evening and showed up for a drink or two before the show - so I stayed for the other band. And they were hot!!!! Totally hot 80's dance party. The little guitar girl with the Hello Kitty gear was a minnie meow shredder and the funk coming from below with the gothic manly-girl on bass ... and super cute drummer .... well basically I didn't mind at all. Except they made me have hair insecurity. Who's hair is better, mine or his?? Everyone says mine but they might just be saying that. Anyway I was dancing and I took a couple pictures too. Here's a picture of Eskimobot:

VOLVER

I'm not in the mood to write something substantial about any movie or book, but I give Volver many, many stars! I've been doing a thousand searches for the lyrics to the song Volver - which means, to return - but cannot find them. If you can find them, post them below please. This movie is about mothers .... if you are obsessed with motherhood, or your own mother, in addition to homoerotic, incestual subtexts .... and bad fathers being murdered .... ghosts ..... oh, see it for yourself.

On the way home I got confused and switched trains at Jay instead of Hoyt, so I ended up going back into Manhattan, and didn't realize it for several stops because I was caught up in this (hot) dyke and her newborn puppy. She took it from a homeless man, who shouldn't have had it anyway because it was only a few weeks old, blind, and should not have been AWAY FROM HIS MOTHER. So I took pictures.




When I realized I was going the wrong way at East Broadway, I jumped out and grabbed a car going back to Brooklyn. On the way of course I started thinking about my mother and our relationship. I will see her in a few days. She has lost over eighty pounds. I was thinking in the car how much of my anger toward her might be toward her eating. Not that it's wrong to eat, but it's a sign of preoccupation elsewhere. In Volver, I related to Penelope's character because I also disconnected so early and have stayed away ... but my dad wasn't fucking me (oops sorry gave that away) but there were some things I suppose made me angry and I'm a sensitive little creature. But in the movie they did so much hugging and kissing (also a Spanish thing) but I started thinking about my mom's big bosom hug, which I get to feel a couple times a year - and then I start crying and can't explain why - but it will be different this year, hugging a (not quite) skinny mom. We all want back into the womb, don't we. It was nice in there. Volver!

Adieu to things I loved

So on Saturday afternoon my roomate and I did major chores. I agreed to throw away ONE of two of the comfy chairs that I stole from the smoking room in my college dorm and I've had them for around six years now. I felt so bad leaving her on the curb. How good she was to me! It makes me sick, throwing things away. I also threw out a pair of tennishoes that lost their cushioning and as I dumped old spaghetti on top of them in the garbage can I really wanted to cry. I loved those shoes so much. I can't even explain it. And now they'll spend eternity next to spaghetti and junk mail. It's wrong. They deserved better. So did my chair, which the neighborhood kids broke - they split the bamboo arm - within an hour of relocation. They abused it. Why? And that's only the first painful indignity my chair will suffer on her long journey to the junkyard and mass grave and eventual return to dust.

Subido por las luces

It seems I am getting a little better at these night city shots. Or maybe I got lucky here, but at least they didn't come out as an electric blur .... I know it has something to do with speed of the camera, but how to alter that? Still learning. These shots are taken off a penthouse roof on 23rd street between 2nd and 3rd avenue.

La Virgen

This is a painting of la virgen. I painted la virgen a few years ago and it is one of two paintings that I finished, total. The second one was better, it was of me with cuts all over my body next to a burning cross and in front of a window. It wasn't good, but it had feeling and I gave it to a girl that I made out with a few times but there wasn't much there and neither of us pursued so I tried to get the painting back but she threw it away so I took her off my friendster and never spoke with her again. Bye bye.

OH - the garbage man slay case closed. The killer got life, by jury. I can't stop thinking about it though, the two year old girl trying to nurse her dead mother for twenty four hours, both of them covered in blood. I can't stop thinking about it. A picture keeps coming in to my mind. And I imagine Tatiana trying to cuddle with me if she found me dead. An event so traumatic will not be remembered by the child but it has to cause severe damage. (I don't remember whatever events caused my personality to deform and split, but it's definitely split into a few pieces, and I know some things happened, although nothing like what this little baby endured.) Why do things this sad and wrong have to happen? And why are there so many black male killers? Don't get mad, I'm just saying what I see in the paper every day. I know there are white killers too, serial, mass, sadistic, etc - but lately it's one black face after another in the newspaper. And black girls turning up in suitcases and garbage bags. Is it just hate - self hate and also directed outwards, especially toward women? Especially toward their own women, but as the Worthington case and the St Guillen case show, and also the high school girl picked up on the west side highway, it's something with hating white women too. It's hard to deal with the idea of abandoned bodies. That's why I would never kill myself, because you can't control what happens to your body afterward, if they mangle it or how it bleeds or rots and turns gross and ugly. They always put them in garbage bags or suitcases. Like the girl was just a piece of trash. They try to defile the girls as much as possible. They hate them. The garbage man left Worthington on the floor and her little girl .... it's basically the worst thing I've read all year.

And curse the day somebody ruined you

Why do the night time shots of the train or the skyline never turn out?? This one is just train tracks. I took it while waiting with Bill last night. Last night we played through the setlist twice and toward the end Mark was being fussy and Bill said shut the fuck up and play the song. He said it twice and I looked at the floor, but they've known each other a long time so it's their business. On the way home Bill said he got acupuncture too and I showed him my foot pictures. He said, "Those are your legs?!" I felt weird.