i
am
drowning
Sunday, December 27, 2009
A few more things that are okay thus far...
I took a really nice long shower.
I cut my bangs super short and they didn't come out too terribly uneven.
I finally took the time to paint my nails.
I ate Nilla Wafers smeared with peanut butter.
Michael found my fox necklace in his place.
I'm wearing a floral print dress, my fuck you to winter.
In a minute I'll be out of the house and doing something new with someone I like.
I don't hate the colors Marie is anymore...
I cut my bangs super short and they didn't come out too terribly uneven.
I finally took the time to paint my nails.
I ate Nilla Wafers smeared with peanut butter.
Michael found my fox necklace in his place.
I'm wearing a floral print dress, my fuck you to winter.
In a minute I'll be out of the house and doing something new with someone I like.
I don't hate the colors Marie is anymore...
"...besides, I like cakes with butter cream icing."
So, today is her birthday.
The now 48 year old crazy person that I'm still living with, why I'm not so sure anymore, celebrates a turning of age today. She was ridiculous all day yesterday, she'd be nice for a second and then start off on some crazy tangent and start yelling about the most inconsequential shit and not stop. Then she'll sneak into her room, close the door, and get on the phone with some weird guy she's seeing who treats her like crap and yell at him for a while, then she'll come out of her room and stare me down for a while, look at me like I'm crazy, and then yell at me for not having done the dishes while she was in her room.
Anyway, today is her birthday.
I woke up before she did and I put together her present, I stuck the card I hand painted for her on top of the nice pink and orange tissue paper display I had wrapped her gift in, I cut open a grapefruit for her and sliced each section perfectly, then I sprinkled it with sugar and made a pot of tea. I was in the kitchen pouring the boiling water over the tea bags sitting in their big pink pot when she woke up and came in yelling. Before I could even say, "Happy Birthday" she started off complaining and yelling at me because she has piles of stuff everywhere and can't get to them because she doesn't have time because she works hard and has 6 cats (the 7th found a home the other day) to take care of and comes home exhausted so her birthday wish is for me to basically clean up after her, it's her wish for me to do all her dishes right when she tells me to because when I don't I'm being "passive aggressive" and furthermore she can't have people over because I might leave a shoe out sometimes. I don't even try to defend myself because if I do she really won't stop, I don't bother saying that I work hard too and that none of those piles of stuff she's upset about are mine, and that it's not my fault she has 6 cats, and that I don't have to do things right when she tells me to do them especially when she purposefully left me a big mess so she wouldn't have to deal with it. I just let her yell and yell and walk around banging things and slamming doors.
I have an Uncle David. He's not really my uncle but he's one of my grandparent's oldest friends, my grandpa went to Pratt with him, they've been friends for over 50 years. Uncle David is married to Aunt Carolyn, who is also not really an aunt, they live in a brownstone on the same Brooklyn block as Michelle Williams and they're really fascinating. Uncle David collects and sells antiques, he has a business partner and all kinds of strange connections, I think he might be friends with the Queen of England. Things haven't been so easy for Uncle David recently because Aunt Carolyn, who's 75 year old hair is still its natural red, is a raging alcoholic, she has been forever but now that they're really old she's really bad, she's nasty, and weird, and her health is deteriorating, on top of this she has breast cancer and Uncle David has to drive her an hour each way to get 5 minutes of chemo every day. Uncle David is really good at finding the bright side of everything, I saw him recently at my grandparent's house, he stopped in on his way home to vent for a minute about the current state of things, to tell a funny story about Carolyn, to have people listen, all the while he was smiling. I drew a picture of him while he talked, he looks kind of like an old handsome walrus. I really admire him because he seems to be a master of finding things that are okay. Every year he writes this lengthy Christmas letter complete with color photos and he sends it to all his friends and family, my grandparent's and my mom and I are on the mailing list. In this year's letter he writes about Carolyn's 75th birthday and he says, "Frankly, to me it would not have been a birthday party without a cake and more to the point I had seen some I really like in a bake shop in Manhattan and had to get it out of my system, besides, I like cakes with butter cream icing." Then he inserted a picture of a bright little cake covered with colorful flowers made of icing and I felt really happy thinking about this little walrus-like old man who has it tough taking himself out to Manhattan to buy a cake for his ailing wife's birthday because in all of the mess he found something that's okay.
I ate my half of the juicy pink grapefruit sprinkled with sugar in its pink dish, I poured myself a cup of tea in my porcelain cup with a fancy "E" on the front, the sun is finally out and I'm going to spend the rest of today finding some more things that are okay.
The now 48 year old crazy person that I'm still living with, why I'm not so sure anymore, celebrates a turning of age today. She was ridiculous all day yesterday, she'd be nice for a second and then start off on some crazy tangent and start yelling about the most inconsequential shit and not stop. Then she'll sneak into her room, close the door, and get on the phone with some weird guy she's seeing who treats her like crap and yell at him for a while, then she'll come out of her room and stare me down for a while, look at me like I'm crazy, and then yell at me for not having done the dishes while she was in her room.
Anyway, today is her birthday.
I woke up before she did and I put together her present, I stuck the card I hand painted for her on top of the nice pink and orange tissue paper display I had wrapped her gift in, I cut open a grapefruit for her and sliced each section perfectly, then I sprinkled it with sugar and made a pot of tea. I was in the kitchen pouring the boiling water over the tea bags sitting in their big pink pot when she woke up and came in yelling. Before I could even say, "Happy Birthday" she started off complaining and yelling at me because she has piles of stuff everywhere and can't get to them because she doesn't have time because she works hard and has 6 cats (the 7th found a home the other day) to take care of and comes home exhausted so her birthday wish is for me to basically clean up after her, it's her wish for me to do all her dishes right when she tells me to because when I don't I'm being "passive aggressive" and furthermore she can't have people over because I might leave a shoe out sometimes. I don't even try to defend myself because if I do she really won't stop, I don't bother saying that I work hard too and that none of those piles of stuff she's upset about are mine, and that it's not my fault she has 6 cats, and that I don't have to do things right when she tells me to do them especially when she purposefully left me a big mess so she wouldn't have to deal with it. I just let her yell and yell and walk around banging things and slamming doors.
I have an Uncle David. He's not really my uncle but he's one of my grandparent's oldest friends, my grandpa went to Pratt with him, they've been friends for over 50 years. Uncle David is married to Aunt Carolyn, who is also not really an aunt, they live in a brownstone on the same Brooklyn block as Michelle Williams and they're really fascinating. Uncle David collects and sells antiques, he has a business partner and all kinds of strange connections, I think he might be friends with the Queen of England. Things haven't been so easy for Uncle David recently because Aunt Carolyn, who's 75 year old hair is still its natural red, is a raging alcoholic, she has been forever but now that they're really old she's really bad, she's nasty, and weird, and her health is deteriorating, on top of this she has breast cancer and Uncle David has to drive her an hour each way to get 5 minutes of chemo every day. Uncle David is really good at finding the bright side of everything, I saw him recently at my grandparent's house, he stopped in on his way home to vent for a minute about the current state of things, to tell a funny story about Carolyn, to have people listen, all the while he was smiling. I drew a picture of him while he talked, he looks kind of like an old handsome walrus. I really admire him because he seems to be a master of finding things that are okay. Every year he writes this lengthy Christmas letter complete with color photos and he sends it to all his friends and family, my grandparent's and my mom and I are on the mailing list. In this year's letter he writes about Carolyn's 75th birthday and he says, "Frankly, to me it would not have been a birthday party without a cake and more to the point I had seen some I really like in a bake shop in Manhattan and had to get it out of my system, besides, I like cakes with butter cream icing." Then he inserted a picture of a bright little cake covered with colorful flowers made of icing and I felt really happy thinking about this little walrus-like old man who has it tough taking himself out to Manhattan to buy a cake for his ailing wife's birthday because in all of the mess he found something that's okay.
I ate my half of the juicy pink grapefruit sprinkled with sugar in its pink dish, I poured myself a cup of tea in my porcelain cup with a fancy "E" on the front, the sun is finally out and I'm going to spend the rest of today finding some more things that are okay.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
rain rain go away
It's been raining all of last night and all day today into tonight. I ate about 5 Madeleines and drank an entire pot of tea. Savoring pot deux. The rain discouraged me from getting out of the house so I've been stuck inside with my mom all day. She's yelling about something and my right eye is twitching a little. I'm stressed. I don't understand why she has to be such a bitch 98% of the time.
The non boyfriend got me some amazing things for Christmas. The boyfriend got me a depressing email. I got the non boyfriend cereal and hot cocoa mix, he got me this book that's in French and I've been wanting forever, it's impossible to find, so impossible that he had to have his aunt who lived in Paris find the publisher and have it sent from Denmark, it took months to find and he had it expressed so I'd have it by Christmas. I can't believe he remembered I wanted this stupid book and I can't believe he went through all of that just for stupid me. I talk too much about the Ramones cover band I'm going to start called "The Moanies" because the Ramones bring me joy. So, he got me this too...
front:
back:
He wants to be my boyfriend, seriously, and I am seriously confused.
Friday, December 25, 2009
merry?
Christmas morning.
I woke up on the other side of Brooklyn.
I can't describe the way I feel but I'll try...
I feel like cookies, and Kiki de Montparnasse, and kisses, and Cinnamon Life cereal, and gray skies, and melting snow. I feel tired, and lost, and homeless, and messy, and tall. I feel bad that I feel great. I feel like steamy showers, and hidden messages, and secrets, and lies, and dreams, and what it feels like to be held. I feel like luke warm coffee, and bare trees, and piles of dishes. I feel like singing a really sad song, getting on an airplane, putting on red lipstick, jumping on a bed, and becoming invisible.
I woke up on the other side of Brooklyn.
I can't describe the way I feel but I'll try...
I feel like cookies, and Kiki de Montparnasse, and kisses, and Cinnamon Life cereal, and gray skies, and melting snow. I feel tired, and lost, and homeless, and messy, and tall. I feel bad that I feel great. I feel like steamy showers, and hidden messages, and secrets, and lies, and dreams, and what it feels like to be held. I feel like luke warm coffee, and bare trees, and piles of dishes. I feel like singing a really sad song, getting on an airplane, putting on red lipstick, jumping on a bed, and becoming invisible.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
liquid seasonings and cream
Creaming butter and sugar, sugar and butter, creaming creaming, butter and sugar, sugar and butter, sugar and butter, sugar and butter, creaming creaming. I'm making cookies. Specifically the house shaped sugar cookies with lemon icing that people seem to respond very positively to. Each house must be decorated differently, this is because I sometimes have OCD.
The first step to making a really good cookie is to take the butter and egg out of the fridge well in advance so that the butter becomes very soft, but not too soft like how cheating by putting it in the microwave makes it, and so that the egg becomes room temperature. The second step to making a really good cookie is to beat the living shit out of your perfectly softened butter and the sugar. This step is called "creaming" and I think it's my favorite. I like watching the soft lumpy butter fuse together with the sugar and gradually turn into something entirely new. A white, fluffy, sweet, buttery dream. This is before the egg joins in and makes everything kind of gross, this is pure and simple goodness and you can beat it until your heart's content. There's no time limit like there is with some of the other steps, you can't really beat anything for very long once the egg is added, but generally the longer you cream basic butter and sugar, the better. Three minutes at least, I aim for five, it's therapeutic, I promise.
On another note, I bought something new for lunch today, some stupid "chow mein" microwavable shit from Duane Reade. I was excited by the prospect of something new but I couldn't get the packet labeled, "liquid seasoning" opened for the life of me. There was no "tear here" with a tiny little pre-ripped starter, just a bunch of raggedy edges that were impossible to tear into. I was getting ravenous. All of the other seasonings opened just fine and were already sitting atop my newly microwaved noodles. There in an unmixed heap sat the colorful dry seasoning chock full of MSG and salt, it even came with crushed up peanuts, all that was missing was this stupid fucking liquid shit and I could not open it. I had a rough morning, I was supposed to be at work at 6am all week, 4am wake ups are not easy, neither is dealing with people all day, I wanted my crappy $1.59 chow mein and I wanted it that instant. I tugged and I tugged and I tugged some more, suddenly, the tiny packet burst open but I had been prying at its package with such force that the contents flew up into the air and landed not atop the noodles and lonely dry seasonings, but instead all over my jeans and in my hair. Yes, my hair. The stuff was clear, but very oily and left me smelling like what my coworkers described as "instant soup shit" for the rest of the day. The butter and sugar have been creamed, the dough is chilling, I'm taking a nice long shower...
Adieu. Adieu. To you and you and you...
The first step to making a really good cookie is to take the butter and egg out of the fridge well in advance so that the butter becomes very soft, but not too soft like how cheating by putting it in the microwave makes it, and so that the egg becomes room temperature. The second step to making a really good cookie is to beat the living shit out of your perfectly softened butter and the sugar. This step is called "creaming" and I think it's my favorite. I like watching the soft lumpy butter fuse together with the sugar and gradually turn into something entirely new. A white, fluffy, sweet, buttery dream. This is before the egg joins in and makes everything kind of gross, this is pure and simple goodness and you can beat it until your heart's content. There's no time limit like there is with some of the other steps, you can't really beat anything for very long once the egg is added, but generally the longer you cream basic butter and sugar, the better. Three minutes at least, I aim for five, it's therapeutic, I promise.
On another note, I bought something new for lunch today, some stupid "chow mein" microwavable shit from Duane Reade. I was excited by the prospect of something new but I couldn't get the packet labeled, "liquid seasoning" opened for the life of me. There was no "tear here" with a tiny little pre-ripped starter, just a bunch of raggedy edges that were impossible to tear into. I was getting ravenous. All of the other seasonings opened just fine and were already sitting atop my newly microwaved noodles. There in an unmixed heap sat the colorful dry seasoning chock full of MSG and salt, it even came with crushed up peanuts, all that was missing was this stupid fucking liquid shit and I could not open it. I had a rough morning, I was supposed to be at work at 6am all week, 4am wake ups are not easy, neither is dealing with people all day, I wanted my crappy $1.59 chow mein and I wanted it that instant. I tugged and I tugged and I tugged some more, suddenly, the tiny packet burst open but I had been prying at its package with such force that the contents flew up into the air and landed not atop the noodles and lonely dry seasonings, but instead all over my jeans and in my hair. Yes, my hair. The stuff was clear, but very oily and left me smelling like what my coworkers described as "instant soup shit" for the rest of the day. The butter and sugar have been creamed, the dough is chilling, I'm taking a nice long shower...
Adieu. Adieu. To you and you and you...
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Take me to Assumption Abbey
Saturday, the snow is falling, I slipped twice on my walk home from the train, I didn't fall, snow drifts are distracting, the sidewalks looked like magic. In the course of one Brooklyn block I saw snow twist and fly in the wind, I watched a man dressed as Santa dance on top of an ambulance, and I listened to protestors say something ridiculous like, "Do you think JESUS would approve of the war?" I came home to 7 cats and a crazy mom and a voice message from a boisterous Jewish lady that was half in Yiddish, she had the wrong number but made me feel like my house was beautiful, my husband looks wonderful, and we really need to tawk soon. I drank some orange juice, I played with a little black kitten, I opened a box of new shoes that came in the mail yesterday along with some Yorkie Dinnerware for my trousseau. Can't figure out how to get a picture up so here's a link instead... http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=16686313&itemdescription=true&navAction=jump
I got the bowl and the plate, they're perfect.
Now I'm ordering a fruitcake online for my Grandparents that was made by Trappist monks in Assumption Abbey, a link is necessary... assumptionabbey.org listen to that chanting, soooo good. I'm listening to some sweet chants, learning about monastic life in an Abbey in Iowa, and simultaneously ordering a delicious fruitcake, I'm happy.
Work that rum you little monkadoos!
Later I'll go to my 3rd holiday party of the year wearing a red mini dress with a white collar and indubitably look like Santa's slutty grandkid, Michael is going to want to kiss me in front of everyone but I won't let him even though I'll want to too.
Saturday, snow is falling, and I'm having a really good day.
I got the bowl and the plate, they're perfect.
Now I'm ordering a fruitcake online for my Grandparents that was made by Trappist monks in Assumption Abbey, a link is necessary... assumptionabbey.org listen to that chanting, soooo good. I'm listening to some sweet chants, learning about monastic life in an Abbey in Iowa, and simultaneously ordering a delicious fruitcake, I'm happy.
Later I'll go to my 3rd holiday party of the year wearing a red mini dress with a white collar and indubitably look like Santa's slutty grandkid, Michael is going to want to kiss me in front of everyone but I won't let him even though I'll want to too.
Saturday, snow is falling, and I'm having a really good day.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Dearest Sant E. Claus,
I haven't been so good this year. In fact, I've been really really bad. Really bad. Caps lock might convey the gravity of my badness... BAD, seriously. You seem like a nice guy though, since you see me when I'm sleeping wouldn't you like to see me in this?:
Now, I know this wouldn't exactly help me be good, but good is boring, don't you agree?
I thought so.
If you could get me a decent sized apartment sans cats that'd be super too. I won't push it though, start with the underoos, then we'll talk.
You're the best Big Red, cutest too, I dig the beard.
xoxxxxxxx
emily M.
Brooklyn, NY
Now, I know this wouldn't exactly help me be good, but good is boring, don't you agree?
I thought so.
If you could get me a decent sized apartment sans cats that'd be super too. I won't push it though, start with the underoos, then we'll talk.
You're the best Big Red, cutest too, I dig the beard.
xoxxxxxxx
emily M.
Brooklyn, NY
Sunday, December 13, 2009
winter weirdness
Things are getting weird.
I feel wobbly when I walk, last week I tripped up the stairs in the middle of a subway station and killed my knee.
I got a holiday bonus and spent all of it the very next day. I now own 3 red coats. Excessive? Fuck you.
I'm hardly ever home anymore and this morning I did something I really should not have, that boy seduced me and I feel quite a bit like shit. How did I let this happen?
I modeled for my boss Wednesday night and drank lots of "Sweet Bitch" wine, look for it in your local Crown Heights liquor store.
Thursday night I saw the most pathetic excuse for an art show. Listen up all you so called "artists" out there, it's not okay to paint a canvas green, throw some sticks and string on it, and call it a work of art, bad art makes me fucking crazy so stop making it.
There were lots of people dressed as santa walking around lower Manhattan and drinking in public yesterday, a girl dressed as an ornament gave me a KitKat bar.
I ate lots of feelings today.
CAUTION: after eating a chocolate popsicle you may turn different colors.
I'm scared to finish "The Elegance of the Hedgehog", it's been sitting unfinished on my desk for the past month, I refuse to finish or to start another book, some things should last forever, this book is one of them, go read it but don't tell me how it ends.
I haven't bought a single Christmas present.
Laundry is getting out of control.
I told 3 different people I'd do 3 different things this Saturday, I want to do all of them but it's impossible, clone me please.
One of these days I'm going to fill a subway car with paper snow flakes, it's an idea I've had for a while and it's going to happen.
Say no to flu shots.
Say yes to belgium waffles and milk shakes and sweet potato fries.
I love you a bushel and a peck.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Monday morning updates
I lost our book and my great grandmother's silver cow pin. I'm so mad at myself I could scream.
I drank 2 and a half mimosas, 2 shots of tequila, 2 coronas, and didn't come home last night.
My arm is peeling and I don't like the colors Marie is now.
Japanther said "please don't kill yourself" and I cried at a show for the first time in my life.
He kissed me.
I don't have a mon-fri 7-4 set schedule anymore. Today I work 12-8 and I'm most upset about not being able to eat lunch with him.
I want to wake up in his bed every morning.
There are now 7 cats in my house.
I haven't heard from my boyfriend in 4 days.
I'm all kinds of confused.
I drank 2 and a half mimosas, 2 shots of tequila, 2 coronas, and didn't come home last night.
My arm is peeling and I don't like the colors Marie is now.
Japanther said "please don't kill yourself" and I cried at a show for the first time in my life.
He kissed me.
I don't have a mon-fri 7-4 set schedule anymore. Today I work 12-8 and I'm most upset about not being able to eat lunch with him.
I want to wake up in his bed every morning.
There are now 7 cats in my house.
I haven't heard from my boyfriend in 4 days.
I'm all kinds of confused.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
I held a hand and I liked it
Last night we held hands. I said it wouldn't happen but last night, under a full moon, it did.
How could something so innocent feel so illicit?
We were walking, it started to rain, our umbrellas were up and imposing, I wanted to feel closer so I looped my arm around his, the way you would a close friend, we walked this way for a while. I was yammering about my mother's insistence on skipping out on hiring a babysitter and taking me to all her Al-Anon meetings as a child, I didn't realize how strange this was until I said it out loud, I can still recite all their mantras. For him I recited my favorite, "Keep coming back, it works if you work it, so work it, you're worth it!" He thought this was funny and asked if my hand was cold, it wasn't, but he wrapped his gloved hand around mine and we continued to walk, I continued to talk, the rain continued to fall, and my mind was busy. There we were, in the middle of Brooklyn, holding hands for all the world to see, I felt exposed, like at any moment my boyfriend would fall out of the sky and break up with me because there I was, standing on the edge of the world and holding the hand of someone who really cares about me, someone I think I really care about too. I'm afraid of what's to come. I realize how completely inane and juvenile this all sounds, but we held hands. I said I wouldn't, but last night, we walked down a street, under a full moon, in the rain, holding hands. People saw but I didn't want to stop. We held hands and I think I liked it.
How could something so innocent feel so illicit?
We were walking, it started to rain, our umbrellas were up and imposing, I wanted to feel closer so I looped my arm around his, the way you would a close friend, we walked this way for a while. I was yammering about my mother's insistence on skipping out on hiring a babysitter and taking me to all her Al-Anon meetings as a child, I didn't realize how strange this was until I said it out loud, I can still recite all their mantras. For him I recited my favorite, "Keep coming back, it works if you work it, so work it, you're worth it!" He thought this was funny and asked if my hand was cold, it wasn't, but he wrapped his gloved hand around mine and we continued to walk, I continued to talk, the rain continued to fall, and my mind was busy. There we were, in the middle of Brooklyn, holding hands for all the world to see, I felt exposed, like at any moment my boyfriend would fall out of the sky and break up with me because there I was, standing on the edge of the world and holding the hand of someone who really cares about me, someone I think I really care about too. I'm afraid of what's to come. I realize how completely inane and juvenile this all sounds, but we held hands. I said I wouldn't, but last night, we walked down a street, under a full moon, in the rain, holding hands. People saw but I didn't want to stop. We held hands and I think I liked it.
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