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This just in! I won't be on the radio tonight, because I want to go to a reception at the AWP conference. But rest easy, I'll be on next Wednesday no fail.
And you should listen anyway! Joe may rerun my Breakup Show tonight -- which is worth hearing -- and if he doesn't, whatever he plays instead will be just as rad.
(NB: I'm typing this on a rented PC at Foxy Copy on 92nd Street. Since I don't have access to my scanner I'm just transposing text from the notebook, instead of scanning the pages as I normally do. I also apologize, a little, for the long-windedness of this, the beginning of an entry from last June that got a lot longer and more personal later on. I think it achieves a certain sublimity, though.)
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What I'd like to do is stay here until the notebook is full. Can I do it? Maybe I should give up -- I've been dealt a shitty hand w/ this awful pen that's 20 years old that was sold to me at a 50-year-old deli by a 100-year-old Asian lady. I went down 23'd ave to see what I could see and found that terrible depressing deli & a cute Orthodox church that advertised childcare w/ a smiling woman walking out of it holding roses. Considered trying to cross the BQE to get to the Fairfield Marriott (why "Fairfield" if we're in Queens?) to have a drink at the hotel bar. Nothing quite like a hotel bar, chums. But it looked so treacherous don'tchaknow. So I looped around back to Ditmars and walked all the 20 blocks back here to 31st street. Not quite 20 blocks I guess. About 15. Will be over 20 when I get back to Dan's. How to fill the notebook? I'm sad about my life & frustrated with the world. Dumb flirting-w-me guy at dumb SoHo Wraps. Asking me what my heritage was & why I should know Spanish. What gives him the right? He should be canned. Maybe I'll call his manager. I'm sure I wasn't the only woman he hit on during that shift of his. Asshole. Should have gone to Igloo where at least they use actual fruit in their fruit smoothies. Nothing quite so disappointing as a "fruit smoothie" made from ice and concentrated juice. Unless it's graduating from an MFA program & finding yourself exactly where you were four, ten, fifteen years ago. Nothing really ever changes, does it? I was 16 years old doing this exact shit -- getting restless and so taking long walks at night hoping to find something wonderful & revelatory & even bringing along a stupid cheap notebook but finding dick-all. Absolutely nil. It used not to bother me. Now it does. But okay, here's something that I realized makes me happy: walking around a nice neighborhood full of interesting people and seeing in every well-groomed lawn and lighted window and cute little kitty that all these people who live here are making nice lives for themselves. I like knowing other people are essentially happy. That brings me hope and cheer and solace and comfort and warmth. Man. I suppose I am a good person. Most times I don't feel like one, at all.
This is my favorite photo from my birthday party, snapped by one Helen Chi, of Sarah Seigel (aka Sarah SEIGE!) and myself drinking Manhattan Special.
Thanks, H.!
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I have known this for a long time, but I think it deserves to be said here. My favorite form of entertainment is anything where people just talk, unscripted. It's why I love the radio so much, and why I can listen to DVD commentaries over and over. When I was a kid I was addicted to those stand-up comedy shows that were on MTV and, later, Comedy Central.
This afternoon I was reminded of that again, as happens most Sundays, when I was listening to Glen Jones and X-Ray Burns on WFMU. They play songs and all, but their show, at the heart of it, is just two guys from New Jersey who have known each other forever and like to talk about stuff. I could listen to it all day.
Why is that?
Anyway, I like to think this predilection informs my writing, and I hope it does.
Justin Phillips: HEEEELLOOOOO!
Amanda Nazario: Hey!
JP: So we goin' to TOAST or what, now? You up for it?
AN: (whining) Naaaaahhh, I was just in there last night.
JP: Yeah, but come on! Let's just have some beers.
AN: (whining) Nooooo, I can't.
JP: Or dinner?
AN: NO! I actually just called in for some food. Which I asked them to bring to my house.
JP: (Disgusted sigh) What's the matter with you?
AN: WHAT? I WANTED SUSHI!
JP: Oh yeah? Where do you order sushi from?
AN: China Place, generally, but this time I'm trying Saga.
JP: (incredulous) 'Saga'??!?!? What the hell?
AN: It's the Vietnamese place next to Kitchenette. They have sushi too.
JP: Whatever. You're lame.
AN: I'm sorry! I don't want to go to TOAST tonight!
JP: Okay! Don't get all CRAZY!
AN: Well, don't... RELY on me for things!
JP: Fine, I won't. My mistake.
AN: Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean that. I'll be here all night, so you can come over later, if that sounds good.
JP: I don't know. Do you have any movies or anything?
AN: I have The Simpsons, seasons two through ten.
JP: Okay, whatever. I think you should come to TOAST with me, but whatever.
AN: I think we're just going to have to agree to disagree on that.
JP: Okay, bye.
AN: Bye.
I can't find a good YouTube of Harriet Wheeler fronting the Sundays and singing "I Kicked a Boy," which is my favorite Sundays song although it's a short and simple one. There are a couple live versions up, but you can't really hear the lyrics too super good, especially if you haven't ever heard the song before.
Anyway, it's what I'm thinking of this morning. I urge anyone who does not have The Sundays' "Reading, Writing and Arithmetic" to download that motherfucker sharpish. I have it on cassette. Dubbed from another cassette. In 1992. And it still sounds delicious.
Sorry, everyone -- I will not be updating my blog today.
Oh. Whoops.
Yes, I do mean heroin.
I think I've made that joke before.
No! I mean writing. I'm frustrated about my new story, but when it's done I think it could go far. It's kind of sweet and funny. But I worry that I won't have time to finish a draft by the end of the week. Dammit.
Gabe sent me this. I likes it, although I worry about its similarity to one of my favorite blogs of all time, Garfield: Permanent Monday. Argh!
I can't print any documents out of my new Canon PIXMA 610 until I install MS Office. Anyone got it?
Also, I just sent this picture to my pal Mo. Riz. (Mohammad Rizwanullah) as a memento from the Hayden Hall era at NYU. Down the street from us, there was this pizza place called Nedal's that we were in once or twice a day; we became good friends with Mr. Nedal and his staff. This is still one of my favorite photos I've taken.
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The Kidz Bop Kids version of "Pon De Replay" is superior to the original.
