Monday, August 27, 2007

I think I may have finished a novel yesterday.

How did I get so busy. No time to sleep. Two days from now I'll be eating In-N-Out Burger. Yesssss.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

I have not gone out in days other than for dinner and it feels kind of nice. I think I've finally beaten on my own whatever weird infection was wrecking my body. I've also seriously cut down on smoking. So yay.

It's been kind of nice to be alone in my place reading, writing, drinking beer, sitting in front of my window AC unit in my bedroom because Jesus, it is hot out there. Today I opened with a four hour shift, got out at 10am after actually getting a decent night's sleep, so now I am awake with the day before me and what to do? Coffee, percocet, and writing until going to Harvard this evening? Splendid idea, me.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

it's not dark yet, but it's getting there

I realized upon talking to Mallory online last night that for the first time I can think of, the only person I'm angry with (aside of course, from the usuals I don't actually know, e.g. Paris Hilton and the President) is myself. I should I guess offer myself the same level of forgiveness and slack I offer these others who do pretty much the same stupid shit I do, albeit usually without the muttering and swearing and maybe without the crazy-eyes, emo-running black eyeliner or what have you.

I was sobbing the other night in the passenger seat of a car. Been a while since that's happened. I'm finally grown up enough that I can cry around other people.

Sara-with-no-H and I talked about self-loathing, and how it is actually a form of pride. I gotta relearn to get over my goddamned self. I ain't no better nor worse than anyone of you, or the President, or Paris Hilton.

Well, maybe a little better than those two... ;)

Friday, August 24, 2007

Getting finally better I think. A couple days off, some rest and some turkey and beef meatballs -- good old Italian cooking, real, like my grandma's, is all it takes sometimes. Ten hours of sleep and some colloidal silver. Bring up the mucus with saline. We'll be back in action soon.

In one week I'll be in LA, looking at the other ocean over which the sun sets.

I'm excited about reading again for the first time in months. Reading now Geek Love by Katherine Dunn, and it's Jesus exactly what I need to read right now, both for my writing and my life. Also one of those things that makes me feel incompetent, because how could I ever, you know?

Jeff Berger says that's what you gotta read. The best stuff you can never hope to compare to. No use reading shit.

He gave me Darconville's Cat, which is scary and thick with arcane words but I can't wait to read it, and I just received as birthday gift from my brother Infinite Jest and Gravity's Rainbow. These will easily last me the rest of the year.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

thought that I was young

You're always crying to leave somewhere.

I'm obsessed right now with the song "I Wish I Was the Moon" by Neko Case. I'm listening to it on a loop while I write this. god bless me, i'm a free man with nowhere free to go...

My upstairs neighbor Sara-with-no-H brought me cough drops and Tylenol Sinus. Having her as an upstairs neighbor is proof that I did some things right in my past life. We soon will watch nerdy videos or go to Maine. Whichever comes first.

Still sick, but getting better, tonight I finally ate my cheeseburger. Good god what life joy lives in just a cheeseburger and a chocolate malt. Pictures taken on a camera phone. Planting your "Art Saves" sticker on the wall of Bartley's. These things make me too happy and should make me happier.

Personal tumult on top of the physical sickness this past week. I am transferring stores, leaving the Starbucks where I made so many of my friends. Everyone is sad. I was crying today. Seven months ago I remember crying, pulling away from my parents' house in Indiana, driving down 465 wailing. If I had stopped, driven back, stayed there, I would not know any of these people. I would not be crying to leave this place. Change feeds me, but is so hard on me sometimes.

My wife, Mallory is back from her surgery. I forgot how good it was for me to have her around. I will miss working with her. I've just been hacking, coughing, writing, talking to friends and trying to sleep. These attempts have been varyingly successful.

I have not been to any open mics in a week. Tonight Mallory and I paid 3 dollars for the Cantab, but there is no where to sit, I am sick, and she is gimpy with a surgeried leg. We stand in the back for a while, but we are in Adam Stone's way and I feel awkward and sad, so we go right away. I'm afraid I seem rude. It is not like that. I'm just shy and sad, and I got up at five AM after going to bed a two.

I think I've forgotten how to write in complete sentences.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Why does my life work like this? Today I showed up to the Washington Street Starbucks where I was covering a shift so the employees could all go on a picnic. I'm there for twenty minutes and who shows up but Creepy Evan. He's waiting over with the employees. Apparently he knows one of them and is going on the picnic. Fabulous.

He sits there for what seems like forever, but is probably only a half hour. He's just sitting in the cafe, by himself against the wall staring at me. Just staring. It's just me and a shift, Rich, who doesn't work at that store either on the floor at this point, and he's gone into the back. I'm ringing and helping the customers and I can't get away from his eyes. Finally, I look straight at him and say loudly, "Will you please stop staring at me?" He does not. I repeat myself. He still does not but comes up and gets in line. I'm raging, seething, livid. I help the two customers in front of him and by the time he's up, Rich has come out from the back. I turn to him and ask him please to help the next customer, I'll explain later, so he does and I disappear into the back room for a minute. When I come out, Evan's gone.

On top of it, I'm sick. Like really sick. On top of that I got a 25 dollar parking ticket while I was there, so for the 5 hour shift I'll only make a total of about twenty bucks.

I'm still sick. I was going to go to stone soup tonight, Lizard Lounge last night, but I feel like total shit. I can't even sleep I feel so terrible and achy. I wish I hadn't gone to work today. When am I going to start to trust my bad feelings?

Sunday, August 19, 2007

After talking online for an hour last night about the glories of sausage I decided to give the meat eating thing a shot. Tonight after work I went to whole foods and bought some bourbon chicken wings.

"I'm glad you're in such a good mood," the kid behind the counter said. "It's been a long day."

"For me too, but I'm just starting to eat meat again," I told him. "I'm just so excited to see all my options."

"Oh, well, congratulations. In that case, do you want a free sample of this roast beef? It's really awesome."

"Um, of course?"

The kid cut me this great piece of roast beef (the end piece! the end piece!) and I ate it with my hands as the people behind the counter smiled and cheered me on. "Welcome back," one woman said.

Every cell in my body cried out in glee as I swallowed and digested tonight. I have only a bit of a tummy ache now, but it will pass.

Soon I will have my first cheeseburger. I think I'm going to go to Bartley's.

It's the small things in life, you know. You have to know when to treat yourself, someone said once. You have to decide at different times what to care about and what you're caring for. Sometimes you have to be good to you.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Long days. I can't believe just Monday was my show.

Yesterday after work I ignored writing and the tickle in my throat for a while for an Office marathon with my friend Andy. After five episodes we decided it was too nice an evening to spend it inside watching TV, so it was a trip to the liquor store, followed by PBR tallboys and whiskey on the porch listening to jazz. Reminiscences of seasons past barely crossed my mind, and sunsets are better than a lot of things.

Andy is a happy person. Andy has Jesus.

Mallory came over after work and we headed downtown to Aili's going-away party. In the morning I worked a shift at another store. The weather again was perfect. I was home for 15 minutes when Brendan called me saying the new girl didn't show for her closing shift. I ate lunch and went in, working in the end twelve hours at Starbucks on a day I wasn't scheduled to work at all.

Unfortunately now I'm sick. I hope it's viral and not an infection, though I was hacking up some pretty nasty shit this morning. Time will tell.

In my drunken state last night I wanted above all else, a cheeseburger. Today I ate turkey bacon and chicken. I think my veg days may be coming to an end.

No writing the past couple of days. Nice to have a break though.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

No one likes to hear they're being worried about. It hurts because I'm thinking of course that I'm doing all right for myself, all things considered. I wonder if it's the sadness or what. I'm a spazzy-assed motherfucker, we know this, have seen it. What's different now?

Had a few days off from work and it will be strange to go back at 6am tomorrow. I'm courting the owner of the Cantab for a part time there as a waitress. May as well move to Cambridge.

My allergies have gotten noticeably awfuller in the past three days. I hear it's that time of year where your eyes want to jump out of your skull and run red and seeping down the road. I'm trying to reel them in, since I figure I've got a lot of beautiful things to see coming up.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

My feature went well. I am happy with it. A lot of people came, which of course is nice. Sold a few books. Afterward, Erin Reardon and Tim Gager got me so drunk Al had to open for me this morning.

When I finally rolled out of bed, I texted my friend Andy and he, I, Al, and our friend Aili all went out to breakfast. It was a beautiful day and we decided to go to the beach, so we drove up to New Hampshire and lay all afternoon by the ocean. Aili gave me a seaweed bouquet, then we walked on the rocks and found snails and crabs. Andy dug a huge hole. I was happy just to lie in the sun in front of the sound of waves. We ate fried clams and our eighteen year old waitress hit on Andy, then I got an orange cream frappe.

We drove back as the sun was setting, all aware this was one of those good-to-be-alive days. I played iPod DJ. New England is really gorgeous.

Thank you so much to everyone who came out last night. I had a lot of fun.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Saturday, August 11, 2007

The weather here is fantastic. Thank god it's not so hot I can't breathe anymore.

My sleep schedule has been so bizarre lately. Four hours in the afternoons and two hours in the wee hours of the morn. At least I'm still going. And I'm writing fiction!

Planning on pawning my jewelry. Anyone know of any pawn shops in Boston?

Today my friend Andy said I was the only "woman" our age he knew. "Meaning what?" I of course asked. "Meaning you're not a girl and not a lady. You're just like, mature and independent and unique, but have your shit together in your own way."

So I thought, goddammit, I do have my shit put pretty much together. It's different from a lot of people my age, but I know what I want and I do it and go for it and I'm good to people and what more can you do in life?

By the way, come to my feature at Stone Soup on Monday night at 8pm at the Out of the Blue art gallery in Central Square. :)

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Shit. If I were in a better all around mindspace, I would be reveling in providence and the goodwill of the people around me. All in all it was not a bad day. Woke up about 12:30 and actually wrote. Shit. Actually wrote fiction. Actually read. The weather sucked -- I can never breathe when it's so hot and humid, and around 5:30 all I could think of was Harrell's ice cream, so I thought why the fuck not? Drove down to Allston and got me some. Medium sized. Malted Vanilla and Cherry Vanilla. So good. Actually cheered me up.

Feeling a bit better, Al and I went to the Cantab. Got there late but Ryk is the man and put me on the open mic anyway. Read "Redlight." Ducked out at about 9 to get a quesadilla and smoke. Ran into Debbie and Devon outside the 1369. Some people recognized me. I told everyone to come to my feature.

My boss has been scheduling me with shit hours, but Mike at the door is going to hook me up with a waitressing job at the Cantab. I think I'd really enjoy doing that a couple of nights a week. Maybe more. I'm going to go in this weekend and talk to the owner.

See man? Good things are happening. People like me. Care about me. A lot of them. A lot of them care a lot. I was talking to my friend Maegan yesterday. She mentioned my low self-esteem. She said I was dynamic. And beautiful. And a good writer. I should know these things. I feel like I knew them for an instant last spring and then forgot them again. Where did that feeling go?

Tomorrow night Lisa and I have a date to eat Taco Bell and watch the best movie ever, Henry Fool. There's something to look forward to. I'm opening in four and a half hours for a four and a half hour shift. Not smart to sleep. I'll sleep when I ge off. Let's see what else we can get done in the meantime.

I like my time alone.
Today I actually did all but one of the things on my to do list. And (and!) I talked to a bunch of people I've been meaning to catch up with, and (and!) I played the guitar. This hardly ever happens.

Also, a new contender for Best Pick-Up Line Ever (by a 40-something man who makes vitamins in his basement):

"So what are you doing later? You wanna get a beer and see my vitamin lab?"

Ha. I'm so going to die alone. Ha.

Monday, August 6, 2007

Only thing I know how to do is keep on keeping on. My friend Lisa helped me this weekend xerox the pages for my book, The Crossroad I'm gonna debut at Stone Soup. We have an eerie amount in common, and it made me really happy that the girl who sat silently that one time at Stone Soup who I thought seemed so interesting came and said she liked my poem. Her poems rock, too. I wish I could write like that when I was 20, and I wish she wasn't leaving so soon.

We are obsessive, foolish girls. And it's okay. And it's fine. We're writers, we're melancholic, and that's okay. Emo? Meh. Labeling something as emo when it's genuine doesn't help. It never helps to apologize or feel bad for one's feelings. We have to experience what we feel in order to really grow, to really live, and to really move on.

Saturday night Open Bark and a full house. Tonight Stone Soup with a surprising range of young people. Chad asked Al and me afterward if we knew them. We did not. "You think all the people in Boston under 30 know each other?" I asked. "Well, sort of," he said.

I read some older poems from my book. Afterward, Jack Powers came up and tried to tell me something, but I couldn't understand him. Al concurred that it seemed like he was trying to compliment me. The only word I really understood though was, "okay."

Jack and I both are Virgos.

Two days off from work in a row now. I don't even know what to do with myself. Hopefully I won't get too depressed. Part of me wants to take off and go to Maine, where I've never been. Just drive, sleep on the rocky beach somewhere. Eat fish chowder and talk to the men with white beards.

But hopefully I'll get some writing done. And some reading. Hopefully I won't get too depressed.

Now back to PBR and the long stapler.

Saturday, August 4, 2007

Oh, by the way. I went to Tim Gager's Dire Literary Series. I really liked the vibe there, and I finally got to read some fiction in front of people. It got me excited about fiction writing again, and if I can stop, as is my plan, being so goddamned emo, maybe I'll be able to finish all the novels I have living in my head.
I was looking at all the goddamned emo shit I've been writing and I think I need to be more of a callous bitch in my life. I'm tired of feelings. I'm tired of being withdrawn and depressed. From now on I'm taking my pain and acting out. That's more fun, anyway.

Friday, August 3, 2007

Jesus. I need more distractions.

I wonder sometimes if I'm just a melancholic person. Maybe I'll always find something to be a little depressed about. Now it's a boy. A year ago it was writing. Two years ago it was the loss of my weird sense of faith. Maybe I do all this to myself. Maybe I'll never get out of it.

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Yesterday was not good. I was more depressed than I have been for weeks. I can see now why. I got off work at noon after 3 hours of sleep, took a brief nap, then listened to my recent favorite album, Time Out of Mind. These songs ring too true right now, and their poignancy will maybe never be as fully understood by anyone who did not listen to the album in full while driving around the streets of Boston at 5 am after leaving someone's house for the last time. It was someone's birthday yesterday.

I couldn't write. For twelve hours I tried, but I just couldn't. Finally I gave up, did the dishes, listened to Joni Mitchell and watched girly anime. Fushigi Yuugi and Camel Turkish Golds. Drank some Starbucks Gold Coast and Knob Creek. Drunk dialed folks in other states. Paid rent and wandered down to the convenience store for bread and cheese. This is bachelor life.

I worry my friendship with the boy with the scars in irrecoverable. Hanging out with me only makes him sad. I know how hard it can be to be around someone you want who doesn't want you, and I don't want to do that to him. But I miss his company.

I'm still seriously thinking about quitting Starbucks, but I have no idea what I'd do. I might consider graduating to a "real" job, but... god, I don't want to get fat. I don't want to be so burned out mentally that I can't stand to sit at a computer for another second. I don't want to hang a photo of my dog in my cubicle.