Boots' Blog Baby

drink port before bed

2006-05-24T21:59:00.000-07:00

because it relaxes the brain muscles.

i haven't been driven to post too much of late. or write in my journal. normally it's because i am busy living my life, and uninclined to dissect it. truthfully i believe it's because i read books on the train instead of writing, and have therapy to vent now.

but tomorrow's therapy session won't be sufficient for what i feel today.
so tired i can't sleep
because then i'll miss if a friend emails me back or signs onto instant messenger
because i can't stop coughing this little mid-throat cough which has kept me up the past two nights
because i want so badly not to be alone right now and yet can't be with someone for a multitude of reasons, here are two:
1) i have no boyfriend to sleep in the bed, beside me. 2) any friend or relative i wish i could sit and talk to is in another place. this one upsets me so, that i can't sleep. my brother is in chicago, and that guts me. it fucking does. i know him, i love him, and i feel like a whole version of myself when i'm near him. and my mom, and my dad, and my best friend, and my dog. not one of those individuals is closeby.
hearing my friend alissa's news today shattered me. i keep thinking about what it must be like to watch my mother die. slowly. suddenly. some days i don't feel strong enough to stay in new york. because it breaks me down a little every day. i feel like i don't have the constitution to do more than just work and sleep and drink and complain. and then i don't feel strong enough to leave, because it would take so much to rebuild my life somewhere else. i could go to san francisco or chicago or boston. or europe. but i can't get my life into order here. just doing my job. this year has been so hard. i never feel 100%. ever. like i'm always getting or having or recovering from a cold or some bullshit. and like i'm never going to have a relationship. and that my work situation will only resolve itself when i get the next job.
if i could muster the willpower to clean my room, and organize all my shit, and throw alot away, and give alot away... maybe then the moving and shifting and changing would be less daunting. but i can't find the motivation to clean and organize and do and be better. it's too hard.
it's always "tomorrow"
so tomorrow... i want to wake up early and not go back to bed, and turn on the stereo and clean my fucking room, and eat the food i bought at the grocery store today, and have a good therapy session and not hate work tomorrow night.
but fuck if i don't wish that a boy would take me to a movie sometime soon and kiss me during the closing credits. because he can't wait until a subway station or a stoop.
i'm afraid to live beyond 50%. if i lived 100% then i'd have to use my hours and my days and be productive. i'm afraid of sleep deprivation. in a week i will be working 7am to 5pm. i'm afraid of a normal schedule. and that's what i'm working toward. i fucking hate it. i'm not a morning person. if i had my nights, then i could have a life. i could have another job. i could have a boyfriend, if i could find a boy... i need to promise myself right now: no more sleeping in. no more excuses. no more two days of the same socks. no more feeling sorry for my single self. i don't have time for my own bullshit. yes, no more erica bullshit, that's my promise to myself. eat breakfast, and at least one other meal every day. drink water. return people's phone calls. write back to emails. no more erica bullshit.
fuck yeah.
i love you mom and dad. i'm glad the thought of losing you petrifies me. because it makes me call mom in the middle of the day. because it makes dad psychic and call me when i'm in the dairy aisle. only he knows what this means: petit filous!
at least real things make me cry. movies sometimes do now, too. but a year ago i wouldn't have genuinely cried about any of this shit. i'm going to be so awesome once i get through all my bullshit.

thank you for smoking

2006-03-19T23:35:00.000-08:00

first off... i gotta pee.
second, i saw 2 movies today worth seeing. neither is "oh my god" amazing. but worth seeing.
thank you for smoking, provided many laughs and ruminations and will probably haunt me and my moral identity for a little while.
v for vendetta was entertaining and will probably haunt me for about a week. totalitarian government and masked vengeance artist and all... it'll make for some interesting dreams about big brother trying to get to me smoke or some shit.

i've been feeling better lately.
and then i talk to jojo, and wish i could be in boston for a very long time, or transmit her here for a long spell,
and then i'll get rejected or annoyed by someone, and dive into a foul mood.
but hey, i'm also experiencing some highs, and laughing, and smiling, and hopefully seeming less depressed.
i'm trying at least to be ok with my life.
and hopefully it'll change despite me, and i'll wake up one day happier than i have been in a while, and i look forward to that day. maybe it'll be tomorrow. nope. not unless the boyfriend fairy visits in the middle of the night. and it's the middle of the night, so i'm even more leery.

i'm going to go to sleep now and pray that 8 hours will heal all ills that might be steeping in me.
and see another movie tomorrow if i can muster the patience for manhattan. actually, it's the downtown manhattan alone and no money or energy to go shopping that i need patience for in reality. god grant me grace for going below 14th street with a working mastercard.

2006-03-01T08:21:00.000-08:00

my grandfather died last night.
i need like a month to process all this.

2006-02-27T23:19:00.000-08:00

i don't want to believe it...

so april sent out a pdf of the article with imette's picture in it, from the post.
then i found an article in the nytimes online
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/28/nyregion/28dead.html?ex=1141794000&en=f13c90067c282798&ei=5070&emc=eta1

and it's finally hit home that this girl i knew was the victim of something atrocious and transgressive and i don't know how to react.
except to tell people.
because the telling makes it real.
because the writing of a blog makes me feel like something has happened, and this shit matters, and this girl wasn't a friend of mine since gospel choir, but fuck!

when someone dies at the end of a long life, with their family surrounding them, like my grandmother for example, i can comprehend and process the loss. or at least i have tried to comprehend and process the loss of my grandmother.
but she was 86. she had great-grandchildren. i have her cheekbones. i held her hand as she started to slip away, and i knew she was at peace. she is at peace.
the kind of violence that was acted out against imette is non-sensical, and horrendous, and abrupt. she is the third person i knew in high school who has died too young. karen young was murdered a few years ago, jeff was killed in a tragic car accident... why do these things happen? what do they teach us?
that there is evil in the world?
that there is love to battle the evil in the world?
this city feels so lonely and unsafe sometimes, and then vibrant and warm at others. i don't think this tragedy would have hit so close had it happened in boston for some reason. i have explained the nature of new york away so many times... but i can't explain this. i can't.
it's just too fucked up.
it's just too fucked up.

i love you all and miss you all and am hugging you electronically.
erica.

haircut 100

2006-02-08T23:22:00.000-08:00

sunday before work i got a haircut
and i'm still breaking it in, you know?
seeing how it looks curly, straight, blah blah blah...
it's short, man. it's sassy and cute.
the consensus is that it's good. people like the hair.
always good to have healthy popular hair.
my roommate also cut all her hair off.
tis the season...

last night we celebrated cate/skirt/grover's birthday. some tapas at oliva on the l.e.s. where the band sang happy birthday as the waitress brought free chocolate cake. vanessa and i made her wear a tiara and boa and fake bling rings. then we went to sing sing karaoke and spent two hours with some 40s. skootch sang some cheap trick songs and i sang my pat benatar (WE BELONG) and skirt sang whatever we made her sing plus a night-ending rendition of vision of love. vanessa lured me into a dirty dancing duet, and we rocked that swayze style.

and i just had a 5 minute long sneezing fit.
whew!

i can't wait to go home next week.
oh geez.

motherfuckin' soinee!

2006-02-03T07:30:00.000-08:00

for some reason i am the only one who can shape the apple financier tarts the exact same way every time.
yeah, my shit is motherfuckin' soinee!
what i don't understand is why.
why are we not all on the same soinee page?
oh are you wondering what soinee means?
it means, tight as fucking shit awesome perfect cheffily done.
i digress.
what was i saying?
oh i am the best ever.
it's all bravado i know.
but i love having to do things over for people sometimes, because it means i'm awesome. though i would also love if we all made our mise super soinee. because then we'd be an uber team of pastry cooks. and i would only do my job, and noone else's. that would be amazing.

i, um, have to go see capote with skirt now.
and why is the video for the denial twist by the white stripes so creepy. little people with conan o'brien masks!
-booty

i'm single, again?

2006-02-02T09:52:00.000-08:00

i haven't been blogging lately because i've been busy with work and dating this guy.
and then i broke up with him this morning, so...
i feel like blogging again.
i wanted to write about what was happening these past weeks, but felt self-conscious, and didn't want him to read all the shit i thought, because somehow i felt that he would find my blog and read it. and the fact that i was so worried about him "finding out" something, was surely a sign that i wasn't into him enough, and once i admitted that to myself i guess he figured it out on his own. sort of.
he said something last night, sitting next to me on the couch, as i was basically falling asleep. all i heard was "i really like you... are you ignoring me?" and i mumbled "yeah..." but what he said in actuality was something about taking me out for valentine's day and stuff. and i hurt his feelings. and he wanted to discuss that this morning when he stopped by. apparently i didn't apologize sufficiently while i was breaking up with him.
i called myself an asshole, and mean, and all that crap.
and confused, and going through alot of stuff at work, with my family, and my head...
i'm fucking depressed, stressed out at work, my grandmother just died.
i owe this dude nothing, except to be honest and as un-mean as possible. i'm sorry if i'm very matter of fact, and stuck inside of my head, but that's where i'm at right now. and my ambivalence is mine, and if that hurts this dude's feelings then i'm sorry, but right now i can't help it.
it's not my fault that i didn't want to sleep with him.
i just don't find him attractive.
and he's freaking weird.
with his ear fetish, and inability to talk in his own words but only movie quotes,
i'm not trying to be a bitch, but i had been agonizing over whether or not to break up with him
and i knew he liked me more. it was obvious.
i'm so used to being dumped, that i didn't know how to dump someone nicely.
and the floodgates are open.
josh would say that i should have known when he said "aboot" the first time. darn canadians.

that was an interesting month of kinda having a boyfriend.

i have to work on myself some more. get some therapy. eat healthy.
it would be nice to have a real relationship, with someone i can be nice to, and want to sleep with, and not feel obligated to spend time with, and all that shit.
argh.
baa.
welcome back to the blog boots.

where have i been?

2006-01-03T00:44:00.000-08:00

umm...
sick and working and seeing family at home in boston and having family visit and working and celebrating the new year.
yeah, pretty much.

and all i really want to do on my two more days off is SEE MOVIES.

after buying and receiving dvds for the holidays, i have been contemplating the year in film. what does erica think about the flicks of 2005?
eh... not a great year for american film, better for foreign, especially german and french. but at least they're making unabashed comedies in the states again. and tons of other crap, but hey, we got wedding crashers and the 40 year old virgin.

ok, i must list. i must. and i'm making up my own categories:

BEST

movie to make you want to slit your wrists, but in the good way
2046 (chinese)

wonderfully truthful and disturbing movie (that todd solondz wishes he made)
me and you and everyone we know (usa)

gay gay movie
my summer of love (british... and nope, it's not brokeback mountain)
(did bad education come out this year? because that was pretty good too you know)

movie set in a subway system
kontroll (hungarian)

movie about skateboarding with kick ass camera work
lords of dogtown (usa!)

tragic romance with edge and lots of languages movie
head on (german)

touching pants-wetting movie about a virgin
40 year old virgin (usa)

black and white and red all over movie
sin city (usa)

movie based on a jane austen novel
pride and prejudice barely beats out bride and prejudice by a bollywood hair (british)

movie where they dance!
tie: mad hot ballroom (nyc public school kids learn hot to cha cha cha, fantastico! usa)
and rize (krumping? krumping! usa)

movie to make you want to revolt and fall in love simultaneously
the edukators (again german)

pbs style movie
march of the penguins (antarctica)

movie about transcending your reality through music
the beat my heart skipped (french)

actresses
michelle williams in everything (brokeback mountain, the baxter)
emma watson in hp4 (dude, hermione is getting awesome)
toni collette in in her shoes (gotta love muriel)
shirley maclaine in in her shoes (best new grandma)
claire danes (shopgirl)
isla fisher (wedding crashers)

actor
jake gyllenhaal in proof (too cute to be a math nerd)
will ferrell in everything (bewitched, kicking and screaming, the producers)
romain duris (the beat my heart skipped)
jason schwartzman (shopgirl)
the double v (vince vaughn!) (wedding crashers, be cool, and mr. and mrs. smith)
geoffrey wright (broken flowers, he is the fucking bomb)

special award to heath ledger, being all versatile and hot in everything. even the brothers grimm
special award for the aristocrats for being a funny ass film that was actually kinda boring, but overcame the repetition by having people like mario cantone nearly make me pee my pants
special award to joss whedon, for back in the day taking a movie and making a tv show (buffy) and then doing the converse this year (firefly tv series into serenity movie)

WORST

biggest let downs:
palindromes
broken flowers
the chronicles of narnia
the brothers grimm
pretty persuasion

most overrated:
brokeback mountain
batman
all those computer animated movies (madagascar, robots, sharktale. don't get me wrong, i like them, but they're not as good as shrek)
shopgirl (i liked it, especially the young actors, but shit if they don't blow these movies up in the press)
everything is illuminated

pieces of crap that i spent money on:
alot like love
just like heaven
the sisterhood of the traveling pants
be cool

special award for being an offensive anti-euthanasia romantic comedy wings of desire/ghost knock off
just like heaven (mark ruffalo couldn't save it, thus it must suck)
actor
ben affleck should stop acting and only be a dude on reality talking about film production (project greenlight rules!)

i'm sure i will be amending these tomorrow when i wake up and realize i forgot whole months of films that i saw.

but until then,
how's your sweetness?

erica the boots wearing girl

'tis the season to...

2005-12-22T00:44:00.000-08:00

stress the fuck out over teeny tiny little things, and huge gigantic big things, simultaneously.
there's:

the transit strike
christmas shopping
getting phone calls from my boss about muffin strusel topping
figuring out how to get to work on thursday
deciding where to sleep thursday night so that i don't have to worry about getting to work on friday
what to pack to wear for the holiday weekend
what to pack it in so that i don't injure myself if i end up walking 100 blocks over the next couple days
getting people's addresses so that i can mail christmas cards
write out all my christmas cards

what did i do the past couple days, instead of work?
relax and have a good time with jojo who's in town
see movies and stay in astoria (narnia and the family stone, preferred the latter)
sleep and eat and watch project runway on tv
pray for an end to the strike
pray for an end to the stress at work
cry intermittently today, over stupid and important shit, because i'm too tired of my life right now to even think about walking across the queensboro bridge to get to union square and work.

what does tomorrow look like for me?
well, wake up at about 8am, call chris, see if he's still driving me and jojo to the l.i.r.r. station, and if so walk to astoria boulevard at 9am-ish to meet him and ride that long island derived train to penn station. let jojo go to port authority and bus it back to boston. then walk to the village and hang out with cate until work. work. then stay at this lady-who-cate-is-dog-sitting-for's apartment.
and then?
go to work friday, leave and take the train to boston at 3:15am on christmas eve. then be home and try to relax. then train back to new york, and freak out about transit next week, to work monday, when the family comes to visit on tuesday...
oy. freaking. vey.
why?
please let it be over when i wake up.
por favor!
-my boots were made for riding the subway.

sick day

2005-12-09T00:52:00.000-08:00

something occurs to me as i settle into my freshly made bed with the latest star wars dvd humming in my disk drive... i miss sick days. when i was little i would be dropped off at grandma and grandpa's house for a day of cable tv, zebra cakes, ellio's pizza, warm gingerale, and jigsaw puzzles. i miss their house, and all it meant to the family. broke everyone's heart to sell it, especially since my great grandfather built it, grandma grew up in it, as did my mom... the pieces of that collection that made a home, the furniture, china, afghans, framed photos, are all scattered about the foley family houses now. though they comfort and remind us, especially at holidays, of the one place where we once gathered and celebrated, the site-specific sadness remains.
the way the light broke through the windows in the library and always woke me up in time to catch grandpa watching golf and filling out the crossword. the linoleum in the kitchen, and the pantry full of ancient canned goods, my home away from home. i could make myself anything i wanted that existed in that kitchen when i was sick.
there is no food in my apartment. surely there's some stuff, but no fully stocked fridge and freezer and pantry, with an extra full size fridge and freezer in the basement (full of ice cream no doubt). i ordered lunch today. and dinner. delivery. as if i were up for cooking meals for myself.. but the option, i always want the option.
tomorrow it's back to work. i dearly hope this cold/flu thing releases me soon. i need to be productive this weekend. at least i made some progress on neatening my room. being able to see the floor makes me feel a little less sick. so does all that online christmas shopping, gotta love the fact that i don't have to carry home a butt load of presents. now i just have to write all the christmas cards...

some day i will buy back the old mccourt homestead on hopkins road in jamaica plain. i promised mom. we'll shoot fireworks out of the backyard on the 4th of july, have every christmas in the front room, and if that never happens it's ok... but there was something magical to me about that house as a kid. made me better in a day. greatgrandma mabel's afghans, flat canada dry, grandpa's puzzles, grandma's full stocked kitchen. even thinking about it makes me feel a little bit better.
crap i miss boston. like a missing appendage. there's something about new york that has me convinced... i'm a member of the cult called Manhattan.
baa.

jesus pringles

2005-11-30T17:08:00.000-08:00

ever heard a better religiously inappropriate phrase than "jesus pringles"?
it just came to me in the middle of shaping tart shells the other night.
chatting about how this girl is hated by her boyfriend's mom because she's italian and catholic, i started off on a tangent of catholic inappropriateness. because that's what i do. my favorite thing to settle in on and batter is eucharist. or host. or communion. tastes like wallpaper paste and cardboard (if i knew what that combination tasted like). and then i called the body of christ "jesus pringles".
time to go see hp4 finally, after i dry my hair of course.
a few other things, just quickly.
thanksgiving was almost perfect. had one more good thing happened then i would have been on cloud 9, but i was still on cloud 8, nonetheless. saw rent, hung out with the jjj and a bunch of high school peeps, ate turkey with the fam, laid about the house with the dog, wished i could have stayed all weekend and saw more of everyone. but alas no. i get xmas eve and day off though. so i will be back in the beantown soon enough.
i just. crap. i just wish i could either get over some old stuff or have closure sooner than later.

the sounds...

2005-11-20T04:07:00.000-08:00

what's fantastic?
meeting friends on a freezing cold thursday night, waiting in line for a spell, and getting to hear a kick ass swedish band for FREE! that's fantastic. shaking my indie rock hair and tooshy, that's also fantastic. going home tired but humming with happiness to a hoodie and a comfy bed, also fantastic.
i can't believe it's the weekend before thanksgiving. simply cannot. or that i am going home tout suite. nope. that's fantatsic, but kind of unbelieveable. also like the souschefdom that will never be mine. i feel as if i am working toward a mirage. this goal is a delusion, and the more i try to compartmentalize and let the shit work itself out, the more i realize my boss will never follow through wtih his promises. and i don't feel super compelled to exert myself and be the suck up perfect cook he wants, because it's 2 and a half years later and i'm still not the fucking sous. i know i said i wouldn't write about it, but the futility is overwhelming me.
some days i just want to break down and cry. all i do is make fucking tart shells again, and muffin batter. what have i worked three years learning and busting my ass for? hunh? muffins and tart shells. that's my perpetual existence. sure, everyone's existence and livelihood can be distilled into a few trite tasks or elements. but i don't know how to get past it when other cooks at work point out the fact that i am always doing tart shells.
maybe if i had a life to distract from this shit i might feel less annoyed.
and my roommate told some friends that i might have a boyfriend, she didn't know yet... but since i haven't heard back from the dude from a week ago i definitely don't even have a friend, let alone a boy. whatever, i shouldn't date an actor anyway. and he was too short for me too. i'm so superficial. but it all boils down to the kiss ultimately. and it wasn't there for me. nope. i can get over difference of religion, ethnicity, height, body type, occupation from what i hold as my ideal, as long as the laughter and kissing are there. the laughter was sort of there, but not the smooching. there's something anatomical about a good kissing partner. face structure and all that... i'm such a nutjob.

time to cozy up to my hooded sweatshirt, night night...
boots.

clap your hands say yeah

2005-11-17T02:07:00.000-08:00

to the tune of "let the cool goddess rust away"
by clap your hands say yeah

strange things happen everyday, like unexpected instant messenger conversations, one night stands, making a new friend at work, nearly falling asleep as the man lectures the new hires for his restaurant group, dyeing hair strawberry blond for the umpteenth time, watching someone scream "tacos" under the influence of drugs and alcohol and then get thrown out of a bar for pushing his girl.
these things happen, and though they occur in my life, yes, i don't always write about them.
work, i write about that crap generally, without specifics like names and situations because i don't think those things should be expressed outside of my little paper journal. my personal life, generally i don't write when and how i get laid or don't. i merely whine when i feel loneliest and though i wasn't so lonely last week in a manner of speaking, i am left in a state of loneliness. needless to say i remain more a fan of jane austen than ever.
so i watched "persuasion" just now, and though i expected to see some of caesar in ciaran hinds, and to be disturbed and distracted, instead i am invigorated to see pride & prejudice by myself tomorrow. it shall be my day's activity. like couching was today's activity. and returning the red to my hair. monday was the expensive cut, today was the 10 dollar box of haircolor.

deep breath.

to the tune of "the skin of my yellow country teeth"

there are certain people that the mere thought of them stops me dead in my tracks, and pulls me back in time like quantum leap. some of my friends know him as Tex. and tonight the friend i lost due to my whole situation with Tex over 2 years ago instant messaged me. sara. she had been in love with him, and i guess it will be something that we'll share now, having our hearts broken by him. now i can think of him without weeping, literally and figuratively. but relating all that did or didn't go down between us to her in generalities and heartfelt apologies lept me back to the summer of 2003. late nights walking from the village to times square, talking and sitting on the curb waiting for the crosstown bus to my tiny studio on the upper east side, getting drunk and falling asleep with him, hearing the words "i never meant to give you the wrong impression or lead you on..." and still not being able to hang up, receiving phone calls in the middle of the night when he just wanted to hear my voice... imagine if i had kissed the guy. fuck. not that i sometimes fancy him my darcy, but i know why i love those types of romances. because i am a fucking romantic. and since i am one of those, i also will take this opportunity to be friends with a girl who stopped talking to me and just instant messaged me a few hours ago, i will take it and hold. not run. not go back. hold. i rotate through butt buddies, and she was one of my best friends that i spent too much time with back in the after nyu days. we made lame tshirts and loved phantom planet together. i miss the girl. and the unabashed funky fresh dance moves in public places. the middle of the art store. it was a good song, what can i say?

work, i still don't feel right writing about work. except in those generalities i mentioned.
i feel so ambivalent there. or schizophrenic. there are some great people there, that make me smile, that warm my heart, that are cute and i like to stare at, and then there are those that make me want to throw wooden spoons and use muffin scoopers as weapons. if only the assholes of the world and idiots too could be disposed of immediately so that i would no longer have to deal with them. i'm a nice girl, i do my work, i don't leave tons of shit to be done on my days off, i try and perpetuate the positive karma. all i try to put out is good vibes. and then the haters fuck with my shit. baa. it's tough to be zen with a line cook counting the empty muffin cups i have yet to fill at 1am, when all i want to do is be home with my temple against a cool pillowcase.

to the tune of "gimmie some salt"

i like tacos. a chicken guacoloco from san loco, oh what a lovely late night experience.

people say "gimme some sugar" and i think it works only coming from a guy's lips. but unless you're saying it to a lady, a lady sounds not so cool saying that. so when i heard this song "gimmie some salt" the first time i liked it simply because of the title/chorus. and luckily it's a friggin cool song. so that is what i'll say when i have a boy finally. gimme some salt. boys are salty, girls are sweet.

this summer i saw this band "clap your hands say yeah" at northsix in brooklyn, i think it was the ambulance ltd show, and though i liked them i didn't run out to find their album. until i saw it on the last page of rolling stone as a college radio favorite. like a more poppy easier-to-listen-to version of the unicorns. and less canadian of course. listen to them, they're good.

next week is mom's birthday (and turkey day). i get to go home. jo and i are first seeing rent (and plan to eat twizzlers to cut down on the singing-along) and then throwing a little shindig at her casa, and she promises late night bowling afterward. all i care about is collecting some cool people into her apartment and watching the happiness drip from my pores. my brother should be there, he's my favorite. and i get to see my dog. he's the cutest. i'd say gimme some sugar to him, because... he's a dog.

harry potter on friday. watch out kids, hermione's getting progressively hotter, ron more awkward, and i plan on loving that f-ing movie double since there's no lotr this winter.

loveboots.

i take it back

2005-11-09T02:41:00.000-08:00

i like the official version of fiona apple's newest album.
and the multiple personality aspect of kate bush's latest "aerial"

tonight cate and nick and i took fabian out for his birthday, at lil frankies... it was nice, even though i had just spent the day at work. on my day off. makes me want to cry sometimes how much i devote to a job that isn't fully panning out. but why do i go in on my "dia de descanso"? because i am racking up points for the day when i can cash them in for a sous chefdom. like hoarding my chuck e cheese tickets for the bright and shiny thingy on the top rack. that takes time. time out of my personal life. time to pass so that enough points might be racked up. however, i'm running out of patience for the racking, because there are moments when it feels futile. oy the futility!
but in all honesty things are getting better, i'm only working 9 or 10 hour days mostly, instead of 12ish, and today i was barely there for 6 hours. psh! that's a drop in the freaking bucket. bake and shape some tart shells, make muffin batter and strusel. fuckin' a! done done done and done. time for dinner with the coworkers/friends.
dinner was lovely. i had moments where i was confused on how to act because of everyone's inability to automatically shift out of work relationship mode. once the wine had flowed a little, and the pizza was eaten i think we all were enjoying not being in the shop, and the fact that we have found and are keeping such good people to work with. when work is your life, it's the most important thing in the world to assemble a crack team of kick ass motherfuckers. people who make you laugh and do a fantastic job. very hard to find. yet there we sat, talking about bowling, sipping creamy coffee, not wanting to go home already. after nick and cate walked with me to union square (duh, it's tuesday, new cd shopping day!) i realized that i had a really good time, and forgot for a little bit that i had worked today. i forgot that i only have one day off in earnest this week. i forgot to be slightly disgruntled. now if only i had more people that i liked so much to hang out with after work or on days off... i like my friends well enough, sure. but i feel myself and not annoyed at myself as much on nights like tonight. and noone can or will or would like to chill with erica at midnight on a thursday. or a monday. sigh.
tomorrow i'm going to sleep in. fill out my health insurance forms and try to drop them off. get mom a birthday present (haha i'm not writing what because she reads this... :) find edward gorey christmas cards. see a movie. have a drink with a boy maybe.
yeah i really like extraordinary machine. almost too much. she's so gloriously melancholy.

i have this theory about text messaging. i'll write more about it tomorrow i think. something along the lines of curt easily misinterpreted correspondence which can be so disappointing and enthralling. there's a split second difference between the disappoint and the enthrall. or a day. or an eternity. i love/hate text messaging. it feels so false, and misleading, do i not want to talk to you? do i want to talk, but can't for some reason? what about you? hunh? i'm too self-conscious to unabashedly text, i always imagine the other person laughing and judging me at my text language usage or lack thereof. i wish i could operate on this uncensored level that i aspire to, where what someone perceives doesn't matter so much. but it does, and i care, and i would rather much of the time that people call me when i text and say "stop being a dumbass and hear my voice, i want to hear yours, let's converse." but since i am a strangeoid, i leave voicemails and send text messages in the hopes of returning calls, always pouring in, wanting to hear my words, neverending erica's words.
mostly i hate leaving voicemail after voicemail because i'm some sort of vampire, and texting is less embarassing and effort-laiden. like email. like the internet. type it, send it. see an instant result.
i'd rather run into you on the street.
or a subway platform.
i do see people i know at shows sometimes.
but in the end i'm shy.
and want everyone to make the first move.
and phonecall.

not about love

2005-11-02T02:17:00.000-08:00

i think i prefer the illegal internet version of the new fiona apple album.
it's more raw. cooked a little bit less i guess.

i downloaded kate bush's new single on itunes, and wish that all music was emotional and wonderful and strange again. luckily the darkness has a new single too. such a weird band for right now, as if they time travelled from the era of queen...

i wonder if i could go a day without telling a person i wish i had a boy, or wasn't single, or had a relationship to distract me...

i doubt it. because all i think and talk about is work and boys. the imbalance, the reality of the lack of change in my immediate future.

friends tell me to reprioritize. find activities to socialize myself. yeah, i'll take a swing dance class to meet nice single straight boys in this city... and i'm such a pussy when it comes to the online crap, i'd give it a real try, but i would rather the boy find me on there. be enraptured and message me, and it all falls together like some romantic comedy. after a good deal of mixups and melodrama. yeah, but i'm a pussy, so i don't meet anyone. and i bitch on my blog. you lucky people. all i ask of the universe is a socially functional and responsible 20 something (early 30 something) that wants to date me. too much.
all i get are assholes or noone.

i wish i could close this chapter of my life sometimes. stop rifling through the past pages. maybe even buy a new volume, fill up different fresh sheets with my life of words.

i got some new personal business cards. orange on one side. pretty sweet. like me. erica hanson. sweet chef.

baseball?

2005-10-26T09:37:00.000-07:00

every other year i've lived in new york, october had been abuzz with baseball.
everyone talking and debating, constant world series bullshit...
but this october is quiet. the streets are cold and without a word about the yankees.
i saw a newspaper and wondered if someone had won the world series.
i guess i've been too preoccupied with other things like work
and watching jane austen books turned into movies.
worked my way through the pride and prejudice mini-series, mansfield park with jonny lee miller, emma with ewan macgregor, and ran out last night of period pieces so i watched some of bridget jones.
that tense romantic bullshit is right up my alley, and more interesting and palatable than baseball.

lunchtime.
shumai. salmon. rice.
boston tomorrow.
i probably should make a train reservation...

-e

fuckin a

2005-10-24T04:07:00.000-07:00

i can't seem to get to sleep before 4 am these days.
work is... deep breath... something that breaks me down and strengthens me simultaneously.
lately i have been contemplating my place in my life, and geography. i don't think it is possible to have a better position at a better restaurant considering my experience and location. gramercy was ranked first by zagat in popularity, and earned high marks, high enough to boost our numbers from 150 reservations on a mid-week evening, to over 200. basically we're busy, and popular, and it would be stupid to leave and go anywhere for at least a year. that's the logic. if only i could do this job in boston is what i keep saying to myself, and everyone else. but that's friggin impossible.
though i'm in a little tiff with new york right now i think the wonders and comforts of this city will win me back over soon enough. a visit to the hometown at the end of the upcoming week allows me time to sit and drink tea with the dog panting on my knee, see a movie or two with da, cook and gossip and catch up with mum, and bond with my bestest jo.

lunch tomorrow is steak with the big bro. i've been craving protein alot lately, must be the weather, and the lack of men in my life. if infatuation can't fuel me then meat and the wonders of carbo loading will fuel my 12 hour shifts. oh, yeah, that's a huge part of my tiff with nyc.
boys.
or no boys as it may be...
whatever, i'm a nun again, ouch.
perhaps the brother has some advice on monkhood. ok. gotta get up in 6 hours.
fuckin a
boots

illumination

2005-10-14T12:48:00.000-07:00

i keep seeing movies in the hopes that each will be a pleasant experience. half the time i am left with a sense of contentment, but the rest of the time... well, i would call it "disappointment" except for the fact that my brain feels the need to nearly erase the viewing experience immediately from my memory. so i'm auto-blocking bad filmic experiences. fascinating. i think it's because i wish every movie were great, and if i can't remember the bad parts then i come away thinking every movie was fantastic. yeah, my neuroses have no end.
there's that and my need to describe myself metaphorically constantly. i nearly sat down at my ibook last night and wrote about how i am like a cup of tea, always made of the same blend of leaves, but hit the palate differently based on how i'm steeped, sweetened, served. yeah, i'm a crackhead cup of tea.

saw "in her shoes" wednesday night.
saw "everything is illuminated" thursday night.

what boggles my mind is how toni collette can play any role. she's been one of my favorite actresses since muriel's wedding, and though i have issue with her being labelled chubby (she gained weight for this role and looked like someone my size, and i am not fucking chubby) the relatable nature of her performance was near overwhelming. hell, i was overwhelmed by the end, crying, i even stopped eating my popcorn mixed with raisinets. cameron diaz is one of the most frightening movie stars ever, her face is like some leathery jack-o-lantern with stringy blond hair hanging sideways. completely unbelievable as a 28 year old. and all that semi-nudity, creepy, her abs are scary, her legs take up her whole body, and she looks so scrawny in normal person clothes i just want to give her a big plate of fried chicken and biscuits. that's what her boytoy jt eats right? as distracting as diaz's physicality was, her performance was fine, and overshadowed by the understated brilliance of shirley maclaine. i love that lady, and her past lives, and fiery redhead persona. love it. sure, she's the designated crazy grandmother in films these days, but now that anne bancroft is gone she has some roles she can pick up.
what pleased and surprised me most about "in her shoes" was that it was made by a male. shots and scenes that easily could have turned voyeuristic and removed, felt intimate and connected with the main character of rose. one scene in particular, after a 76ers game by a cheesesteak stand, normally would have played out as noisy, alienating, and overly complicated. but the tone was perfect, i felt as if i were rose's reflection or friend, noticing her noticing her date. must be the fact that the filmmaker's a hanson.
everything is illuminated could have been better, it could have been worse. i hoped it would be funnier, and though i laughed, there were numerous choices that removed potential funny from the movie. cate said it was very different from the book, especially the lack of magical realism, which i would have appreciated very much. i love the interconnectedness of things and people.

music- got the new franz ferdinand. loved their new single so much i got the cd. it's pretty good, though i love the new death cab for cutie more, makes me want to cry and smile all at the same time.
i really feel super tired today.
don't really want to go to work.
but i must.
if i don't get off the couch now i'll pass out.
the rain just encourages naps... oh how i would love a nap right now.

-e

tonight tonight tonight.... whoa-oh!

2005-10-08T00:22:00.000-07:00

so i saw serenity with charles tonight, and was reminded of my affection for joss whedon's tone in writing. damn i wish i could write like that, not exactly like him, but so balanced and imbued with humor and sentiment and intelligence and brattiness. oy! it slays me. that and his obsession with the female messianic monster character in his movies. jeez, could he be more trans-generic! seriously, folks, this movie has so many facets of genre and style, i don't want to enumerate them, because it's about as many as buffy had, and that fact is a good one. i enjoyed serenity, a good watch, fun, smart, cute, sweet, scary, disturbing, i can almost understand why jimmy has already seen it a babillion times. almost.

then i took the E train one stop from 42nd street to 34th street and sauntered over to the hammerstein ballroom for one of the best concerts i have ever seen. i will need to process this show a bit more before i say anything else except: I LOVE BECK. have for over 10 years, will for alot more it seems, because he's a showman. a musician, a stylemonger, makes me shake my ass and shed a tear because he's that good. almost the best show ever, had i not seen bjork in 2001 with my father at radio city. that's the best because it's bjork. but for b's he's up there with a couple other shows, so for consistency in awesomeness i give beck the "holy crap! that was a freakin awesome show!" award.

and now i eat a donut and contemplate the duration of this phlegm in my chest. disgusting, but somehow tolerable with the concert buzz i still have going.

fuck! that was such a good show. oh, man! with the dude on stage cutting the dvds together to create the visuals on the screens, and one dude doing the running man half the time and the other half banging a can or carrying a huge boom box, and the rest of the band moving around between instruments or eating dinner while beck plays an acoustic set, only to break into table percussion to accompany him, and the beck the beck with his voice and his lyrics and his smooth dance moves and banjo. no wonder his last name's almost the same as mine. if only every show were as good as that one.
if only every day off were as good as today. thai food on the couch, a good flick, and some ass shakin tunes. damn i'm tingling still.

tom kitten

2005-10-06T10:11:00.000-07:00

quickly-
tomkat are set to spawn
oh the heavens fold-in upon themselves!
somebody smack me, wake me up...
hollyweird is truly living up to its name.

-b

you can't get sick!

2005-10-06T08:39:00.000-07:00

work's pretty stressful right now. especially with the boss saying things like "you can't get sick!' as i walk around the shop with a sore throat and fever. i wish i didn't sound like kathleen turner on the phone right now. i wish my stomach weren't upset from all that friggin mucus. i wish the red sox hadn't lost twice in chicago.
but
all this too shall pass.
work will get better... so will my health... and the bosox are coming back to boston to kick chicago's ass.
that's what i should remember. but all i can hear in my head is the rattle of my cough and the sound of my boss's voice repeating over and over "you aren't allowed to get sick! you can't get sick, erica!"

beck concert tomorrow
maybe some good live music will make me feel better.
maybe.

oh god what a long day

2005-09-30T04:06:00.000-07:00

i went to work
flo and nancy came in to the tavern
nick brought them down to see me
my aunt is so adorable and inquisitive
asking him questions as he quennelled and i made meringues
then she told me that my cousin allyn had died today.
somehow i didn't expect it to happen so suddenly.
mom told me tuesday that he was not well, the cancer wasn't going away.
it spread from his lungs to his brain to his hips to his lymphnodes.
by 10 i had called my mom and by 11 i had cried a couple times, and nick agreed to change both my days off this week.
i get monday off to go to boston for the funeral
and then friday off since i requested it for that beck concert.
wow, that's my week, the dichotomy of my life.
i was shaping all sizes of tart shells until 2am.
(which is a given. duh.)
humming irish folk songs and van morrison and death cab for cutie intermittently.

after work i hopped on the subway at union square only to have the n train stop at 42nd, so then i had to take the 7 to queensboro plaza to the n again to get home...
but i ran into a kid (Max) i went to high school with on the 7 platform, he was with his roommate, they had seen a midnight showing of serenity. we talked about what we're doing these days, the movie they had seen, how weird it is that he lives in astoria too and doesn't see any of our high school peeps really, but what was most odd was that he grew up a couple doors down from my cousin who just passed.
so i told him, and he was bummed, but it brought my day full circle in a way. the world is tiny, the world is interconnected, my world always comes back to me... not in a conceited way, but in the way that everyone's world always comes back to them. as i got off the train he asked for my number so we could hang out, being j.p. people in the same neighborhood. i spat out the numer just in time to get off at broadway at 3:15 in the morning.
i almost felt like the encounter should have no link to anything else, because it seemed like the universe was telling me that i wasn't randomly picking the course of my day or life or commute home. it all has purpose and direction, and though this man who i knew when i was a kid has died, left a gaggle of kids behind, and a beautiful wife; he lived. he lived. my mother and her siblings grew up across the street from him, they were as close as i am to any of my cousins. we're all going to miss him, and what he meant to us, but somehow it's not a complete tragedy. somehow this loss will bring on new journeys and relationships... i haven't seen michelle his wife in years. i'll see her on monday.
there has to be a reason for this.
because if not, then it's just too sad to deal with a day.
if not, then i don't know how to get through the weekend to get to monday.
but i feel like i will make it, because i have to. because mom needs me to be home, to go to st. thomas', to sing eagle's wings with tears in my eyes next to her at church. and right now i need to see my best friends and family, and snuggle with my puppy on the couch. but first i have to sleep.
but first, i have to sleep...

i am one with the couch and it does not want to release me...

2005-09-29T11:53:00.000-07:00

i have slept so much in the past few days
i can't help feeling tired all the time
all that work
all that beer
i keep telling myself that i'm going to quit drinking
as if it were an option
but i don't really want to give up the hops

i don't have time to think beyond right now
so i'm basically living in the moment
feeling like crap
feeling ecstatic
feeling alienated
feeling content
feeling sleepy
always pretty sleepy
except when i'm at work and i'm in it
once i break past my one hour "i don't want to be here" barrier
i shift into "i could be here forever" space
and though i know i can get to that place
right now i want to be one with the couch
some more
and not move
but i have to go to the workplace
otherwise rent won't get paid
and i'll never get off my dead ass

love,
potato

whose house are you haunting tonight?

2005-09-21T12:32:00.000-07:00

a chill flashing across my back,
i can feel the pinkness of my cheeks.
oh to like a boy again,
even if it might be inappropriate.
i've no time for much more than sleep.
but to have that sensation creep into a dream...
work becomes tolerable, with a dose of caffeine.

the new albums by
death cab for cutie
ok go
kanye west
seu jorge
iron & wine and calexico

yes yes
very good

double turkey?

2005-09-20T12:45:00.000-07:00

i had a birthday last weekend.
spent some time with friends, enjoyed a friday/saturday off.
i think i may be adjusting finally to the new work schedule and tasks... though my eating schedule needs refinement. i eat right before i leave at 1pm, try to have family meal at 4:30pm, and then crash on my bed starving around 2am every night. sunday night i stopped at subway for a toasted sub, around quarter to 2am, and this creepy dude waltzed in, shouting "look at that white bread! look at that white bread!"
yes, he meant me. he tried to talk to me, asking if i was a good girl, what part of wisconsin did i come from, was i listening to the shins on my headphones...
no, i was listening to the new kanye west.
i get super creeped out when purchasing sandwiches in the middle of the night, when men with gappy teeth and the sway of liquor ask me if i'm married. i feel even more out of control of the situation when the sandwich artist smiles and remembers the order of this seeming regular customer. "double turkey, right?"

things i should do this week:
buy groceries to avoid run-ins with creepy men at subway
drop off laundry
clean my room
go to jb prince to buy more cooking tools for me and skirt

let's see if i actually do that crap, hunh?
at least i have friday/saturday off this week again.
a semblance of a real weekend.
see some movies with friends, maybe absorb some rays of sun...

oh yeah, i saw "just like heaven" on my birthday, and though ruffalo is adorable, i'm perturbed by movies with subversive christian messages. (spoiler!) "don't unplug your comafied sister! i love her! she's been haunting me, don't unplug her! oh wait, i'll just kiss my snow white and wake that bitch up!" at least san francisco looked like itself and not canada. sortof.

-e

workaholic

2005-09-14T08:59:00.000-07:00

apparently i work too hard, too much, well... whatever.
it's necessary, the working.
the kitchen world is one of uncertain schedules sometimes, lots of extra days to balance out requested days off.

my birthday is saturday, and i'm sleeping my days away to try and recharge my body before working each day, but i'm worried i'll be too depleted to enjoy my time off this weekend. it'll be fine i'm sure, but holy crap! i don't know if i want my 25th birthday to be here already. dammit i'm getting older.

ok gotta order some food before i die of low blood sugar...

-e

wedding weekend

2005-09-06T10:53:00.000-07:00

friday, after john and i arrived in pennbrook, pennsylvania with severe haste, the festivities were officially underway. the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner... and before bed john rehearsed his irish blessing that he would recite at the ceremony.

saturday we awoke at 7am, an ungodly hour for a day off, so that i might be on time for the group hair appointment. and jesus if every road in that part of the world isn't a highway. so i was a bit late... don't blame john, he could only believe my directions half the time, afterall i don't have any authority, since i am without a license to drive.
lauren's hair was already done, by the time i waltzed in, to see 3 hairstylists and 2 makeup artists at work on the rest of the wedding party, i poured myself a cranberry and champagne and didn't miss a beat. then i started taking pictures...

lauren and john shooting the shit.

mary beth getting her hair did, and kelly waiting for makeup.

susan, lauren, john, and michelle (lauren's mom).

and then i gave john the camera for the church part...

that's anne marie and me, waiting for the rest of the 8 girls to join us in the pew for the full length catholic mass and ceremony.

lauren being walked down the aisle by her stepfather john, she started crying before she even walked through the doors. i wish i had a pic of her by the old school rolls royce they had drive her to the church.

and then i took the camera back for the reception...

mary beth and alexis.

julienne smoking her boyfriend seth's cigar.

susan, kelly's boyfriend brian, and alexis on the dancefloor.

me and john at cocktail hour... the reception was so much fun, so much dancin and drinkin...

and presenting the new mrs. vadino!

there was such beautiful weather this weekend, we took a million pictures with the photographer outside. everyone had such a great time, all the wine and beer flowing, everything went off without a hitch. the only complaint i have is my shoes killed my feet by the end of saturday, and that my friends, is a measly little bitchy thing to say. because lauren's attention to detail paid off, and her day was perfect! though i now know a big wedding may be had and enjoyed, i think it was perfect for her, but not for me. i'll be in big weddings though, it's all follow the leader, drink this, smile now, shake your booty, drink this, eat that... pretty good time i must say. thanks beanie for letting me share in your change to mrs. vadino!
love
erica

grimm... and other developments

2005-08-30T11:28:00.000-07:00

i have some "favorite directors" of all time. one of them happens to be terry gilliam. because he makes films that look amazing and waste hollywood's money, and continues the tradition of monty python's absurdity in film. so i saw the brothers grimm with mom and dad on saturday. and though i love heath ledger (and his own version of a "gilliam performance", all jittery like brad pitt in 12 monkeys) one of my favorites has pulled a lucas.
what, you might ask, is pulling a lucas?
george lucas created a few film series, and though he is an innovator, his latest "star wars" films aren't as amazing. however, the joy derived by fans from watching anything created by him outweighs the disappointment. other movies released still can't compare, to the production value especially.
sure the script wasn't very well written, and the narrative was a bit uneven, and it wasn't weird enough for me, or normal enough for the american public. but the brothers grimm is still a terry gilliam film. that should tide me over until he makes something real.
home was nice, the backyard is under construction, god i miss having a backyard.

new job started yesterday. i think it'll be a positive change, of course. but the anticipation is gone, and now my task is at hand. gotta step up, gotta kick ass, gotta go to work...

botas.

2005-08-26T03:54:00.000-07:00

i'm an asshole.

pretty persuasion

2005-08-21T23:42:00.000-07:00

i
well
i
um
it's reaching to compare this movie to heathers and jawbreaker and even mean girls, because those movies all had more resonance and humor and wit and entertainment value.
sure, evan rachel wood is wicked good, in everything she does. come the fuck on... ron livingston almost phoned in his performance as much as selma blair. i laughed some, and was not half as disturbed by the racist wash on the entire film as skirt was. my skirt was perturbed i think, and cold, and those aren't good places to leave your skirt.
i find it heartening that the 40 year old virgin was the best of the 4 flicks in 5 days. next was the skeleton key, then broken flowers and pretty persuasion tied for last. and i normally love festival flicks.
i turned on the final episode of six feet under at the very end. like reading the final couple pages of a book, it was such television cheating, and i loved it. seeing when all the characters die. i'll still watch the whole episode on demand, because i can. and because i am curious to see how much claire freaks out in it. apparently i'm more of a blond now, since the highlighting, but i think that the temper is overcompensating for the lack of redness.
at 7am i received a phone call on the land line, some man speaking in french, to whom i mumbled "hello?... wrong number" and then hung up. 30 seconds later he called again and i growled "hello?... you have the wrong number! wrong number!" and hung up the phone. 30 seconds later he called again, and i said "hello?" and then hung up the phone. 15 seconds later a woman (who i had heard in the background of the previous 3 calls) called, still speaking in french, to whom i said, eyes still closed "you have the wrong number... num- incor- crap. je suis tres desolee... je nul comprand pas." and hung up. my broken french paid off. or not. 15 seconds later the phone rang. "hello?" dialtone.
almost as awesome as the time tony from russell simmons entertainment called the restaurant looking for erica from island/ defjam. i'm erica, but i am not from island def jam. i wish. you wish. he wished.

every band should have a girl in it. the shout out louds do, she plays tambourine in the video for the comeback. i could do that. very well. i can keep time. and wave scarves in the air like stevie nicks, only if they're attached to my tambourine... i know lyrics to pat benatar songs. that must count for something. and ice ice baby. and bohemian rhapsody. now you all think i'm the coolest chick in the borough of queens. you're probably right. i am.
and why do they pit fuse and mtv2's indie rock hours aganist one another at midnight on sunday? hmmm? because music television channels hate boots. they hate me. and the footwear.

a movie a day...

2005-08-19T18:03:00.000-07:00

is freaking costly in manhattansvilletown
but!
today's flick was wonderful. though the title might not incite that thought immediately...
the 40 year old virgin.
yes, yes indeed. friggin hilarious. plant the seed, let it grow, fuck the plant!
broken flowers was boring. sure 15 of the 120 minutes were enjoyable, due to jeffrey wright being brilliant, but all that transitional shit was bo-ring. BO-RING. a ring of bo's.
the skeleton key was surprisingly enjoyable. really liked the ending, and jena rowlands being a creepy old lady.

the countdown has begun at work. 7 days. next friday is my last day at marseille. then i get 2 days at home in boston before i embark upon my new 3 star path. i'm pretty stoked to have a position all set up at gramercy, i did my paperwork already, and know my first work week's schedule. it's a real grown-up job too, with benefits after 3 months, health and free dental. the restaurant is closed for major holidays, which means no more pumpkin pie on thanksgiving, unless it's at flo and nancy's in marlboro. and no buche de noel, unless it's at mom and dad's in j.p. i'll get to do new year's, and memorial day, and the 4th of july. so who cares if i'll be working 3pm til 1am. it's when i'm most awake anyway...

i'm thinking i should go to a movie tomorrow and sunday too... just cause 5 straight days of film would be fantastic. pretty persuasion and junebug. sure. indie out my weekend.

and, seriously guys, y'all should be listening to shout out louds, because they're like scandanavian and good.

in honor of new music tuesdays...

2005-08-16T21:21:00.000-07:00

today i stopped by the virgin megastore in times square and made a few purchases.
tuesdays once were the highlight of my week... get bummed out by being at school or at work, only to remember "that new album by my favorite person is coming out today!" or "my most bestest beloved film is on dvd today!"
and somehow, without knowing what was newly released this week, i made my way to virgin after work. i sauntered in, hopped on the escalator, and paused by the new releases rack. which cover do i like better? the one with mickey rourke or clive owen?
i literally pondered that for a minute. partially because i care about such asthetic decisions as dvd cover art, and because it probably pissed the shit out of the people around me, being all stationary in front of the sin city dvds.
i chose the one with clive owen on it, because he's hot and british and it looked the best, less doctored, blase bladie blah. tucked that dvd under my arm and went in search of a $10 dvd to keep sin city company. mean girls? sure! widescreen tim meadows with a cast anytime i so desire, fantastic. oh no, i mean, fetch.
the double cd of belle and sebastian's eps was 10 bucks too, so i scooped one of those up.
now, here's where i am a nerd. i've been craving a certain version of a gary glitter song for a week, ever since they played it at the skinny last monday. do you wanna touch me? as sung by a woman, namely joan jett. i even downloaded the tommy james version to assuage my need for the glam anthem, man. but forking over my hard earned money for the greatest hits of joan jett and the blackhearts wasn't so painful. because i get to hear her sing "do you wanna touch, YEAH! do you wanna touch, YEAH! do you wanna touch me there? where? there? where?"

oh, and reality tv may be crack, but it's my kind of crackrock. rockstar inxs on cbs is not only the solitary show that i watch on that network, but riveting. dave navarro, the pretty corpse that he is, massaging the egos of these wanna be rockstars. i just want mig to win, because he's australian and fantastic and was in the queen musical in london. we will we will need you tonight!

i am on the verge of giving up on being more than wise sage erica. i'm not meant for dating and boys. i'm good at being single, i suppose. it's just boring after a while, noone to fuck with my life, and make me feel fantastic and horrible.

josh bought a turntable today. now all he needs is one more and a microphone and he'll be where its at. oh yeah, if any one wants to know what i want for my birthday, it's tickets for that concert weekend in brooklyn and staten island in october. belle and sebastian, beck, interpol, don't get me started. don't even get me started!

keep them boots on.

mmmmkay

2005-08-16T02:10:00.000-07:00

i'm a pretty affable young lady i must say...

but i can't play games. i can't win in the realm of flirting.

and that's ok i guess. just means that i have to be patient.

though i may be affable, i am not patient. i am the opposite.

i can't handle hot boys. they're like this foreign substance that i want but don't know how to use.

imagine being european and being handed cacao beans for the first time...

such potential for fantasticness, but no know-how necessary to get the chocolate out of the bean.

happy mid august everyone!

my birthday is officially one month and one day away.

i'm petrified of being a quarter century old... oh holy mole!

tonight i went to the go station at arlene's grocery, and after cate and her pal julia left i hung out with matt and his band. his drummer and her girl were super nice to me. we talked about baseball. the bass player is too beautiful. i'm going to bed now. my hope each week is to meet an interesting straight boy at this residency they have going. every dude is either taken, unattractive, or... that's pretty much it.

they played my favorite joy division song tonight at the skinny. now i can pass out in peace.

deluge

2005-08-14T23:24:00.000-07:00

in three weeks beanie will be married.
thus, the bachelorette...

john and i rented a car, drove from manhattan to collegeville pennsylvania yesterday afternoon, so we could ride on the party bus with the rest of the bachelorette crew. we're very good at talking and talking and singing along to duran duran, so the drive went so well. makes me happy that he has pet shop boys on his ipod mini, and that i was arriving with the one boy allowed at this hen party. when he worried that he would be underdressed in jeans and gucci casual shoes and a diesel shirt, i nearly smacked him. as if he would be anything less than fabulous. cathy griffin has this horrible reality tv show, with one redeeming value, terminology. "main gay(s)". apparently this woman has so many of them in her life she had to develop a tiered organizational labeling system. last night i'd have to say that john was everyone's main gay. but he was always beanie's main gay, and always will be. so when a man at cheesecake factory yesterday told me that he was "a keeper" because he scooped up bar seats super fast, i chuckled to myself. yes, he is a keeper. like grace keeps will. a keeper.
beanie's mom's house in suburban philly, holy crap! so huge, and beautiful. with a heated illuminated pool in the back. wish i could go out my back door and slip into a crystal clear pool with a waterfall and hot tub built-in. fuckin a! all the girls arrived, and we loaded ourselves into the party bus, strangely all dressed in either pink, black, or turquoise (seriously, there was no dress code or theme, we ALL just wore the same colors). beanie's cousins made her a veil and a pink pail that said in sparkly letters "bride's barf bucket" with matching pieces of voile attached. during the drive to old city in philly the 15 of us drank 4 magnums of champagne and two trays of jello shots. whilst dancing in the booze bus. one of the other bridesmaids made a mix full of JT, mariah, wedding songs, and that pussycat dolls song. there were these bars along the ceiling and the front of the bus, meant for steadying a standing person. bean's mom posed like a stripper on one pole, while the rest of us used them to give eachother lap dances. the more hysterical one was john giving beanie a lapdance, then aunt tina giving john a lapdance, also sort of riding him, and then beanie giving john a lapdance. i felt like a small child in the champagne room, horrified, amused, and scarred all a the same time.
swanky bubbles was fine, we got off the booze bus, ate some appetizers, drank some fancy martini thingys, let the grown ups have a minute to recharge. after about an hour and a half we caravaned over to mad river where we jumped the line and entered this uber straight buttoned down sweaty world. i'm glad i was drunk, and that alexis was there for immoral support, because all those straight boys in one bar looking so frat-boyish, i don't know what i would have done. some young dude tried to make out with beanie's aunt marguerite, i stole john's beer, alexis kissed some guy, mary beth was so drunk and surrounded by cute boys, i can't even remember what kind of music they played...
the bus ride back to the house was even crazier than before, with more drinking, and climbing all over eachother, and playing the same song over and over. the bus was the best part. so worth it. we all ran into the house and changed into bathing suits, i jumped into the pool, oh my god it was heavenly. buzzed, in the middle of the night, escaping the hot august air in a glowing pool. i barely noticed julienne freaking out because she left her phone in the city, and susan balling her eyes out over her stupid foot that marybeth apparently trampled. my hair was still wet when i woke up this morning. god i miss that, morning chlorine hair. i've gotta join a pool. digression...
great bachelorette party. john and i drove back (well, he was the only driver, i still have no license, tee hee) and stopped in jersey to try and shop. except they still have blue laws and malls are closed on sundays. so we went to the second of our cheesecake factories this weekend. had some nachos, didn't really miss the retail so much after some iced tea.
somehow the entire trip was sunny and dry, but as soon as we left the car near carnegie hall at avis, freaking torrential downpour. this is why i possess a waterproof bag, a redsox hat, and a disregard for raindrops. got on the subway, by the time i hit queens it was worse, but i was too hungover to stand next to a bunch of idiot strangers waiting for a storm to pass, hell i'm always too impatient for that. besides, i love walking in the rain. and singing in the rain. and dancing in the rain. feels all wet and soggy. and lovely. i think i got more strange looks for being a girl in a bosox cap than for being a girl walking in the rain. a perfect end to one of my rare weekends on a weekend. and the next real weekend will be all about beanie too, when she gets married labor day weekend. holy crap, i'm going to be a bridesmaid in a wedding. i'm so not grownup enough for this. i doubt those boys at the bachelor party had as much fun in atlantic city as we girls. and john. we mustn't forget the main gay!
oh jesus, work tomorrow. i don't look forward to that. the new pastry chef is, how do you say? ah yes! no good. but it's not my problem to solve. he will attempt and it's not my job to prevent him from failing, because i'm on my way out. just a couple more weeks and i'll be working at a real restaurant, full of professionals, and egos, and english speakers. a whole new world of assholes, and i cannot wait.

humidity

2005-08-10T23:31:00.000-07:00

last week i made an on the go playlist that i have been existing to lately...

humidity:

100 degrees- shout out louds
always- rilo kiley
another girl another planet- the only ones
the lovecats- ok go
funkier than a mosquito's tweeter- nikka costa
everything is alright- motion city soundtrack
talkin' about- amerie
a to b- the futureheads
inside and out- feist
neighborhood #3 (power out)- the arcade fire
a summer wasting- belle and sebastian
they say- common featuring kanye west
the pioneers- bloc party
if tha mood- esthero
molly's chambers- kings of leon
sunshowers- m.i.a.
sleeping in- the postal service
dia de enero- shakira
the one i love- david gray
emergency exit- beck
no right angles- ben lee
these words- natasha bedingfield
(do you wanna) touch me- tommy james

i feel that rilo kiley should be in every playlist
and so should beck, despite him being a scientologist.
here's the issue at hand...
february.
that is my new non sequitur exclamatory phrase
"February!"
and the unenthusiastic ironic statement of the week is:
"this is so much fun."
no exclamation point. no exclamation. only dead. pan. a pan that was killed.
oy.

cate and i were mistook for drunks the other night, so she explained us:
"we're not drunk, we're just fun."
too true, skirt. too true. there's no need for booze to loosen us to ass shaking status.
we do that sober walking down the street.
because we're just fun.
and a little bit cuckoo for cocoa puffs. but who isn't?

i'd like to make a mix or playlist and not have it feel filmic sometime
but it's never going to happen
because
my life is a movie to me
and my music is my soundtrack.

i love sleep. sleepy sleep sleep.
but seriously, FEBRUARY!

lollipops,
boots.

2046

2005-08-07T21:28:00.000-07:00

i must only blog when i see movies...
"2046" is the new wong kar wei film, starring the lovely tony leung, of "hero" and "infernal affairs" fame. i didn't realize that it was a continuation of a story from a previous film, "in the mood for love", but boy am i glad that i watched that fucked up piece of film-making a few months ago. sure, it's beautiful, and lyrical, and emotional. but it's also gut-wrenching and heart-breaking. very few films make me cry, some try, but few succeed. i balled and cussed out the lead characters after i watched "in the mood for love". i believe i called them "pussies."
i wasn't compelled to cuss out these characters, because i think 2046 is a more successful film, confusing, but more complete. there is still all that tension, friction, heat, politeness, distance, and silence that were present in the precursor. they're just more balanced and effective in "2046." i think i liked it. yeah i did. i cried, i gasped, i "awww"-ed.

being home in boston this past week was really needed. not just for the hair appointment, though the highlights are great. the change in temperature, and setting, and people all did me wonders. i miss the crap out of my family, and my bestest friend jo, and my dog. shit, if i think about the reality of home too much it makes me want to cry. i'd love to have all that boston is be a subway ride away, and not a 4 hour train ride away. the trips home are becoming more therapeutic i feel, which is good, because the stress shouldn't be there, it should exist here. i'd prefer not to have any stress, but if it must exist somewhere, not where my dog and favorite ice cream dwell would be good.

i've started writing again, and looking at older pieces, sharing some things to get reactions and feedback. very low key right now. though, if i do what skirt suggests, i'll be compiling a collection of short stories tout suite.

must love dogs with mom on thursday was enjoyable romantic comedy fare. i'd date john cusack's character, if he were real, and a little younger, and in new york. i think what is lacking in any potential partners for the past, oh, 24 years, has been some passion. some passion, a sense of humor, and an appreciation for a strange girl named boots.

there are no right angles in my life

2005-08-02T01:30:00.000-07:00

the bridesmaid's dress fits.
how bout them apples?
um...
so i saw The Aristocrats tonight with cate and liz. and what do i have to say about it? mario cantone made me wheeze, i was laughing so hard. sarah silverman not only is unfairly inappropriately funny, she also has her own movie coming out.
though i was chuckling and giggling and groaning with the rest of 'em. part of me didn't want to be amused by the aristocrats. part of me wanted to be above and beyond that kind of humor. though there were moments when i transcended the peepee and poopoo joke, i mostly wanted everyone to be as creative as whoopi goldberg in their telling. or at least do an impression of christopher walken telling it like kevin pollack did.
he was one of those brownies in willow. yeah, those little tiny people covered in shit, hiding in willow's napsack. i think he's the one who fell in love with the cat. go see The Aristocrats, and chuckle, but don't try to tell the joke. there are funnier and more interesting things that happen every day. i spoke to 3 people from high school today.
the dave, the jjjjj, and the sarah.
katie is back in nyc, for reals.
i heard a run-on sentence that resonated with me all day... which i will share:
you know how sometimes you like someone so much that when you're near them you get nervous, and excited, and don't really know how to act, and the whole time you're afraid that you will fuck it up somehow?
yeah, i know exactly how that feels... well i did about 2 years ago exactly, and that ended so not well.
don't fall in love with brilliant adorable (campbell-scott mixed with jake gyllenhal) texan republican christians in the navy who are saving themselves for marriage. it ends badly. with sentences like "i never meant to give you the wrong impression, i didn't mean to lead you on..."
sometimes i fall hard for the wrong one. partly because he's wrong, partly because i wish it didn't matter (especially to the wrong one), but mostly because i want to fall. it would be nice to be picked back up. it would be nice to be caught.

"there are no right angles in my life..." oh ben lee, make it all better!
i've been listening to "let it die" by feist alot these past few days. my favorite line, which inspired tonight's tangent:
"the hardest part of a broken heart, isn't the ending as much as the start."
i think my broken heart is fully mended from 2 summers ago. just because the beginning is the hardest part, doesn't make the end any easier.
but as david gray says "who knows what's waiting in the wings of time. dry your eyes, we're gonna go where we can shine."

the explanation for tomkat

2005-07-30T01:03:00.000-07:00

and this one goes a little something like this
poor katie holmes.
poor poor katie holmes.
not only did she miss out on a multi-picture deal by sucking in batman, she signed on a dotted line that will kill her career.

here's the rumor i heard. rob thomas (of matchbox twenty, "smooth", and too-tight pants fame) was caught in bed with tom cruise by his wife. and to appease her the big cover up included tom finding a girl to play his beard and rob thomas "being lonely no more." the first interviewee for "tom cruise wife" was jessica alba, who thought she was reading for the mi:3 part left vacant by scarlett. when she realized it was an opportunity for mr cruise to creep her out, she ran ran away.
so i guess katie liked the offer, and tom had no idea how to convince the world that he loved such a hot young thing. i guess making a girl agree to take 5 million dollars for no sex and mothering his child sent him a little batty, that and the no-more-rob-thomas-loving.

when i was in london i didn't understand the explosion of tomkat on the world gossip scene. why everyone was discussing the words laden with scientology cultdom coming from the tom... why joey, i mean, katie latched onto this kook... and now it all comes clear.
now i understand.
hollywood people are so dumb, and intolerant, and full of hubris that they can't make simple life decisions. like... don't sleep with other closeted homosexual stars and get caught. like, don't get engaged to closeted homosexual stars that get caught. like, don't smoke crack and go on oprah. like, don't smoke crack and pick on brooke shields, especially after a broadway run, and baby. oh these poor rich famous people, look at them bicker. oy freaking vey.
i knew, i just knew there was some convaluted explanation, even if it is a rumor. normal people are crazy for sure, but rich and famous people are more absurd and entertaining.
how great is tomkat?
seriously, this is something that will amuse me for a long time. because? because it's so fucked up. because it's not my life and i can comfortably watch the train wreck as it is splayed all over magazines, papers, tv screens, the internet.
this is the power of our media, and though it wigs me out, it's better to laugh at than fight. i don't pray for the end of tomkat, i cheer on it's sad descent into hilarity.

on another note...

last week i did a smidge of reorganization. in my sifting through jewelry and movie ticket stubs i found a ring and immediately put it on my middle finger. and then i disappeared into the depths of mordor... not really. and then i finished neatening up the top of my dresser.
each day i look at my left hand and turn the silver band to my favorite word of the three. vincit. amor is a lovely word. and omnia is alright. but having the third person present tense of vincere staring back at me is a small reminder of an erica before new york. when she would conjugate verbs, would sing in a choir or three, would dream of leaving boston.
i got a new job, starting in a few weeks. the beginning of my ascent. the very beginning, vincit.

bosox

2005-07-26T21:26:00.000-07:00

all i ask is that the heavens deliver to me a boy who likes beer and the bosox and me...
a hefty plea, but hey! there must be one in the city of new york, waiting to sit on the couch and laugh at peter griffin and eat cheese and misunderstand the things i say in spanish.
i'll keep trucking.
in the meantime i'll write short stories about my strangely idyllic upbringing in j.p., and how much i miss my grandfather, and wish there were a kidney shaped pool in my backyard, and vine-ripened tomatoes slathered in mayo, and all those things that make me think of summer in beantown. except beans. i never understood the beans.

mon livre

2005-07-25T08:47:00.000-07:00

so devo has been posting blogs about online quizzibobbles (anyone remember mr. demerit at bls, (ablative absolute)? [subordinate clauses]?) and i took the iq test, but it stopped too soon since i lost my airport connection, and the scifi fantasy character one was fabulous (i'm galadriel)

Possessing a rare combination of wisdom and humility, while serenely dominating your environment you selflessly use your powers to care for others.

Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.

Galadriel is a character in the Middle-Earth universe. You can read more about her at the Galadriel Worshippers Army.

so i took the nerd test and purity tests to prove how lame i am despite being a magical elf. i'm "a wannabe nerd" which means that i'm much cooler than devo, awesome awesome, and my purity is something like 62% with a 31% weirdness quotient. i've got a long way ahead of me in weird impurity...

today's quizzibobble is "what book are you?"

You're Watership Down!

by Richard Adams

Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you're
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd
be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

i thoroughly enjoy these quizzes, and would recommend going to devo's blog "the vitriolic monkey" because he appreciates feedback and strange comments and attention.
plus if people like the quizzes he finds then maybe he'll post more of them, and i'll have more stupid things to use to describe myself.
yippee!

-yo no soy botas, pero puedes llamarme "botas"

today was an odd day

2005-07-23T22:19:00.000-07:00

last night i hung out with steph in the east village. we had drinks and some late dinner at st. dymphna's, my favorite new york irish pub. had a couple pints, and a steak sandwich. took a cab home cause the train station at 8th street was taped off, and my feet were killing me.
woke up at 4:30 am to the extreme need to vomit.
oh that was not fun.
woke up to my alarm at 8:15. reset it three times.
called nate at work, warned him that i'd be really late.
talked to allison on the couch, she just got back from russia and israel.
went back to bed.
woke up at 3:45pm and called nate to tell him i wouldn't be in at all today.
went back to sleep.
woke up at 7:45pm and turned on the tv.
now i'm watching notting hill, attempting to properly digest hummus and pita, and nursing some water.
i hate feeling empty.
and feverish.
once hugh grant wins julia roberts over i'll go back to bed.
and try to feel like i can make it past the front door.
what an odd day.
i hate food poisoning and hot days.
i feel dizzy enough as it is, 90 degree weather and all.
-e

erica and the phantom little peach

2005-07-21T21:52:00.000-07:00

jamaica plain, boston, massachusetts.

what is it about my hometown that spreads a smile across my face? there is something desperate and loyal about bostonians, and my mother instilled it in me very early on. i couldn’t fathom living anywhere else growing up, to the point of questioning the validity of the existence of everywhere outside of route 128. truly, why did people want to live in wyoming? in nebraska? in the florida keys? i could understand europe and the rest of the world, because somehow another country was fascinating and romantic.

the last time i went home to visit i noticed that my adolescent convenience store had changed its name. the li’l peach was now a tedeschi. the other changes to centre street, south street, the 39 bus, j.p. licks, the fancy post office, these did not preterb me in the same way. that li’l peach, though one in a chain of corner stores, was emblematic of my teenage years.

where are we meeting?
-oh, 4 o’clock at li’l peach.
see you after school.

mom, will you pick me and jo-jo up?
-where are you?
the monument.
-ok, i’ll drive down eliot street and get you at li’l peach.

that’s how years and years went. switch from the 39 bus to the 38 wren street at the monument, get a 25 cent bag of chips and a snapple at li’l peach. seeing that sign change from a golden stone fruit to a big t, ouch. fuck. i’m old now.

what pains me more than the shift of franchise is the fact that my ignorance of such a shift shows how much i don’t live in j.p. anymore. i have dreams about my renovated victorian off of centre street, full of my brother’s paintings, and cooking smells. there’s a toddler harassing a medium sized dog, in a backyard flanked by honeysuckle and rose coated wooden fence. i’d walk to work, or at least to the bus for a short ride to my own cafe-bistro-patisserie. but i imagine all this in a jamaica plain i remember from the 80s. when the “wake up the earth festival” was ecstatic communal hippiness, full of music and dark purple tshirts. when j.p. licks was across the street from flanagan’s near south huntington street, with a cast iron waffle cone maker in the window, and the original brass rail to swing on by the ice cream case. when gentrification was far from the lips of residents, and they only pondered the chunkiness of their peanut butter at arborway natural.
maybe by the time i get my shit together and move back and build a life and a family j.p. will be back to fantastic, or aided in it’s renaissance by people like me. i certainly hope so, because i’m coming back. i am. once i grow up. until then i'll bring my j.p.-ness to the streets of new york. move to other countries and marvel at how barcelonians are as manic about their city as bostonians. at how accents can be as neighborhood specific elsewhere. but still not home. nope. i'm 3rd generation jamaica plainian on mom's side. and on dad's side the 4th generation back came straight off the boat from ireland to j.p. oh my roots, are they showing?

love and the pond,
moi.

finkel is einhorn?

2005-07-19T15:11:00.000-07:00

i have this theory
goes a little something like this
lohan is the new hilton
lindsey is the new paris

she has her hair (barbie blond), her body (lollipop-head), her old best friend (nicole ritchie anyone?)... probably already fucked half her exboyfriends (oooh maybe there's a tape!).
just more evidence that there is nothing new at all in popular culture.
they keep remaking movies from the 70s, and tv shows, and songs.
and reviving old bands with long dead lead singers. i tried watching that inxs tv show, dave navarro looks like a freaking drag king. i bet carmen electra is the top. totally the top.
however, i'd rather have my special little club of me and my brother, and our minions, liking weird things and have them underappreciated, than have everything coopted by the populus. better to have my favorites be mine than everyone's.

last night i had dinner with some girl friends at the spotted pig. some wine, some food, 4 girls a little dressed up. i wish that i could afford to go out like that more often. except i'd enjoy the company of some boys, too. that was my thought as cate and i chatted on the steps at union square. smart cute boys to flirt with and make out with and distract from the looming end of the evening.

i need to get my head screwed on properly, i feel like i'm walking around like a pez dispenser. slap back my head and grab the piece of candy! gotta find me some emotional duct tape, reattach mi cabeza tout suite.

back to the television and those raspberry brownies,
boots

on the count of three

2005-07-17T15:46:00.000-07:00

"everybody run back to your fantasy...
go!"

so i compiled a new playlist for myself.

"old enough to know better"

1 do what you want (Ok Go)
2 getting better (The Beatles)
3 every day is a holiday (Esthero)
4 go it alone (Beck)
5 carnival kids (The Futureheads)
6 nothing better- styrofoam remix (The Postal Service)
7 go (Common featuring John Mayer)
8 happy in the morning (Nikka Costa)
9 breakdown (Handsome Boy Modeling School featuring Jack Johnson)
10 i wish i had an evil twin (The Magnetic Fields)
11 L'excessive (Carla Bruni)
12 no (De La Soul featuring Butta Verses)
13 begin (Ben Lee)
14 i know there's an answer (The Beach Boys)
15 dare (Gorillaz)
16 grey stables (Iron & Wine)
17 slow night, so long (Kings of Leon)
18 en tus pupilas (Shakira)
19 the pioneers (Bloc Party)
20 breaking my heart (Aqualung)
21 pictures of success (Rilo Kiley)

"i'm ready to go... these are times that can't be weathered and we have never been back there since then."

cartoon bear on toilet - paul frank

2005-07-12T19:04:00.000-07:00

how many times can i blow my nose in one day?
i'm just hoping some brain doesn't leak out in the process of sinus drainage.
oy... ew... ick... gross...

dad took the afternoon off from work today, so we picked him up in the old faithful subaru outback and had a family lunch at fugakyu. japanese style family lunch. soup, sushi, sashimi, green tea, spicy mayo. as hattori hanzo would say, it was "berry gool!" then the white white family went to the movies to see RIZE. apparently mom loves "krumpin." she enjoyed the lachappelle flick maybe more than i did, which blows my mind, but only a little bit. i felt like dancing afterward, i can't lie. but i always feel like dancing. still, the way those kids move is mind-blowing. makes me feel really uncoordinated and uber white. ah well. maybe some day i'll learn to pop and lock like buggaboo shrimp, until then...

i'd love to stay home and sit in the sun room at mom and dad's house reading for about a week. hang out with the dog, enjoy the breeze in the backyard. do some grilling. play some cribbage. but i have work tomorrow. so i'll stop typing now and return to my iced tea and black lab and try not to let my fullness spill over.

last night was fun guys, though after i was wigging for a number of reasons. seeing friends i rarely get to see makes me ache to be home more, to stay home longer, to wish away my addiction to new york. but it's a reality, i have to be there until i'm a force to be reckoned with.. or until the world catches on that it's already the case.

maybe tomorrow i'll write a movie about it.
or maybe i'll just go to work.
-botas del chef

a week a watch a why

2005-07-11T23:58:00.000-07:00

here's what i'd like to call a little "ventilation"

i think that if i didn't have my neuroses to occupy my time i might accomplish more, and not feel so full all the time. everyone is the center of their own universe, but most days i would love to be pulled out of my own orbit and pulled into someone else's gravity.
i've been listening to the new esthero alot recently, and fuck if i don't love wikked lil grrrls to the point of distraction. every day i have a new favorite song, and saturday was "everyday is a holiday". who wouldn't want to feel like that, in the presence of a certain person? who wouldn't love to be in love like that?
well i'm not, never am. and it sucks the big one.
i get tied up in stupid situations, and then once i feel as though i have extricated myself... i explained it to jjjj tonight in my simplest terms. sometimes you stop liking a person, however you like the way it feels to like them, so you cling to that contentment of being in like. i have moved so beyond liking anyone in my recent past that i don't know which way to turn, i've cut myself down to size in an attempt to fit my emotional baggage into a carry-on.
why would i try to trim me down like that?
the fullness has become stifling.
i can only go to so many movies and listen to so many songs, biding my time before a penguin comes along. a penguin? yes, i reference films incessantly because there is no content to my speech or writing that is novel. march of the penguins, documentary about emperor penguins, they mate faithfully for one season. i'm not looking for my lobster, i'm looking for a penguin. straight up. not only is that daunting, it's terrifying to dudes. they can smell it on me. i'm not out there for the mere recreation of a single person. i'm over here with a subliminal message in my speech. don't come close unless you can come close.
i've kept dudes at arm's length out of sheer fear before. i've kept them beside me, with no intentions between, out of necessity. now i don't know when i see a friend or more in front of me, because i've developed such skill in convincing myself out of shit. i walk around sure of myself, then sit at home widdling down my day word by word wondering where i am, who i am, what i am.
today i excruciated over a watch, until i put one on, and decided in a split second that i wouldn't look at any more, i just wanted it. done deal, card swiped, waterproof watch on wrist.

the truth about cats and dogs was on tv today, saw a few minutes of it before i left for my evening out. as frustrated with janeane garofalo's character as i can be, i also know that i would orchestrate myself into as complex a scenario if given the chance. i don't trust myself in the romantic realm. i don't. in theory i think i'm a catch, surely. in practice, oh holy mole.
i've got alot to wrap my head around in these next couple months. job. flux. apartment. flux. i told jjjjjj that it might be nice to have a distraction from work and the crap that stresses me out. pull me out of my gravitation orbit around myself...

"would you let me lick you with alliteration and tie you up with similies?
give you pain and pleasure with soliloquies until you beg me for release....
i think we can have the ebonic plague solution...
lace me with your lexiconic seed and in 9 months
we can start to raise the revolution"- fastlane, esthero, wikked lil grrrls.

tonic

2005-07-04T03:07:00.000-07:00

sipping some tonic water, in the middle of the night, pondering the devolution of my fourth of july...

when i was little the foley clan would gather at grandma's house, primarily for the kidney-shaped pool. the hard core barbecue action was always a big draw, especially for the neighbors. but first we'd munchie it up, even on the pool deck, mgd's all around, bloomies cheese (a cheddar, cream, and blue cheese spread that blesses any cracker it touches), shrimp cocktail, vodka tonics... until the sun started to go down, and the steak tips for grandpa, burgers and dogs for the proliterate, corn on the cob, and all those salad fixings were spread on folding tables covered in festive paper cloths. full of meat, mgd, and cigar smoke grandpa and wally would jury rig an old gutter pipe, all propped up and aimed over the neighboring property.
and then they'd launch fireworks.
each winter, on his way back from sunny florida, grandpa would buy illegal fireworks in the carolinas. well, illegal in massachusetts. he got a kick out of it, and timed the display perfectly so that there was plenty of time beforehand for me to twirl around with sparklers in front of my cousins, hair still soaked from a day in the pool, and plenty afterward to load into the house to watch the mugar display over the charles river by the hatch shell. some years we'd drive up to larz anderson park and watch the fireworks over the city of boston, eating hoodsies on the roof of the tallest car.

last year we ate sushi, smoked a little, and watched the nyc fireworks from our roof.
tonight i plan to have quesadillas, drink a little, and watch some fancy display.
i hope our neighbors shoot off illegal fireworks again this year, because i'm so friggin' nostalgic.
next year i'll be back to my "let's eat unamerican food and drink unamerican beer while we sing the canadian anthem..." schtick. but at this moment, i'll hold onto somethings instead of leaving them behind.
all the forgotten good 4ths: walking with jojo along storrow drive. the ato roof at m.i.t., scooping ice cream at jp licks. and acting up the american angle in dublin 2000.

but back to the french movies...
the beat my heart skipped "de battre mon coeur s'est arrete"
saw it saturday night at the angelika
adored it
uncategorizeable like head on! "gegen die wand"
almost don't even care that it's a remake
which trumps all those dukes of bewitched honeymooners
go see it
love romain duris like i do
rent l'auberge espagnole
eat a taco or two
and sneeze a dozen times before bed just like i'm doing as i type

a-choo!
boots

hell to the no!

2005-07-01T22:57:00.000-07:00

they hid my shoes at work today.
yeah, i had two beers when i got home.
yeah, today was my boss' last day.
i get to work at two restaurants next week...
but first, the fourth.
the restaurant is closed.
i'm making quesadillas.
they can't throw my shoes in random lockers
and on 8 foot shelves if i'm not there.
aw yeah... a long weekend of booze and bangbangs!

being bobby brown is a real tv show.
whitney is truly insane.
she crazy.

oh yeah, bewitched was 70 minutes of entertaining ferrell and kidman followed by a big filmic fart. we chuckled, nicole tried to overcome the botox, smiling, laughing at our will, but those ephrons couldn't reconcile shit by the end. the schwartzman was underutilized, but a great short man to ferrell's tall man. why hollywood cannot produce a wholly entertaining and satisfying romantic comedy is beyond me. must be the tacos.

-don't hide my boots

being a fan of will ferrell is fantastically out of fashion

2005-06-28T23:43:00.000-07:00

turning the corner from 8th avenue onto 44th street this morning felt odd, as if no time had passed since last i turned that corner. as if my 2 weeks away from marseille restaurant had never happened...
but they did indeed

and free association literary incontinence shall now commence

sitting in window seat did not provide the reality i so desired, the wing is a prop, the clouds cotton batting, the fields for farmers patchwork quilts covered in stones not sheep and cattle.
i can identify one's country of origin by shoes and hairstyle. in europe i cannot determine sexual orientation or even gender as quickly as whether a person is italian. invicta backpacks also a tell tale sign, oh why don't they ever match, especially with their too-tight pants?
mothers are always fanning themselves, craving water, and a magical breeze in the center of a still room. my inside voice deficiency has a maternal source, and that annoys me. so does the source and it's advanced state of "i'll say exactly what is on the tip of my tongue, especially if it pertains to what is outside the window or on my menu or on the street or in a shop..."
da does need an allergy test, everyone orders for him, waitresses hate us, i ate too much. three square meals packed with protein, sausage, rashers, the beauty of a broiled tomato crusted with freshly ground black pepper. anything is better with a pint of cider. wild irish salmon can't be fucked in a kitchen. smother it in butter, it'll only rejoice in dill and thyme. dessert is m.i.a. chocolate has been bastardized in the british isles to the point of travesty, how much milk can one pump into a bar? oh the torment! oh the lack of bitterness and berry tangy earthiness!
the world in grass and stone and azure and peat and mist amongst the hill-shaped mountains flabberghasts me. one day i will walk along the coast and collect my memories like well composed snapshots, loosely organized, swimming in pints and brown bread crumbs. my, butter is a gorgeous substance.
a person can drive herself unhappy with annoyance at those she adores most. and she can breathe deeply to try and let it go sooner. the struggle to be ascetic never ends, and this time the consumer has won, has almost smothered the monk. maybe once i cut my hair.
i would photograph everything, if i was satisfied with the camera angle.
batman sings "starting now- i'm the king of new york!"
dublin is a tease, promising the love of my life, only to deliver me to grafton street repeatedly. i would expatriotize myself for that fucking city. i would give up my jeans and sneakers to walk down to the liffey with the love of my life, the guinness dog.
expensive does not accurately describe london, england. ridiculous and unfathomable might.
tate to tate with a boat between, art isn't lost on me unless i'm generally ambivalent. and then i cry on the subway a week later. i would dissolve into a titian at the national gallery for a day to watch people try to appreciate me, and partly fail.
i saw the most nonchalant inter-racial couples ever in that city.
i saw a man on a bike hit a pedestrian with a bouquet of flowers in his messenger bag, bite the gravel, and walk away with a mildy broken helmet.
and then we saw brits in the philadelphia story at the old vic.
brick lane indian food tastes best with tiger beer and a discount. but it still tastes fucking amazing, cafe raj cafe raj cafe raj.
double decker buses are fun drunk in the rain.
i wonder if english people fear their true appearance, all that hair dye, highlights on men, faux-hawk-mullet-shags, two tone black under white on top, pink streaks in blonde. even irish redheads saturate the red to crayola. i craved a hair iron to fit in.
to fit in.
i fit in my bed.
i fit in my clothes.
my brain fits in my skull.
sometimes.
right now it's a bit cramped, my self being inside for the past year.

it's too disgusting here to sleep and dream of anything but humidity and tangled top sheets.
still i shalt try.
mine boots.

bewitched review in coming days

i'm baaaaack!

2005-06-28T05:49:00.000-07:00

i have returned from the homeland and...
i'm pretty much ready for another 2 weeks of vacation.
but work beckons, so (as grandma used to say to my mother on sunday nights) "it's back to reality" for me.

once the words to describe and comment upon my trip come to me i will grace the blog with their presence.

until then...

look at my soft shoe...

2005-06-13T10:33:00.000-07:00

Admitting ignorance is the most painful thing imaginable. I have developed a penchant for feigning and also cultivating wisdom. To say "I don't know" has been unfathomable to me until recently. I haven't found the cure-all Claritin D 24 hour for my allergy to "I don't know." That discovery is still far off. But the hives have stopped, because I realized how little everyone else knows, and contraiwise, how much I have to learn from those around me. If I continued to walk around pretending to be a know-it-all I could never truly be a Know-it-all. And I want to achieve omniscience. I am Sisyphus and that is the boulder on my shoulder. I seek to learn, and in accumulating more knowledge I see the growing abyss of my ignorance. In college I studied religion, and the degree on the wall in my parents' den taunts me every time I visit it. "You know fuck all about religion, Erica. FUCK ALL!" And it motivates me. And it quiets me in conversation. I try to shut up and listen when someone decides to discuss faith and practive, because I want to experience intellectual osmosis. My constant chatter doesn't allow intelligence to pass through the invisible membrane.
I have been dubbed "emdb" (the erica movie database) by a select few friends. The imdb website is my Safari homepage. I love films. I want to make films. I watch them, discuss them, and feel utterly intimidated in the screen writing process. Frustration + Intimidation = Motivation. I must, in my lifetime, write adn produce a film. Because I am "emdb" and a Know-it-all, so it must come about by sheer determination. And freakish intelligence coupled with this ability to convince people I'm funny.
Except, alongside, my ambition exists another vice: sloth. I could, if left wholly to my own devices, sleep all day, watch tv all night, eat only take out food, and only leave my apartment to retrieve the Netflix from my mailbox. I could, but I need to earn money to pay for my sporadic sloth; so eternal couch potatodom is only a dream.
But not today, I can't, because today is Rex Manning Day!
And... I'm on vacation.
I mean, I'M ON VACATION!

off I go to IRELAND.
peace love and postcards
the cheffy boots

hell's kitchen

2005-06-06T21:08:00.000-07:00

watched this new reality show tonight called "hell's kitchen".
apparently gordon ramsey is a big british dick who wants to take over america.
or whatever.
i don't think shows about restaurants are accurate or good or interesting for people from the industry to watch, because they edit out all the shit we'd like to see. the crap they keep is all emotional footage, that they show over and over, in this weird recap format that makes my skin crawl. the difficulty is, i can see where this dude would be an effective chef, and why he is so successful. but there is no way he'll find a decent protege on this fox show. no freaking way. because people like me don't go on it, and don't give a shit about kissing some pale british dude's chalky asscheeks. no we watch the dumbasses who do on the teevee.
the things that sicken me most about this show are the brand new hobart sitting in the background completely unused, and the open, fully appointed kitchen these monkeys get to use, with a babillion ovens. oh and the ugly jackets that don't fit a single person. kitchen clothing is the least attractive and the most ill-fitting of all vocational attire. seriously. when i'm a name i'll have my own women's chef clothing line, fuck the pots and pans, i want a pair of pants that fit my ass and have pockets and are flame retardant. so when i sit on the stove my ass looks amazing and is comfortable and doesn't catch fire.
i work in the neighborhood dubbed "hell's kitchen" so i find the title of the show supremely odd. whatever, i go to my own personal purgatory every day, and it's a character-building experience to work amongst ignorami. ignoramus, ignorami, masculine, stupid idiotface monkeys. i'd never work the hot side of a restaurant kitchen because i don't have a death wish. and (as i've been saying the past two days) my people aren't built for the heat. or people shouting orders at me with the only acceptable reply being "yes/oui chef". i can dig on the "oui chef" half of the time, but not when it's 1000 degrees and i have done nothing wrong and all i want is a cold beer and my feet dangling in a pool.
it's days like today that i miss my grandpa's pool. i would spend all day in the deep end, soaking in the shade. i'd emerge all pruney, water-logged, and exhausted. and happy. shit, i miss the sleep after swimming. some nights i would fall asleep on the 2 minute car ride home, wrapped in a towel, propped in the backseat. and happy.

-boots

enthusiastic movie review

2005-06-05T00:58:00.000-07:00

tonight i saw "lords of dogtown" with cate (skirt).

last night allison and i watched henry rollins cream him pants over this movie. he's such a cute muscley skater nerd. so much so they put him in the documentary. after seeing him so ecstatic, i was on a mission. i had to see this movie tout suite.

the first 30 minutes of the movie we were a tiny little bit preoccupied with getting our 24 oz beers open... but once our new seat neighbor joined us and popped open my bass and her corona we were able to fully enjoy the wonder that is "lords of dogtown." we sipped our beer through straws enthusiastically as the personal drama missing from "dogtown and z boys" unfolded before us. i really like the documentary stacy peralta made, and watched it last night on ifc just because it was on tv. but the live action is necessary for a skate film. like a pipe is necessary for proper crack smoking.

all i could say after we left the theater was "damn! that was such a good movie!"
and all i can think right now is "damn! that was such a good movie!"

heath ledger morphed into this twisted yoda figure, leading and losing the boys; surfing and punching, and drinking and smoking his way through the film. how someone with false teeth and a bad wig can make overalls look sexy still baffles me. see me? i'm wearing my baffled face. victor rasuk wasn't victor vargas, licking his lips the whole time, but kept the cockiness with a hint of heart that evolved into the balanced version of t.a. evident in the "z boys" doc. emile hirsch was awesome. though, not just because (as skirt would say) i want to make out with him, but because he fucking rocked the movie. it's jay adams' movie, because he steals it. tony alva and stacy peralta may have been more successful and well known, blah blah, but dude if jay adams doesn't steal every scene, every moment, not even by upstaging them, but by schooling them. i now can see why stacy peralta worships the guy, or at least see the product of how.
i needed that filmic experience after the badness of palindromes.
if only for the cinematography.
shit, where to start.
we sat close, not just because there weren't many seats left, but because i wanted to feel like i was sitting there in the empty pool, watching them skate past. and it felt like i was in the freaking pool watching them skate in front of me. hand-held, slightly frenetic, energetic footage, shot on a stock that was bleached and washed out like their blond surfer hair. having the actors learn to skate was so necessary, and appreciated. posture, body language, not only was it all informed by surfing initially, it was cemented by the skating, so these kids looked and felt like they were doing it, and having a fucking good time at it too. makes me want to pour sun in on my head and paddle out on the east river or something equally insane.
what didn't hit me immediately though was how the boys provided the 3 different types of talents. 3 best friends who start off the movie in the exact same place, under the pier waiting to surf, end the film in another world altogether. 1) jay, the natural, the genius, destructive, tempermental, loyal, unmotivated to do more than surf and hang. some would say he squanders his talent. 2) tony, the alpha, driven to succeed, to excel, to show the world who's best, is driven by his need to prove his worthiness to his papa. some would say he uses his talent. 3) stacy, the good doobie, practices his way to being a champion, recognizes the importance of loyalty and worships jay. some would say he keeps discovering new talents. i doubt such scope and subtlety of message and diversity of persona would have been able to be written without the documentary done first. all that editing and rifling through, and emotional excavation. he must have already honed it all down. i guess sometimes you do need distance to gain worthwhile perspective. when you're all in the midst of shit... it's tough to see what kind of person people are, and that it's not black and white, it's shaky images and blurred lines, and best friends fucking your sister.

music is pivotal. always. and here it punctuated perfectly. crap, i liked this movie! before, i wanted to like it, and the jimi hendrix did me in. let me stand next to your fire, oh let me stand...

go see this movie. grab a large bottle of beer, crack it open whenever you feel, and spot the cameos.
i saw mitch hedberg (r.i.p.), tony hawk, jay adams (the real o.g.), and would welcome any sightings i may have missed.

next week promises mysterious skin (if i can suffer the film forum a second time in my life) and wedding cake baking.

until then chickadees this is the cheffy boots signing off
and counting down until irish happy fun time begins in 7 days.

palindromes

2005-06-02T12:31:00.000-07:00

charles and i aimed to see "mysterious skin" yesterday.
leaving too late to make it to film forum, i called moviefone, and we chose to see the latest from todd solondz at the angelika. the rabbi and skirt were called and invited and joined us at the corner of mercer and broadway. i liked welcome to the dollhouse. i sing the song to myself sometimes. storytelling, now that's a fucked up movie for sure, but had great acting and purposeful plot devices. that was another impromptu angelika visit, with josh and pam(bus).
normally i can extract one redeeming moment or line or result of viewing a bad film.
though palindromes is devoid of any good moment, it was not the worst film i have ever seen, so that is its redeeming quality. the cinematography was crap, the writing was mediocre and uninventive, the acting was far from first rate (except for mama sunshine for 1 minute, and then it was gone), the casting of 8 actors to play aviva lost the necessary momentum for a teenage girl character. oh that's a whole new paragraph.
i dig using the drastic for effect. i dig it. however, one needs an anchor in a film. if he thought there was another thread that connected the narrative other than the character of aviva, shit, was mr. solondz wrong. maybe if he had... no, it just freaked me out, having the subject matter be teenage pregnancy and abortion, and at one point an obese black woman, a skinny white boy, and jennifer jason leigh play aviva.
soon enough the ifc film center will be open and i can have one stop movie going.

tonight we hit the beergarden full force, pierogies might be in order...

can't get enough of bloc party. buy or steal "silent alarm"
if it's because of my age then you're a coward
i haven't got the guts to stand alone
i'll go back if you ask
i'll go back if you ask me
i'll go back if you ask
i'll go back if you ask me
backwards...

las botas del chef

2 forty 2

2005-06-01T02:42:00.000-07:00

i'd like to feel one thing at once
at this precise moment i:
want to eat a spicy tuna roll
want to listen to the new esthero
want to fall asleep for a good 10 hours
want to write something amusing
want to have wednesday never turn into thursday
want to be done with my job
want to be in ireland already
want to be satiated in some way

i told my mother the other day that i had a conversation with a close friend about our issues with food. to this my mother retorted "i didn't know you have issues with food." and my simple answer was 'i'm afraid to get fat." i've learned to wait through hunger because it costs money and calories. i've learned to keep going up and down stairs and walk to the next train station when i'm exhausted. i've trained myself to care less about consuming food to the point of pathos. i have to concentrate now to decide what i want to eat, because it's all the same to me. i'm ambivalent about my passion momentarily. i can find pleasure in my meals, surely, but it's more rare than regular. my hope is to reconnect with my hedonism in full-fledged fashion in the homeland. eat some cheese and oysters and brown bread and rediscover my happy place. wash it down with a pint of bulmers. but i have to go there, i can't suspend reality and close my eyes and pray the sensation will return. my presence is necessary in ireland tout suite. i would fault my vocation, but i think it's more my vanity to blame. that and i miss my old take out menus (cobb salad from the barking dog i miss you so!) i'd rather be a little hungry than heavy, though i am far from wasting away, my ass can attest to that.
oh to not worry about the trappings!
oh to be away from this neurotic city!

barbie queue

2005-05-30T22:40:00.000-07:00

in two weeks i'll be on a plane to shannon, ireland and...
it's all i can do to focus my eyes every day and not view everything all fuzzy..
it's all i can do to slip my feet into already tied sneakers and trudge to the train.
it's all i can do to scribble list after list at work to organize the nothing to do.
it's all i can do to deprive myself of sleep so that i won't have frustrating dreams.

friday night i dreamt about this boy i was so convinced i was in love with during college. i haven't seen him in about a year and a half, and the graphic realistic nature of the dream alarmed me when i woke up to not having experienced all that i dreamt. i won't let myself think about it really, because i've been keeping myself busy. saturday was all about the jjjjjj and some time at work. but mostly the jjjjjjj and friends and drinks and sleep deprivation. and then sunday was about work and getting jjj out of the house to the bus station, then baking brownies of two types til 1am. today was all about work then getting to the brooklyn barbecue, and eating meat charred by charcoal.

the thought of funemployment is slowing trickling into my consciousness, as is the impending doom of the summer. vacation then work then move then new work might be the summation of my summer. so i drank a few beers. so i sucked on that jury-rigged poland spring bottle bong. so i'm depriving myself of sleep. and creepily listening to fiona apple simultaneously.
i think everyday i will type the lyrics from a song that's been running through my head all day. and then you'll know the crazy that lives in there a little better...
strange & beautiful:
i've been watching your world from afar
i've been trying to be where you are
and i've been secretly falling apart, unseen
to me, you're strange and you're beautiful
you'd be so perfect with me, but you just don't see
you turn every head but you don't see me
i'll put a spell on you
you'll fall asleep
and i'll put a spell on you
and when i wake you
i'll be the first thing you see
and you'll realize that you love me, yeah
sometimes, the last thing you want comes in first
sometimes, the first thing you want never comes
and i know that waiting is all you can do
some times
i'll put a spell on you
and you'll fall asleep
and i'll put a spell on you
and when i wake you
i'll be the first thing you see
and you'll realize that you love me, yeah
yeah.

mad hot ballroom

2005-05-25T22:09:00.000-07:00

and that little girl said indignant...

this evening skirt and boots had some nice italian food and red wine at frank and then caught mad hot ballroom at the sunshine. oh how i love the landmark sunshine movie theater! and that documentary of 5th graders in new york city borough public schools, oh my lord i want to learn to dance like those cool dominican kids from washington heights! skirt and i sat there clapping and cheering and singing along to the c+c music factory songs. and then she went back to the restaurant and tried to ask out the hot waiter/bartender dude, but he has a girlfriend (awww), yet we're still proud of her confidence and bravery. i could never do that. nope, i'm a coward when it counts. i can't tell a guy half the time if i don't really like him, i just let it fall away... then when i like a dude i'm hopeless. i waffle between overly demonstrative to overly coy. i show i show then i hide i hide. a symptom of crack smoking potentially... part of my confusion lately is due to the crack, i mean, liking someone i have no justification for liking. i think. it might be a figment of my crackhead imagination or a manifestation of my desire to have someone to say "i cheese sandwich you" to...
love and sex was a worthwhile dvd purchase, most definitely. for lines like "i don't see them as flaws, i see them as god's artistic choices." and when kate wants to rent nosferatu: "i like being depressed. it makes me feel deep and introspective." but the cheese sandwich instead of i love you is the best line ever. i reference it too often.

i missed my skirt while she was in washington, and though we spend way too much money when we hang out, it's the best. we eat a good meal, drain a bottle of wine, chat about how the word hope is onomatopoetic, flirt with the waiter/bartender, traipse through the rain to see a great movie, traipse up to virgin mega to buy cds in the middle of the night, and generally have a grand old time. now all i have to do is clean the apartment and do laundry before jjjjj gets here, and then i'm all geared up for the weekend. i hope their joined efforts will distract me from my misery of late and sexual frustration. crap, i would really like to make out with someone... crappity crap crap. deep breaths. in. out. in. out. sip of stella. in. out. sip of stella. in. out...
=boots
new favorite song; til i get to you, nikka costa. an alphabet of lovers, oh you are a funky white girl.

and how are you feeling today? insipid.

2005-05-24T06:38:00.000-07:00

to all the people i spoke to yesterday, i'm sorry i'm such a bummer... but the depression can only dissipate for as long as a milky way dark. apparently those are now available in popables! see, that was my enthusiasm for the day.
ireland is mere weeks away and i'm in the depths of despair (as anne shirley would surely say) for no definitive reason. same ol' same ol' i guess; no boyfriend, no enjoyable job, no dog, no health above 75%, no promise for immediate remedy of any of these. ok, i'm not getting a dog in new york ever, that's just a sad addition to the list, and when i say sad i mean SAD. the boyfriend shit is so old it needs botox or something to make it look less tired. i just wish someone i liked and could talk to and wanted to bite lived next door, instead of everywhere else in the world. true, i'm leaving my job for vacation and then "funemployment" but the expiration date on my time at marseille makes it more unbearable most days. and the mucus never leaves, i tried consuming dairy products yesterday and though i'm still alive, it's not time for cheese-fest just yet. chai, oh chai, how i miss you in the mornings!
there's a barbecue memorial day that ought to brighten the horizon. the jjjj is coming in 3 days, holy fuck, and i need to do laundry. she's such a bundle of sunshine i won't be able to wallow with her here. inconceivable.
but it's still a work day, and i don't want to lock the door and leave astoria just yet.
ok bloc party, lull me into my day...
like drinking poison, like eating glass... like drinking poison, like eating-

boots

pub

2005-05-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

last night i hung out at st. dymphna's in the east village for about 5 hours with steph and rocky. pints of cider, brown bread, irish tea, whiskey sours, chatty chat chatter... and then i saw conor oberst walk in.
i don't like bright eyes, is that un-indie-rock of me?
it was the perfect night to sit in a mellow pub and chill, watching the rain fall on st. mark's place. except i don't live there any more... i live an hour plus away by N train. that's cool. makes me appreciate the novelty of quality at dymphna's.
bed time for bonzo

it's this 1 thing...

2005-05-19T21:53:00.000-07:00

that's got me trippin...

so i've been apartment-ridden for the past couple days, only to leave this evening to see star wars: episode iii- revenge of the sith. i watched a whole bunch of television, reality tv, music videos, sitcoms, the requisite netflix of course. and a few things irked me; how bad most of tv is these days, and my frustration at my inability to pick a good enough dvd to drown out that annoyance. and the terrible music kids listen to these days. sure, there's some quality indie rock and hip-hop scattered throughout fuse and mtv2 and even vh1's rotations. but who the fuck are hawthorne heights? there's this whole crop of bands that straight up suck, this emo explosion has gone much further than it ought. i still dig on some dashboard confessional and jimmy eat world, but this screamo b.s. is unappealing. melody melody wretching screech... that's lovely. and then there's the rap and pop on mtv that seems beyond reason. for every good successful act or band there is a lindsay lohan or the game. my brother and i would rather keep the decent music to ourselves and our inner circles, surely, and reserve the right to go ballistic when they blow up and become mainstream. but i dig liking an album before every other hipster buys it, and going to the concert at a tiny venue. i only wonder who chooses these bands for mega stardom, who gives these carbon copy artists deals. they're probably related to the people who make sequels to shitty movies, and cast tara reid in action thrillers with christian slater. my father would tell me to focus my frustration and do something proactive, like start my own rockandroll band or make my own independent film. if only i had the talent and multi-tasking capabilities to do that. if only. instead i sit in the kitchen type type typing away praying for a good movie and album to grace my eyes and ears soon to renew my hope in popular culture. because george lucas tried, and though a valiant effort ep iii may be, it's no return of the jedi. and even the newest beck album doesn't shake my booty enough to lift my spirits for more than a moment.
i can't have amerie's 1 thing and shakira's la tortura on continuous repeat, or can i?
at least i finally found love & sex on dvd and can be reminded of the importance of cheese sandwiches whenever i so choose.

gringa.guera.suca

2005-05-18T16:39:00.000-07:00

i still only travel by foot, and by foot it's a slow climb.
no solo de pan vive el hombre, y no de excuses vivo yo.
my lover h was proof that i hadn't found you yet.
sometimes the last thing you want comes in first, sometimes the first thing you want never comes.
and it just feels good when you're waking up, and it just feels good when you're next to me.
all the promises i gave you helped me to survive, all the times i wished you'd say to me you were the love of my life.
rivers gonna run through, work is gonna save you.
heartbreak cigarettes and song with a winter's chafe.
i need your help to pull me up.
situation number 3, it's the one that noone sees, it's all too often dismissed as fate.
wait, we swear we'll love you more, holy jezebel.
i've found i'm scared to know i'm always on your mind.
are you ready for the city? is the city ready for you? don't you know you have to choose, the city is here for you to use.
do you wanna come over and kill some time? throw your arms around me!
my head is a box filled nothing and that's the way i like it... your body's a dream that turns violent and that's the way i like it.
standing all day keeping watch over all the treasures we lost.
guns can't kill what soldiers can't see.
tied up in ancient history, i didn't believe in destiny.

(gringa.guera.suca)

"extraordinary machine" - fiona apple

"la tortura" -shakira f/ alejandro sanz

"till i get to you" -nikka costa

"strange & beautiful" -aqualung

"my slumbering heart" -rilo kiley

"passing by" -zero 7

"galang" -m.i.a.

"taper jean girl" -kings of leon

"drugs or me" -jimmy eat world

"situations" -jack johnson

"jezebel" -iron & wine

"collide" -howie day

"the city is here for you to use" -the futureheads

"this modern love" - bloc party

"catch my disease" -ben lee

"scarecrow" -beck

"haiti" -the arcade fire

"brighter than sunshine" -aqualung

why the world makes sense

2005-05-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

(this started as a comment to devo, and evolved into something far better, a rambling)
i must admit, being the reality tv junkie that i am, i too watched "chaotic" last night. what disturbed me far more than her inability to zoom the camera, was the existence of this footage at all. she is so self-obsessed that she wanted to film herself asking people questions to affirm conclusions she has already made about commitment and sex.
but wait, the crazy thing is, that's everyone! that's why we all watched. we are all a little bit britney. i know devo's a little bit country and i'm a little bit rock n roll, but heck! there's a little conceited hooker in all of us!
that, and we're all just looking for a skinny slow-speaking freeloader to bang us 10 times a day.
another thing that perturbed me was the constant sight of her getting her hair and makeup done. i always thought that i was not alone in this meditative joy, and once i heard that gwen stefani (noone can pull her from her perch built in 1995, noone you hear me!) applied her own makeup before every show because not only was it more cost effective (no makeup artist in tow) but she truly enjoyed painting her face. the difference between gwen and britney would also be depth, i suppose, since gwen wrote an emotional philosophical song "magic's in the makeup" to which i have always related, and britney wrote- oh fuck did she actually write something, i can't remember. back to the show, and the point, brit couldn't even use the baby wipes to remove her own old makeup, or wash her friggin face, the makeup-artist-in-tow did that. now that's something noone can relate to. have i ever had my face cleaned while my hair was being combed and done? um, yeah, when i was 3 and my parents had to rush me out the door, because i hadn't the coordination of 4 arms moving simultaneously yet.
but by the end i felt like i had a glimpse into the real britney, you know? as if, she was one of my new best friends, and i could totally relate to her struggle and.. i can't lie, crap. this girl is so removed from reality that she can't understand why flying a total stranger out to fuck while she's on tour in england is not normal. or the best idea, and costs about a babillion dollars. however, marrying them to prove to yourself that you are over justin timberlake: priceless.

i woke up at 1pm today.
i feel so, so , so hungry.
i may venture out for some wendy's.
oh to have wednesday off, it's not so much fun.
i pray for a real weekend soon.
and scene.
-boots

my name is erica and i'm a pack rat

2005-05-17T23:06:00.000-07:00

i'm always afraid to let things go. things commonly found in the bottom of my mom-purse: atm receipts, gum wrappers, broken hair elastics, bare bobbypins, restaurant matches, old lip gloss, escaped breath mints, fortune cookie messages (pineapple please:), dead ballpoint pens, rogue twizzlers, and electrocuting headphones.

lately i have been asking for more and more new music from every friend, my brother, co-workers. todo el mundo. and today i exercised my tuesday right to new cds... all in search for the perfect playlist to unlock the crazy captured in my cranium. buscando el sonido perfecto para describir mis sentimientos. if i could collect and arrange a proper mixture of music, the first listen would dissolve my depression. surely. each new acquisition brings me an emotional step closer to closure. but, see, the problem with this procedure is, well, me. once i finish the list a new issue will arise, and before i know it, i need another new playlist. my insatiable thirst for musical refreshment. and i can't let go of a playlist on the itunes, no, i'm in the organization of other people's art. i'm hidden between beast of burden and hounds of love. i'm a musical pack rat, too, it seems. this isn't healthy, this isn't good, but it sure passes the time on the subway, arranging an on-the-go; scroll, scroll, select. the best song i've found thus far is la tortura by shakira and alejandro sanz, solely for the hook, and the ecstasy of songs in spanish. i'm afraid to even create today's playlist. that would mean i was on the path to resolution. no, i'll waste ipod battery on jumping from artist to album and back again. because i don't know which handsome boy modeling school song to choose, or if bloc party is even any good, fuck it, i'll just listen to ben lee over and over and fall asleep to the trapeze swinger by iron and wine for the umpteenth time.

it would do me some good to go to a show.
with some good company.
i'm tempted to ask my dad to come to rilo kiley with me, to keep it real.
to yell at those young kids for standing at a concert.
he was so cute at the bjork show at radio city.
so enraptured, so confused, so my dad.
yet i won't find a concert companion.
or if i do it'll be a female friend, and that's cool.
but i suppose it's too much to ask of the universe for a movie/concert buddy.
well, it's too much to ask for a movie/concert/bedtime buddy.
a boy to sit next to me on the couch and tell me i watch the stupidest tv shows, then put in a kick ass dvd and share my twizzlers, and then crash in my bed after making out all night. that's too much to ask, apparently.
so i'll exercise the tv veto tonight myself, since my roommate is gone until the return of the carlos to gotham, and i'll pop "love and sex" into the dvd player. if i can't have a real boyfriend i'll watch a movie about the perfect boyfriend, who knows how to say i love you with cheese. literally.

songs about love are like the crack for single girls between romantic comedies and sitcoms.

prima la carne!

2005-05-15T20:25:00.000-07:00

kicking and screaming friday was enjoyable. the people sitting behind us brought large bottles of chimay... i had suggested picking up some 40s on the way to the theater but no, skirt thought better of it. and take 5 candy bars taste better with pepsi. there was a preview for the movie version of dukes of hazzard. watching jessica simpson just makes me dumber. johnny knoxville's strange sexy ugliness can't make up for her lollipop head stupidity.
back to the ferrell...
will ferrell is so odd, in the good way, of course. his commitment to selling whatever character he plays is mezmerizing. there was a reason he never broke in a scene, but always ALWAYS broke his co-stars up on snl. and what's that? a jiggly belly. i don't fucking know why he's fantastic, that's why he is the millionaire comedian and i'm a pastry cook. he makes funny, i make brownies. he was banging that cowbell last night on snl during queens of the stone age, after a jeopardy skit, and i just felt sad knowing i would be forced to pay to see him regularly. those weekly hits of trebek, the sporadic harry carey pants-wetting episodes, all memories, only to be experienced in reruns.

mom bought me some m&ms when i was home. peanut dark chocolate m&ms. you can't beat that with a stick... and if you did you'd have a great topping for ice cream.

being sick sucks, btw. i woke up in the middle of the night friday, with a sinus headache so obnoxious that i couldn't sleep for longer than an hour and a half. i hate mucus, and my right sinus cavity loves it so much it won't let it go. sinus separation anxiety. thus, my body and i are in a fight, over mucus. i want it out, my mucus membranes want to supply a never-ending supply of misery for me, cough cough, sore throat, blow the nose, happy fun times.

20 more minutes of project greenlight and then bedtime for bonzo.
oh if only there were a couple of attractive boys from cambridge to give me a million dollars to make a movie.
if only.

-boots

p.s. i watched a whole lot of movies this week, in theaters and on dvd, and cable... and what i concluded is that i love small films about one character with swirls of influence from a community, normally a young woman discovering a new perspective on her town and friends. l'auberge espagnole reminded me how much i love love love chacun cherche son chat ("when the cat's away") the previous film by cedric klapisch, and pray for more to come, and the ability to write and produce something equally personal and universal myself.

if we could interrupt your life story for one second...

2005-05-11T20:54:00.000-07:00

(i cannot believe that i am watching ali g indahouse.
it's surprisingly... deep.
like halfbaked meets the full monty.)

pink punctuating the perimeter of the pond
every blooming tree from the passenger seat

parade down newbury street
allow the sun to warm my skin

lay down the plastic for consumerism
how many belts does one girl need

trudge up boylston street
let the sun burn my skin

another ramirez jersey
subliminal prayer to the fenway gods

kindred spirits are hard to come by
the person as the place called home

mom's scampi incites reaching forks
guinness stomps for asparagus attention

coffee oreo ice cream is a let down
except in theory it restores sanity

i know that one visit, one trip, one day cannot heal a melancholic heart. i know logically that my mere presence in my parents kitchen cannot resolve my issues. but fuck if a glass of pink wine and mom's cooking doesn't start me thinking that i think too much and might be fixed by a walk around jamaica pond. living in the purgatory of "my 20s before 30" is killing me. i'd like to think that i could move back to boston and be happy with that decision. but if i keep looking up here every so often for reassurance that i'm missed and would be welcomed home, i won't be able to feel a sense of home in my day to day space. i don't permit myself envisioning being a grown-up in new york, coupled and settled, and content. that's a betrayal. what's so wrong with staying forever in opposite town? well, it's not me. so much of my identity is trapped in this freaking city. what's most frightening is that despite my undying affection for good ol' j.p., i need new york. i need the stories it provides, the style, the subway, the shows, the stupid boys, the sublime friends, the shitty jobs, i need it all. maybe someday the thought of packing up my life and plopping it by the pond won't terrify me. playtime doesn't have to end, but perhaps now it could be fun. my antique heart might have the capacity for genuine youthful reckless abandon afterall. these years of mini skirts and lip gloss aren't forever for sure, it can't kill me to drop the guilt and hometown baggage.

the jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

2005-05-10T22:10:00.000-07:00

now, at this moment, i am sitting in jojo's apartment, chatting with my best friend in the entire world.
and nothing could bring me down, because this is sanity.
this is happiness, being home and seeing my favorite person in the world.
i get to spend all day tomorrow with this birthday girl, and i couldn't be more stoked.
newbury, errands, hanging at the parents' house in jamaica plain...
i'm almost tempted to leave new york behind and have a life in beantown finally.

goodnight and sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite

-e

sam adams says it's summer

2005-05-09T19:50:00.000-07:00

so, you must believe...

it was gorgeous today.

and my brother is the best.

love him to bits and pieces and put him back together.

that is all.

-bootsy

catch my disease

2005-05-04T18:24:00.000-07:00

so i'm sitting at some lounge in tribeca flipping through the new issue of heeb magazine at their release party when i realize... fuck! i live in new york city. and, ben lee is jewish? i didn't know there were jews in australia. apparently he's one of the "heeb hundred." but not like fhm 100, more like "the cools jews you should know" than "scantily clad jewesses". though that would sell lotsa mags.
steph and i got burritos at harry's before meandering through downtown manhattan to this party, because there was going to be an open bar, and it's counter-productive to stop for a pint when free booze is guaranteed after 9. i stopped counting the bars in my head after we had passed the millionth one, each taunting me: "beer inside! woooooo! beer inside!" but we drank free red stripe with the hipster jews, bobbing our heads to the klezmer hip-hop, for the whole open bar hour. the place was actually pretty cool, a middle eastern themed irish pub. the front was all wood bar and stuff, the back was full of comfy couch thingys and moroccan arches and tile. but such a strange scene... i commented at one point that the coolest people at that party would be the least cool at a normal hipster function. i'm such an asshole.

-e
p.s. new favorite song, catch my disease by ben lee. check it out mofo's!

take 5

2005-05-02T14:35:00.000-07:00

have you experienced this candy bar?
it's miraculous.
like hershey's version of chubby hubby ice cream-
except in candy bar form.

a pretzel with peanut butter and peanuts and caramel covered in milk chocolate!
in two pieces like the old school 100 grand bars; so, like reese's too, the pleasure is doubled.
the only improvement i might suggest would be: cover it in dark chocolate!
(shit, everything's better with dark chocolate... ahhh memories of kit kat darks....)

long story short, i'm obsessed with the take 5, and have eaten far too many of them in the past few weeks.
my new movie snack food, replacing twizzlers. well, more accompanying them. twizzlers and coke are the best movie food ever. it's a snack, it's a straw, it's a weapon, it's the best.

until now. take 5.

p.s. my parents were far too proud this weekend when they discovered that they had seen hitch-hiker's guide before me. far too proud of themselves... but it's a feat to beat me to the silver screen. well done, mom and dad. you saw a movie! oh but i love my cute parents.

meantime

2005-04-29T20:55:00.000-07:00

lately i've been thinking about relationship karma, or more in particular, my romantic relationship karma. the pondering never stops, to be quite honest, and almost plagues me. the initial question is: what did i do that would warrant me being repeatedly rejected? and i figured it out.

there are lots of events in my childhood, which for reasons i won't go into right now, i have blocked out. just mild traumatic shit, pretty commonplace i've discovered in recent years. it only resurfaces when i hear another person's story, or see a film, or read a book that reminds me of myself in grammar school. but that sort of memory unblockage is cool with me, because it happened so long ago. i can write about it, i can talk about it, i don't purposely force it from my thoughts. not like high school. those 6 years at latin were horrible in so many ways, so lonely and alienating, that i reminisce with friends as if i were recounting episodes of my so-called life. not my own life.

pertinence? i recently reconnected with someone from high school. and i was supposed to hang out with him tonight but it got too late, i've got to work in the morning, he's in brooklyn, blase blase blah. we'll get dinner and catch up tomorrow, it'll be odd and interesting. so, what did i do in high school that would karmically bitch slap me now? well, i unilaterally rejected this same friend of mine, who at the time i perceived as a sort of stalker, though through passage of time i realize he was just overzealous and persistent. those qualities now are somethings that have been missing in boys in my life ever since. at age 17 i never gave him a chance to be more than my shadow or my friend, because his insistence frightened me. besides i was 17, self-centered, slightly anti-social, and had no realistic conception of boys. i still don't. i saw fever pitch with skirt and she nearly threw my soda at the screen because it "perpetuates all that romantic bullshit 15 year old straight girls think should happen in real life... and boots cried, aww, boys aren't really like that. no boy is like that!"

in contemplating all the dating i've attempted in the past year or so, i can count 1, 2, 3, 4 boys "dated." and of those 4, 3 rejected me. "hi erica... bye erica!" but i rejected the other one, based on the fact that our first and only kiss was horrendous and that i was soooo much funnier than him.

maybe i'll be provided an opportunity to positively affect my relationship karma. and soon.

kontroll

2005-04-27T21:46:00.000-07:00

a year ago i would say that i went to a movie every other week by myself, without a specific time or agenda, except movie-watching. in addition to going with friends and family to the theater, and dvds and ifc and sundance. but with the change of job last summer and new people entering my life i fell out of the habit.
lately i've taken to going to a film here and there solo. last week i saw sin city, for a second time, in the middle of my day off. because i felt like it. not as intense and gorgeous the second time around, but with digital projection and 4 other people in the theater, i had myself a good viewing experience free from distraction.
how often do we do things because we "feel like it"?
the past six months i can't say i felt like doing much more than sleeping and watching television. a sure sign of depression, or lack of motivation. or both. things that make me happy aren't replicable, nor are they predictable. and though i know that being alone is not the end of the world, i cannot help but feel that absense in my life.
so i go and see a foreign film today, kontroll. hungarian. shot entirely in the underground train system. a dark, lyrical journey spotted with humor, friendship, death, and hope.
hope is like my crack.
all the bullshit i spew about the rottenness of certain individuals, and my bad luck with boys, barely obscure my undying romanticism. i love the idea of being in love. i love watching it in movies. i love hearing it in songs. i love hoping that i will find love. i love hoping that everyone i love will find someone. i can't help but hope.
so, i leave the village east cinema, walk down 2nd ave, and the sun breaks through the blooming trees on 10th street and stuyvesant. here comes hope, projecting pink every which way, cracking a smile across my face. i'm no longer haunted by the vision of the main character from "kontroll" bleeding from multiple wounds on his head, dried blood caking along his lip and temple for the second hour of the film. no. that image dissolves as i walk through astor place, past the space where the cube once was (it's being cleaned, don't fret pets:), and coast down to broadway in my boston stride. the sun had moved behind all the nyu buildings to washington square park, so i follow my hope there. and perch on a bench by the playground. as i slide my neat little journal out of my bag i inhale heartily, and fill my nostrils with eau du dog urine. half an hour later i shut the journal, secure it with the attached elastic band, to the scent of cherry blossoms. somehow this is spring in new york for me, sunlight through newly green trees, dog urine and cherry blooms, clumsily captured in my scribble book.
i don't feel better today exactly.
but i have hope that tomorrow, when i wake up...
erica
p.s. new tuesday musical acquisitions that provided the soundtrack for my day:
the handsome boy modeling school- white people
eels- blinking lights and other revelations
amerie- touch
the futureheads- the futureheads

i play triangle

2005-04-24T21:47:00.000-07:00

so i went to the shins show at webster hall tonight, and though i am exhaustified after a day at work and standing for a rock concert... i must blog.
the opening band, the brunettes, are 7 new zealanders who aim to channel belle and sebastian, but miss and hit senior band geeks doing an indie rock final project. lots of instruments on stage. lots. 24 was the count by jon, my friend chris' roommate who tagged along to the show. and that's all i'll say about that. but the brunettes were interesting indeed, one side of the stage looked like a normal rock and roll band, skinny hot lead singer/guitarist, scruffy bass player, cute drummer tucked into the corner. and then there was the hot girl in hot pants behind a keyboard in the middle bridging the gap. and the other side of the stage, stage left to be specific, was covered in grown up band geeks. seriously, seriously, i could barely look at this one girl as she hopped literally from playing triangle to cello to shaker egg to saxophone. lots of hand clapping and lalala's and oh whoa whoa's and not too profound lyrics. so the new york press will love it.
i cannot get over james mercer's voice. can not. the control and clarity and accuracy. better than the album because of the live dynamics in delivery, holy shit he can sing. i didn't sing along most of the time because i didn't want to drown out the sound of his gorgeous voice. the rest of the band was more animated, but fuck if that doesn't make you want to take voice lessons and be a well-trained rock and roll singer. yeah, man. the acoustic stuff was the best because i could hear other people singing along, and that's cool even when it's not my favorite song.
i ran into some friends of a friend, which never happens to me at shows, but i knew would happen at this one, because it was in the village and not williamsburg, and so trendy a band that someone i know must be going too... lisa was nice to me, but it's always awkward for me when the degree of separation isn't present to provide comfort and connection. had teisha been there conversation wouldn't have been different, but i might not have felt so awkward at times, and then tash would have been there, so more fun could have been had.
jesus, is that a band tshirt in my mom purse? whoa i spent too much money tonight.
blog... check!
bed... in progress...
=boots

a lot like crack

2005-04-22T22:07:00.000-07:00

this is what allison and i have dubbed the cold turd of a movie that is "a lot like love."
she said the moment the first preview for this piece was shown that she planned on watching it the day it came out.
i didn't know then that i was signed up to see it, but somehow i'm ok with that. i'm ok with seeing ashton try to act, because frankly it's better than sitting at home avoiding west wing reruns on bravo.
there is just something about amanda peet that pisses the fuck out of me!
maybe it's her not-so-cute face.
maybe it's her not-so-funny delivery.
maybe it's her i-suck-in-movies quality.
i don't know!

the first thing i said as i left the theater was:
"if i'm not making a living in ten years from making films, i'm going to kill myself!"
for the betterment of mankind
for the betterment of the romantic comedy
for the betterment of my own movie-watching

crazy thing is, ashton wasn't so bad. the whole production around him was uninspired and a retread, but he's charismatic and at times almost subtle. until a flash of kelso squeaks out, but that's ok with me, i'd rather that than have him talk about the red string on his wrist that cost $100,000 to remove digitally from the remake of guess who's coming to dinner. as haddassah gross says "kablahblah!"

and i'm out of stupid shit to say about the future number one movie in america.
oh! except for the fact that kumar was in it, and underutilized, as were elton from clueless and carmen from the Lword.

i've gotta find some advil for this sinus headache, damn you barometric pressure!
and then i'm out,
=boots

census dracula

2005-04-20T10:57:00.000-07:00

yeah, so i just stood in my entryway for half an hour answering a census worker's survey.
and there are holes in my sweatpants, and my hair is very unwashed, and i'm not wearing a bra.
nice impression to make on the pair of government workers trapsing about astoria. but are they really trapsing? how would one go about trapsing? i bet that lady could easily trapse.

it's supposed to be like a babillion degrees today.
i refuse to leave the apartment at the height of the day.
yes, i am a vampire. so fish belly white that my skin will crisp like bacon upon exposure to the rays of the sun. but that's fun too. crispy fried erica sandwich. of course i'd be a sandwich. i wouldn't be a salad, or a pot pie. nope. a sammich.

big show to go to this weekend. the shins. oh yes indeedy-do! i've gotta pick out the perfect hipster outfit, and then wear the same jeans and tshirt and sweatshirt i've been wearing to shows lately. it pisses me off when i see girls all dolled up for a rock show. the lead singer can't see you sweetie! and neither can the bass player. i think i put on deodorant before last weekend's show. one might say it's jealousy that i hate on those girls at shows, but it's freaking williamsburg, and i can't get over how bad these people look when they're trying so hard and spending so much money. yet deep down i wish i were a trustafarian too, working at an artsy fartsy job, making films, wearing designer clothes, drinking pbr because it's en vogue. no i don't, i hate those people! what am i talking about? who wants to be a broke waiter living in a part of a borough that is so trendy it's lame again? everyone knows that williamsburg is over, and i only went to hear the rockrock music. besides there's no beergarden there. beer + outside + me = happy fun time.
we went to the beergarden last night, and played some dominos. the weather is almost too gorgeous, i fear for the summer, and my death from sunlight, because, afterall, i am an albino vampire.

peas
=white girl boots

drunk baby

2005-04-18T21:08:00.000-07:00

http://flickr.com/photos/45858834@N00/9859829/

yeah, that's me.
at grandpa's pool.
i miss those blue chairs that made you fall over.
and the little red bugs that crawled all over the deck.
such a sign of what was to come...

the library

2005-04-18T17:20:00.000-07:00

apparently more people than just skirt call barnes and noble THE LIBRARY.
you go there
you find a book
you sit and read the whole freaking thing
maybe you look at another book
and read half of it
then walk out of the place
full of words
and your wallet unaffected

but yesterday we bought books. well, i bought book, she bought books.
it's still the library though. where you browse and read whole magazines standing up. where you avoid the rain. where you kill an hour easily while you wait for your date. or kill an hour with your date waiting for the start time of your movie. very handy place the barnes and noble library for the people of new york. especially the one on union square. beats spending another 20 bucks on panties at the gap or victoria's secret. panties panties panties. some people hate that word. i bet you could find a book only about panties at the library, oh wait! i saw one yesterday!

the ipod is still mad at the ibook. but the ibook loves the ipod enough to give it power. so i still love the ibook because it surfs the webnetspace and provides my portable music device with batteryjuice. batteryjuice!

i think it's wrong that i feel like going to bed at 8:30pm. wrong like the fact that jim j bullock was on the list of reservations at the restaurant tonight. that's neither here nor there... but i must remember to pray that jim the server gets cast in karate kid: the musical. wax on wax off, sweep the leg, and pas de boure, and reach and jazz hands and fancy crane kick, and scene!

=das boots

ya gotta love flashdance!

2005-04-17T22:24:00.000-07:00

sunday nights about 2 months ago were all about the L word. then skirt went to austin, and i saw a whole lotta movies. but now skirt's back, and in full effect, with the showtime on mom and dad's cable tv too.
so this sunday night was a return to the watching of the lesbian melodrama soap operatic wonderfulness.
i don't know if i have ever seen a television program be so honest and absurd simultaneously.
the clothing, the apartments, the jobs, the hairstyles... it's like "friends", except they're all depressed chicks in LA. nobody dresses like jenny, and if there is some pixie in los angeles skipping about writing bad prose dressed like that nutter, the world is a far stranger place than i thought. they seem to be at that cafe place a whole bunch too, and never working. and if they're not working they're making out or fucking eachother. like a lesbian melrose place friends hybrid. sure.
but do you know what my favorite thing about all the women on the L word is? they crazy. no, seriously. they CRAZY! makes me feel somewhat sane to watch these grown women fuck their lives up one week, put it back together another week, or at least try, and then fuck it right back up the next week. the acting is so phenomenal too. jennifer beals was fucking awesome tonight. i believe that she wants to be the second mommy to tina's unborn child, and that she enjoys fucking a pregnant lady. bravo flashdance, bravo. c'mon... you gotta love flashdance!

anywho-
my ibook won't acknowledge my ipod.
so i'm going to attach it to my idon'tgiveacrapaslongasicanstilllistentomusiconthefuckingthing
am i still really awake?
noooooo...

there must be something more important in the world today than a tv show and my cracked out computer, like who's the new pope? yeah, no, that's not as exciting as my purchase of a book today. i'm literate, whoo hoo!
=boots

C is for cookie and...?

2005-04-14T12:38:00.000-07:00

and apparently collard greens, chard, carrots, cucumbers, cherries...
cookie monster has to incorporate fruits and vegetables into his diet, and speaking as a professional, that's bull shuck!
what child wants their cuddly sugar junkie peddling good eating habits at them?
i will buy dvds of the old cookie monster and show them to my kids when i finally grow up and have some, because that's no way to be. don't bastardize cookie. next thing you know they'll be making oscar all happy and neat since he went on zoloft.
come on plaza sesamo!
seriously.

only fits a world where that britney creature is spawning.
let her mutant child watch bastard atkins cookie monster.
and i'll eat cake.
because i am the cheffy boots!

The Ex-Boyfriend Fairy

2005-04-13T01:06:00.000-07:00

last night i went to apt with skirt and got my dance on. damn, even when i write i sound soooo white! any hooters, it's fairly amazing to me how the lounge space and the dance space are conversely proportional. spacious upstairs lounge. cramped bar/dance area. makes my brain hurt just thinking about it. i always forget how much i love dancing until i'm home, with tired feet, and ringing ears... pretty much the same feeling i have after going to a show. but skirt had a point, a little mainstream hiphop interspersed with the music they did play would have been better. knowing the lyrics, or the arc of the song, shit, that is so engaging. someone nods to you when you mouthe the same words, or it's your absolute favorite song, or it's an old track that brings you back, and your night is made. i don't have anything musical like that for last night. all the sound downstairs is compressed into a capsule of non-descript hip hop in my head. cool sounds, surely, but not as memorable as the joke i made within 5 minutes of walking into the club. skirt was talking about her friend breaking up, and her pal chris said that it should be handled like a loose tooth. and i followed that logic with "yeah, she should tie one end of a string to him, and the other end to the front door, then slam him outside and the ex-boyfriend fairy will whisk him away in the middle of the night as she sleeps." funniest thing i've ever said according to skirt. that and "it's an eyeliner... it's also a LIPLINER!" those astoria girls and their makeup application, what are they thinking?
i go dance to the hip hop and come up with the ex-boyfriend fairy. must have been something i drank. oh whiskey sour, my beverage of choice, you bastardization of scotch, i love your maraschino cherry so!
- da boots

c-c-c-cinnamon lips

2005-04-11T23:04:00.000-07:00

ah, this past week has been chock-a-block full o'fun and games. i think today was the first time in 7 days that i had the opportunity to sit down on the couch in the apartment in queens and have some quality time with mr. television set. oh, mr. set, you're the greatest!
so, erica, what did you do these past 7 days that had you too busy to bond with teevee? well, erica, i'm glad you asked, because...
-i saw my family.
-i saw a rock and roll show.
-i saw a movie.

the beantown: hung out with the jjjjjj tuesday and wednesday nights. my sister from another mother is the best thing since sliced bread and the teevee. by midnight wednesday we were eating indian food in a restaurant under construction with two of her friends and my brother, a little drunk, but yeah samosas! mom gave me a belated easter basket. full of 3 dvds and a chocolate bunny. i played my da the futureheads' cover of "hounds of love" and he actually liked it. i then played him more adventurous by rilo kiley and he liked that too. i miss my cute chubby daddy. thursday at dinner grandma did not dissappoint, with her rousing renditions of "oh susana!" and "it's a long way to tipperary!", complete with cane tapping percussive accompaniment. though auntie doss was my favorite person this trip home to boston, because we double-teamed grandma with our singing along and general encouragement of song instead of chit-chat. we were in stiches, vodka drink in one hand, the other smacking a knee along with grandma's cane rhythm, "it's a long way to tipperary! it's a long way to go!" i love my family, and the dog too. guinness the wonder stealth dog, apparently he keeps looking for me in the house, and i left 4 days ago. he's so smaht!

the rock music: after the knicks lost friday night... i had a chicken sandwich and went to bed, hoping that the okgo show in brooklyn would take over as highlight of my weekend. well, not my weekend, but what the rest of the world calls "the weekend." digression aside, a friend drove me to north six and partook of the rock and roll music in hipster-trendoid-ville. army of me and the sun opened for okgo, and were almost better than the chi-town lads. but not quite. noone can outdo an acappella rendition of a valjean/javert duet from les miz, and a choreographed lip-synched all boy dance number as a closer. and damn if that lead singer isn't delicious. swinging his hair around, tossing sweat onto the crowd. hot. and they were all swankily dressed, dress shirts, ties, vests, jackets. like grungey glam. kinda hot. all buttoned up with sideburns...

das film: fever pitch is a cute movie. go see it. because it's about boston, and drew barrymore has my hair, and even if he is a crackhead jimmy fallon is a funny dude.
what else do i have to say?
oh yeah, beck's new album is fantastique. as is the new kings of leon. i'm supposed to go see ambulance ltd at north six this weekend, and have noone to drag along. maybe i'll hang out in front hoping some unwashed scraggily haired williamsburg hipster boy will buy the extra ticket off of me and then make out with me in the bathroom. mmmm... or not.
=boots

mmmmmmmovies?

2005-04-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

over the past month i have seen:
head on
be cool
don’t move
the jacket
melinda and melinda
ballad of jack and rose
the upside of anger
sin city
robots
hitch
bride and prejudice

i go to movies. i go to films. is there a difference? yes, yes there is. POPCORN. if i can’t bring myself to eat food during a viewing experience i am most likely watching a film. reasons?

1) the sound level, i don’t want to disturb those around me because it’s distracting to them to hear the crinkle of candy wrappers and chomping of popcorn.

2) i am too engulfed in the film, thus it doesn’t occur to me to eat, whether i purchased the snacks or not, i have no impulse to munch.

3) i am too disgusted and disturbed to eat, not necessarily gore incites this, most likely it is some mind-fucking film that makes eating nauseating and absurd.

4) compound of all above 3 reasons. movies (and their subcategory of flicks) not only allow for snacking and popcorning, but invite and encourage eating.

how?
a) the sound level, it is so loud in the theater any rustling is drowned out by dolby.
b) big blockbuster= big snacks, big soda, big popcorn, big bag o’ candy, it’s part of the fine print on the back of your ticket.
c) scenes with food and eating and sex and explosions and action are all paced and edited to coincide with the rhythm of chewing and sipping.
d) there isn’t enough going on in the movie to fully entertain me, i need more stimulation. exception: soda doesn’t count, unless i don’t drink it. it’s like the control substance.

of the above motion pictures, which are films and which are movies, and which are snobby films and which are flicks? these two subcategories are extreme versions of their parent categories.

head on- near snobby film, i think i tried to eat during it, but it was so disturbing and engrossing and worth investing my attention into, that i ended up not finishing my wrap sandwich dinner.

be cool- movie, yeah, there was a little bit i liked, but it was too predictable to even be a good flick.

don’t move- film, couldn’t eat, it was too much of a mind fuck. and damn if they didn't make penelope cruz so ugly, had i any desire to eat my hunger would have been killed by the desire to wash her face and comb her hair.

the jacket- film, i had a soda, but that doesn’t count, adrien brody makes me thirsty. and the mere presence of jennifer jason leigh with glasses and stringy hair automatically qualifies it as an indie.

melinda and melinda- movie, it wasn’t good enough to be a film, and i had to over-laugh to distract myself from the fact that my chai and peanut butter cups ran out far too quickly. but will ferrell as hobie... tiddlywinks! i'll never think of the hamptons the same way again.

ballad of jack and rose- movie because i didn’t like it enough to treat it like a snobby film, and i ate a whole bunch of food, but maybe losing all that attention to the hot dog detracted from my enjoyment, hmmmm. i digress. daniel day-lewis just kept smoking, and being fantastic. too bad that little girl was horrible as his daughter.

the upside of anger- film, because the only thing i could have enjoyed whilst watching would have been a beer instead of a soda. or a grey goose gimlet. joan allen was pounding down those vodka drinks, man. but not in the cute and endearing kitty foreman way like my mom.

sin city- snobbby flick, so violent, visually stunning, and painstakingly executed that it’s a snobby film, but so fun and entertaining that i could have eaten popcorn if i had some at my disposal. and if skirt wasn't crouched in a ball hiding her eyes. i need to see that one again, fo sho.

robots- movie. comedies are punctuated by knee slaps and twizzlers being waved in the air. simple fact.

hitch- such a flick that it’ll be fought over by cable companies to have it aired pumped full of commercials. the epitome of a popcorn romantic comedy.

bride and prejudice- a bollywood flick, fun, but quirky enough that it’s not just a movie, though it’s far from being a film, too marketable somewhere to be a film.

playlist

2005-04-03T11:45:00.000-07:00

in honor of the april showers and the lingering music from my st. paddy's day celebration, here's moody music with some micks thrown into the mix:
next exit- interpol
day old blues- kings of leon
science vs. romance- rilo kiley
missing- beck
death of an interior decorator- death cab for cutie
breakdown- jack johnson
passing by- zero 7
mine's not a high horse- the shins
black tambourine- beck
coming second- elbow
daffodil lament- the cranberries
soft- kings of leon
lonelily- damien rice
misread- kings of convenience
and it stoned me- van morrison
quelqu'un m'a dit- carla bruni
sugar pill- ambulance ltd
neighborhood #4 (kettles)- the arcade fire
i've never been in love before- chet baker
sullen girl- fiona apple
twilight- elliot smith
suffer in silence- the frames
bang bang (my baby shot me down)- nancy sinatra
brand new colony- the postal service
spectacular views- rilo kiley

-le cheffy boots

Oh Holy Foley

2005-03-30T11:40:00.000-08:00

My grandmother sings at inopportune moments.
Christmas Eve dinner, appetizers barely lingering on our tastebuds, Grandma grabs my hand. “Noel, noel.... noel noel...” and I can’t help but harmonize with the matriarch of our family, “... born is the King of Israel.” Now it’s time for some seafood paella!
Apparently my uncle Kevin feels that Jingle Bells isn’t appropriate at St. Patrick’s Day dinner. Corned beef and cabbage and dashing through the snow, come on, that totally works. But he felt embarassed, and reached out to hold her hand every time a tune would come from her lips instead of a sentence.
There is many a moment that I would rather sing than speak. Those words in songs written by others don’t take much but reiteration, there is no genesis of speech, no pressure to make sense, to compose coherent thought. Senility is not an excuse for a preference for song, but the action on the impulse to sing may be a sign of Grandma’s mind going.
Next week Mom has arranged for the family to assemble at the house in Jamaica Plain. Grandma will be there, and when she sings, I will join her. I won’t touch her hand and shake my head, because something so sweet and joyful as christmas carols can’t be controlled. Singing should be encouraged, supported, enjoyed, appreciated. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, oh what fun it is to ride in a... what was I about to say?