entropy reigns in the celestial city...

ew, i can tell i am going to hate blogger already. oh well. suppose i just have to get used to it. there's just so much... white everywhere. i soooo prefer the black on white thing. (yes i know theres a black template but friend has it and fuck, i'm just trying to be polite here.)

anyway, i miss blogging so hence - i am back. no elaborate explanation of my absence will be given other then where it comes up naturally (and i bet it will come up, you think??!) i don't know... if you want to know the rest, i only go to two bars in the city - spain and the redhead. so ask!

(yeah, okay, so i've been to like 3 new bars. i should diversify. but i hate bars! they just aint my thing. sorry!!) i have had some funny shenanigans all the same. and my first celebrity sighting!!! isn't that the kind of shit one blogs about? the best part is that it was j. alexander from ANTM. (yes, i should be beaten from using that acronym. i understand perfectly.) and that bitch noticed me first! ha!!! he was checking me out. (i am telling you, i found the very best vintage winter coat this season. but so many drunken people harass me because of it... oh, did i say people?? i meant phalluses. no vaginas have ever harassed me, thanks. well... flirting in a bar setting is totally different, right?)

um... yes. like you may notice from the title i have been listening to a little kelley polar these days. it is such delight to be super into music again! i have certainly been indulging on the mp4s. it's my sole luxury... and it's kind of like crack to me. i feel like i'm addicted to beats, that i must have them in new and interesting combinations. all the time! like this kelley polar shit - who would have known that disco emo-tronica would have grown on me so much? okay, wellllll... i guess it's pretty obvious, really. hmmm. sigh. and i won't even discuss my tragic obsession with the junior boys... i'll be kind enough to spare you that kind of thing... (until the next entry). but i will leave you with this: one of them listened to coil growing up! you're dying, I KNOW! well, calm down friend, there's enough junior boys for everyone...

you should just hear what i am wearing to their dj set. man, nothing like a concert to rationalize buying completely useless pieces of clothing. i feel gross because part of it is an american apparel dress, and not that i don't love their vertically integrated manufacturing and all that, but american apparel is sooo williamsburg. and i roll deep in bushwick, son! i could be shot wearing american apparel. (no, not really, i kid, i kid, but i loved that partygoers to my housewarming who took the L were treated to the vision that is the burned out white SUV in the parking lot of one of the bushwick houses. that shit is like, frizzle-fried. and there is glass from the windows blowing out and char-blackened fiberglass everywhere around it. and i use the present tense because it still is there... it's been like two weeks now. SO PEOPLE, IT'S NOT MY FAULT! I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAKE THE DAMN L TRAIN. ) [this reminds me of a funny story: to make me feel better about my neighborhood after one bad night, friend and i came up with my bushwick super-hero persona. i can summon rats at will and command the trash to do my bidding. i also can banish villains to wake up in canarsie.* my death strike involves uttering postmodern tautological statements and making evildoers heads explode. (i am really pretty lame, and am embarrassed that i'm sharing this. no, i take that back. i am definitely lame. )] okay, what was my point? oh right - i'm wearing silver lame to the junior boys. that was my point.

and, i officially began writing my thesis today. SO FUCK YEAH! (and fuck me.) oh lord, what have i done??? i feel like i've created a monster. i keep being haunted by fantastically small moments of brilliance sandwiched between a lot of hemming and hawing and thinking, "no one in the fucking world gives a damn about this shit but me. really. so...um?") do i really want to be an analyst? i just find so much of it to be... bullshit. (man, i have got a saucy mouth tonight!) well, a lot of psychoanalysis is complete bullshit, you'd say back, everyone knows that. and then i would agree with you emphatically.

* canarsie is the last stop on the easternmost end of the L train line. oftimes when hip things partying in the great unknowns of northern brooklyn get a little too drunk and drowsy on the long ride back to mahattan they wake up and find themselves there... and then they have to ride all the way back into manhattan and try not to fall asleep again...