Scrapple

September 30, 2009

So I’m back to being unemployed. It ain’t so bad, really, but I’ve been unemployed before, and I know the system… I know how to manage the time, fill the void, and goddamnit, it’s most simple terms: keep busy.

I’ve become a little more dedicated to the smaller projects in my arsenal. My alarm clock goes off at 9:30 every morning and I do wake up. (I try to be out of bed by 10.) Maintaining focus and drive is crucial.

Lately, I’ve been working on art. I’ve been dating. I’ve been keeping up with friends a bit better. I’ve been excavating my room, figuring out how my cell phone ACTUALLY works, looking into galleries to submit to, and actually doing my laundry myself (it’s been awhile, but when there’s no income, I can’t justify dropping it off…)

With this “work,” however, comes a shadow of immaturity. I’ve been drinking more (mostly on the cheap or whatever is left in the fridge.) I’ve been staying up later and keeping up with my DVR a bit better than I did when I was unemployed. I haven’t baked or cooked in awhile (ramen is the extent of the stove use at this juncture.) I’ll even justify taking a few hours to do nothing: lie out in the park and stare up at the warped gray sky (figure out if you’re gonna be sunny or rainy, New York fall!)

In other news, I have mixed feelings here and there. How’s that for vague?

Helping Out A Friend

September 23, 2009

Know someone that likes Lost? Pass it on…

http://loststanzas.tumblr.com/

Fall Movies I’d Like to See:

September 20, 2009

Up in the Air
I think George Clooney was an interesting choice, but it gave off a little bit of a fight clubby voice-overy feeling that made me.

The Maid
There’s something really awkward inside of me that really likes the reality that this film presents.

Blind Date
Stanley Tucci is probably my third favorite actor of all time. Patricia Clarkson, well, she’s just a genius.
This movie has the potential to be a really sweet moment, or a horrifyingly depressing speck of dust on a reel. That sounds horrible, but it’s trueee.

Brief Interviews with Hideous Men
Alright, so you’re going to have to rip your brain into two to separate the book from the movie, but this looks somewhat entertaining. And the cast is pretty solid.

The Men Who Stare at Goats
Uh, yep.

The September Issue
Oh. My. God. Yes. Finally. Thank you. This is going to be like that Louis Vuitton Documentary that came out years ago. Humanized Marc Jacobs, who is obviously not human. Bananas.

Ong Bak 2
Don’t laugh. Tony Jaa is a baller.

Oh, and if someone could explain to me who was in charge of Paula Abdul’s wig at the VH1 Divas show? It may be the cheapest piece of synthetic hair I’ve ever seen. Also, when she almost fell off the stage I almost peed my pants.

Lines in the Dirt

September 20, 2009

I was recently asked not to blog about something. I’ll be the first to admit, yeah, I probably would have blogged about it. It’s a life changing moment – a dot on my timeline – but out of respect for those involved, as I usually take into consideration when I write, I won’t. But it brought a few things into perspective:

a. everyone actually reads my blog? is it broadcasting in times square? why am I only getting about 24 hits every day then…

b. perhaps i should choose my words more carefully. every day i’ve noticed that more and more people seem to misconstrue things i say, write, or try to express. It’s frustrating, to a certain degree, that what I say isn’t understood. It’s like being a baby – I’m crying but nobody knows what I want.

c. lately I’ve been writing very minimally. what will happen is I’ll start writing, I’ll delete it, start again, delete it, start again, delete it… the cycle repeats itself until I get frustrated and have to just step away… do something else. I recently started carrying around my tape recorder in hopes of catching some words, some conversation, some moment, that will re-inspire me. will remind me why i studied writing in the first place.

and it’s funny, really, because right before I went home, I had a really crucial moment that I’ve been itching to write about for weeks. i just can’t verbalize it… i think it’s because i care too much.

I just want to crawl under my big green comforter with you and laugh until we both pass out in warm fog… one window was slammed shut while I was home and such a beautiful one opened. I can’t wait to crawl through and see the other side.

“Good Luck with Love”

September 19, 2009

i still can’t write. i’m sorry.

Let it Rain

September 14, 2009

Watching a catastrophe is frighteningly consuming. In that moment, you don’t really remember what else is going on. What you’re supposed to be doing. To put your laundry in the dryer. Buy your groceries. Wash your hair.

Last week I was pretty depressed. I couldn’t do much of anything and everything I used to love felt dead. My creative source dried up and I lost my muse. I lost most will to move forward with projects or give attention to new ideas. I was so lost, and nobody was in a place to find me.

And then I adopted some houseguests. Unexpected ones at that… late Friday afternoon I got a text asking if my house was free to crash at, and I let them, thinking a night wouldn’t be too high maintenance. We’d go out, have some drinks, party a bit… maybe finally getting out of the house is something I needed.

Yet when they arrived, catastrophe had struck. The energy was shifted. The smiles I expected were forced and almost sarcastic to cover up pain and suffering. So I watched and absorbed and tried to listen and felt like my true self was just curling up inside of me and my priority was to fix this to the best of my ability. Be the best friend to someone I can be. Give and expect nothing in return. I consumed myself with someone else’s problem, and seemed to forget my own…

… until today.

I woke up this morning wondering what I was doing. How I can’t accomplish everything I want. How nobody else really knows what I want or how to give it to me. Who is going to be there when I need to crash on the couch? Who is going to give and expect nothing? I feel like I have placed myself in a position where I am almost always putting others before myself, and suddenly I’m poor… financially and emotionally. I am unable to recognize and approach my own problems. I am incapable of caring. My own personal catastrophe… all I can do is sit back, watch in awe, and soak up the pain all over again.

It splashes in to puddles on the sidewalk and seeps in through the soles of my shoes.

The Price

September 9, 2009

I seem to have lost my direction.

Anyone who has traveled with me (anywhere, this includes to the grocery store down the street) knows that I have next to no sense of direction. Even in Manhattan, where the odd avenues all go north and the even ones all go south, I couldn’t tell you what was east or west until I can see the water.

So now, not only am I a hot mess when it comes to physically finding my way, but mentally, I’ve totally trapped myself in a box. It’s not because of lack of concentration or interest, it’s that every goal, every expectation, and everything I held actual value in kind of blew up in my face. I’m not sure what my purpose is anymore. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing.

Sure, when I got to New York last January I faced the same issue. What am I going to do? Where will my career take me? Where am I supposed to be? Am I doing this right? All I can do is ask questions and run in circles hoping I’ll catch my tail eventually. I haven’t felt this lost in a long while.

I’m lost because of the men in my life: those who I had such high expectations for and let me down, and those who are so fleeting I don’t want to count or depend on. I’m lost because of my job: am I supposed to be somewhere that doesn’t develop my skill or have promotion in the future. I’m lost because of my friends: those who recognize how trapped in my own skull I am and those who let me roll along on my merry way. I’m lost because of art, writing, and music: I haven’t done anything artistic in months and my writing has clearly fallen off the bandwagon and music, goddamnit, I can’t even listen to music without having some serious gut-wrenching reaction.

I’ve thrown myself into these little projects. Dedicated myself to “friends” I shouldn’t be giving time to. Killing time.

I lack inspiration in it’s purest form and I don’t know where to find it again. This is simply writers block that obstructs my entire worldview.

fanfuckingtastic.

So I leave you with the only song that might really say what I mean, and for that matter, it’s in another language.

Amadou & Mariam – “Sabali”
Anw na ku yé foli de yé.
Anw duya yé tolo kê yoro yé.
Anw bo kê ko yan.
Anw bo kê ko yan.
Djama!
Sabali! Sabali! Sabali yonkontê.
Sabali! Sabali! Sabali kayi.

Ni kêra môgô fê sabali yonkontê.
Ni kêra tiè fê sabali yonkontê.
Ni kêra Mousso fê Sabali yonkontê.
Wo! ouh! Wo! sabali, sabali, sabali kagni.

Cherie, je m’adresse à toi.
Avec toi, cherie la vie est belle.

Avec toi, cherie,
Ça c’est pour la vie.

Cherie, je te fais un gros bisou.
Je te fais un gros bisou.
Je t’embrasse fort.

Bye-bye!