bad bad bad

I'm sitting in my bed woozy and kind of light headed

my mother my friend liz and myself split two bottles of wine between us tonight

made a cake

complained about men

about life

shared stories about wanting children.

I've never felt more like a women.

So strange

I haven't blogged in a while i feel. Maybe its only been a few days. I don't know if i have the ability to properly write what's in my head currently. I probably shouldn't try. I should probably close my computer, and write what I want to write in my Journal. My private, safe journal. But no. I'm too lazy and the alcohol is making me not care who reads this. that's bad. Anyone could stumble across my little website, a place for me to gripe and complain about nothing worth complaining about.

I set off a metal detector today. My screws in my leg set it off. it was at TJ Maxx. I had to explain to the sales clerk that I had metal in my body and no, i was not stealing anything. I am getting on a plane in 5 days. I will set off the alarms at the airport and I hope that I do not get strip searched like my mother says I will.

goodnight I need to get off of this website before I write down what I'm thinking.

I do not need to put in words what is in my head, its hard enough to think it.

Oh bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad

ugh.

I am sitting in my room. I just got stung by a bee. i've never been stung. I'm bored. I hate blogging when i'm bored because generally the blog just turns out to be boring. Sorry. It's summer. I will regret being boring later. I know this. I just can't help it. 

I wish Molly wasn't in Georgia

I wish my friends didn't work as much

I wish I wasn't such so anxious

I wish I wasn't so mean

I wish I wasn't so rude without knowing I'm being so rude

I wish I wasn't so paranoid 

I wish the Bee who stung me would get out of my room because it's making me nervous

I wish that I could rewind to last year this time, just for a week or so

so i could slip into my old skin, enjoy it and slip back, ignoring all the time in between.

I wish I could get a plan together to sort out what I need to do

I need to do so much but I am so lazy I can't seem to make myself get out of bed and enjoy the day. Knee surgery makes you lazy I guess. 

 

By the way 

I AM AN IDIOT 

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckdamndamndamndfuckfuckfuck

FUCK

FUCKFUCKFUCKDAMNSHITCOCKFUCKING SHIT

i hurt

OWWWWWWWWWWW

Lets see. 

got back from a weekend trip to Harrisburg a few hours ago. We went to a Gay pride festival, walked around in a hazy daze, popped bubbles, drank some wine and watched Tiffany sing her one hit wonder. (I think we're alone now).  wow. I just googled "I think were"... Just those three words to see if it'd come up... and it did, as the first possible pick too. Wow Tiffany went down hill.  I wonder how it would feel to sing under a tent at Harrisburg gay pride festival after being that famous. Probably Pretty shitty. 

I took 600 photographs today. 

Jesus Christ.  I didn't take ANY on my birthday.

My birthday was fun though. weird. fun. weirdly fun. 

I miss the little days

Today I was reminded for some reason of Ireland. And Childhood. Maybe its the eve of my 20th birthday and I'm feeling like an old fart already. Maybe its all my orthopedic nonsense lying around after my surgery that's making me feel so old. Either way I am staring to look back on my littlest years with i guess a tinge of jealousy which makes no sense.... I am jealous for little me. I want to shrink and grow younger and be back in Ireland playing pretend and letting snails crawl up and down my arms. (yes. I did that HEY I had no friends a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do in remote Bog land ). I want to play the tin whistle for Mrs. Brown the Donkey. And make little forts for stuffed animals, and dig up the clay and make blobby sculptures that become presents for the faeries. And get dirty. really really dirty. And sleep on a rickety rope bed. And read. and feel pure extasy with the promise of a bar of chocolate.

Maybe memory makes these things out to be better than they were at the time, or maybe I couldn't yet appreciate what I had while I had it. Maybe I still can't appreciate what I have. Whatever this is, I was thinking about my little years.

Which led me to the movie the Secret of Roan Inish.
A big childhood favorite.
I remember seeing it for the first time at a velvet covered cinema in New York when I was about 8. When the credits came up, we walked out and walked right into a group of old women convinced I was the little girl in the movie. This was probably after a summer in Ireland, for I remember I had a fairly strong accent at that time. And long blond hair. I could see the resemblance I suppose. It has been my only tie to a "celebrity" lookalike, and I don't think the movie is famous enough to really call the actress in it a celebrity. Anyway, my only vain claim to fame.

Good movie, if you haven't seen it, see it.

Norah and I about to get in trouble. (above)

poop goblin costume. Haven't yet lived that down.

cookies

for Tommy's birthday (the 24th )

I set out with good intentions.

I decided to make pretty cookies with food dye and sprinkles and lots of happy thoughts

Unfortunately this birthday package failed.

the cookies were far too bright

attracting the attention of dogs and drunken human fools.

I made more.... but may have overdone it with the blue food dye.

they look more like cat vomit than cookies.

at least I know a baking career is out

sorry tommy

Today I'm going on a bike ride to somewhere

I woke up after 4 hours of sleep and feel a strong need to get out of the house

no one is awake

I don't know where I want to go or what I want to do

so I will turn off my phone

and bike until I end up somewhere that feels like a proper destination.

then turn around and come home.

an afterthought

BALLOONZ

what we need is some balloon conscious behavior around here.

good:

Bad:

balloons are pretty.

But eventually they find themselves floating in the Atlantic Ocean

READY TO KILL FISHEEZ AND DOLPHINZ

or at least thats what I learned in 6th grade.

* bows head ... moment of silence*

R.I.P DOLPHINS

.............

BUT IN A SIMILAR YET COMPLETELY UNRELATED THOUGHT

... ITS MY BIRTHDAYBIRTHDAYBIRTHDAY SOON.

and nothing says birthdaybirthdaybirthday like BALLOOOONS

That's all folks.

...

current mood:

Soppy... avoid reading.

returning to California.

(August 3rd)

Last time I left for the west coast it was to escape. I'm not even sure what I was escaping from I left a wonderland full of good people and happy thoughts.

And sunshine.

And working legs.

And nudity.

And alcohol.

lots of it.

and empty houses.

and people with a lot of love and good energy

now

My bedroom is bare and my old stuffed animals

are collecting dust and mice shit

up in the attic.

the skies are darker, it rains a lot. And lightning. I don't remember lighting last summer. Maybe I just ignored it.

Maybe I'm just a pessimist

anyway

I woke up at 12:40pm today. I need my mental alarm clock back.

Maybe summers are different in College.

being home is odd.

it feels odd to be here, here is so different

Which brings me back to California. I used it to escape last time I left the east, and maybe I'm just ready to run away again.

running away from what?

I don't know

jack shit.

My head is

its up in the clouds.

mm

yum.

.... I turned around and forgot I had written the above. 

TOMORROW IS GOING TO BE SHIT. 

blogging 101

a few things I've learned.

1. Drink coffee before you have time to think in the morning.

2. No coffee= remaining in bed all day and eating copious amounts of sugar in an effort to become energized.

3. Sugary foods are shit. except lollipops, lollipops are always good.

4.If possible, do not start a blog while on high doses of narcotic drugs.

5. Do not publish blog to the world before re-reading all posts written while on high doses of narcotic drugs.

6. Only reread these blog posts when in a good mood. or else all sense of self respect will go down the toilet.

thats all.

No more snow in NYC

Dash Snow Died. He was 27.

This is really sad. I feel like this should be getting more press. Maybe the way he died is less PG than a heart attack... but C'mon regardless of his lifestyle he deserves some respect.

Heroin overdose.

not unexpected, considering his photography and known drug use.

still horrible considering his little daughter. I found an article (the link is at the bottom of the post) with a bunch of information on snow. Oh... and Ryan McGinley is his friend? based upon their combined work and what I've read in this article I am getting a strange and wonderful and terrifying and thrilling view of their world.

It makes me want to become immersed in it, yet stay very very far away at the same time.

He was born into the arts, a very very very wealthy art collecting family, it seems ironic he chose to rebel by becoming a famous artist. Of course, fame didn't happen on its own... at the age of 13 he was placed in a juvenile detention center until the age of 15. Once he was released he was on his own.

Basically Photo fell into his hands and he used it as a medium to document the world around him. His world was different than the world most of us know, darker and full of elicit and illegal substance.

his contribution to the Saatchi show was a piece called Fuck the Police, which featured sprays of his sperm on a collagelike installation of tabloid cutouts, headlines about corrupt cops. (above)

and another show:

During the preparation of "Nest," a new exhibition on view at the Deitch Projects' 76 Grand Street gallery, artists Dash Snow and Dan Colen invited 30 volunteers to spend three days shredding 2,000 New York City telephone books in a grimy and most unusual installation. The group spent midnight to 8 a.m. each night wading in waist-deep shredded paper, creatively destroying everything in their process by drinking, peeing and painting while spending quality time together creating their dwelling. This performance was based on previous incidents where the artists rent a hotel room, shred phone books, string up the sheets, turn on the taps and take drugs such as mushrooms, cocaine and ecstasy until they feel like hamsters (read article in NY Magazine).

sad.

Wish there were more like him.

Willing to make hamster nests.

piss. shit. ejaculate.

call it art.

superb.

read this article.