i'm not a girl, not yet a woman.
I'm about to turn 25.
I never planned my life this far so I'm a little freaked out. I had no intention of living this long. My plan, at 21, and even 22 involved some kind of overdose or long-term stay at a mental hospital where i'd be pumped up with so many drugs that I can't tell if I'm alive or not.
But I'm still here.
It's not that bad, sometimes, it's amazing. Like yesterday.
Jen, Joe and I went to Planet. It was dead, so I got to show off the NYC Club Kid Dance (R).
You know, you don't move very much, you just keep a fixed glaze and touch your body. If the song is really great, you have to do a runway walk for your friends, stairs are a plus. Baldness is also a plus, because you can wear outrageous hats or attach a simple feather to your head. Lots of strutting, and kiss blowing.
We took pictures of ourselves, me, in a sequin turban and sunglasses and a vest that I decided to wear as a cape. Jenny, with her 60's airline waitress hair and sooty eyes, and Joe, looking professionally fabulous in a grey sweater and glasses, and a new haircut. We were sassy.
Eventually more people came. I think screamingvenus was the first familiar face. We don't talk much these days, but she was kind enough to give Sam and I rides home on Thursday night. Apparently this town really ain't big enough for both of us, or either of us, since we're both getting out of here soon. She's going to San Francisco and I'm going to New York (cough, brooklyn, cough). I wonder what that says about the two of us, since we were pretty close for along time and fell out over what I'll call a bad planetary alignment + cheap (s)ex, and 808 claps. And now we are trying to move to opposite ends of the country. Anyway, I don't hate her anymore, I don't think I ever did since (insert 19th century European analyst here) said that hate is a direct result of love.
The dancefloor was too full for me to do my New Romo dance to "Into The Groove". You know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the dude in the movie with half of his head shaved, dancing. Was that at Danceteria? I do that dance quite well, it's a favorite. Especially in souchy boots and my fake Adam and the Ants/Bow Wow Wow look I've been doing for the past few months. Eh, whatever. I moved over to one of the couches by george500 where we discussed how we date a lot but never have sex, and people don't realize that we aren't cheap whores, just because we hang out with cheap whores. And the two of them confirmed my suspicions that I am just "too much" for both lesbians and straight men. I'll add that they spent most of that conversation counting my titty freckles. Thanks, guys. There will be a quiz next week.
I told him about my beard, geosh. Josh is wonderful because he's a pretty boy, and he holds my hand and it really looks like we're dating. But then we go back to our cold, lonely, messy apartments and nothing happens, ever, except for that one time...(snicker). If I need to look sexed, and he needs to look sexed, and we want someone hot to grope in public we can call each other up and it's nice. Everyone needs that. We even fight in public, which makes him more attractive to the ladies because straight women are always more interested in what they can't have.
It's not so bad, but sometimes, it's horrible. Like the ride home.
I was sober, so the ride took years. And when I saw "home" I felt lonely, really lonely. Going back to the messy apartment, alone.
I didn't feel lonely in New York. Not once. I was able to go to clubs, alone, and dance, not alone because the boys actually noticed me, and the girls too. I feel very awkward here. I sometimes think that I stand out soo much that people just ignore me. I don't want you to tell me that I have a cute outfit, I want you to call me.
"what's a nice girl like you doing at home crying to George Michael?"
That's what I want to know.
So whatever.
it's link time.
this is for riotboi1
Cobra Killer is soo damn great. We need to make another trip to Atomic so you can get that, and the JD calendar.
and this is for geosh
http://www.rent-a-negro.com
Since we discussed what it's like (for him) to get kicked out of the Clever White Boy Club and (for me) to be the Black Girl That Isn't Like That. And how awesome it is to be the subject of a bad joke (So ironic ethnic minority A and ironic religious minority B walk into a bar, bah dum dum), and if it is possible to exist as something other than the angsty martyr in an environment that prides itself by its ability to live up to every class, race, religious, stereotype.
That picture is going to be my new myspace photo. I want $1 for everyone that goes "When did you get dreads? That new picture of you is so funny! OMG! LOL! ROTFLACOYV!
I never planned my life this far so I'm a little freaked out. I had no intention of living this long. My plan, at 21, and even 22 involved some kind of overdose or long-term stay at a mental hospital where i'd be pumped up with so many drugs that I can't tell if I'm alive or not.
But I'm still here.
It's not that bad, sometimes, it's amazing. Like yesterday.
Jen, Joe and I went to Planet. It was dead, so I got to show off the NYC Club Kid Dance (R).
You know, you don't move very much, you just keep a fixed glaze and touch your body. If the song is really great, you have to do a runway walk for your friends, stairs are a plus. Baldness is also a plus, because you can wear outrageous hats or attach a simple feather to your head. Lots of strutting, and kiss blowing.
We took pictures of ourselves, me, in a sequin turban and sunglasses and a vest that I decided to wear as a cape. Jenny, with her 60's airline waitress hair and sooty eyes, and Joe, looking professionally fabulous in a grey sweater and glasses, and a new haircut. We were sassy.
Eventually more people came. I think screamingvenus was the first familiar face. We don't talk much these days, but she was kind enough to give Sam and I rides home on Thursday night. Apparently this town really ain't big enough for both of us, or either of us, since we're both getting out of here soon. She's going to San Francisco and I'm going to New York (cough, brooklyn, cough). I wonder what that says about the two of us, since we were pretty close for along time and fell out over what I'll call a bad planetary alignment + cheap (s)ex, and 808 claps. And now we are trying to move to opposite ends of the country. Anyway, I don't hate her anymore, I don't think I ever did since (insert 19th century European analyst here) said that hate is a direct result of love.
The dancefloor was too full for me to do my New Romo dance to "Into The Groove". You know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the dude in the movie with half of his head shaved, dancing. Was that at Danceteria? I do that dance quite well, it's a favorite. Especially in souchy boots and my fake Adam and the Ants/Bow Wow Wow look I've been doing for the past few months. Eh, whatever. I moved over to one of the couches by george500 where we discussed how we date a lot but never have sex, and people don't realize that we aren't cheap whores, just because we hang out with cheap whores. And the two of them confirmed my suspicions that I am just "too much" for both lesbians and straight men. I'll add that they spent most of that conversation counting my titty freckles. Thanks, guys. There will be a quiz next week.
I told him about my beard, geosh. Josh is wonderful because he's a pretty boy, and he holds my hand and it really looks like we're dating. But then we go back to our cold, lonely, messy apartments and nothing happens, ever, except for that one time...(snicker). If I need to look sexed, and he needs to look sexed, and we want someone hot to grope in public we can call each other up and it's nice. Everyone needs that. We even fight in public, which makes him more attractive to the ladies because straight women are always more interested in what they can't have.
It's not so bad, but sometimes, it's horrible. Like the ride home.
I was sober, so the ride took years. And when I saw "home" I felt lonely, really lonely. Going back to the messy apartment, alone.
I didn't feel lonely in New York. Not once. I was able to go to clubs, alone, and dance, not alone because the boys actually noticed me, and the girls too. I feel very awkward here. I sometimes think that I stand out soo much that people just ignore me. I don't want you to tell me that I have a cute outfit, I want you to call me.
"what's a nice girl like you doing at home crying to George Michael?"
That's what I want to know.
So whatever.
it's link time.
this is for riotboi1
Cobra Killer is soo damn great. We need to make another trip to Atomic so you can get that, and the JD calendar.
and this is for geosh
http://www.rent-a-negro.com
Since we discussed what it's like (for him) to get kicked out of the Clever White Boy Club and (for me) to be the Black Girl That Isn't Like That. And how awesome it is to be the subject of a bad joke (So ironic ethnic minority A and ironic religious minority B walk into a bar, bah dum dum), and if it is possible to exist as something other than the angsty martyr in an environment that prides itself by its ability to live up to every class, race, religious, stereotype.
That picture is going to be my new myspace photo. I want $1 for everyone that goes "When did you get dreads? That new picture of you is so funny! OMG! LOL! ROTFLACOYV!