state of the tristan 08
hello lj,
i have "nudges" in my lj email from people, reminding me that it has been 47weeks, 49weeks, 52weeks since my last post. i wonder if people actually "nudge" or if the system just picks up a random friend and does it in their name. regardless, here is my state of the tristan.
1/11 this year finds me fresh to my new digs in downtown manhattan. i live across the top floor of a three story walkup in the middle of skyscrapers, which re-emphasizes my own feeling of being an anachronism. they wanna tear us down to make way from progress, but after the next disaster they'll be begging for us to come back, until the rich people come again and it'll be the same thing over. how romantic.
there is the sound of rain in my room while i post for the first time since 2005. it dapples and pitters and sturm strums on the skylight, and these rainy days total make up for all those awful mornings when my bedroom fills with sunlight. let me be clear; i say skylight, but it covers 35% of my bedroom ceiling, and my room is not small. my bedroom is as big as the entire apartment of my first place here, and this apartment itself is bigger than both floors of the 7 person loft i just moved out of. if i can remember the name of my lj photobucket, i will post pictures. something this good can't last forever, but also i say, It's about fucking time.
i mostly live with three people, but everyone's always on a job somewhere else. i am the youngest, and the least gay. it is a dream. this is totally an apartment i could find a boyfriend in, if i had the time and inclination. my loftmates call it a Loft, but after so many years living at different heights from the floor in brooklyn, it's a term i feel uneasy with.
everyone who comes here is in theatre or film. sometimes tv. nobody has dreds. nobody has told me they are just trying to be a human being, or gotten in my face about why don't you act gay if you're a fag? i have yet to listen to anyone droolingly prattle on about Permaculture. i can make food here. i'm about to make eggs and turkey bacon. later today i will have jerk chicken and rice. these small things are making me really happy, until it hit me that things can finally get worse.
last year i tour managed a lesbian band, plundered my blogs for two screenplays, and traveled around working on different things. this year i'm planning on giving up cigarettes for lent. actually, it's all about the drugs. i've come across this stop-smoking aid called Chantix, and one of the side-effects is it gives you hellish nightmares, or otherwise intensifies your dreams. the psychonaut in me beckons, even if it means not being able to experience pleasure from nicotine. Feb6th my odyssey begins.
i guess that's all i got right now. i hope you all keep writing, cos i'm still reading.
cheers,
trst
i have "nudges" in my lj email from people, reminding me that it has been 47weeks, 49weeks, 52weeks since my last post. i wonder if people actually "nudge" or if the system just picks up a random friend and does it in their name. regardless, here is my state of the tristan.
1/11 this year finds me fresh to my new digs in downtown manhattan. i live across the top floor of a three story walkup in the middle of skyscrapers, which re-emphasizes my own feeling of being an anachronism. they wanna tear us down to make way from progress, but after the next disaster they'll be begging for us to come back, until the rich people come again and it'll be the same thing over. how romantic.
there is the sound of rain in my room while i post for the first time since 2005. it dapples and pitters and sturm strums on the skylight, and these rainy days total make up for all those awful mornings when my bedroom fills with sunlight. let me be clear; i say skylight, but it covers 35% of my bedroom ceiling, and my room is not small. my bedroom is as big as the entire apartment of my first place here, and this apartment itself is bigger than both floors of the 7 person loft i just moved out of. if i can remember the name of my lj photobucket, i will post pictures. something this good can't last forever, but also i say, It's about fucking time.
i mostly live with three people, but everyone's always on a job somewhere else. i am the youngest, and the least gay. it is a dream. this is totally an apartment i could find a boyfriend in, if i had the time and inclination. my loftmates call it a Loft, but after so many years living at different heights from the floor in brooklyn, it's a term i feel uneasy with.
everyone who comes here is in theatre or film. sometimes tv. nobody has dreds. nobody has told me they are just trying to be a human being, or gotten in my face about why don't you act gay if you're a fag? i have yet to listen to anyone droolingly prattle on about Permaculture. i can make food here. i'm about to make eggs and turkey bacon. later today i will have jerk chicken and rice. these small things are making me really happy, until it hit me that things can finally get worse.
last year i tour managed a lesbian band, plundered my blogs for two screenplays, and traveled around working on different things. this year i'm planning on giving up cigarettes for lent. actually, it's all about the drugs. i've come across this stop-smoking aid called Chantix, and one of the side-effects is it gives you hellish nightmares, or otherwise intensifies your dreams. the psychonaut in me beckons, even if it means not being able to experience pleasure from nicotine. Feb6th my odyssey begins.
i guess that's all i got right now. i hope you all keep writing, cos i'm still reading.
cheers,
trst