Wednesday, April 29, 2009
If All the World's A Stage...then IDK.
I have not found inspiration in writing on here in such a long time. No time to get my thoughts together, to formulate some kind of concoction to put the right words together to form a perfect thought, perfect enough to hold your interest. Everytime I think I've got something good, I hit the backspace key and shut this computer down. In my fault of being a perfectionist, or lack of perfection, the most compelling combinations of thoughts and words, lyrics and rhythms are lost in my head, floating amongst question marks, what-if's, and are-they-gonna-like it's....Frankly I do not care, but in seeing myself as an artist, we all must perform for our audiences, and goddamnit, it better be the performance of a lifetime. In saying this, I am lost on my way walking to the stage, the audience waiting on my big show. I am unprepared, I do not know my lines, and my lighting is off. Sweaty palms rub together in front of me as I stand behind the red velvet curtain. This is how I feel when I am before an empty screen, that bar flashing like an UNDER CONSTRUCTION sign on the highway. Yea, these thoughts of mine are definitely under construction. Or deconstruction. Even as I write this, I don't know what to say next. I don't know what to think about. I don't know what you want to read. Ugh, man, IDK.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
BDay. Booze. Bowling. Best Friends.
As many of you [I haven't yet amassed a great army of followers, so pardon my "many of you" beginning] may have read from my Facebook, Myspace and/or Twitter, my born day was on April 6th. After the catastrophe stemming from last year's 21st bday dinner with friends, I decided this year I didn't want any drama or money situations occuring, and decided instead of buying an expensive outfit, VIP in some club and inviting people whose last names I barely even knew, I would do what made me happiest. BOWL. Yes, sticking my finely manicured fingertips into the dark depths of some hole housing dirt, possible fecal matter ["doodoo" for you biology drop-outs] spit, bodily fluids exuded from some sexual liason, boogers and/or any substances you may find under the bottom of your shoe.
Once again I made a "guestlist" as if I was planning one of Diddy's White parties. 25 names of my closest, sort of friends mixed with sort of best friends, mixed with people I just invited as fillers. And of course only like 13 people showed up, but it was 13 of the most loveliest, interesting people in my life plus one dude I met at the Rugby store who I guess has a crush on me. Unfortunately for my wardrobe & the fact that I already may possibly have met my future husband who spent the first hour of the nite talking to this Rugby boy, the kid was actually pretty cool. He didn't bring a gift, nor bought me a birthday drink, messed up my bowtie AND looked like Shaquille O'Neal. Hey, I can't hold one of those 4 against him.
Anyways, yes I wore a bowtie and an oxford and some corduroys. In my own vision, I looked super cool. But I don't think a few people understood the look I was going for; aww well. One by one as my "crew" trickled in, my excitement for the night and the possible deadly hangover engulfed every nerve in my body. I felt like we looked like the black The City or the darker version of The Hills. You know, the fake reality show about fashionable 20-somethings who party and dress cool and have drama but always end up in some cool ass lounge vibin'. Well none of us are millionaires, are on the cover of tabloids or have drug addictions, but we sure as hell know how to have a good time.
A shot of Patron with my new found friend Rog [LifeInPanavision blog creator] and my pal Mooly started the night off right and got me feeling happy, horny & hot. Not hot in a sexy way, hot in the sense of the bowtie around my neck constricting my breathing & the warm Patron burning a hole in my chest & lungs. Anyways MOSTLETOV! [or however that word is spelled that the Jews use in toasts].
All the ladies looked fine & the fellas were smoove. We looked expensive, smelled expensive, probably was expensive.
Photography extraordinaire, Roger Adams[LifeInPanavision blog creator] was Il Paparazzo of the night, handling that beautiful Canon D90 like the sword of a ninja [lol I don't know if that makes sense]. He captured all the great moments, smiles, laughs, drunken faces and happiness of the night & even got some cool shots of the bowling alley. I have to say, he's a man of many talents.
A few gutter balls, some strikes, like 2 balls thrown into other lanes, a vanilla birthday cake vodka shot, a broken glass, 2 mojitos, a bouquet of roses, my throats release from that tight ass bowtie & 3 hours later, we were left boozed and confused, walking the mean streets of University between 12th & 13th st. A cloud of colors and faces, pounding the cold grey concrete sidewalk to our personal destinations, either the Bronx or Brooklyn, we owned Bowlmor Lanes.
I'm still recovering my my drinks and screams, but I'd just like to thank the following human beings for being apart of my special night & not making too much fun of me being dressed like Buddy Holly: my babes Troy, Codi aka OnePin, Anniesan, Scorpio, Rog Il Paparazzo, my Rugby team Amir & Kas, Radio Ramz & Friends, Poe & Jasper, Rugby sales associate Joey [lol], the white waitresses who served us alcohol and chicken all night and the beautiful neon bowling lanes. Thank you all. XOXO
Once again I made a "guestlist" as if I was planning one of Diddy's White parties. 25 names of my closest, sort of friends mixed with sort of best friends, mixed with people I just invited as fillers. And of course only like 13 people showed up, but it was 13 of the most loveliest, interesting people in my life plus one dude I met at the Rugby store who I guess has a crush on me. Unfortunately for my wardrobe & the fact that I already may possibly have met my future husband who spent the first hour of the nite talking to this Rugby boy, the kid was actually pretty cool. He didn't bring a gift, nor bought me a birthday drink, messed up my bowtie AND looked like Shaquille O'Neal. Hey, I can't hold one of those 4 against him.
Anyways, yes I wore a bowtie and an oxford and some corduroys. In my own vision, I looked super cool. But I don't think a few people understood the look I was going for; aww well. One by one as my "crew" trickled in, my excitement for the night and the possible deadly hangover engulfed every nerve in my body. I felt like we looked like the black The City or the darker version of The Hills. You know, the fake reality show about fashionable 20-somethings who party and dress cool and have drama but always end up in some cool ass lounge vibin'. Well none of us are millionaires, are on the cover of tabloids or have drug addictions, but we sure as hell know how to have a good time.
A shot of Patron with my new found friend Rog [LifeInPanavision blog creator] and my pal Mooly started the night off right and got me feeling happy, horny & hot. Not hot in a sexy way, hot in the sense of the bowtie around my neck constricting my breathing & the warm Patron burning a hole in my chest & lungs. Anyways MOSTLETOV! [or however that word is spelled that the Jews use in toasts].
All the ladies looked fine & the fellas were smoove. We looked expensive, smelled expensive, probably was expensive.
Photography extraordinaire, Roger Adams[LifeInPanavision blog creator] was Il Paparazzo of the night, handling that beautiful Canon D90 like the sword of a ninja [lol I don't know if that makes sense]. He captured all the great moments, smiles, laughs, drunken faces and happiness of the night & even got some cool shots of the bowling alley. I have to say, he's a man of many talents.
A few gutter balls, some strikes, like 2 balls thrown into other lanes, a vanilla birthday cake vodka shot, a broken glass, 2 mojitos, a bouquet of roses, my throats release from that tight ass bowtie & 3 hours later, we were left boozed and confused, walking the mean streets of University between 12th & 13th st. A cloud of colors and faces, pounding the cold grey concrete sidewalk to our personal destinations, either the Bronx or Brooklyn, we owned Bowlmor Lanes.
I'm still recovering my my drinks and screams, but I'd just like to thank the following human beings for being apart of my special night & not making too much fun of me being dressed like Buddy Holly: my babes Troy, Codi aka OnePin, Anniesan, Scorpio, Rog Il Paparazzo, my Rugby team Amir & Kas, Radio Ramz & Friends, Poe & Jasper, Rugby sales associate Joey [lol], the white waitresses who served us alcohol and chicken all night and the beautiful neon bowling lanes. Thank you all. XOXO
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