Sunday, December 28, 2003

It's been a hard fast couple of months. I'm in NYC, and I'm doing good considering. Considering I live in a roach motel and work in a sweat shop. On top of that reality sits this new computer of mine and a seemingly ok scene-- where on occasion I can hit a gay sex club...and get some. Then there's that whole making out with a tranny at an x party. I mean that an electro clash life or what? It's just that sometimes I get the lonely sinking feeling that all of this lacks a little imagination. Dare I say it, NYC is in a lame period. Which if you must know was one of my deepest fears upon moving up here. Like Wall Street is in. Again. I was down with the fashion, but the other shit can blow me. People my age are derivitive sububinites. There are a few though that are absolutely thrilling to the eye. No one quite at the soul level yet. Shannon coulda been there, but she's leaving.
And the end could not be further away. I've got no excuses up here. Anything i want to be I can be. It's all about how hard you want to go. I haven't quite rid myself of Austin's leisurely charm. I've got a writing gig in my sights, but we'll see. I suck at networking. Fucking show-offs and asskissers. Jesus. Ok, it's not all that bad but it really does scare the shit out of me. I'm still kind of shaky inside. I was hoping all these fucking stairs in the city would tone the culo, and it has...but we all know what I had in mind...that's right...the lady mechanic in that Outcast Video. I want her body, with ol' boys attitude. Unfortunately, I'm not very southern or country. I don't really know the source of my charm. That's a concern. Lisa St. Aubin de Teran. I should look her up again. She was a writer that I really dug when I was younger for some reason. I want to explore that. I've got a lot of books on my plate right. Something by Dennis Cooper. Joseph Cambell. Some freaky conspiracy theory shit. This leaden ass book on early christianity. To that author's credit though, I really dug his take on the methodology of studying of history.

So you can see, I've got a lot of reading done. You know, my goddamned old ass neighbors party heartier than I do these days. There was even a drunken screaming fit and tussle. All they're getting from my end is fucking plumes of pot smoke and smooth jazz.

What about the flawless j-o-b? For the time being the company will have to go unnamed. The employment crowd I'm runnin' with surely would traverse these blogs. I'm atleast learning the art of discretion.

Dennis Cooper is a guy I've been wanting to read for a while. He's been described as trangressive. Whatever. The guy is funny and very fucked up. Hmm...kind of like me and a certain blonde in D.C. I like him because of his honesty...or atleast the balls to put that kind of banal madness out there.

I emailed that every rose has its thorn ex. No response. Thank god. I lost my head. I know and accept that it is in my best interest to forget she ever existed in my world.



The 'look' thing is a constant issue. Your hypocrises are totally exposed up here.

Sunday, August 17, 2003

The end is near. I am about to leave Austin for New York. Nothing has really come together, but it is all happening. My best friend is being a complete freak about the situation. Whatever, I gotta go live my life. Period. Jesus, I hope my car sells. Tomorrow I have got to get rid of all my shit. I'm just going to throw the shit in the street and never look back. This is such an emotionally stressful time. I can't even get my thoughts out.

Thursday, July 03, 2003

I've got cash. Cultural Capital. Dig? All I want is a motherfucking job in NYC. I'll get coffee. Smile through a tirade. Fax. and Refax. Hustle across town on my own dime, even though I rolled a bum for my morning Balducci biscotti money.
I liken the whole media job application process with totalitarian calistenics. Up. Down. Left. Right. In. Out. And so on. It's maddening. The kind of precision these people are looking for is like 1 in 10000. I am not a computer. I am human who knows her head from her ass, that should be good enough damn it. Ok, so it wouldn't kill me to think things through a bit, but speed has always been my ally. I don't mean the shit all people in management have dabbled with on the weekends. I mean my mercurial ability to move. That mercurial ablity in me exists on numersous levels. Speed to me is instinct. Speed however doesn't make for good love making. God, I just want a job in nyc before I move up there. Fuck the market, fuck the CFR, fuck world politics! This my life. The may be the first and last time I am a sentient being on planet Earth. So excuse me, if I want it my way. I have got to keep on trucking. Goddamn G+J. Goddamn Black Book. I'm going to write in NYC. I've got cash.

This venom comes from desperation. I said speed was an ally, but not an easily subdued one.

Thursday, June 12, 2003

Fiat! Not just a car, but a way of life.

I'm not really a fan of Drum n' Bass. Frankly, I'm not into those kind of drugs. God, what kind of world has been left for me and the generations to come? The phrase "Soylent Green is people." might actually become a reality. This morning I was listening to yet another conspiracy theory cook on the conspiracy theory cook station. Even if half of what these people are saying true, we're fuct'd. You don't have to get down with the mind control information mule stuff, that's just cocktail conversation. But this other stuff -- the Council on Foreign Relations, Bilderberg, Trilateral Commission, they are the ones people need read up on. This goes beyond a centralization of power. It's a centralization of ideas. Some old money motherfucker (David Rockefeller) who doesn't want to part with his shit come hell or high water set up the Council on Foreign Relations. Bilderberg was set up by a Dutch Prince (Behrnard) who was in cahoots with the SS. The Bush coozers were also involved with the Nazis. Like the Trading with the enemy act during WWII was practically called the My name is Bush and I'm a nazi act.

The reason why these people are fuct'd up is because they tell the average citizen show fialty to your nation, but secretly sometimes openly consolidate their interest according to class and duckets. And if you dont have those two your'e fuckt. And no, I"m not talking about the gauche new money. Fuck Dell. Fuck Gates. I'm talking about people whose money is as old as money. Have you ever thought about what money really is? My advice...don't get into the system. Use cash (as fake as that is). Buy Gold. And cut up your credit cards, even if you owe your fistborn.

Tuesday, June 10, 2003

Alriiiight. Thank you Natalie Portman.



I was just looking at a picture of Natalie Portman, and thought to myself, "I winced at her beauty. But does her pussy get wet?" I wonder what it's like to be that beautiful. Like that kind of beauty doesn't exac tly inspire sexual thoughts. I'm quite confident I'm a good looking woman, but that kind of beauty is different. You look at me, and you could see me fucking. Not so with her. She isn't the first women I've looked at and reacted in such a way. Usually, I encounter these women in my real life. Sometimes I took the woman who possesed that kind of beauty as a lover. So far, one has been a pillow queen, the same way I percieve Portman to be in the sac --pliant desirous but timid. The other was a sexual autuer. That one had fucked like 50 dudes before she decided to switch to women. The pillow queen's beauty was pornographic. You sincerely wanted to fuck the taste out of her mouth. Her pussy was perfectly pink and moist (ditto for her asshole). The bitch goddess' pussy didn't even get wet, but you felt it when she came. Her beauty was deceptively sweet. As a matter of fact, she had like 8 faces of beauty. Sometimes it was fierce and mercenary. Other times it was...it was mine. I'm thinking about that night when we sat on her porch smoking and talking. She was in her old Barnard shirt in a pair of her ex-husbands shorts. Her feet were tucked under her, and her dark straight eurasian was haphazardly pulled back. That night the bitch goddess was not a goddess at all, but a 29yo divorcee with a kid who was having a smoke with her love.

Jesus. Enough with the walk down memory lane. Suffice it to say that I thought she was most beautiful then. Not that she gave a shit.

Anyway, that's what crossed my mind when I saw that picture of Natalie Portman. I can't believe she's a Zionist. I saw her on the street once on the LES. In person that beauty is fragile and sheltered. It hadn't seemed like anything had touched her yet. Ok back to this Zionism thing. I've been reading this book about Kissinger, and in thi s book there is a sentence. It goes like this:

Rabin had no doubt that the Israeli jets could destroy the tanks, if Jerusalem flashed the green light.


Israel could destroy Syrian tanks if Jerusalem gave the go ahead. That's fuct'd. When I think of Jer usalem in my heart of hearts I think of moonie hippies soaking up the same sun where jesus was said to have walked. What's with this sending tanks bullshit? Damn the man. Damn the establishment. This is where IT ALL had gotten us? Mind you, the date and c ontext for this book is old (action: 1970, written: 1974), but all of it is still prescient. The Middle East is still inflamed. As far as I'm concerned not one of the leaders of the are believers in any faith except themselves and their power.

รต

Friday, May 30, 2003

Ok, so I've decided to apply to the village voice. my boss is being a coozer about the letter of recommendation. Sure, she's give me one she says, but it'll be a shitty one. Um, what the fuck? She says I'm not ready. I need to be better organized, I need to be more aggressive. I am in absolute agreement with that. In media you have to be creative and organized. Period. Here's the thing, practically everyday since I've worked there I've worked out of my fucking back pack. I have no desk, lamp, or computer. Yet, I'm the one who has to deal with an online publishing database the most. You motherfuckers. How the fuck am I suppose to organize anything with a band of idiots and sycophants running shit? Like if this whole organization had its shit together, I'd have a paycheck for work done on the Hill Country guide and NOT still be waiting on one. Fuck grammar aight! Maricon. Dude, I jammed my fucking thumb playing ball this week. Yesterday I was layed up all day. My back was so fuct'd. Even if I dont get the village voice fellowship, I'm still gonna toss my hat in with the big apple. Why not be broke and bitter in a city you actually like?