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.