i thought you were going to be in my life for my whole life. and now you dont exist at all. talk about disappointing.

ive been sitting and staring at this god damn computer all day. how do people do this? i managed to come up with a 12 song playlist that took me 4 hours to compile, and i only barely like it. ive written 2 entries in here.  i made my bed, sort of. what else really? like a couple of other things. and now im exhausted.

im moving soon. and im really excited for it. my new room has a window. and a wall of bricks. i want to make it look like im an interesting wild west explorer in there. mostly i want to write while the sun drenches me. thats unrealistic because i think the window leads to an alley, but god's great light will find me even down there. one of my new roommates has a hairless cat. her name is olivia, which is my middle name. i cant wait until she an i can spend a lot of time together. i find that cats make really good friends. i know its not just me, other people feel that way too. my new roommate is one of them, but she isnt the only person i was referencing. maybe ill show you pictures of my new room and my new friend once i move in.

my entire month is all about preparing for the 5 days leading up to my period where i eat 12,000 calories a day and complain about it.

today i got myself ordained online.  now i can officiate all the gay and non-gay weddings i want.

ive been writing this dude on death row for the last 7 or so months, and in my last letter i decided to come out to him.  not because i really give a fuck if he knows im gay, but mostly because by not bringing it up i had no way to really share my life with him.  dont get me wrong, its interesting as hell to talk to him about music, books and cellblock life.  but im selfish and he should know about me too.  i bring this all up to say that he wrote me back, with a birthday card might i add, and told me he also didnt give a fuck that i was gay.  at the end he, i think, tries to set me up with amy from california, whom he's just really sure id like.  the best part of the entire exchange is that im not even surprised.

dance dance dance

im currently trying to help put together a playlist for a dance party later this month and am working my way through hype machines latest and most popular music, its honestly very troubling.  like for sure no one wants to listen, no less dance, to anything that i like.  or do you think if i selected women weeping on top of their pianos it would actually do the trick?  i just assume if a song is labeled remix i'm in the clear.

summer

i know everyone seems to love summer and what not, but can we just admit to the elephant in the room.  summer is an absolute curse.  i am forced to go out all the time and "enjoy myself".  its so nice out, why dont we just sit on a patio?  why dont we go out for drinks on a tuesday at midnight?  why dont we try dating anyone and everyone? we should be having fun because we are wearing shorts at nighttime!  what if i want to just eat aimees karamel sutra in imperceptible (only to myself) bites and watch prison break?  i dont care that prison break came out in 2005 and is as bad now as it was then.  what if i want to try to teach myself the history of punk music by locking myself in my troubled, windowless room with hours and hours of music?  no, i should go to the beach.  well guess what, im scared of the water.  shit is terrifying.  this is the east coast, i cant see through that water, i dont think so.

in conclusion: summer is a curse

labor day

sometimes things just sort of change.  all day ive been a lazy mess.  i keep saying that im going to go to the gym, that im going to straighten my hair (for a hair experiment im working on called "greaser"), that im going to find an apartment and a new job.  but i did nothing.  then i got a phone call from someone who was very excited.  just that she spoke very excitedly.  and now here i am.  i sent several emails, and thats a form of work i would say, im more seriously considering going to the gym, i picked a restaurant for dinner.  like this is good stuff.  i know it seems small, but its all about the mindset.  i feel very much more go go go than i did twenty minutes ago when ordering in for dinner seemed a reasonable option for roommates night out.  boy are my roommates going to be surprised when they find out that ive picked a place we either have to hotwire a car or take 3 busses.

redux

i suppose i should get back to it.  you know this blog really had more purpose when i was actually in israel.  and my tumblr was an epic fail.  there are only so many videos of your brother singing opera that you can realistically post hoping that people are going to follow.  i think the new direction, which ive decided as i am writing this, is going to be about trying to make it work.

im certainly not the only confused, single, 26 year old living in new york city trying to be something more than i currently am.  my perspective might not have any more depth, or any depth at all, than anyone else's, but it might resonate for someone.  quite honestly even if it's just myself that's some sort of feat.

yesterday i cleaned off my desk in hopes that by creating a writing center for myself i would actually write.  the fact that im doing this is a positive sign of sorts.  now the fact that my room has no windows and depresses the depths of my soul might be an issue.  but perhaps the clean desk is just a symbol.  its like having a tidy cutting board.  my mind is clear, my mental mis-en-place is in place.  ok i mean sure there is a stack of knives ive yet to use, and books that would never be found near one another on any form of organized bookshelf, but there is clear and useable space in the middle.

allegedly there is no time like the present, so i am going to do my best to use it a little more wisely.

xx anne

i quit smoking like a week ago and im going mad!

I recently spilled a container of pickled jalapenos meant for my quiznos veggie sub on my sheets.  this means three things: 1. my bed is spicy 2. ive been sleeping on a bare mattress for four days, and 3. I eat in the comfort of my bed.

I wish I could write poetry so I could talk about my feelings and no one would know what I was talking about.

it was recently brought to my attention that I write like a left handed person.  isnt that fucking scary?

ive been keeping my delicates in a reusable chanukah themed shopping bag for nearing a year due to lack of storage space

last night i ordered a spicy pork burrito from a local, allegedly, authentic mexican restaurant. i was rather surprised to find large slabs of carrots littered throughout, assuming it was regional? come to find out its not traditional...however if you accidentally order the vegetarian burrito and never notice that there in fact is no spicy pork...

at 24 years old i still take advice from dear coke talk


oh and star charts

ive moved back to my original space. ill either be impaled or i wont right?

i have legitimately changed sides of the bed that i sleep on for fear of the picture frame. it has been worth it.

in other news i am drowning myself in 60s nyc culture. if i kill myself or get head lice that is why.

a friend of mine recently drew me a lovely picture that i wanted to display in my bedroom. so i framed it and decided to hang it above my bed. one of the many issues with living in an attic is that we have sloped walls. that is to say that my cute drawing encased in glass and metal now hangs precariously off, and i mean off, the wall directly over my slumbering head at night.

view from my pillow. terror.

im watching the ballad of ricky bobby on tbs by myself in a hot room smoking menthol cigarettes on the eve of americas independence. not great.