Archive for March, 2003

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Anniversaries and concerts

To those people who've come across me this week to less than positive results (except David; he fully deserves why I'm pissed off at him), I apologise for my shitty behaviour. This week has just been disappointment after dissappointment, day after day of 'no.' It's really been getting to me in a very bad way, and for that reason I've been avoiding the internet a lot. I haven't felt like talking to anyone.

C.S. and I are doing well, interestingly enough. Tuesday will be our one-month "anniversary." And oddly enough, we're still talking to each other. Yesterday I did a Big Thing. I deleted Tommy's number from my cell-phone (which used to be speed-dial #1) and replaced it with C.S.'s, so now he's the first number in my phone.

It was dorky, yeah. But at least I did it.

He and I are gonna get to spend the weekend together, and I'm really really excited. It's sortof our anniversary present.

Sunday the choir and I had a performance at the church, and it went incredibly well. We even got a standing-ovation, which says a lot because it was a performance at the church's service. It was a lot of fun, and I got to dress up and I got lots of compliments myself. And those are always nice to receive.

angels don't fly, they have no wings
it is another of those things
that we make up, that we believe
the real thing is not what we conceive

Here again

I'm acclimating myself to the East Village life a little better. Saturday I got trapped in the anti-war protest on my way home, yesterday I got stuck in the pro-war one. Lots of things seem to be going on, both in my life and elsewhere, but since my time here is a smidge limited, I'll spare it until later.

Just wanted to give you guys a quick update to let you know I'm still here, and still getting by. Mwah.

Many new homes

Okay, kids. I moved everything over to the new site, kindly provided by Ryan, the dear. My new email address is breakdown at 1st-flight dot net, so change it, cos soon the old flight17.net address won't work.

And I also have a new physical home. C.S. is coming by after he gets off of work to help me move to my new temporary residency, with another choir-friend in the East Village. I dunno how the get-up there will be, so you may find yourself without breakdown updates for a bit until I get reorganized. I'll try to be back as soon as I can.

I love you all, always! Mwah.

Read and learn something

Once again I have something come up in my site referrals and I don't know why. But this time it's good.

To all of you idiots cheering on the bombings and glued to your televisions like they're broadcasting a rerun of Surviour, read this. And then you'll see what it's like to be there right now.

In other news, apparently flight17.net is shutting down fairly soon, which means I need a new host. If anybody out there has a pretty domain offering subdomains (preferably with big amounts of space), cgi, perl, and pop3 email, gimme a buzz and I'll love you forever.

All full of singing and smiles

My throat is all kinds of sore. We had another rehearsal for the choir last night, and I think I did myself some damage.

They kindof sprung on us the fact that we have a little bit of a concert this weekend. We do all of our rehearsals inside a church on the upper west side, and in exchange for the space, we've agreed to perform at a few of the church services. Well, our first is this sunday.

We hardly know any of the songs. So we spent the entire rehearsal practicing the three that we'd be performing sunday. And they're all gospel-esque, and they all require me to be screaming like Aretha Franklin. To top it off I have a cold (that really won't seem to go away), so my throat is in pain.

C.S. and I went out again last night. He did the cutest thing. He mentioned to me on monday that he wanted to take me somewhere "special" on tuesday, but he wouldn't tell me where or why. Generally this would annoy me, since I'm not the type of person who likes to be told about surprises long before they happen. If you wanna surprise me, surprise me. But don't tell me a week before that you're gonna do it. However I decided to placate him and not push it further, because he was ridiculously excited about it. He picked me up after rehearsal and we headed down to 34th street.

And then we proceeded to wait for an hour and a half. I had absolutely no idea what was going on, and at times I really don't think he did either. We just sat around, outside (and it was cold!) until about 12:45, when everything finally changed.

I guess what I noticed first was the increase in police cars coming down the street. And then the influx of people gathered around us. We went from being the only people standing there to being surrounded by a large crowd. Well, large for 12:45 AM on a tuesday. So obviously something was up.

And then I saw it. Elephants. Marching down 34th street.

Yes, I assure you, you did not read that incorrectly. There were elephants. marching tail in trunk. down 34th street.

And not only that, there were horses following behind them.

Apparently this was the "Parade of Animals," because the circus is coming to NYC soon. According to C.S., they were too big to be shipped in trucks, so they flew them into Queens, then they traveled down through Manhattan to Madison Square Garden.

It was interesting, and I can't say I've ever seen large animals walking down the street in the middle of the night before. I don't know if I'd say it was worth standing out in the cold for, but what made it nice for me was how excited he was. He was jumping up and down as the elephants walked by, he kept giggling and laughing like a little kid. That made me smile. That made it worth standing outside for so long.

As we were lying in bed later that night, and I was drifting far into unconsciousness rather rapidly, I started mumbling things to him. I can only remember half the things that came out of my mouth, but I remember the phrase, "I like you" being said more than once. Because I realized, while I was watching him laugh insanely and try to pet the horses, and the light from the slightly-full moon and the streetlamps washed over him, that I did like him.

And I think, for once, it's not gonna fuck me up that I do.

the caution tape

flash bulbs and broken lights
I remember seeing you lying there,
outlined in white–
your tribute to youth, beauty
all those things we idealize yet never see
all your granteds taken for–
both the things you took from me

please tell me
that you're happy there

people mill around
and stare
the caution tape is just a thin membrane seperating life from death
flesh from concrete
my life from yours
our life that never was
it's all so simple, written down in black and yellow

streetlights are blinking nearby
it seems like the whole city's here
looking at the kid who fell from the sky
I don't pretend I understand any of it
your freefall towards eternity in the space of five seconds
left me repeating "what the hell?"
what the hell?

here baby
let me fix your wings
you are my little one
I'll take you to a place where the impact won't echo
give me one more breath

I'm coming to the graveyard to
sing you back from sleep

As quoted before: unnnhhhnn

I keep looking at the sky and it keeps getting darker, and I keep thinking that there's some sortof rainstorm coming. In Manhattan, the sky almost always manages to look grey, no matter the weather. That's not the case in Brooklyn or Queens, etc. But in the city it always looks like it's about to rain.

Then I look at the clock. And I realize the grey-ness isn't a storm. It's the approaching night.

I've lost track of what day it is. Hell. I've lost track of what day is.

Bring me to the Blarney Stone, quick!

Somehow or other, though I've no fucking clue why and I haven't been able to figure it out, this site came up in my referrals a few hours ago.

I feel nauseated.

Though I feel nauseated over a lot of things lately. I've gone the entire week without sleep, almost. Aside from one or two hour long catnaps here and there, I haven't slept yet. I don't know why…. I just haven't really felt like doing it. I am expecting to fall over and DIE, but it still hasn't happened yet.

C.S. and I are going out again tonight, I think. He's ridiculously sweet. He's started emailing me now, and that gets to me far more than anything else.

One thing I have always loved and one thing that so few of my boyfriends have ever done is email me. Kent used to do it a lot. I liked to wake up and find an email from him waiting for me. To some extent, PJ did it too. I don't know why; it just gets to me. I guess because someone took the time to do something like that. Fuck birthday presents, I just need a letter and I'm good.

I went out to breakfast and then lunch with the friend from the choir I'm staying with. He introduced me to some of the other people in the neighbourhood, as well as his friends. It was nice…. kindof strange, however.

I guess it's because I've never really understood the concept of people taking me under their wings for no real reason except that they want to. My friend has really astounded me. He's not only extended his home, but he's extended his food, his services, his friends, everything. I'm having trouble thinking.

I guess it's the lack of sleep. This is all just stream-of-consciousness writing.

Sigh. I wish I were more eloquent sometimes.

A lot of times.

Disclaimer: don\'t read this if you offend easily

Hollywood Actors Raise McCarthyism Specter on Iraq - via Yahoo.

You know me. You know I don't bother with politics very much. I tell people, there're two subjects I almost always refuse to discuss. Religion and politics. Unless you're discussing them with someone of like-mind, they're volatile genres of communication. And half the time I think they're too personal (or should be) to be argued over. Religion especially. Despite what the Christian Coalition wants, I think that that type of belief is individual and singular. And unless someone asks you to share it with them, it's not the type of thing that needs to be painted on every building in Times Square.

But I'm irritated now. I'm beyond irritated. I look at the newspapers and I look at the television and I can't escape this. The world is ripping itself apart. It's tearing at the very definitions of sanity. And no one seems to recognize this.

So I'm going to surrender this Guardian-stance I've acquired. No more standing and watching. I didn't want to have any part of this but it's impossible to EXIST and not get pulled in. So, fine. Here we go.

There is a very frightening double-standard in this country. We champion the right to free speech and the right to have opinions different from the masses and not fear retribution for it, but when you get down to it, it's all bullshit. This is a country that supports the right to free speech, but only if you're speaking what they tell you to. You have the freedom to choose whatever beliefs you want, but only if you choose from the menus they write up. And if you don't believe in them, you're labeled a terrorist. If you say something different, something "uncool," you're blacklisted.

In response to the above article, I can only breathe a massive sigh of relief in response to what the Screen Actours Guild said. Thank god some institution is not afraid to stand up to the ridiculousness running rampant through the world.

This is incredible to me. Incredible because in this supposedly free society we live in, it's massively archaic. They want to use the freedom defense whenever you bring up the war on Iraq (we have to stop Saddam because he's going to take away our freedom!), but the moment you challenge them, they tell you that you shouldn't be allowed to speak. What the fuck?

United States of America, I'm going to put this in big, bold letters for you. So that maybe finally, you can see it spelled out for you.

WAKE UP!

The freedom of speech works BOTH ways. You have the freedom to yell from every rooftop that prayer should be allowed in the schools, and signs should be posted in government offices, but then you cannot, CANNOT tell me that I don't have the right to yell right back at you.

There's your double-standard. Those in the majourity– the Christians, the Republicans, the heterosexual, the white, the Men in Power– have the freedom here. Not you, certainly not me. The Constitution only applies to those people. We are not the Alphas, folks. We're the Betas. And we're supposed to be grateful that we get to breathe the same air as them.

NO.

I refuse to accept that anymore. I've had it. I've reached the absolute peak of my tolerance with this country, with its "freedom," with the people in the subway stations trying to pass me pamphlets telling me of my oncoming damnation, and I've had it with those same people getting offended when I walk right by and ignore them.

What about my freedom of speech? Why is it fair that I get to be targeted for my lack of patriotism and even further lack of desire in this war, but those who agree with G-squared get to call all the shots.

Sorry, folks. Newsflash: The United States was not formed by Christians, as they'd have you believe. The forefathers were diverse, they represented all ranges of beliefs and creeds. And they attempted to bring that fully into the Constitution when they drafted it. It was not a document written for the United Christians of America. It was written for ALL OF US. I am tired of hearing otherwise. So what if you have the majority here? I don't believe what you believe, and– GET THIS– this country was created for the minority.

Why did the Pilgrims come here, again? Because they were persecuted for what they believed in back home. They were the minority there. (Don't point out they were Christians. I'm already aware of that fact– I took high school history. That does nothing to my argument. My argument is that they came here because what they believed in was unpopular where they were.)

This was not a place created to cater to the mass, and you all need to realize that. This was made to stand triumphantly in the face of the mass, in the face of those who would stomp and crush you for what you believed if it wasn't the same as them, and to give them the goddamn middle finger.

Underdogs, it's time to take back this country from the hands of everyone else. I don't know about you, but I know my voice isn't being spoken for anymore. I know my beliefs are not being fought for in Washington D.C. I'm tired of it.

I'm tired of hearing George Bush on television speaking like the biggest puppet in the world. The sad thing is most puppets have the decency to not make it obvious that someone else's hand is up their ass. I'm tired of hearing about this war, I'm tired of hearing about the World Trade Centre and its "heroes."

When Kevin was visiting, he and I went to the WTC site. And yes, it was an incredibly moving experience for me. I was actually surprised by the response I had, as I didn't expect to feel anything, really. But I did. It was sad. I was very hurt by the sheer loss of human life. Note, not American life. Human. Not everyone who died there was a US citizen. Gasp.

But what offended me was the banner calling these people "heroes." This is going to make several people livid at me for stating this– just because you died in the building when it fell does not make you some martyr. Don't mistake me here. What happened was unforgivable and horrendous. But these people did nothing, and I can tell you flat out that if I had been one of the people to go down that day, I would be pissed at being considered a hero. That's a special title reserved for people who do things. The firefighters who actually busted their asses to rescue people– not the ones who stood around and pointed at the clouds of dust– are heroes. The ones who risked their lives for others are the heroes. Please, don't turn the word into a cliche by using it on every whim. We have enough of those words in the English language already.

To the Pat Robertson and George Bush's of the world, I've had enough. I've had enough of hearing about how your rights are being infringed upon by people like me. Grow up. If you honestly believe you're the ones being abused here, you deserved to be hit in the faces with bricks. Repeatedly. Until sense is put back in. And maybe even further.

Your rights are not being taken away at all. Mine are. My right to be adamantly opposed to what you scream in the streets is being taken from me. Because very soon we will devolve back to that era of McCarthy that was such a "dark time" in the nation's history. It's a shame that not a fucking person remembers those things. Hey, I remember them, and I wasn't even alive to experience it. Read books, people. You'd be amazed at the things they can teach you.

The Constitution was built to create a government that was very much divided from religion. Not to build a government that only supported one, and threw all others away. To the founding fathers, who came to build this United States because they had no voices in England, the freedom to disagree was the biggest thing they sought to protect.

It's unfortunate that their efforts will be completely undermined in a few more weeks.

In parting, I just have to say this. I hope some of you read this and manage to look at the world around you differently. Because this little microcosm of a universe is completely unraveling. The walls we've built up are being pushed on from the in and outside, and quite soon one force is going to manage to overcome the opposing one. I've almost completely given up on the hope that we'll manage to come through this with any level of maturity. The deal with the french fries almost solidified that mentality for me. We're too ignorant to deserve salvation. I just hope for the sake of humanity, the gods/goddesses take that into consideration when we're being judged.

Wake me up inside

For the first time in perhaps a week, I was monumentally productive today.

To begin with, I went to the open-call at the modeling agency. It did not turn out exactly as I hoped it would, but it wasn't entirely bad. I went there and the agent talked to me and she said that while I was very attractive, I was just too short for them. I figured as much. I mean, I'm 5'10, but they only look for models who're 6 feet and taller. She told me not to be discouraged though, because I was very cute, and she gave me a list of other agencies in the city who might be interested in me. So, while it wasn't exactly a great thing, it wasn't really bad either.

Then I came home and puttered about, making phone calls and such. I spoke with a representative at Sprint, and they managed to fix my bill completely, and restore service. That in itself made me estatic. Furthermore, the representative went and credited my account back, so that I got all my minutes again. He did that to make up for the time that I had lost the phone. It made me giggly. So the bill is now just over eighty dollars, and since the bill isn't due until the end of march, there's even the possibility that I'll find a job and be able to pay it.

Then, C.S. and I went and saw Daredevil. It was okay, nothing spectacular, but it wasn't the worst movie I've ever seen, either. Very much a case of a movie with a big budget for special effects. At least it was pretty.

Tomorrow I'm going to call all of those agencies. And attempt to find work somewhere else. Things are looking up a little now; I'm hoping to take this as a tiny cue that my luck is turning around.

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