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Boston tomorrow! [Jun. 19th, 2007|08:31 pm]
[Current Mood |excitedexcited]

Tomorrow I'm going to Boston to see a Joseph Beuys and Fluxus (?!) show at one of the Harvard museums, and I want to go to the Fogg too while we're there. Then I'm going to a print show at the MFA. I'm also going to the new Good Vibes in Coolidge Corner (because Grand Opening closed which makes me very sad), and the kid I'm going with wants to go to sushi in Brookline while we're there. He's my new friend G. and I hope we'll have fun together -- but I want to do all this stuff regardless, so it's okay.
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Back. [Jun. 19th, 2007|02:36 pm]
[Current Mood |calmcalm]
[Current Music |Simpsons]

Some things that have happened lately:

- I went home for a week to visit and took the train back with my friend J.B. We went on Amtrak, so inside the train, not train-hopping. Big intense adventure -- the trip home and the trip back.

- C. at the shop pierced my septum. She was the only artist at the shop who hadn't done anything to me yet, and we were wondering what to do. She suggested my septum, which I'd never thought of piercing since I think my nose is big. She felt for the sweet spot to pierce and of course between a mildly deviated septum, having broken my nose, and, shall we say, a certain amount of scar tissue, she thought it would be a cool challenge to see if she could pierce it straight. (This woman, for the record, is a great piercer and has been piercing for three years.) It came out beautifully and I'm using this new stuff, H2Ocean, to heal it, and it's working great.

- I painted our living room last week and our dining room the week before, differing shades of white. Both look beautiful and both were, of course, a lot of work. The only rooms left are the kitchen and the larder, which will be the most work since I'll prime them all at once and then do all the different colors of paint in there. But then the whole house will be done and it's fucking beautiful already. I'm proud.

- My friend M.F. came to see our new house two nights ago. I gave her the tour and when she got to my room -- there's art all over my room, but she stopped in the very corner, at my altar, and stared at a particular monotype I'd made of me and Matt. Again, it's too long a story to tell right now or right here, but she told me many, many things over the course of an hour or so that she never could have known unless she was seeing it. I'm completely agnostic about everything from ghosts to molecules -- but I've always said, if something needed me to know it was there all it had to do was get my attention and I wouldn't be scared, I would notice it and believe in it. M's aunties on her dad's side are witches, in Ghana, mostly white magic but some black magic. It sounds goofy when I write this short a version, but it meant a lot to me. She said, "He's listening to you. He's still on earth because he's watching you and listening to what you think all the time. He'll be here till you let him leave but he'll always watch you from wherever he goes, too." And separately, a long time later, she said, "I don't know if you ever knew this but you were the love of his life." (I reiterate that she knew nothing about our relationship while she was watching this print.)

- I'm extremely busy with the art festival and teaching I'm involved with, and also with work, but yet I don't have quite enough money. I'm doing all the piece work I can, but I'm wondering if I shouldn't take on a few clients or else get a second part-time job.

- I have a surprisingly and suddenly serious thing for my housemate. It's mutual and we're kind of waiting to find out what's going on... neither of us really has any idea, but it's fun.

- I got a phalaenopsis with fuscia and pale green flowers, and lots of buds. Three buds have rotted so I'm kind of worried about it, but I'm going to see how it does while it still has all the other buds on it, and then figure out what's going on. I'm also babysitting all the print studio plants for the summer.

I'm sure there are other things. Those are the ones I apparently felt like writing about at the moment.
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Did I mention I hate people? [May. 12th, 2007|06:56 pm]
[Current Mood |aggravatedaggravated]
[Current Music |Bone Thugs - Lil Love (yes again... it's catchy)]

Wow, what a day.

I got called all kinds of names by a group of "bros" and maybe one of their dads or something. They walked in in the middle of the afternoon and they all wanted to get tattooed right then. I explained, nicely even though they started the whole thing with an attitude problem, that both artists are booked 2-4 weeks out and these guys were welcome to look around, get estimates, and make appointments. That was Not Good Enough and they decided to take it out on me.

First they asked if I could recommend somebody and I said, honestly, that there's only two people in this city I'll let tattoo me, and both of them work at my shop, so I couldn't in good faith recommend them to anyone I wouldn't go to. The dad started in on me, "You're so stupid. You know that? You know nothing. This guy knows nothing. He knows somebody to recommend but he won't say it in front of the other artists." etc. The three kids, my-age-ish, were cackling Beavis-style in the background. What a bunch of bullies. And, of course, when people -- okay, men -- act that way toward me, bullying, it makes me intransigent and cloyingly nice. I just turn on kid-mode, where you only give them so many choices, and they have to take one. Meanwhile, since I'm so small, when I get mouthy against a bigger guy, stay even, don't get louder, and keep smiling, they get terrified -- they can't figure out why I'm not scared of them, and they get scared of that.

But the adorable part of this story? I wandered into one of the studios after they left -- they had to get about 10 feet away before the dad called me "fucking fairy" as a parting shot -- and told the story to J., one of the tattoo artists. He listened, laughed, rolled his eyes, etc., as did his client (a really sweet regular I haven't seen in a few weeks). But then! Half an hour or so later he called me back into his studio. "You know, you never have to put up with verbal abuse or anything else from these fucks. The next time anything like that happens, you call me out there, okay? I'll take care of 'em for ya." I think I officially have a big brother.

And it gets worse! The incredibly wealthy kids upstairs -- have they figured out they go to my school, or not? -- filled our back porch with bags and boxes of beer cans and all manner of other alcohol effluvia. They drive $80,000 cars and go to a $40,000-a-year school (ahem I have a scholarship), but they can't seem to pay for garbage service; we've had nothing but problems with the stink of weeks of garbage upstairs, all the beer bottles, the drug deals we can hear through the walls, etc. H. found the mess in the back and asked me to go upstairs and deal with them. It took me arguing for half an hour with three of them, in three rounds, before they capitulated, but of course I won -- see my reaction to large men trying to intimidate me above. These stupid fucks are paying homeless men to remove their beer bottles. Since I was homeless for so long I almost punched that stupid Wei in his stupid face just for that; I was at work, so I didn't. But I did own all their stupid asses. The one they call Skid (Skit? Skip?) sucks less than the rest, for the record. He ended up trying to calm down his boys and work with me.

But that thing with J. just made my day. He knows I'm scrappy and he still wants to protect me. Learning that makes up for all the bastards today. Tonight I'm getting drunk with B. and we're going to have so much more fun than this dumb day (he doesn't know it yet but that is the plan).

edit: I'm fairly sure I'm gonna get jumped on campus, not outside the shop, once these kids figure out we go to school together. Which will not be fun for them.
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More kiddos. [May. 10th, 2007|02:43 pm]
[Current Mood |lethargiclethargic]
[Current Music |Weird mixture of TSOL and tattoo-gun noises and street sounds and fan]

Oh lord it is suddenly summer. It's supposed to storm and be in the 60s this weekend, though, says Jeremy.

Tonight I have to teach styrofoam reduction printing to "up to 500" kids ages 6-18, with one helper, in three hours. At a Boys and Girls' Club. With the cops sponsoring the event. *checks to make sure whole self is currently legal*

I'm going to die!

But then I'm not getting up til like 10 tomorrow morning so there.

Btw my little "lethargic" fox does NOT look lethargic; I think the person who made him thinks "lethargic" means the opposite of what it means really.
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Fuck you, Nick. [May. 9th, 2007|02:35 pm]
[Current Mood |angryangry]
[Current Music |Bruce - Dancing in the Dark]

"'Alcoholism has a tremendously high recidivism rate: almost 90 percent in six months,' Dr [Steven] Lamm says..."

- Maxim magazine, of all places.

Fuck that. Just fuck that. Just get some balls and fucking quit and stop fucking whining about it. If I can quit fucking dope after all those years and stay quit, you can just grow the fuck up and stop drinking stupid alcohol.
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Scary [May. 8th, 2007|12:58 pm]
[Current Mood |weirdweird]
[Current Music |Xzibit - Multiply]

I just voluntarily involved myself with the cops.

I have exhausted every other possibility, though -- I have done public records research, talked to people, dug through phone books and newspapers and Google caches from different times, and I have no proof that Merlyn's dead, no proof that it was actually him in that accident.

At the bottom of one of the articles about the crash that probably killed him was the phone number for the traffic division of the PPB. I called it. I left the detective a message explaining that I thought I knew who this dead person was but I wanted to know if they had identified him, that it would've taken a long time because he was homeless and didn't carry ID, and that it was several years ago. I know it's a long shot. I can't imagine a cop wanting to help me in the first place, let alone wanting to research or try to close a 4-year-old accident involving a bus and a homeless tweeker.

But I want to know for sure that it was Merlyn. It's too horrible not knowing, like when we heard Tomorrow and Paisley hung themselves from the Steel Bridge but then it wasn't them after all, so when we heard Tomorrow got killed by a serial killer four months later, none of us believed it until the cops showed up at Outside-In and told us for sure it was her. Merlyn would be pissed at me for talking to cops ever under any circumstances, but I don't care because I have to find out and nobody's proved it yet.
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Ciara is my new idol. [May. 7th, 2007|09:32 pm]
[Current Mood |proud]
[Current Music |Ciara - Like a Boy]

Holy motherfucking god this video is hot. This is the new trannyboy-genderqueer-butchdyke anthem and I wonder if she knows it. Watching this video was like seeing Queen Latifah for the first time when I was little, or getting Funkdafied by Da Brat when I was 12 and just being "like whoa" as Heather and Amy say. Holy shit. so here we have Ciara, "Like a Boy". Fuck yeah.
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Rising senior! [May. 4th, 2007|01:49 pm]
[Current Mood |happyhappy]
[Current Music |Starchile - Crown Royal]

Oh fuck yeah. Finished writing that last paper last night, edited and turned it in this morning, then came straight to work.


Even more than that -- I'm back in college, I survived my first year back, and now I only have one year to go til I graduate!

Now I get to work on my house, chill with my friends and my cat, and read books. Fuck yeah. I'm in such a good mood. Hi, summer. Oh, and the weather's gorgeous so I rode our bike down to work. I love that bike.
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Paper due in less than 24 hours. [May. 3rd, 2007|02:24 pm]
[Current Mood |hyperhyper]

No internet access at home either. Two out of five sections of the paper are outlined. Holy shit. It's time to go home and get started.

I scrubbed the hell out of the kitchen floor. The Spanish final is over and I didn't do that bad. Now if I can convince my teacher she can grade me without my final project, and I can write this motherfucking Israel paper, it'll all be OVER. OVER, I tell you.

Jenn is traveling with me on the train! Fuck yeah!

I would like for there to be more Klonopin in my life.
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Moving [Apr. 28th, 2007|11:10 pm]
[Current Mood |draineddrained]
[Current Music |Boondocks cartoons]

It's only 11 but I am so tired. I started working on our new apartment at 9am, scrubbed the fuck out of three floors on my hands and knees, cleaned out my new closet, and cleaned up from painting my room yesterday. It's a cool grey with white trim -- it's going to be dark in the winter but that's okay. It's beautiful. 1200 square feet for just me and B. It'll be fucking rad and I'm proud of all the work we've done to fix it up already but we have so much more to do, a whole hell of a lot of which has to be done in the next two days.

Missa came to the shop to see us tonight and we all hung out after we closed, with H. and B. and A. It was wicked fun even though I got really paranoid about the damn kids upstairs. They go to school with me and I hate them.

I am so tired and I have so much to do but it's all going to be over in a week. Two big tasks -- moving and UDSC presentation -- have to happen by Monday. Three more -- Spanish final, Israel exam, and self-portrait-book -- have to happen by Friday. Then it's over, two weeks of peace and then working a lot at the shop and then going home for a week. Although Worcester is now my home as much almost as Portland and I don't want to move away from here in only a year and a half. I see why so many people stick around.

PS my friends are all freaks. I've discovered that wherever I go, I attract shady, sketchy, completely down but fucking insane friends. Good thing that describes me too. It's not a dis, I just think it's weird that wherever I go I find my people. (Not only that aspect of "my people" either, but that's another story.)

Smokin a blunt with B and then going to bed. Up early tomorrow to scrub the new bathroom floor and move all the shit I possibly can to all the rooms that are finished. Then at the shop 11:30 to 5, then babysitting the studios 5 to midnight, finish this accursed presentation, then sleep for like 6 hours, then go to a meeting to explain that due to two weeks of fucking insane technical issues I have no final project even though slides are due May 3 to the gallery, then present my research with these girls, then clean the living fuck out of our old apartment for the rest of the day.

So in other words I am going to DIE and I'm glad Missa came by. the end.
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