Ridge of Blue

With great desire to cross the spackled range, the black speck trails over the rough white terrain in solitude. Just him, his walking stick and a worn canvas pack. With every two steps the sun, a millimeter closer. Meditating adventure.

Kill the lights. Beneath cool sheets, by just the glow of a silent screen, numbers are scratched onto a grid marked easy. My eyes begin to burn and I drift away. Slumber- interrupted by a persistent car alarm. I spot a light. Flicker, Flick... Flicker, Flick. The car alarm eventually subsides to reveal a sweet, subtle melody coming from above. I love harmonicas. An army green pyramid points down at me.

I float away again and find myself laying in the tall grass. Light dims down and back up again as clouds go by in the sunset. Amoeba-shaped shadows undulate throughout the range and the sky tries on everything in its closet.

I lift myself up from the earth and transport to the fourth of july. Trudging through the sloppy, deserted trails, I try and locate a single square of dry cloth to wipe my specs. The water only relocates on the glass and now fog is added to the mix. It marks a challenge and excitedly, I climb faster and faster. The further I venture, the heavier I become. And as I descend the mountain, satisfied, I am light.

Waking-woven dreaming.
That range became my ceiling.

The Daddy Mac Will Make Ya

Brunch. Brunch. The bliss of two days off every week. Mmmm...the challah french toast. A latte and veggie style biscuits and gravy. Huevos rancheros with a bloody mary.

Try:
Brooklyn Label, Essex, Greenpoint Coffee House, Moto, Phoebes. Have had no more than coffee there, but I look forward to trying (recently opened) Blackbird Parlour's brunch (corner of Bedford and N6th in Williamsburgh).

I'm loving brooklyn. My freshly painted room (banana cream/lemon gelato). My neighborhood- the amazing italian bakery, the itsy bitsy hispanic laundromat, the subway stop outside my door, the asian produce market, phoebe's, my friendly watchful supers, the flying italian flags, puppies, beautiful doors, the mysterious loft, grandpas outside at off-track betting, flocks flapping wildly to squeeze into one small tree, brisk walks of fall, humming turn the radio off over and over again in my head.

Dancing, karaoke, sudoku, the red tent, dancing, a parade, a slice, a costume, glasses, a hanging plant, arepas, brunch.

[side note: Everything looks good in neon. A crucifix. A funeral home sign. Glow. Buzzz. A hand raised with urgency, "me! me! ooh, pick me!"]

Shake Off All That Hate

Last weekend I moved...finally. No more bed-stuy. This is good because the laws of probability are real my friends, and I was starting to feel like they were about to come after me.

On my way home after being offered my new apartment, waiting patiently for the train at broadway junction, I saw a crazy-looking lady and was thankful that we were walking across the platform in opposite directions. The train pulled up and I stepped inside the car. Who happened to sit directly across from me? Yes...it was her. Without looking up, I felt her eyes slicing into me. I started thinking that this wasn't going to turn out well for me. We exited the car at the same stop, but through different doors and then headed up the stairs. And that's when she started, "You little white xxxxx. You creamy-xxx xxxxxx-xxxxxx." etc, etc. And she was picking up speed, walking towards me. I tried ignoring her and just going through the turnstyle. I headed for the stairs up to the street when I got the feeling she might swing at me or pull me down the stairs by the back of my head. I turned back around and hid out for a bit next to the station attendant until I could no longer hear her raging mouth.

I have had many racist and angry things shouted at me in the three months I lived there, but this was the first time I actually felt threatened. More than anything I usually just felt unwelcome.

I am now off the Grand stop on the L and so very pleased. It's only been a few days, but already life seems significantly easier.

Bit by bit, I slowly make progress, swimming like salmon.

Like a Monkey w/ a Miniature Cymbal

Yay!!! My lease is almost up! I can finally escape.

Boo!!! Finding an apartment in NYC is sooo difficult and exhausting.

I keep going to look at places. Some look like jail cells located in a basement w/ cement floors, a "cool" backyard with weeds up to your waste and a cat that was never mentioned on the wonderful world of craigslist. Others are beautiful, great location, convenient, but then there is the bit of a weirdo you would be living w/ who is worried you might cook too much, forget to take off your shoes before you come in the door, or that you might want to sit in the kitchen and eat what took you too long to cook.

Many times I've looked at apartments in an open house situation. That is uncomfortable. Am I in the jungle or at the mall on Black Friday? The claws come out, the voices get louder, the questions and statements get more to the point and matter of fact. You hope that if you liked the place that something about yourself was memorable enough that they might offer it to you.

Trivia Q: What is everyone who is looking for a new roommate or a new room?


answer: "kcab dial"

Are you really? Am I really? Only time will tell. (spooky laugh follows)

It was a Vampire Weekend.

Friday I went to one of the oldest bars in NYC- McSorleys. The place has never been dusted. Above the rough wooden bar hangs a neglected furry light fixture. Hey wait...are those wishbones hanging from there? Yes. The story goes that before men went off to war, they would come in for a meal and hang their turkey bone one the chandelier. When they returned home from service they would take it down. The light was full of them. How sad...

Saturday morning at Union Square. Eating a peach on a bench when The Amazing Race is going on before my eyes. The lady a couple benches over was one of their check-points. P.S.- for those of you who didn't know...Erin and sent in a try-out tape and application for the show. No call backs.

Saturday afternoon on my way to see Vampire Weekend @ the East River Amphitheater, I stop in Chinatown to grab a Vita Chrysanthemum Tea juice box. I had heard it was the best (It was okay, but maybe not THE best). Vamp W: I loved it, loved it, loved it. And so did everyone in the GAP commercial down by the stage. I say this b/c they were all dancing wildly at three in the afternoon, w/ no drinks, and were all totally lovely. A butterball in the audience basted himself in the sun w/ his own sweat, daring to further his "I fell asleep in the sun" fried skin stretched tightly across his hard Purdue Belly.. Picnics in the grass. Kids running up and down the amphitheater stairs. Woah...Is that John Mcenroe? No, but almost. Ben, from your description I'd say this fellow nabbed your pale yellow shorts. While I'm sure he had love for his absent racket, he showed much love and respect for his skateboard, leaving it outside the porta-potty by its lonesome during a stop.

Post Vamp W Bloody Mary---Killer! All-American Will eats a hot dog, later thumb restles a painted plaster italian chef statue, and does a cartwheel in front of a moving taxi. We ask bouncers in front of enormous wooden doors which Wizard of Oz characters we are. The big ol' bouncer claims he is OZ. I bust out push ups in an empty club and crip walk in front of American Apparel as "man on bench" shouts, "Snoop Doggy Dog!" Awesome bubble-blowin' kids at Misshapes.

Chandler and I make plans for Bread Stuy (in Bed-Stuy). I am tuning out the comment, "Why do women like bread so much." Anyways...very exciting, but we just haven't made it yet. And that about wraps it up and catches you up, so keep yer heads up.

P.S. A haircut, I beg of you!! Please Anna, I need your help.

Lastly: 2 Fams Unite. Yeah, Meg! Yeah, Jas! (w/ a long "a" of course).

Dish out Dough for a Dish

Down spring street you'll find two perfectly adorable little places to treat yourself some fine afternoon: Pinkberry & Rice to Riches.

The first sells yogurt w/ a billion toppings to chose from to mix w/ it. Bo, a fellow designer fancies a deadly trio of kiwi, blueberries, and cocoa puffs on her yogurt.

The second sells a million flavors of rice pudding. Janet, another fellow designer goes nuts for the cappuccino flavor.

Cute is a four-letter word.

Take The Long Way Home

Yes Supertramp, sometimes I do indeed. Not today though, but let's discuss. I live in a far away place with dragons, fairies, fried chicken, and block parties. This lovely place is nestled in charming Bed-Stuy. I am almost at Broadway Junction, where the L, J, A, and C trains meet in Brooklyn.

I normally take the C train, you remember Charlie, right? It's fine, usually works through the week, but almost never late at night or on weekends due to track work. Sometimes A is Charlie's substitute, a dirty ugly train. If Hopstop tells me so, I will take J, a bit of a walk and sometimes invites more dirty looks and rude comments along the way. The J is older and uglier than A, and it's slower, I swear.

But if I have the time and can avoid most of these letters, I will take the L any day, all day long. It's cold, clean, pretty, fast, and has a calming electronic voice that announces stops you otherwise have'nt a chance of understanding, and a couple light up maps in each car to show you stops and which one you are at. Lovely. It goes a little out of my way, past my stop, but isn't it worth it? Sigh. "Why can't you be more like your brother?, Why can't you be more like your sister?", some parents may inquire. But I ask you and everyone at MTA, "Why can't all trains be more like the L?"

Sun_Day in the Life

Woke up, I felt my best.
Dragged a comb across my chest.
Down 2 the Hudson & propped my feet up.
As I warmed up, I noticed I was great.
Found my shorts & grabbed my sax,
Need to tune, that note was flat.
Sat up on the rail. Arpeggios.
Payed in Cheerios & I'm livin' a dream.


Sunday Night Yum: I made huevos rancheros. A Mexican miracle!

T to the RAIN

Blame it on C train, not comin' not comin'
Blame it on the cars, with crazies at night
Whatever you do, don't take the one or two
Blame it on the trains yeah, yeah
You can blame it on the trains

Great New Weightloss Program!

It's called No Air Conditioning. My loaner A/C is now back in its owner's hands. What's a girl to do? Can I last the rest of the summer w/out it? Am I being a big fat baby?

Yowsers...I just jacked three of Snow's buddies: sneezy/stuffy/itchy. I'm starting to think that I'm allergic to my roommates cat. I don't understand, I grew up always having dog/s. Why now? Will this allergy include all pets? I was dreaming about my next apt including a big fluffy dog. I miss Joe.

Double-header: Part II

On the steps of this little "park" on the corner, I wait for my second interview to begin. Pigeons. They seriously freak me out. I kept trying to shew them away, but there's no hope. A guy in front of me said, "They're everywhere! They're like rats w/ wings." I concur. So Burt, what's the deal? Why the love?

Interview #2 (interpret that how you like): "So uh...yude be doin' graphick teez foruh juniuh an misses apparuhl. Work onuh coupluh designs and sendem tumi. Think trendee, hahd coor, uh...rahk an rowell. Or uh...you cann come up with some clevuh phrases. Like this wun...there wuzuh drawrin uvuh cat withuhnevil grin and it seduh, 'If you wanna friend, getta duwog,' ya know? We like owa designs to be layuhd, like it hasuh meanin' to it. Here, itz morahbout art than fashion."

You get the idea. Pumpin' out t-shirts as bizarre as greeting cards. "Hmmm...that's something I might say...I like rainbows and ponies..." Creating "art" on cotton for the masses just might not be my cup of tea and that is OK. It's getting easier to see what I'm not supposed to be doing with my life.

P.S. And they work on mac minis. Supuh hahd coor.

Double-header: Part I

Interview at Amalgamated. All planned out & somehow, things go south. Checked HopStop before I left & it gave me a different route than i had planned w/ a longer transit time. Ran out the door. Needed to go to W30th st, but stuck in my head was W40th st. Looking for #145 and I see a Blimpie that's 143 and the chinese place next door is 147. Hmmm...Crap. I'm an idiot. If that were right I would have been punctual. Now 10 blocks away and I have to turn my phone back on to call and say I'll be late. I grab a taxi, put on my dressy shoes, and never turn my phone off again. I get there, apologize for being tardy, go through my book and realize i forgot my posters, then my freakin phone rings. Is this a joke? What is my problem? Ok, so despite all the trouble I still think it went well. Faun seems really nice, the place has a good feel to it, and she responded really positively to my work, but it might be at least a few weeks before I here anything on this one.

What's that gold 'round yo neck?

Its a chain, the leader of our friday night train. Kelly, Will, and I head to Manhattan for a party we are just not so sure about. It is one of his co-workers 30th b-day party. He said the invite was about 2 months ago and she'll be wearing a tiara. Girls w/ Tiara's usually scare me or make me laugh–either way I'm a little suspect. So we hang out this bar and we pick out a few songs on the juke box, which never seem to play until everyone starts singing happy birthday with a creepy mask of the b-day girl over their faces. Figures. Turns out Ellen, the b-day girl, is very nice, just extra excited about this b-day and her friends are tall blondes that look like they could kick my tush. We leave there and go another bar that was more dancey. Kind of like a NYC version of DMFN (dance music for nerds). Much fun.

Taste Test

Kelly and I w/ spent feet decide to keep on and get a slice with her friend Jonathan. After that we started the real evening at the Turkey's nest in Williamsburg, a dive bar for the locals. There were a lot of dudes, the ratio was way off. I think maybe just out of baseball practice from the park? There was an old black lady with no hair at the juke box in red china flats with sock with pink bunnies or something on them. She was picking some soulful classics. She kept dancing by herself in front of the box, waving arms and a foot stomp now and then when things got extra soulful.

Another friend joined us–Laura. She said she saw an open bar a couple doors down. So we left the dive and with two scrawny guys standing outside with arms folded, we asked "what's goin' on here?" They replied, "Well, do you like crunk." We weren't actually sure but we said we were and headed inside. Quite a change of pace. Now we are the minority, music is good and the place is kind of neat. The DJ stops and two girls start rapping. Everyone is going nuts! Lovin' it. Then the break-dancing begins.

Ready for something new, we head a few more doors down to another bar with something very strange to offer– A free pizza with every drink. And now we are all exhausted. Time for that long train ride. We wake some kid up at station so he doesn't miss the train. He is from Iowa and won't stop talkin' to us Caroliners about grits. Not only am I not a good ninja, but I'm also not a good southerner. I have had grits once and they were a no-go. The other night Will's friends asked me if I also ate chicken and waffles. I don't even know what that means. I have never heard of that absurd combo. Is that a southern tradition? Got me...

Not Everyone Is Cut Out To Be A Ninja

Bad ninja, bad. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. Nauto and I lurk in the shadows. The elevator doors open and another group of spiffy diners steps in the dim room w/ a view of 2 doors in front of them. "Hiya!" And they're startled. "You have two choices: the easy way or the ninja passage way." Gee...which do you think they picked? Yup. They are led into the darkness, across a bridge, along a winding path. "Hiya!" Startled again and then step into "ninja village". They are led to their table/room and shut in with the sliding doors. "Gomay!" and a bow with each visit to the table. Everything is theatrical. A lame attraction at a theme park–the ones people only go to to sit in air conditioning for a while– beautiful setting, horrible cheese-ball acting. So I think we all know that this is out my character. The day after my first night of work I called to quit. First job in NY–check. A humorous story–check. Do you recall that J.Lo song "Waiting for Tonight"? R-rr-r-remix. "Ninja for one night" You hear that?

Rewind...

Ok...so, back to saturday: I meet Lorna and Will in SOHO. Lorna and I: green wearers with minty-colored, pistachio-flavored gelato. Will: new mint-soled kicks. We're three lucky stripes on an easter egg.

The trains are totally messed up. Soo annoying. I leave Union Square with a perky bouquet of basil from the green market. I arrive home with a sad, droopy bunch. Boo.

Sunday: lazy. But then a call. I'm going to be a ninja. But seriously, An interview at 5pm in TriBeCa at Ninja New York. I go down the elevator, to the right, and into the rock garden. We talk and I'm asked to stay and learn my table #'s. Yikes...this place, besides the rock garden has 22 private rooms (each table has it's own room) that wind around in a confusing maze. It is beautiful, low lit and elegant. I have to wear a black ninja suit. Oh geez...this is going to be silly. I start Tuesday night. I hope I won't be a spaz.

Now fry like bacon, you little freshman piggies!

Like that trash can, huh?

Tonight. Dazed and Confused showed at McCarren Pool (No water/swimming). Blankets, pillows, snacks, ice cream, and sneaky alcohol. Everyone waving and motioning friends to find them through the vast sea of tuesday night movie-goers.

Matthew McConaughey. So this is where your type-casted career began.

Getting to Williamsburg and back by train is kind of a drag, but McCarren Park is very nice. It has this hometown feel to it that reminds me of summers in Lancaster, OH, watching my cousins play baseball.

A Day Like This Calls For A Fat Hippo Nap

Sunday morning at the Frick. Love Love Love Italian renaissance religious paintings. And Vermeer. Then to the Met for a tour on Buddhism. It was was great to hear the stories retold. Have such love for Asian art thanks to Punam Madhok. Afterwords Lorna treated Faye and I to an unforgettable vegan lunch/dinner? (I don't even know what time it was)

For Starters, Live Tomato-Avacado Tartare: trumpet royale ceviche, quinoa chips with poblano dressing; and Seaweed Salad: hijiki, arame, cabbage, edamame, radish, wasabi leaves with a sesame ginger dressing.

Main course(s), Seitan Poccata: creamed spinach, grilled potato pancake, oyster mushrooms and lemon-caper sauce, Cumin-Basil Crusted Tempeh: lemon quinoa tabouli, sautéed broccoli raab and basil-roasted corn sauce; Corn & Wild Mushroom Crepe: summer vegetables, basil aioli and mesclun greens.

And to finish things off, Strawberry Pie and a Berry Phyllo Tower: coconut-vanilla cream, fresh berries, and berry coulis. Yummm. So very special.

I came home and rested a bit and then my roommate Anna made us banana and pear crepes w/ vanilla ice cream (but she called them German pancakes). They were actually more of a cross between crepes and pancakes.

While she cooked, she manged to break a glass dish and I broke the projector...I think...I hope not. No projector, so we watched a movie in my room.

The end. What a day filled w/ lovely food and company.

No pictures= I've been a slacker. sorry.

J L Hewitt and J Moore As Guests. Seriously?

High tech laundromat. No quarters here. A card. And it's air conditioned. And has two TV's showing Jerry Springer and the Tyra show. Why wasn't I there a week ago?

Last night went to Seaport to see Menomena, Opening w/ Beat the Devil. 1st time hearing BTD-Ridiculously good. They gave Menomena a beat down. Then back to my apartment...A lonely city so far.

"You All Everybody"

The intercom lady speaks, "The train Charlie is one stop behind. Thank you for your patience." Thats cute. The C train is Charlie like we're on a walkie-talkie. Is it a girl or a boy? He/she has an A-name sibling. What might it be?

Went to Public, a salon in a Williamsburg. A good haircut, esp. one that is overdue is similar to eating w/ sticks, except more expensive.

The past few days I have come home to my street w/ everyone hanging out near a gushing fire hydrant. I believe it is called, how do you say....a sprinkler.

Spoon Playing Spoons the Month After June

"Interview" today at Giovanni Bianco/ Studio 65. They have hired three new people since I interviewed w/ them last April, too full to take on anyone else, but will let me no if anything changes, yada yada yada. I guess I will keep trying to learn Italian anyways just to keep myself occupied. Afterwards, knife shopping w/ Lorna. A free Spoon show in the park tonight in the Financial District. It's all about silverware and such today ladies and gentlemen. Almost got rained into an elementary school, but the weather let up for a while, then eventually sprinkled spoon off stage. Seriously, just sprinkles. I love spoon, but I gotta say....they're hearts just weren't in it tonight. The horns section + baritone sax were the best part. The people were great though: the really strange couples that hold each other from back-pockets, the perpetual thigh drummer sitting on the stone wall, the trio of HS girls obviously a little obsessed w/ Spoon, etc.

It's good to be home...these last few days have been super exhausting. I'm ready to stay inside read, watch movies, and do some serious job hunting for a while. Plus, much more bearable w/a fan for one of my windows and a 2-week loaner a/c for the other. I actually slept w/ a blanket last night. Amazing!!!

Window full of wide-eyed, grinning, naked mannequins =creepy

Sweat It Out!

Friends! It is so good to see people I know. A fantastic show last night! Dan Deacon, The Future Islands, Video Hippos, OCDJ in a warehouse place called Death by Audio. A full-body third-degree burn. The whole place is a slip and slide: a sweat slingin' good time. Nice to have one night that I feel at home in my new city.

Last night a girl's heel stabbed me in the foot. I hope its just a really bad bruise 'cause it sure does hurt like hell. I have blisters and cuts. It's kinda really bad. How will I wear shoes to my interview tomorrow?

So happy that Lorna is here. She started her culinary classes this morning. Exciting.

Cool off w/ that Purple Stuff

Block Parties: They really exist beyond Nick at Nite. But Good luck if you wanted to read, watch a movie, or play your own music. And hopefully you were dying to listen to hip hop until 3am. Everyone is sitting on their stoops or on lawn chairs, grilling bbq ribs and chicken, and quick dashes to the ice cream truck. The streets are almost completely blocked off by crowds of people. A few step up their daytime outfits by slipping into a pair of 4-inch red patent leather pumps. First instinct may be to get annoyed by the noise disrupting your evening, but in reality...it kind of neat. Passing on the expensive door fees and beverages attached to nightlife in the city to hang out w/ family and friends in the neighborhood. Won't you be my neighbor?

Guilty Feet Have Got No Rhythm

Fujiya and Miyagi @ the Seaport. Those careless whispers made me dance. Only a handful of others shakin' it. Most were so lame they couldn't even wiggle their shoulders. It must have hurt to fight it that hard, those beats were infectious, in a good way.

Picked up Wild Ducks Flying Backward By Tom Robbins yesterday. I've heard good things. Had Tofu Pad Ped Khing across from the Strand (used book store) near Seaport. Soooo nose-runny hot. Funtastic. Eating w/ sticks makes everything better.

You know what time it is!

The guy who live downstairs, his name is Brooklyn. Named after his birthplace? Just call me Denver. See....it just doesn't sound right, Denver is for dinosaurs. I read a book in fifth grade called Shoe Bag. Most of the main characters were cockroaches and named after the place they were born. Just a few of them: Drainboard, Frying Pan and Under The Toaster. The story seemed adorable, like the little guys could be my friends...but that was eight years before I had my first terrifying encounter with one. Anyways...back to the original story...I always hear Brooklyn out on his deck, which is directly beneath my window, talking shop on his cell. By shop, I get the idea that he might make music, but definitely makes music videos (of what caliber...not sure). I think they were having some sort of show in the apt. tonight. I just heard Penny rapping over the theme to inspector gadget (actually kind of awesome).

Today Betti Lanucci finally wrote me back from Studio 65/ Giovanni Bianco (the italian design agency that is specifically geared toward high fashion that I told most of you about). She said she would like to set up a time to do another interview w/ me. Shooting for next wednesday, but she hasn't confirmed. So, tonight I'm passing the time trying to learn a little Italian. Ciao.

Maybe Halal is Hell's brother...

Cloudy w/ a chance of meatballs on the 4th of July, a perfect day to lay around in my room reading and trying to solve impossibly hard sudoku puzzles. Eventually I left the apartment in search of a Brita filter and some produce (it has been hard to find). After getting off the A train @ Norstrand I walked down the "fulton mile", past Halal's Kitchen (a corner market) in search of the goods and couldn't help but wonder if halal and hell were related. Mission accomplished and the rain starts to sprinkle. I hurry home. Just another short adventure through the city and I'm exhausted and starving. A simple independence day evening, just me, Dead Like Me, the hum of the projector, and the fireworks going off throughout the city...or were they gun shots. Just Kidding Guys. Happy July Fourth!

Geeky DLM line I loved: "I always thought soul food came from South Korea."

P.S. I think I may have yanked the "cloudy w/ a chance of meatballs" drop from Lex's last article for DC Guide.

Check it out! She writes one fabulously smart fashion article a month.

R. Kelly seems to be some kind of hero in America

Anyone confused about the pushing thumbs phrase? I'll elaborate. One of my new roommates just moved here from Germany. During a chat I mentioned I was keeping my fingers crossed that things would work out here. She said that the equivalant for that phrase in Germany is to say you are pushing your thumbs. If you physically did that, it would be like making a fist, but with your thumb underneath the other fingers.

Her first night here, she heard loud rap music coming from outside the apartment, probably R. Kelly. She hates his music, but is amazed that he seems to be somewhat of a hero in America. A fantastic view (from the roof and on the subject of R. Kelly).

Blast Off! To BoCoCa! Stopped into Rocketship to catch up on comics (Walking Dead and Runaways). A bit of trip to get there, though partly by subway, instant blisters. Oh, boogers. On my roof I read a bit and watched the pre-4th intermittent fireworks.

Most fascinating sight of the day: petite woman in dress sandals w/ really long beard

dieNEL_YES!

I solo-trecked over to park slope last night. Union Hall: Drink, play bocce, hear tunes, all inside an old yellowed photograph. A quick first look around and I spot a man holding an old-timey mustache-on-a-stick above his mouth. He didn't fool me. No, sir.

Tonight's line up: Casey Dienel and the Flapjacks, and openers These United States and Laura Gibson. They are genuine and made of gold. I only wish there had been rocking chairs. Subtle toe-tapping in my folding chair had to make-do.

The Bastards Followed Me

"Gee Dad, I sure hope I will be seeing less cockroaches in NYC."
"You won't see them again," Dad says.

2am, very tired. I go to brush my teeth and wash my face before bed. Holy crap!!! Ugggh!!! Crawling from the floor up to the bathroom mirror, a 4 inch cockroach. I grab a shoe, but he's gone. I put the shoe down and try to proceed w/ my nightly ritual, but I can't help the tension in my back and neck and my toes curling. I peer into the living room. Crap! Crap, crap, crap! Another one. Bastards!! I couldn't catch him. These suckers are on steroids.

I recall asking the girl who lived here before me if there were cockroaches. She said, "No, I've lived here for a while and have only seen a couple of water bugs." I didn't know what water bugs were, all I cared about was her confirmation that there were no cockroaches. Water bugs my butt, they look like freakin' cockroaches to me. I guess there is no escaping those hearty suckers, they are survivors.

Are we there yet?

Yes, and I have one question for you: How many keys does it take to turn into a janitor? Well, I haven't started to turn yet and I've got six for my new apartment. I've got a gate that leads to my gate that leads to my door that leads to my door that leads to my door that leads to my door. You think I'm kidding. The breeze through my window travels with a posse of sounds, an endless loop of sirens and ice cream trucks. It sure isn't a school night. It's summer, 10:30pm, and the kids are eating chaco tacos and astro pops. Everything in the room is "sans les meubles," all ground-level and in 360 degrees I can see my entire life.

Newly learned phrase: pushing thumbs = keeping your fingers x-ed.