Lemurs Have Nothing to Do With My Life Right Now

Ring tailed lemurs
Originally uploaded by Amiyaal.

Ring-tailed lemurs, like the ones on your right, have absolutely nothing to do with anything that I'm up to now. Lately I've been preoccupied with fighting the good fight, bordering sometimes on being unladylike.

Being that this is the internets, I can't get into the nuts and bolts of my current unpleasantness. Apologies all around.

However, if the English major in me is allowed to come out for a minute, I will say it revolves around the philosophical theme of self-identity. That is, am I but a cog in someone else's wheel, or have I come to a point in my career and my personal evolution where I won't put up with nonsense.

Last night while walking home I thought about how, when I was about 24 or so, I was dating an Israeli guy. When we met I was working a normal 9 to 5 schedule and all seemed right in the world. When things started to warm up between us, I was switched to evenings at work. Within weeks my new beau met another girl and I was history. I always wondered, though, if I had been around at night to hang out and spend time with him, would our relationshiip have been cut off so quickly? Would we at least be on speaking terms today?

I think everyone has their "Office Space" moment, that point where you realize a job is just that -- a job. It doesn't necessarily define you, even if you pride yourself on your talents. An electrician will always find wires to connect and a professor will always find students to teach, etc. What matters, at least as far as I can tell, is how that job fits into the rest of your life. How does it fit in with your relationships, your friends, your sanity, your sense of self-worth. I think that when any of these tenets are compromised, it's time to reassses things, maybe even get all angry Pit Bull on whoever is messing with your Mojo.

So that's what's up to right now -- tuning up my Mojo. Like most fights, it's not pleasant, but I would be a chump if I weren't going to the mattresses to fix it. And I'm no chump.

So that is that.

Monday Night Slacker

First holiday
Originally uploaded by Zamm.

I came home last night and wonder of wonders, there were no random family members or Bulldogs in my apartment. I had a burger and fries for dinner and absolutely no plans beyond that. All was truly right in the world.

And so I spent the next few hours watching Clerks, playing DJ and writing. It was funny that Clerks was on, being that I hadn't seen the film in years. For a first effort, it's one of Kevin Smith's better films.

For those that follow all of his work, it's funny to hear chracters talk about other characters that show up in different films, such as Alyssa Jones and Rick Darris. I also never realized how much the Dante character in Clerks annoyed me, or what screechy New Jersey accents most of the female charqcters had. Jason Mewes also looks like he's about 16 years old in the film. He's one of it's redeeming qualities. Then again, I didn't grow up in suburban New Jersey, so what do I know? Maybe the Dantes and the Veronicas are more realistic than I realize. Nevertheless, I have always thought that Kevin Smith's dialogue is way too wordy. People don't talk like his characters. Maybe he missed his true calling as a novelist.

Anyway, it was strange that Clerks was on last night because New York magazine has a story this week about people who "refuse" to grow up and instead look like overgrown teenagers. I've often wondered if the hipsters and yupsters of today are an evolved form of the slacker from the 1990s. Slackers kind of prided themselves on crappy jobs while hipsters, on the other hand, pride themselves on having artistic jobs that "mean" something and living in cool neighborhoods.

I'll think a little but more in this. I might be onto something.

Your Friends Should Not Be Your Sources

Greg Lindsay wrote a really great piece today about why journalists shouldn't use their friends and families is stories.

He really hit the nail on the head on this one. It also tangentially applies to why you shouldn't write about your friends. People always ask me why I don't review their books when they come out or write profiles about them when they publish something. (This is assuming that what they have produced has even a modicum of quality to it.)

It's just bad form, lazy journalism and shows questionable ethics. I realize the world is run on favors, but when it comes to my job, I'd rather not be known as a glad-hander.

Bulldogs in My Apartment

are you talkin to me?
Originally uploaded by marce_garal.

When I signed the lease for my apartment back in 2003, the management company was clear about one issue: No dogs. I could have a cat. I could paint the walls. I could even sublet the place out to a relative. I just couldn't have a dog.

This rule is so abided by in my building that during the three years that I've lived there I have rarely seen a dog. The dogs that I have seen have been from guests, and they have apologized for having them.

You can imagine by surprise, then, when both La Madre and my brother Rob called me on Saturday evening when I was out at Le Doug's to tell me that since my apartment was empty, they brought Rob's dogs over. Rob is selling his house in Jersey and was having an open house on Sunday. The dogs needed to be out of sight, and my place seemed like a good spot.

I yelled for a bit, noting the anti-dog clause in my lease, but settled down once Rob and La Madre promised to keep the dogs out of sight from the super. I realized there was nothing I could do, being that I was in another state and trying to deal with a rebound case of the stomach flu. Plus, it was Le Doug's birthday, and there was fettucine alfredo and Carvel cake to enjoy. Not too mention that bottle of Veuve Cliquot.

I got a ride back into NYC the following morning, courtesy of the town car that was taking Le Doug to the airport. We got into NYC from Greenwich in literally 30 minutes. There was no traffic on Sunday morning and the driver must have been pushing close to 80 MPH.

When I got into my apartment, there was my mom and the two dogs. My mom was on the couch and the two dogs were sleeping on one of my extra comforters in the middle of the room. The whole place smelled like a barnyard. Don't forget that I was getting over a week's worth of the stomach flu and the last thing I wanted to deal with was a couple of dogs and family members in my apartment.

So I did the rational thing: I channelled all my frustration into cleaning. I did all my laundry, cleaned all my beddings and scrubbed the bathroom until it shined. Meanwhile, the dogs snored away in the middle of the apartment and I had to open the door and window just to get out the dog smell.

My apartment was not designed for dogs. It was hardly designed for two people. Two dogs plus two people is counter to what the the laws of physics allow in such a small space. By 4:00 PM I was going crazy. Eventually Rob came and took his dogs back, and I got yelled at by La Madre for "insulting the dogs" when Rob came by.

Who does this, I ask you? Who gets upset about "insulting dogs" after said dogs have been brought into an apartment against the wishes of the owner? And who does this when the apartment owner is sick? The best part was when La Madre and Rob complained about my lack of food in the apartment and when La Madre sent me out for coffee and doughnuts.

Around 5:00 PM everyone left and I had a bit of peace before going out to KGB Bar for a reading. A friend from Syracuse was reading. It was a nice break from the rest of the day, although it would have been a lot nicer had I spent the day like I wanted, alone, reading a book, getting some writing done and eating a bagel with lox.

Back From the Sick Days

Killers of pain
Originally uploaded by Starberri.

No, my fans, I haven't left you. On Tuesday I got hit with a stomach bug that was so bad it was downright Third World. Le Doug took good care of me the first night, and then I spent two days locked in my bunker waiting for the pain to go away. I watched a lot of movies and drank a lot of Gatorade. I even put the old magazines out for recycling.

I'm better now and ready to update you on things. First off, here is yesterday's column from The Simon, which I barely even remember writing.

Franz Ferdinand Recap

Franz Ferdinand
Originally uploaded by Emmaline.

Last night co-worker Erin and I braved the cold for the three-block walk over to the Fuse TV studios. We were both stoked to go check out Franz Ferdinand, not to mention have our way with the open bar.

I love press events. There's free food, booze and meeting up with other journos. Last night I bumped into Nicole, a seasoned rock writer with a flair for sparkly clothing. We boozed and schmoozed before we were all dragged back outside to watch The Ferd smash a bottle of Scotch (...because they're Scottish...) against the new facade of the Fuse buiding. Great, just great.

Finally, the show. There were only about 100 or so people there, so Erin and I got a great spot on a wooden block next to some chick from US Weekly. Then Erin pointed out that right next to her was Ivanka Trump. Ivanka was pretty, slim, although puffy in the face like her poppa, The Donald. Anyway, she soon moved to another block closer to the stage, where halfway through the show I saw her really rocking out, Joan Jett style.

I could hardly blame her, there was plenty to rock out to. The Ferd was, as usual, awesome. Alex Kapranos is one hell of a front man, charming and flirting with the ladies in the front row. Erin pointed out that she thinks Kapranos kind of looks like Miranda from "Sex and the City." (ohnoshedidn't!)

They played for about half an hour and then disappeared to some undisclosed location within the building. Then Erin and I got pizza, which was a mistake for me being that I'm lactose intolerant. Whaddaya gonna do?

Search For Two Himalayan Kittens

Tsunami Portrait
Originally uploaded by jetforme.

Le Doug and I are on the prowl for two seal point, doll face Himalayan kittens like the one on the right. We're looking for either two males or a male and a female.

I've been looking all over the internets for a breeder and I'm having a hard time. The kitten must have a pointed face, since flat faces can cause eye infections.

If you have any leads, feel free to give me a shout.

Teddy Geiger Review

teddy on guitar
Originally uploaded by squabbly_squaggles.

...you loved him on "Love Monkey". If John Mayer had a musical younger brother named Teddy, Teddy Geiger would be him. And you still can't get over the fact that this Teddy may not even be 18 yet.

...and his name is Teddy...how cute.

What's not to love? Here's a review of his first album, penned by moi.

Franz Ferdinand

franz-9
Originally uploaded by rocktographer.

Tonight co-worker Erin and I, as well as a few other Ladies of the News, are going to see Franz Ferdiand.

You may remember when I first wrote about The Ferd, back in the '04.

I still think they're awesome. I'm preparing to be spastic tonight.

I'm insanely busy. I had to knock out a quick music review this AM, do some follow ups on some edits for a magazine piece and stay warm in this generally cold office.

Full update tomorrow!

Crossing the Sahara

Sea Of Gold
Originally uploaded by BidWiya.

My old skool friend Lauren Frayer wrote this piece about an eclectic group of people crossing the Sahara Desert for peace with the group, Breaking the Ice.

Check it out. It's an awesome piece written by an awesome gal.

Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!

a day in the life #4
Originally uploaded by SlipStreamJC.

Lately Sundays for me have meant being out in Greenwich and reading the paper while sprawled out on Le Doug's floor. Perhaps Darjeeling tea and toast with hummus is also involved...

But I'm not in Greenwich today...le sigh...

Nevertheless, I still have my Sunday Times and there are a few good bits in there. Check them out.

Modern Loves explores raising a daughter while the father is in jail.

Barack Obama: Lovable, almost to a fault.

Shiny, glassy buildings may be upstaging the cache of getting into a pre-war co-op.

And of course, the Good Sperm story.

However, can journalists manage to write stories about single women and not mention 'Sex and the City' or Carrie Bradshaw? You single 30-something chicks are not her. Not even close. She's a fictional character. Who wrote for a fictional paper. (And you could never afford her shoes.)

Not in the Times but still notable: The Cherry industry and the government go toe to toe over health claims abut the little red fruits.

Take My Class!

Bart laments his role in the Ministry of Reshelving.
Originally uploaded by Avant Game.

...because you keep saying that you want to write more. Because you keep saying that you always wanted to be a writer. Because you have no better way to spend your Monday nights.

I'm teaching Non-Fiction I with the Gotham Writers Workshop again starting April 17th. It'll be a great class and very heavy on writing, especially in class.

Best of all: You get to hang out with me for three houts a week. Way-pah!

Saturday Morn

wine pour
Originally uploaded by katiew.

I told you I'd be back. This weekend is a working one, like so many others. But last night I got a brief reprieve in the way of dinner with my favorite guy, Le Doug. We walked a bit after work down Park Avenue South, as the drunks made their ways back to Grand Central. When there are a lot of drunks on the trains, such as on Saint Patrick's Day or New Year's Eve, I call the trains, "Vomit Comets," for obvious reasons.

We ate at Les Halles on 28th Street. Le Doug loves French bistros and I love a full-bodied Bordeaux. We had a Cote du Rhone with dinner, instead, which was also quite nice. Variety, my friends, variety.

That is what Friday night should be: A nice dinner with your fella coupled with a good bottle of wine. No drinking your face off at some yuppie watering hole and then going home to throw up in your bathtub. How is that a productive use of your time?

Then Le Doug, always the gentleman, walked me to my door before he took off to go meet an old friend. I read the new issue of Jane magazine. I'm actually starting to like that magazine after years of snubbing it. Perhaps Brandon Holley is doing right.

St. Patrick's Day!

Originally uploaded by LittleRamona.

You'll have to excuse-moi for being away from the blog for so long. I've had some fires to put out over here, as well as a few to start, and so I've been pressed for time. Luckily, I have a quick dinner with my fella tonight, before I head back to the bunker and he heads off into the night. Funny, that.

Then I'll walk home, avoiding all the drunks along Third Avenue. I live across the street from McCarthy's, which is the scariest, old man bar in all of Manhattan. Wish me luck.

You may be hearing from me this weekend. I'll be at the job, working some OT. Things will invaribale get slow so and I'll have to find something else to do besides intravenous CNN.

As for now, I have little to offer. So how about some links?

Talk about an occupational hazard: Burglars in Kazakhstan locked a funeral parlor employee in a coffin and kept him there unconscious while rummaging for cash.

Nothing says town-bonding like building the nation's tallest Glockenspiel.

Best Non-Celebrity Sighting Ever

ss06_badgleymischka02
Originally uploaded by namida21.

Last night co-worker Erin and I went to a Badgley Mischka party over at the Saint Regis Hotel. It was grand, full of champagne and models, if you like that sort of thing. Both Badgley and Mischka were there, but we were too busy perched on the sofa and eating little chocolcates too make small talk.

As we came in we sussed the place out. It was a great suite (The Presidentail Suite at that) and everyone was far too fabulous for their own good.

Then a gal came around the corner. She looked familiar, but I couldn't exactly place her.

Then I realize it was the girl from MTV's True Life: I Have a Friend With Benefits. She was the girl who moved to New York City and was hooking up with this shmoe of a guy who was clearly just using her for sex. She got a attached and went crazy and started crying over him. And MTV caught it all on film. I think her name was Rachel or Jen or something Murray Hill-esque like that. Anyway, she was there, although now she's some sort of unnaturally highlighted blonde.

At the end of the event, the swag was quality. A coffee table book of Elle photographer Gilles Bensimon's photos, a Badgley Mischka picture frame and the latest issue of Elle.

Good times, Good times.

Weird Will Ferrell Site

This site is going around. It reports that Will Ferrell died in a freak paragliding accident. Read it careuflly, though....it's full of typos and grammatical errors.

An Etta James Review

etta
Originally uploaded by lobbtherockmodster.

Etta James is one of those legendary Ladies of Jazz that you just can't mess with. She's up there with Aretha and Ella and Billie and Nina [Simone].

Ms. Etta put out a new album, which I reviewed. Sadly, it's just not that good. For a woman whose been in the music business for almost fifty years, on would think she'd know what sounds good and what doesn't.

Check it out.

Newsie

sleepy news
Originally uploaded by wam mosely.

I have always wanted a big, fat orange cat like this one. But Le Doug wants and plans to get Himalayans. I think Tabbies are true mousers. (Not only is one a tabby, he's Chinese, too. Check out the newspapers.)

Check out these links while I find a way to smuggle an orange kitten into Doug's house.

The Killers ask politely that the suit against them, brought on my their former mamanger be dropped.

You know you need a hobby when your greatest joy in life is your 5-pound mango.

Monday, Monday

A Weed to Welcome 2006
Originally uploaded by cobalt123.

Hello all. Apologies for the late update. I've been delayed today with work and drama, which are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Nevertheless, I'm here. How are you?

My weekend got off to a bumpy start. Let's just say that Cosmos are no longer my friend and I should never have messed with pink drinks in the first place. Le Doug, as usual, took wonderful care of me. That is, once I got out to Greenwich, which took longer than planned on Saturday.

Going to Greenwich was a great idea. I spent time with my fella, and then knocked out 10 whole pages of my novel. Granted it was a brain dump, and who knows how much is salvagable after a first draft, but I feel optimistic. And that's all a writer can ask for, n'est pas?

Here's a first: Two people actually having an argument in the comments section of my blog.

Buy My Friend's Apartment!

My friend Sue (the one whose wedding I officiated) is selling her apartment on the Upper East Side. She's doing it herself (no broker!) which should make the process a million times easier and pleasant. She's a great gal. Check outt he website she made of the place.

Check it out here.

Changes Brewin'

Change
Originally uploaded by jagarts.

There are some changes brewin' over here on Planet Pauline. I can't divulge much, being that this is the internets and all...but suffice it to say that changes I've been meaning to do for a while, changes that have always been in a nebulous form in my head, may actually come to fruition.

Of course, like most change, this one isn't going down easily, but what the heck? This weekend will be a focused one for me, mostly out in Connectciut, where the air is much cleaner and there is always hummus in the fridge.

Updates to come, as needed.

Latest Column on The Simon

McGurk's Suicide Hall
Originally uploaded by xymox.

My latest column for The Simon is up and ready for your viewing pleasure.

It's about some bad buzz that I heard about Pioneer bar, which was the second to last place that Imette St. Guillen was seen alive. Basically the piece explores the idea that if a crime is connected to yuor bar, can that be bad for business?

I somehow manage to link The St. Guillen case, Malcolm Gladwell, Peter Gatien and The Limelight, Chloe Sevigny, Dorian's Red Hand and Bernie Goetz all together.

Go for it.

More On The Spine

Originally uploaded by chickencat.

I didn't realize that NPR has a whole series on back pain, which makes me very happy.

Today's installment was about working on the core muscles, which is what docs say really helps the spine stay healthy and supported and recover when things go amiss.

For Christmas this year my dad got me sessions with a Pilates trainer. Not because I'm a diva and need a trainer, but because it was good for my back. (Fathers like to give practical gifts, n'est pas?)

It seems to have worked, since I can now run 3.5 miles, which is far better than where I was in October. The fact that I still run does not please Le Doug, who would rather see me swimming. However, I would not be able to run that much if I weren't more structurally sound.

Unrelated: This whole morning I couldn't stop listening to The Libertines. I forgot how much I loved that album. Pete Doherty is a total train wreck, but rather handsome in a filthy, London, hipster kind of way.

Le Wednesday

Above the 1 line: Smoke break
Originally uploaded by carpeicthus.

I expect to be a little busy today with assorted projects, including working out a few kinks for a Sopranos interactive. (Thank goodness I know my Apriles from my Moltisantis.)

ObligatoryTeri Hatcher/Vanity Fair article link.

Pete Doherty of Babyshambles is miraculously still alive, despite rampant drug use and constant court dates.

Who knew Hugh Hefner was a jazz fan?

A Great Day to Be a Pauline

I've been obsessed with my name for as long as I can remember. Growing up, I never knew any other girls named Pauline. I could never find pencils or barrettes with my name on it, at least not here in the States. (My dad would often find things with "Pauline" on them in France when he would be off on business.)

Then there was the issue that my dad was named Paul. What father names his daughter after himself, even after he has two sons? We even have the same middle name: Madoule. (Pronounced: Mad-oo-lay.)

My biggest gripe was that there was never a song called "Pauline." (I like music.) Melissa, Mandy, Sherry, Caroline, Laila, hell, even Iesha have their own songs. "Hey, Hey, Paula" is not a song about Pauline. It's a song about Paula. One thing I have always wanted is for someone to write a (nice) song about Pauline. (And maybe rhyme "Pauline" with "tangerine"?)

So guess what's on Neko Case's new album? A song called Margaret vs. Pauline. And it seems that Pauline comes out on top.

I realize I'm sharing air time with Margaret on this song, but it's an inch closer to a true song about Pauline.

Only Ethnics Need Apply

march028
Originally uploaded by toybreaker.

One of my co-workers has been looking for a new apartment for a few weeks. She finally found one on Third Street and Second Avenue (!!!).

She's going through all the nonsensical paperwork and hoops that landlords make you do, but seemed a little iffy on moving to Third Street, especially since last week she wanted the Upper West Side.

"What's wrong with Third Street?" I asked. "That neighborhood is awesome."

My co-worker, who grew up in Illinois, replied, "I don't know. I don't think I'm hip and ethnic enough to live there."

Classic.

Back in Black

Hydrants and Fog I
Originally uploaded by Mr. TRONA.

Never underestimate the power of a day off. Especially after the Oscars. I was in the newsroom until about 12:30 AM on Sunday and when I came home I was out like a light.

When I woke, I had Monday all to myself. It's very tempting when I'm in my apartment to just sit and write. It's quiet, warm and I have a fully functional coffee pot. However, I also had piles of laundry to wash as well as fashion mags and new CDs to sort through.

In short, it was a great day. I decided that I would not sit and write, which would be a treat, until I did some thing practical, such as the aforementioned laundry. Then I did a semi-organization of my closet. Then I paid some bills.

Then I wrote: And I got a LOT done.

So I'm doubly happy: All my clothes are clean and I have made further strides in some writing projects.

Good stuff, all around.

Best news of the day: I got an e-mail from a friend that I've known since the sixth grade. Her name is Jeanne. Jeanne's a teacher up in Maine and she asked if I would speak via a conference call to some gifted, female, Language Arts students. This sort of thing is defintely my bag.

I'm always wary about giving anyone advice, especially since the writing biz is such an inexact science. 12-year-old girls, however, could be fun. Some of my favorite teachers were from middle school, so maybe I can help steer someone in the right direction and away from, say, digging ditches.

Meg's Mardi Gras Party

Yes, friends, I've been away for a few days and I'll be away again tomorrow. Before I jump into some Oscar stuff for The Job, I thought you might like to see some snaps from Meg's party last week. The whole enchilada can be found here.

Meg and Stacy, The Hosts


Le Doug et Moi


The Newlyweds: Ant and Jen


Bill and Chris: On the Prowl


Christine and Adam


Liz Pushes the Gumbo


Tricia and Jen Discuss Astrophysics


Eventually, the Liquor Kicks In


A Yellow Hat Gets Passed Around


...Westside...


The Hotties Vamp at the End of the Night

The Zen of Dance Class

Tap Shoes
Originally uploaded by lynnieb.

The mere mentioned of "dance class" probably brings up visions of anorexic girls in leotards doing plies at the barre while Chopin wafts in the background. This is not the kind of dance I do. I'm a tap girl. A jazz girl with a little hip hop on the side. I'm a card-carrying member of Broadway Dance. I ache because I miss the open classes at Alvin Ailey during the day.

Last night after eating some deli sushi in the lounge area at Broadway Dance, I went down to the third floor studios to wait for my class. All seemed as it should. Dancers loafed around in various states of dress. An Asian girl slept soundly while tucked into a corner. (I'm amazed at people who can do that.) The studio did recently replace the old carpet with a new,blue one, thus ridding the floor of that stale locker room smell, akin to an ice hockey rink. (Believe me, I know my ice rink aromas.)

A handsome man in a dark suit (huh?) watched the 6:00 PM beginner jazz class. (Which many of my dance friends shirk because it's too easy and full of NYU undergrads.) I watched the guy as I stretched out on the floor, wondering who he was. An agent? A scout? A boyfriend? (Again, seeing a man in a suit down in the studios is like seeing a giraffe on the subway.) As I stretched, I noticed two things about this guy: His suit was made out of a really cheap material and his shoes were crummy as well. That said, he was what I call a Monet: Looked good from far away but up close he was a big old mess. I assumed he was some teacher's boyfriend and secretly hoped he would discover Brooks Brothers.

Eventually, I got into class. Jim Cooney's warm up rocks, although because his class is so crowded it's normal to accidentally tap someone with a leg or arm while stretching. While getting up to get my shoes, I saw Leanne. Leanne and I were both in South Pacific last May. She's a cool girl and we were both very happy to see each other. She just finished a six-month run with a show out in Bucks County, and was itchy to get back into class.

Cooney taught us a number from "Sweet Charity" which was a lot of fun. Afterwards Leanne and I started chatting about auditioning and class and the fun of going to class. She auditions a few time a week, while I get picky about such things. Leanne has the right idea: Just go. If they cut you, they cut you. Just go and see what happens.

There are a few auditons coming up in the next few weeks. I'm lukewarm about all of them, but I'm going to go anyway. After all, in March of last year I didn't want to go to an audition out in Brooklyn Heights. It was one of the coldest days of the year and I had no resume and no headshot with me. (Poor planning, if there ever was...) I didn't even know any of the songs from the show. But I knew I could dance and I knew I could sing. After being called back, I was cast in South Pacific, where I met some wonderful people and realized how much I like dance and rehearsal and working towards the final goal of being part of a great show.

NPR Hops on the Lower Back Pain Train

spine
Originally uploaded by anna_bee.

Not long ago at a party, a friend, who may have had a few drinks in him, told me that I "brag" about my herniate disc issues on this blog.

Brag? Hardly. There is no pride in having a slipped disc or dealing with the aftermath. A lot of people have lower back issues and if my yammering on about it gives someone some direction, then that makes me feel good. It's a maddening kind of pain and there really isn't one way to treat it, like, say, a rash or a cold.

Not to mention that I met my boyfriend because of my philosophizing about my back in this blog.

As I said, NPR did a piece about lower back pain, and a good one at that.

Once More, With Feeling....

groove
Originally uploaded by mjutabor.

Before I leave you for the day (ha, I bet your thought I'd left by now) I thought you might like to read a review I did of the new Say Anything album.

I actually really dug this one. They're not too far off from Blink-182, but this Max Bemis guy seems to be a pretty skilled guitarist, which is always good. After a few listens I could defintely detect talent and musicality, which I can't say for a lot of other bands out there.

Be grand, everyone!

Whoo Hoo! Story's Done!

Journal
Originally uploaded by Olivia Leigh.

Whew. I just finished and handed in my erotica piece. It's just over 900 words, which isn't too long, but I made each word count. (I'm pretty good at that.)

As relieved as I am about finishing, I now await edits. Feh. I believe it was Dorothy Parker who said, "I hate writing. I love having written." It's so true.

I hate the agony of chiseling and putting everything together, of having to be OCD about facts and numbers. It's painful. But once the piece is done and in the hands of an editor, well, I actually feel like a writer. (As opposed to all those shmoes in coffee joints around this town, waiting for the muse to strike via a double espresso.)

OK, enough writer-on-writer hating. I have other projects and goals to tackle, such as getting up to tap class tonight at 6:00 PM. If that doesn't happen, due to subways or whatever, there's a theater dance class at 7:30 PM. But I really wanted to tap.

Anyone know of any good auditions? I can both sing and tap. I'm a chorus girl extraordinaire. Shazam.


Oh, I'll have Meg's party photos back tomorrow night. They'll be up on Friday morning.