This is why I suck

I think I'm just too hippy-dippy and free-spiritish (read: lazy as fuck) to keep to a schedule of posting a photo a day.

BUT. This project has made me realize that I need to pay more attention to this blog. And I intend to. So sometimes I'll post silly pictures, sometimes I'll write stuff. And when I don't feel like it, well, I just won't. You can always find me spouting off bullshit on Twitter and Facebook if you're really interested. Which...well, let's just leave that one open-ended.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you, Ferrtileblog. You're like my neglected little sister who was fun to play with when no kids my age were around, but who got thoughtlessly tossed aside like a stinky sock when the cool older chick down the block came to play Charlie's Angels With No Shirts On in my backyard. Always dependable. Always present and ready for a game of barbies. I will try not to take you for granted as much.

I've been having crazy dreams lately. Mostly I think because I'm preparing for a big move from the city in which I've dwelled for the last 9 years -- from the apartment my daughter was born in, from my friends and family and favorite liquor store -- and planning to defect to the hothouse tropics of Southern Suburbia. I'm all Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and mint juleps and afternoon siestas like Scarlett O'Hara. More on this topic to come, of course, as plans unfold.

Mostly my nightly sleeps have been fraught with terrifying scenarios where I am lost in a mall/subway station/high school and late for something. Or I'm about to take a final exam in a subject I've never studied. Or go on stage to star in a play I've never rehearsed. I fake it fairly well, but basically I can't fool anyone and feel as transparent as saran wrap.

I've had enough therapy to understand that these dreams are simply my anxiety over making a big change, working itself out in my subconscious.

They still suck, though, and make me wake up feeling all bloaty and sweat-filled.

More later, bloggers. I loves ya.

Tattoos

It occurred to me that I'm gonna have a hell of a time dissuading my daughter once she decides she wants to decorate herself in permanent body art. Because I'm all hardcore and shiz.

Like Mama...





Like daughter.

Skull earring

I was taking pictures of myself in the bathroom again (to post on facebook? To avoid the monster hair/toothpaste/phlegm/god-knows-what-else clog in the sink?), and I thought you'd like this. All two of you who still read this blog.

Thoughts? Abandon 365? Keep going? I dunno...it's kinda fun...

That doesn't seem right, somehow.

Two porks AND a tofu? Most tofu-eaters I know don't tend to ask for a pork to go with it, let alone two.

Just my two cents.

I know I owe a picture. I'll post again tonight. Hi!

Please.

This made me smile. Well, smirk, rather.

Good Night, New York City

When I was little my mother made up a bedtime song that she used to sing to us, to the tune of "Springtime For Hitler", called "Bedtime for Babies". I didn't know who Mel Brooks was at the time, so I didn't find anything funny about the song at all. Quite the opposite, in fact; the tune made me so unbearably sad that I used to run and hide under the kitchen table and sob. I'm still not sure why the song itself upset me so much. Just like I can't explain why "Bohemian Rhapsody" made me freak out so hard in the back seat of the car one night my dad had to pull over and have me breathe into a paper bag. The song scared me, I dunno. It made me think of dark things. I thought maybe The Exorcist was singing it or something. A child's mind is a bizarre thing indeed.

Anyway, I'm not sure what brought that up. Maybe it was this pic I took tonight of Lily and the cat at bedtime, and how my city bedtime routine is so different for my kid than my mom's was for us in the sweet, suffocating quietude of 1980's suburbia. Lily crashed out in my bed tonight under the open window and had a street lamp for a night light. And her lullaby was the hard thunk-thunk-thunk base of some asshole playing 'Rumpshaker' in his parked car in front of our building.



G'Night, NY, you city that never sleeps, you.

July 4th and the aftermath

I'm gonna post twice today because I suck.

But get off my back, man. I'm doing my best.

Here is a picture of a firecracker that almost took my goddamned head off.

OK, I exaggerate. But if I didn't, I wouldn't be me.

Mwah!