I miss you, but I haven’t met you yet.

There was a spark of feeling, some passion, reeling, tripping, stumbling, bumbling… something thought long lost or buried inside… there was some good. The thought that maybe just maybe this quirky artsy gal could have an admirer? All day at the thought…. I felt scattered and disoriented – a million-miles an hour and it was only subdued with studying art history and taking a walk in the brisk air. Then I think: I don’t even know her fucking name!! It was a moment, a few hours…

Sometimes I’m just like some love-struck teenager. Like the song says, “I love love/ I love being in love/I don’t care what it does to me.” It had come to this: the mere thought of someone possibly being interested is an instant thrill! Because really there is only so much fulfillment that my education, art, writing and friends can fulfill…the rest is an empty space where I am like the puppy in the window watching, waiting and feeling like I am watching the world pass me by.

To wake up in the morning and realize that someone loves you, you matter, they are thinking of  you and you them.. is there anything else?

You are not here.

For all of you that can wake with the sun shining through your window. For those of you that see the sun and then turn over and see the one you love. You have no idea how lucky you are. The petty things you fight over, the way you take each other for granted, when your ugly, when your beautiful. Every time you can look over your morning coffee and bagel and see the sleepy face of the one you love, you are lucky. You have no idea how lucky you are, to have love. For your love to be here — physically here and speak face-to-face to, to touch when you need them.. maybe even when you think you don’t.

I don’t. The people running this country and this state of Rhode Island still insist on the status quo of bigotry. Thanks for fucking up my love life. My hope is that at least it won’t happen to another human being for as long as I live and breathe..  I will fight for every human being’s equal rights as citizens of this state, this country, this universe.

I know change can allegedly be good. However, when change fucks up the one aspect of life that seemed good and pure and wonderful, you really start to wonder how zenful and right change really is. And it makes a girl rather pissy about the whole thing. I find myself having to remind myself not to be so selfish and cry, why me?  But part of me just wants to stamp my feet and yell until I get my way…

2009…

For once, I can say that this year wasn’t so bad. my career situation seemed okay-ish: Recorded quite a few podcasts with the cocktail club, I had some art exhibits, sold some work, some college student claims to have written a paper about me! I think I found some sort of balance with money. I don’t need to buy everything at the GAP or Target, just what I need and maybe every once in awhile I can splurge on a book or a sweater, but not all the time. Its compromise, like a relationship. Speaking of which – hooray for me, I never thought I’d find someone who I felt like I clicked with the instant we met. Someone I feel comfortable with, love, am passionate for, who listens! whose there – who isn’t always too busy. People say we’re a cute couple. Okay neither of us are perfect, but it feels perfect as perfect as two humans can be. Yeah, I’m head over heels in love – love, love makes the world tick, go round… and to hell with the rest!

I did attempt to keep up with current events and current music. The world isn’t perfect, but thankfully I still have music to help me dream that the world might not always suck. That one day I can marry a woman, have an abortion if I damn well please, have the same rights as hetero-couples and live peacefully and happily ever after -  isn’t that what we all want? As for keeping up with music, I have daytrotter and stereogum to thank (once again) for that. Otherwise, I still be spinning disks from three years ago, like when I thought I bought the new Tegan and Sara only to realize that I had bought their 2007 release, “The Con,” which I recommend. If Newbury Comics would hurry up and restock their shelves, I could actually use my giftcard and get the new Tegan and Sara which is called, “Sainthood” not “The Con.”

What cds/records/mp3′s I did buy (or receive) this year (that came out this year) that were fabulous and I highly recommend, are the following, in no particular order:

Actor – St. Vincent
Fate to Fatal – the Breeders
Two Suns – Bat for Lashes
My Maudlin Career – Camera Obscura
Wild Young Hearts – the Noisettes
Noble Beast – Andrew Bird
Sonic Youth – the Eternal
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Its Blitz
Morissey – Year of Refusal

‘Tis the season…

A bittersweet feeling. Lonely, even if I am in a relationship. Maybe its the cold that sends us New Englanders indoors to hibernate. Maybe its because my girlfriend left (the country) today to visit her family and I’m (stuck) here in RI with mine while she flies miles and miles and miles away from me. I had to say goodbye to her on Saturday as  life’s “priorities” and the disappointing blizzard kind of conflicted with me seeing her, say yesterday or Sunday. Its a wonderful life, right? I feel a little like the grinch… kind of like I do every year.

How much does Christmas suck? A holiday that if your lonely makes you more lonely – especially with those goddamn jewelry commercials. The other day I cried over some stupid coffee commercial… this is why I avoid watching television! And even if your with someone, sometimes its still bittersweet. My family and I get along, I shouldn’t complain, but I’m always the single one, the one that everyone keeps saying, ‘maybe one day…’ kind of like my painting… my day has come! well, sort of, I think they meant, “maybe one day, some man will come along, take care of you and marry you…” eh, whatever.

I think of people past and present who didn’t see or can’t see their loved ones for several months and here I am complaining about being separated for a month.

This post on lez get real made the ache a little bit deeper, even though its kind of cute.

numb dumb love

I haven’t wrote a poem in awhile, lately the only time I can is when I am almost beyond words and I’ve gone straight to impressions, images, feelings and such that are not easily described in sentence/paragraph form:

“numb dumb love”

standing on washington st. trying to achieve numb. trying to get past the desperation that lack of love leads to. I tell myself it won’t be only about just sex. i relive the dream of last night and the one before that – where the hell is that person?! the static on the other end of my cellphone, in real life. conversations drown in the fading daylight. just like everyone that promised something. fading. every second I stop and think makes me think I shouldn’t. sinking into the concrete. the heartbreak. the fool-heartedness of the dumb romantic hopes. dreams that mean jack-fucking-shit now.. in light of the now… somehow we/i still beat, breathe and wish.

earlier pain seems so far away speeding down 95, tears mixed with the sounds of rushing cars, wind, vision blurring, music blaring… always a sound to fall numb into. numb and yet rushing – rushing to nowhere really, there’s no one waiting. its the lovely lonely one a.m hour… the radio says, “i believe in a thing called love…” why do those that are so full of it, feel so full of shit? what’s the point of feeling if there’s empty rooms, singing to the radio, silent nights, trying to figure out one’s potential love life in a phone call to your best friend, standing on Washington St. feeling it all fall but not so much into place. the lack of hope, falls to my feet, gets crushed by the rush of cars.

I could use some luck potion, some love potion, some sort of charm. my charm has failed yet again. I think maybe this time – unfeeling – it should just be about sex. sex is easy. its everything else that gets in the way. if I’d had a concrete sinking to my knees chance.

Belle of the Ball

I watched this documentary the other night called “Prom Night in Kansas City.”  It focused on the prom in the surrounding high schools of Kansas City. There was the school in Kansas City, there was this Christian/Mormon School and then there was the Gay Prom. I was convinced the gay prom kids were probably going to make me cry, but they didn’t. Though I did love the gay girls they interviewed, one of them was just fucking awesome.  At the end of the film they interviewed the students two years later, the gay chic was like “yeah, I dated some of the girls from that Catholic school, they were some of the wildest girls I’ve ever dated!” I totally wanted to hi-five, or make-out with her… okay, maybe both. The Catholic school made me sad for them. They didn’t have a typical Prom, it was called a ‘Senior Banquet’ and there was no dancing allowed.. which sounds like a whole heap o’ fun – my prom date should’ve gone there and I should’ve went to that Throwing Muses show that was the same night as my prom (I found out after we bought the tickets to the prom.) True, no one would’ve danced with me there either, but it was probably more fun than my prom date who didn’t want to dance. He was kind of a passive-aggressive, self-centered asshole.. that’s the short version of the story.

I dated him for eight months of my life I can never get back. I guess there may have been some good times thrown into those eight months, prom was SO not one of them. I had my period, which just sucked to begin with. But I thought, I got this pretty dress, a date (!) and I just wanted to kick back and have a good time after months of the stress of being a high school senior, worrying about life after high school, dating a self-centered asshole, and a life time of crazy over-protective parents who never let me do anything. Not to mention, this was something I had looked forward to when I started high school.  As someone pointed out in “Prom Night in Kansas City,” prom is a little like a wedding. There is so much anticipation leading up to it.  And its one of the thing girls dream of, well that and their wedding. The movie says that the prom is a common-folks debutante ball.

I wasn’t really popular so not going to the prom just seemed to reinforce that. I’m not sure I cared so much about being popular, but I did care about those nights I left school dances alone, just like I arrived.  I’d go home, put on some good music and sometimes lay on my bedroom floor full of music, life, energy and no one to love me back. I’m the girl who just wanted someone to dance with her.. and maybe give her flowers for no reason – that came way later, like when I was 25.

My school didn’t really do many formal dances. Our homecoming wasn’t formal. I went to my Freshman Formal with a friend, and his girl went with one of her friends and caused so much drama that night, that the event really lost the fun-factor. I never went to the formal Junior dances. I went to the formal Christmas dance senior year and none of my friends went, it was me and my date at a table full of people I didn’t care to hang out with. We left early because it was the same guy I went to the prom with. I really should’ve learnt my lesson, but I didn’t. I wanted to go to my prom! I wanted to be like those girls in the fashion magazines all dolled up with a handsome guy on one arm and a dozen roses on the other. I know it sounds silly – maybe I’m a romantic fool! I’ve never been like most people – most times I don’t mind. But, I wanted to be just like every other girl, even for one night.  I wanted to dance and feel like Cinderella, even if they were playing the 80′s hair-band Cinderella. Watching the movie and seeing all those kids dancing and having a good time with their dates made me feel like, shit, I would’ve liked that! That must be what its like to go to a formal occasion, with a date and actually have fun with your date!

I had to wait 25 years to get a dozen roses for no reason.. looks like I’ll have to wait a bit longer to get someone to want to dance with me.

bringing sexy back…

Lately I feel like my life has been much like the song where the chorus line says, “work. school. work. death.” I forget who sings it. Maybe I need more yoga and mediation… or a vacation…maybe I need to get laid?

…I started to think about someone I used to date, while I was daydreaming earlier. I have plenty of time to daydream when I go out to dinner with my parents because they are not always that talkative. Its not like I was thinking about sex right there with the folks at the dinner table in the middle of AppleBees. I’m not a total pervert. I was just thinking “just a what if…” As in what if XXX walked through the door and we just picked up where we left off? I know what would happen, my best friends would have me committed.

Maybe its the season. Spring is kind of a sexy time of year. Things are in bloom, animals and humans are feeling a little more spring in their step, what with not freezing ones’ ass off or having to treck through several feet of snow. However, Rhode Island doesn’t seem to be getting so much spring-like weather this year. The other week it was 80 degrees outside! I don’t mind so much not having spring weather, as I enjoy being able to wear my favorite outfit of big sunglasses, wife beater, skirt and flip flops or my little cloth mary janes from Spectrum on Thayer St. The only “accessory” I seem to lack is a nice girl to hold hands with. Of course I never go for the said “nice” girls (or guys for that matter). I keep saying I want to meet one, and end up with the ones that are usually bad for me.. bad, but oh so good, in other ways.

Maybe my lack of dating has been the fuel for my creativity lately, though I could just be a crafty bitch. Some tend to think I’m a rather crafty bitch. Thank every god in the universe for creativity ability… I don’t know what I’d do with all my excess energies, I’d probably practice yoga and mediation 7 hours a day if it were not for drawing, painting, sewing and writing. And thank every god in the universe for music to keep me well entertained.. so I can create crazy playlists on my itunes, centered around my various moods.

I made one today that I decided should be “sexy” music to go along with my lack of a love life rather than mope about it. Some of the songs made the cut just for the titles alone.. like the one titled “Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh.” It was a stereogum email mp3 of the week thing… I think I’ve listened to it twice, ever:

1. stars – au revior simone
2. tight black leather – black francis
3. i’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance – black kids
4. le flying saucer hat – chairlift
5. he’s got the honey – donita sparks
6. the lovecats – dylan in the movie & tanya donelly
7. hurricane – emily rogers
8. o, shot – the gay blades (best band name ever!)
9. fun with ropes – the go-go’s
10. o stella – pj harvey
11. dammit – the kelley deal 6000 (the next best band name ever)
12. shirley – L7
13. awake – letters to cleo
14. knocked up – Lykke Li
15. hi, remember me – my brightest diamond
16. bad girl – new york dolls
17. down to the well – pixies
18. pretty in pink – the psychedelic furs
19. lust – the raveonettes
20. you drive me wild – the runaways
21. oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh – say hi
22. anything but love – squirrel nut zippers
23. so fine (chairlift remix) – telepathe
24. teenager lust – times new viking
25. sweet jane – the velvet underground
26. bang – the yeah yeah yeahs
27. somebody to love – 50 foot wave

Navigating Cupid

I’ve decided that there is no sure-fire way to meet people,date, and/or create a relationship based on any advice what so ever. I think I have reached the tip of the iceberg with all the dating information out there.. its all the same, and none of it is a sure thing. You have to be confident, charming, witty, funny, interesting, but also interested in the other person. And in order to smile, flirt, talk to them, you will have to be at one or all of the following places: a bar, art gallery, coffee shop, yoga class, a gym, at your job, a Lilith Faire, ect. Its a lot of bullshit. I’m sure these authors/advice people have their heart in the right place (I hope) – they’re also getting more action than me. Hell, maybe I should write a dating advice book or a sex advice book so I too could get laid. You know this is why these people are doing this, and there’s lots of it out there. For some reason I continue to read any of it.. thinking there must be something I’m not doing right. I’ve come to the conclusion, that reading it in general is what I’m doing wrong!

I foolishly picked up a lesbian dating guide entitled, “Girl Meets Girl: A Dating Survival Guide” written by Diana Cage, and refrained from beating my head against the wall. At least I didn’t buy it, I just flipped through it while in Borders. I had really enjoyed, yet have to put into practice, Diana Cage’s book “Box Lunch,” which is a guide to cunnilingus. I suppose if I myself had written a book about cunnilingus I wouldn’t have to wonder why I’m sitting home on a Friday night listening to the Throwing Muses and reading a Charlaine Harris novel. I may still do those things, but not because there was nothing else to do and I have no money to go out. Someone else would pay for me! In my defense, last Friday night, I went to Applebee’s and had a fancy martini with appetizers with my married friends.

I think this dating guide book was just supposed to be more funny than helpful. I found myself shaking my head at the section on where to meet women. If you’ve read any advice on where to meet people, that was it! Oh! and there was also things like go to Dinah Shore Weekend , or something with the word “womyn” in it. Maybe the secret is if they have (in my opinion) foolishly misspelled the word “women,” then there must be dykes there! Another handy idea of lesbian dating was that ‘lesbians recycle their exes.’ So what I suppose I could do is round up my small circle of gay/bi female friends and just date their exes! I think one of the more interesting and informative parts was navigating all those f’n acronym that people use on dating sites, which can be confusing. How many times have I sat here wondering what the hell a BBWYMFA was (okay I made that one up). It also, recommended meeting people on facebook, myspace and a host of other social networks, which made me think maybe this book is supposed to be funny. There was even a really swell section on lesbian stereotypes, with criteria I fail to meet. I may have sort of fit in somewhere between something called a “Tweener” and “Androgynous.” The term “tweener” makes me simultaneously think of the website,Twitter, and a Tween, you know how refer to kids who are between 10 and 12 as a ‘tween?’ I do look 12-ish. “Tweeners” allegedly wear colorful t-shirts and clothes from the GAP. According to the Urban dictionary, a “tweener” is “One who doesn’t fall in any category of people (cliques).” “Androgynous” according to the lesbian dating guide is who girls wear a lot of wife beaters, which I may have been wearing under my v-neck argyle sweater at the time. Or were they the ones that wore a lot of black? Maybe it was black wife beaters? I got a little confused with all the categories and there was more than one for femmes, none of which I fit into. I didn’t fit into the ‘femme’ categories because they wear fancy clothes, glasses, and high heels (I’m 5’9″ I don’t need high heels). So maybe my problem is the lack of a clearly defined stereotype that I can safely identify with… How about ‘kitchy punk’ or ‘sassy kitty?’

For now, I’m going to go stare at my empty inboxes on fill-in-the-dating-site, myspace, facebook, lastfm, and my actual email account. I may have junk mail in my actual email.. I hear I can get a Russian mail-order bride for dirt cheap.

love and money making the world go ’round.

This is the highlight of my day, an itunes playlist, I’ve entitled it “love sucks”…

1. headache – frank black
2. 0 shot – the gay blades
3. half blast – kristin hersh
4. mean muses – the gay blades (I just thought KH and this song were funny next to each other)
5. I want the one I can’t have – the smiths
6. lust to love – the go-go’s
7. freak out – my brightest diamond
8. down in a well – the pixies
9. don’t stop believn’ – marnie stern
10. inside a boy – my brightest diamond
11. aly, walk with me – the raveonettes
12. here is the news – au revoir simone
13. i’m not going to teach your boyfriend how to dance – black kids
14. so sad about us – the breeders
15. dammit – the kelley deal 6000 (I think her band name sounds like a sci-fi movie, like maybe there are kelley deal robots taking over earth)
16. here & now – letters to cleo
17. rape me – nirvana

No dinner, flowers, jewelry, condoms, dental dams or birth control!

Last year at this time, I vowed, despite still mending a broken heart, that I would not, absolutely, no way would I be single on Valentines Day 2009. Well just because the U.S. finally got with the right century and now has a president who isn’t a white man, doesn’t mean the universe is complying with me. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, considering since last Valentines Day, I have had approximately 4 dates in real life – in my dreams I’ve had far more, with sex after and one with a pancake breakfast in the morning. Meeting people is hard. Meeting people who don’t live two hours away also seems to be a challenge. A few weeks back, I went on a date in Somerville, which took me two hours to get to because of the traffic in Boston. At least I had fun when I got there, right?

I guess there are some good qualities in being single. Top of the list: I don’t have to partake in the mass hysteria of buying a Valentine’s gift for that special someone. No expensive dinner, flowers, jewelry, condoms, dental dams or birth control! Because I’m not going to get any, nor do I have to prove my love through mass consumerism! I don’t have to rush around on February 13th to buy the ‘perfect gift.’ I can save my money for important things like art supplies, trips to Coffee Exchange, Salvation Army shopping sprees, cds, and Narragansett beer. Also, I have the entire bed to myself and my kitties. (oh man I’m the crazy cat lady!) I can do whatever I want, whenever I want and don’t have to answer to anyone – unless its a work day, then I have to answer to them, “them” being my bosses.

I used to think I’d be married with children by age 32. Though I am glad I haven’t had children yet as I don’t feel ‘together’ enough to have them, especially since I’m a starving artist – how the hell would I feed them? Kids are not like cats, the food for them is way more money! and they eat more than two times a day. However, I still crave companionship. I’ve been single and available for so many years in my life, I’m not even certain I know what its like to be in a relationship that lasts longer than a few months. I always end up with the noncommittal. I think its because for the most part I go with the flow. I think my nature gets mistaken for being passive. Just about every employer and past internships have told me I need to assert myself. Most times its because there seems to be no reason to stress myself out over something petty so I don’t. I know when to let it go and when to stand up and bitch. Unfortunately, people don’t expect me to stand up and bitch when I do – hence the short relationships.

All these years of dating and not dating I have come up with my laundry list of what attributes I think would make the ‘perfect’ person for me: witty, playful, passionate, has a goal in life, but isn’t so career driven that other people come in second, is caring, doesn’t tell me what to do on a regular basis, likes children and animals, likes other people, is single, has an attention span that lasts longer than 5 minutes, is over 5′ tall, isn’t afraid to be affectionate but not molesting me in public, we go to a club and dance with each other, someone to wake to, make a pancake breakfast for, someone who is my lover and best friend. Okay its a long list and I could probably go on. I think now, much like the character in the movie “Singles” I’ve narrowed it down to: can we just have the pancake breakfast? because I really like pancakes especially after sex. I’m willing, and have been, to compromise on just about everything (there’s that lack of assertion again). I hear that is what human interaction is about.

I’ve crossed the Valentine’s Day off on my calender with black ink, just so I don’t have to look at it. I’m thinking on V-day I’m going to dress in black and listen to Morrissey that is if I even bother to get out of bed. I may be willing to get out of bed for a few people… though I’m not holding my breath.