Hottest chick at the Golden Globes: Cate Blanchett.
Oh my!, the aristrocratically madcap hairdo, the twisty scarlet gown, the whole dignified elegance of her voice and her carriage, her entire lovely person.
Most annoying, as usual: Renee Zellweger.
Everything from her whiny first name to her clunky, militant last name is atrocious, but she looked particularly wretched and squinty, crying thru her babble of a speech, thanking the equally horrid Nicole Kidman (mysteriously dressed as a flapper), broad-shouldered and pasty-looking in a too-tight navy dress that clamped down her tits in a most awkward way. How delicious to see her & Nicole looking so insane & odd, when they are supposed to be the beautiful golden people we're meant to give a shit about.
Nicole would have done better heeding my friend Juman's succint advice: "If you are going to a party where you know you will see your ex-husband, you should try to actually look good."
Half an hour before I can be on my way to see New Boy, who I'm excited about. Money in the bank I can't touch. A little fleck of something in my eye. Everything's out of my grasp, just. A deliciously infuriating feeling that.
New York is freezing me to death. Yesterday I was so cold I started running along 13th street to the bank. It was useless: once I got there I was informed that there was no money for me. I cried a little in the elevator on the way down. I was in there with a good-looking unshaven orange-hatted very bundled-up man & we got trapped momentarily. My tears went away because he was making jokes about it & we were both in a hurry & he was so cute & there we were stuck. When we got out again I felt better & I bought myself a record at Virgin Union Square, just because I liked the cover.
MY CHRISTMAS. i found this among my stuff here at work. guess i wrote it sort of half-drunk.
christmas day, 2:30 p.m. midtown. sag mantar for lunch isn't very christmas-y, but the three strong cups of egg nog i had this morning was. and later ice skating, tho all my ice skating plans of late have been foiled. strange to find myself around noon today, slightly drunk, slightly dizzy, leaning head against glass of the thirty-second floor window, looking down upon roofs and cabs and street. strange to find myself in this mood of frustration, short patience, mild inklings of rage, exhibiting true neurosis, lacking confidence, restless, asexual, apolitical, reading about vampires in french, half-comatose at work, missing melissa, whatever to s, dreading the house, loving williamsburg, obsessed with plans, not in the christmas spirit, thinking of shoes, wondering what im doing, wishing i were better, wishing i knew how to make things work, loving beauty, forgetting sex, feeling awful, terrified of rats, seeing shit out of the corner of my eye, leaving a message for someone i dont think will call me back, fading into paleness, looking older, slightly squinting, vision going, dry-eyed, lip-glossed, half-tweezed, not-amused, finger-brushed, purple-scarfed, egg-nogged, blah-blahed. not that im complaining. i love new york on christmas.
I'm obsessed with this dialogue among "liberal hawks" in slate. I like Thomas Friedman a lot. I didn't agree with Bush's reasons for going to war, & it pleased me to read Friedman's remark: "Some things are true even if George Bush believes them."
For some reason it really gets me when people are skittish. Today I was leaving the bathroom at work, & just as I was opening the door to come out, another girl was on her way in. I think she already had her hand on the knob. Anyway she must have jumped a mile. She blustered there for a moment: "Oh! You SCARED me!"
I feel like if you are about to enter a room, especially a high-traffic area like a public restroom, you should try to prepare yourself for whatever might be on the other side of the door. It seems to me that the very LEAST of possible surprises awaiting you would be someone exiting at the moment of your entrance. I'd prefer that to a horrible stench, or ... you know, other surprises ...
I suppose it could have been worse. What if the TWO of us were both skittish idiots? We would have just stood there panicked & flapping about for ages. At least when one person is surly & jaded like I am, there's someone to downplay the whole thing & keep everybody calm. I know this is a silly thing to complain about, but it seems like it happens to me about once a week.
Other things that piss me off:
* when nothing's wrong & someone says: "What's wrong?"
* when something's wrong & someone you don't know very well says: "What's wrong?"
* when you're perfectly calm & someone says: "Calm down!"
* when you're walking down the street feeling sort of sad & someone you don't know at all says: "Smile!"
* when men leer/hiss/whistle/holla at you on the street. This MUST be stopped.
On an unrelated note, I liked this story. It combines my love of Indian men with my fondness for moustaches.
ODE TO EARTHA -- i want to be evil ...
I didn't make any New Year's resolutions because I never keep them. Last night I thought of a good one though. I want to be more evil. I'm too nice. I'm very open-minded & I've done a lot of crazy shit in my time, & I'm sure there are some people at my work who think I'm stuck up, but on the whole I would say I could stand to be meaner. I don't need to be a downright bitch but I'd like to be described as having a "bitchy streak." I want to be more of a rebel. There's a girl I know who's incredible at it. She wears wife beaters & writes heartbreaking songs & has the perfect guitar stance & causes quite a ruckus. She also gets panic attacks & sometimes doesn't leave her bed for weeks; that part I can do without.
My friend & I were discussing how I could become more evil. I'd start gradually, maybe by removing those long "DO NOT REMOVE UNDER PENALTY OF LAW" papers attached to mattresses. Or I could eat something, & then go swimming IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS.
Eventually I'll move on to cannibalism & screwing my friends' boyfriends, but I don't want to get ahead of myself.
OPERATION SAVE ME
A long time ago, at a time in my life that feels (but isn't) far, far away, I was very well-acquainted with a Company Man, a manager who was making pretty good money & doing well for himself. He was creative, hilarious, talented, alarmingly intelligent, & full of appreciation for the beauty to be found everywhere. He had a way of finding the magical, even -- the "cute" -- in everything. It was sort of unbelievable that someone of such potential would be a middle manager at such a dull job as his, & tho he excelled at it, it horribly depressed him. He passed me notes sometimes. Usually they were funny little anagrams or drawings, but once it was a sad little plea: "Operation Save Me."
He wanted out of that office so much, out of the life that had become his, & he felt there was so much required of him before he could leave. He wanted my help; he needed someone's help; when he finally tore himself away it was a slow revelation to me. For here I am, interminable months later, watching the same amount of the same television show every morning before I leave, knowing exactly where to stand to get the subway at the exact right place to meet my connection, eating the same salads for lunch from the same group of restaurants, blearily typing my way thru the day. At the optometrist last week my doctor told me my vision is deteriorating from staring at a computer screen too long. I told her, "That's depressing," and she agreed.
I wasn't feeling quite so "feh" earlier today. I swear it.
I'm getting back to work.
Well, it's a new year. '04 & all that. I feel much the same but for a nasty cold & a new love interest, ie, the Buck Hunter player. There was another Big Buck Hunter-obsessed boy in my life, several months ago, but he doesn't really count. For one, we weren't really dating. We were friends for awhile & flirted sometimes, & then suddenly one nite we were at a documentary screening at Webster Hall & somehow we ended up fucking on a sofa there. It was in this room that was separated from the main space by some sort of beaded curtain. I don't think too many people saw. Maybe a caterer or two but im pretty sure it just looked like we were making out. if not, whatever, it was so worth it. It was both amazing & hilarious, & afterwards it was totally hysterical & hot to be outside smoking with our friends & sort of shaking and hoping no one noticed.
Anyway I meant to talk about the other guy, the new one, but it's still a little fresh in my mind. Not to say that it won't work out & I assume he'll soon be just a distant memory -- tho I suppose that could happen too...
