Saturday, November 21, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Yesterday I learned that I share my birthday with the unwaveringly absorbing Hope Sandoval. This date is June 24th though she was actualized 21 years my senior. It is my firm belief that people born on this number day are truly special creations and I celebrate and tip my hat to my fellow “24” spirits.
She hangs brightly from a tree
Wonders what she's gonna be
I'm aware of her game
Come and watch me, watch me come on
-She Hangs Brightly, Mazzy Star
Thursday, October 1, 2009
It’s that time of year again when you can hardly go anywhere without seeing your usual grocery list items, and beauty products sporting a certain shade of pink. October is Breast Cancer Awareness month and although the overload of pink-washed consumerism may blur into another time-of-the-year event I assure you this cause is worth noticing.
The rosey colored tic-tacs and pom-pom socks may not seem aesthetically appealing (I myself was never a pink kind of girl) but the support is needed and not nearly as taxing on your daily budget as you may think. Many companies have partnered with Susan G. Komen as well as other cancer organizations to continue this fight that affects far too many of us. Breast cancer is relevant in the lives of most Americans including myself and I find it comforting to know that the corporations that seem to exist in some underground vortex of crunched numbers and endless amounts of money share in the desire to work towards a common goal. I’ve compiled a list of some of these companies so that the next time you decide not to buy cookies in lieu of your new diet, you’ll decide otherwise because you’ll actually be helping in making a difference!
- Pepperidge Farm
- Mott’s Applesauce
- Bumble Bee Tuna
- Orbit White Bright Pink
- Bicycle Playing Cards Ribbon Edition
- Elf Beauty Products
- Philosophy's Pink Ribbon Shower Gel
- Dove Shampoos and Conditioners
Although the verdict is still out on certain food products and their relation to breast cancer (soy, for instance) there are still a number of ways to keep your body healthy and balanced which, as a result, lends itself to breast cancer prevention. These measures may seem vague in their connection to breast cancer but they’re easy enough to follow so why not!?
- Ingest antioxidants through food with naturally high amounts of vitamin E (almonds, spinach, mangos) and vitamin C (oranges, grapefruit, red and green bell peppers, tomatoes)
- Processed meats should be avoided and red meats should be eaten minimally because of their high levels of saturated fat and iron
- Eating fish and/or taking fish oil pills provides the body with omega 3-fatty acids which may keep breast cells from multiplying and dividing
- Drinking green tea daily has been shown to decrease the rate of breast cancer in wide studies
I’d like to share the website of an organization dear to my heart, as it is in memory of my mother: judisrun.org. We give to various research facilities as well as local families affected by breast cancer in need of financial support. And without getting too heavy with this post (as I have been resisting with all my might not to do) I’d like to remind all you ladies that being aware of your body is the best precautionary measure you can take. Go to your doctors appointments when that time of the year comes around, stay in tune with your emotional, spiritual, and physical health, and remember to perform self breast exams at least once a month (right after your period is the best time). If you’re unsure of how to thoroughly check for yourself this website should be of help:
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
It's Labor Day weekend on Fire Island (a combination of time and place that I was sure would finally drive me over the edge) and I'm back at Michael's Ristorante to help out a friend and make some quick dough. Saturday night's dinner shift was profitable overall- the number of diner's was decent, not too many counter slices, and a noticable amount of deliveries and catering. I was busy but not stuck in one area keeping my mood at the sub-bearable enjoyment necessary to stay on my toes with customers and coworkers.
We get to a breathing point in the night where dinner dies down and the late night drunks aren't jonesin' for pizza just yet and that's when she walked in. Just another customer at first, slightly demanding, with long brown hair, prominent rack and Louis Voutan bag. Then she grabs me. And begs for my help. "Listen, I'm from LA I have NEVER been here before but I have to leave. Help me get home, I can't be here."
"Okay, relax, let me see when the next ferry leaves."
"I just came here for the weekend and my friend is drunk, she just left with a random guy. She doesn't even know where she is. And I don't run with those kinds of people. (Um, yes you do.) I just want to get out of here." She grabs my arm "I will give you a hundred dollars if you get me home."
"Sure, okay. The next and last ferry isn't for an hour so why don't you order some food and we'll figure this out."
Now I don't get offers like this often, or ever, and I wasn't very comfortable with it. I mean, I was bussing tables and serving slices that night, I would have been lucky to make a hundred bucks on my own working honest and hard and this chick wants to give me enough money to support my drinking habit for the next month just for showing her where to walk? I figure, she's probably exaggerating about the exact amount of money, and it's in my nature to help whether there's money involved or not so I'll just go along as I usually would.
"I need to 2 glasses of wine now." (Hey we could really be friends)
So I set her up with the two wines that make the most sense: my favorite-shiraz, and that mixed red bottle we've been trying to get rid of. And I'm on with the rest of my work.
A few minutes later I'm helping another customer and I see her waving me over out of the corner of my eye. I go over when I'm finished with what I'm doing to hear the same story again. I try to calm her and walk away and just as I turn she squeels "And I just found out my boyfriends cheating on me" So I sit.
"He was seen bringing another woman into his building. And I'm not that sad but I better still get my 15 grand a month."
"Right right" is what I say before registering her last comment. 15 grand alimony from a man you weren't married to? I'm lost. Although I don't let on because I'd honestly rather not know.
"I'm not heartbroken I just need that money. I don't love him, he just pays me"
Now I don't run with people like this woman but who am I to judge, it's not like I'm rolling in it.
"Well that's just disappointing then. Fuck him for being a little boy, but your lucky you don't care about it. That money is your support system but it's worse when you care." I tell her, trying to create a bond.
Her phone rings. She hands it to me, "I can't talk to her, you do it" And suddenly I'm her personal assistant.
The rest of the details would make you knaw at your own skin from irritation and boredom but long story-short she left $34 tip on a $34 bill and gave me another $80 after walking her to the ferry (I rolled her suitcase down there also[who the fuck am i?!])
Judge me for accepting the money but the woman was evil, and it was her cheating old mans cash anyway. And that's how I got paid for saving a hooker in distress.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
At the exact moment I turn to head back to the restaurant with my plastic gray wagon, successfully done with the last of 4 Labor Day '09 pizza deliveries I saw in the sky a cloud shaped like a flying saucer and thought: Of course! Extra terrestrials have the ability to shift molecular form. That's how they've gotten around us all these years...but they weren't too clever about it this time because that cloud is OBVIOUSLY a space ship.
This is not my photo but this craft is similar to the one I saw.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
It started around January when I was ready to revisit Hunter S Thompson, as I always go back to my favorite authors at least once a year, but was not sure where to turn. I landed on The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955-1967, which I'm still reading yet feel no guilt about it. Usually if it takes me this long to get through a book the 14-year-old that's still finishing up the paragraph in her social studies book while the teacher begins talking about it (our countries school system has a bias against slow readers) creeps up forcing me to feel ultra "special". But I've maintained confidence in my reading skills with this book because I go at my own pace. There are no plot twists, or character arches rushing me along at the end of each chapter. I can start and stop at my own liesure...whoda thunk it! So I read it a little while I was still in school and after finishing up my semester have since started 3 others books of short stories, only one of which I've finished. I like bouncing from one authors voice to another and encourage every reader to do it. Below are the four books of short stories/letters/lectures/articles I've read in the last few months- varied in style and content yet equally satisfying.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Obviously none of these are from the show but they are great examples of how rad her and her style are
Now I can’t recall the order of the entire set but they started with a dark stage, spot light on Karen singing the 7th track off their new album, "It’s Blitz!", Runaway. She moves slowly the entire time in and out of equally beautiful and awkward poses like a traditional Chinese dance. When the number is over the lights come up revealing the rest of the band and the backdrop consisting of a GIANT eyeball in the middle with blue sparkly rings around it. They kick it up at this time with "Show Your Bones" Gold Lion.
At this point I’d been standing near the back of the ground floor of the Electric Factory dancing with myself (went alone-love a good solo adventures) enjoying the wide array of fans. Mostly pushed to the front were the late-teen fans from the suburbs who made sure to belt their V-neck T’s, among them were also the wealthy suburban girls matched head to toe in big worn out T’s and tiny jeans. Scattered around were the band-crazed girls who had friends on each arms, one of them usually a gay man. And then their were the mid to late twenties crowd mostly made of tattooed, and wild-haired women and their boes. I could have been in the “band-crazed” category had I been adorned with some arm candy but going to shows by myself gives me an enormous sense of independence and lets me dance like a frantic epileptic until a stranger stops me and not the person I’m with. But then I ran into a friend and headed upstairs with him and his date.
I spent the next few songs kneeling on a drink shelf through some of my Yeah Yeah Yeah’s favorites including Soft Shock, Pin, Maps, and Skeletons. I was appreciative at this time for the back and forth pattern they created switching between new and older songs. Pin got me off at the first strum as one of my all-time fav’s of theirs. The shelf on which I perched was wet from past occupant’s beers and I nearly fell right over during the repeating “Dono” chorus. The crowd really went wild for a stripped down version of Maps. And although this song, easily their most well known, has been heard a million times over it still got me into a deep sentimental trance remembering all the “they don’t love you like I love you” moments I’ve had in my life (but this isn’t the time or place for such reminiscing) They finished off with their latest dance grooves Heads Will Roll and Zero.
I was so pleased with this set that I didn’t dare utter “I hope they play ___ in the encore” What they did play was a trashing mash up of "Fever to Tell" and "Show Your Bones" track’s that made me want to go out in the streets and break stuff. Among them were Date With the Night where she did indeed “walk on water” and Cheated Hearts, which had me singing louder than anyone around me (which I’m sure they all appreciated very much)
Needless to say I had a more-than-satisfying night complete with estrogen fused head shaking, balls out ass shaking and good, clean listening enjoyment. So please please please go see the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s if they’re in a town near you.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Watching a clip of Maria Maldaur and The Jim Kweskin Jug Band’s performance of I Ain’t Gonna Marry simultaneously helps open my airway through it’s beautiful slingshot vocals while channeling my drifter desire which hasn’t been utilized thus raising my heart rate. See for yourself.
I’d be her in this moment over and over again for the rest of my life.
I’ve just been to Spain and hope to explore the east coast a little for the next month. I’ll be driving Hope (younger sister) down to school in Miami in August so that’ll help.
Now I’m tired of this narcissistic ramble so I’m going to start my day. I hope yours is keeping you grounded and that you do all the things of your desires.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Of the genius waitress, I now sing.
Of hidden knowledge, buried ambition, and secret
sonnets scribbled on cocktail napkins; of aching
arches, ranting cooks, condescending patrons, and eyes
diverted from ancient Greece to ancient grease; of
burns and pinches and savvy and spunk; of a uniquely
American woman living a uniquely American compromise,
I sing. I sing of the genius waitress.
Okay, okay, she's probably not really a genius. But
she is well-educated. She has a degree in Sanskrit,
ethnoastronomy, Icelandic musicology, or something
equally valued in contemporary marketplace. Even if
she could find work in her chosen field, it wouldn't
pay beans--so she slings them instead. (The genius
waitress is not to be confused with the
aspiring-actress waitress, so prevalent in Manhattan
and Los Angeles and so different from her sister in
temperament and I.Q.)
As a type, the genius waitress is sweet and sassy,
funny and smart; young, underestimated, fatalistic,
weary, cheery (not happy, cheerful: there's a
difference and she understands it), a tad bohemian,
often borderline alcoholic, frequently pretty (though
her hair reeks of kitchen and bar); as independent as
a cave bear (though ever hopeful of "true love") and,
above all, geniune.
Covertly sentimental, she fusses over toddlers and old
folks, yet only fear of unemployment prevents her from
handing an obnoxious customer his testicles with his
She doesn't mind a little good-natured flirting, and
if you flirt with verve and wit, she may flirt back.
Never, however, never try to impress her with your
resume. Her tolerance for pretentious Yuppies ends
with her shift, sometimes earlier. She reads men like
a menu and always knows when she's being offered
leftovers or an artificially inflated souffle.
Should you ever be lucky enough to be taken home by
her to that studio apartment with the jerry-built
bookshelves and Frida Kahlo posters, you will discover
that whereas in the public dining room she is merely
as proficient as she needs to be, in the private
bedroom she is blue gourmet virtuoso. Five stars and
counting! Afterward, you can discuss chaos theory or
the triple aspects of the mother goddess in universal
art forms--while you massage her swollen feet.
Eventually, she leaves food service for graduate
school or marriage; but unless she wins a grant or a
fair divorce settlement, chances are she'll be back, a
few years down the line, reciting the daily specials
with her own special mixture of warmth and ennui.
Erudite emissary of eggs over easy, polymath purveyor
of polenta and prawns, articulate angel of apple pie,
the genius waitress is on duty right now in hundreds
of U.S. restaurants, smile at the ready, sauce on the
side. So brush up on your Schopenhauer, place your
order--and tip, mister, tip. She deserves a break
Of her, I sing.
It’s his appreciation of the worker and his understanding of lying awake at night unable to sleep because your hair stinks of pizza and your finger nails are backed up with a tar-like substance made up of grease, garlic sauce, and, most importantly money dirt that prevented me from pouring steaming marinara in the face of every old-money Manhattan bachelor I've had to explain to why they could NOT have my number. Now your wondering why I wouldn’t just shower after work before going to bed and the answer is that after a 14-hour shift the thought of having to continue standing just to be clean is not worth it to me by a long shot. Many a night I’ve contemplated bringing a lawn chair in the tub with me but the undertaking of such a project gets lost in my thoughts around the prospect of fumbling around my dark yard searching for said chair. I’d rather sleep in my own filth and worry about the rest in morning.
You may also be wondering why on earth I would quit a decently paying job as a recent college graduate in this kind of job market and I'll put it right on the table for you now: I'm okay with my head being bigger than my bank account.
Long story-short tonight was my last night of work at Michael’s Ristortante. Although I did shed a tear at the thought of leaving my coworkers, most of whom I’ve had an outstanding working relationship with for three summers now, I couldn’t be happier to get away from the pizza-loving freaks that occupy that place at the most god awful hours of the morning. If you’re one of the drunks that has felt the need to yell over the 7 people ahead of you in line to make sure you get the corner slice of the Sicilian pie you will never see my rosey face again.
Written July 13