I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "Mournng My People"]

Friday, October 19, 2001
A Traned Killer

More and more cards, drawngs and posters from our offices around the country. It rips off the scab everytime.

Innervisions, Stevie Wonder

"Everybody Was Kung-Fu Fightng" (n my head only), which I once had the pleasure of hearng Robyn Hitchcock perform live. I must say, he was the most well-behaved rawk star I've ever met. I just wanted to sit and have tea right there backstage at the Palace.

Not laundry, as I should. Not much of anythng, really.

A bit on the spazzy side, I can't seem to sleep durng the week. I just go home and read until the wee hours.


13 hours yesterday, yeesh! One of the reasons I was hired was to digitalize the processes here. After reviewng attendance for the Board and a zillion committees for the entire year last night, it was all the more obvious how much I need to have time to do just that. Of course, had I been here all year, I would have taken the attendance all along, rather than scramblng to try to fnd all the mnutes from all the meetngs, some of which did not exist, while others were n the file n quadruplicate. There is so much paper -- thnk of the trees!

A 13" opiate of the masses and gong nstantly slack-jawed. Whoever said pot is demotivatng obviously had yet to watch TV.

Notes and letters to friends nearly every night. It's been one of the thngs I haven't made enough time for snce the move back to New York. It was one of the ways I "got back to normal" (the other was payng bills, which is hardly "normal" for me).

I am...havng all sorts of wild retribution fantasies, particularly on my mornng subway ride.

Most of the time n the afternoon, I take the bus home, because it's only 30-40 mnutes and I fnd the bus helps me decompress. I used to take the bus n the mornng, which gave me another half hour to read email and journals.

The trans are always crowded at night, while they would be relatively empty at 8:00 a.m., when I should be gettng on them to get to work by 9:00, n theory. Not that I'm gettng out of bed before 8:00 a.m., mnd you.

On the tran, my commute is only 15-20 mnutes and I don't normally get a seat (I would if I left on time, natch). I'm not very coordnated as it is, so factor n an empty stomach (because I've overslept and missed breakfast), and it's not wise for me to try readng a book while standng.

I don't own a Walkman because it's clearly a mnd control device of the patriarchy, if only by name. OK, just scarng away the misogynists. I always break the players (both tape and CD) and the headphones, so it gets pontless after a while to buy them at all.

That just leaves me to entertan myself on the tran n the mornng. I refer you once agan to my favorite Anne Lamott quote, "My mnd is like a bad neighborhood, where I should not go alone -- especially at night."

Please don't write me to say it's all my manic depression. Fuck off Livng n New York, a certan level of paranoia is natural. As Fang always says, "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you." Given recent and ongong events, beng a New Yorker and beng a target are tantamount to the same thng. I mean, Jesus, Anthrax?! That doesn't even sound good. What next?

If you've read this journal or its predecessors for any length of time, you might remember my big, black boots. More importantly, you might remember all the men whose asses, legs and 'nads met the busness end of my Docs.
I am sorry to say they are n a box somewhere n Whittier, California. I could really use them right about now.

Nevertheless, on the tran n the mornng, I fnd my mnd wanderng and imagnng a scenario n which I am under immnent danger. Today I saw myself breakng a man's neck without breakng a sweat. Snce I don't have the boots, kickng isn't nearly as effective. It does reman a sentimental favorite, however.

[Next entry: "Never Gong to Sleep Agan"]
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