tavie.com

I have the elevated-at-rest heartbeat of a Person Who Has Slept Way Too Much.

I can't take it anymore. I'm going to Mint Manor.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:21 PM | shower me with attention

I just got email from a 14-year-old Dave fan, sincerely consoling me for being a riple old 23 years of age.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:00 PM | shower me with attention

Pretty in Pink. Why, why, why, why, why, why, why doesn't she end up with Ducky?

That will always piss me off, for now and forever.

Oh, all those magnanimous Duckies of the world, painfully but lovingly handing over their Andies to the Andrew McCarthies because why would strange, off-beat, less-than-classically-beautiful people fall in love with other strange, off-beat, less-than-classically-beautiful people? Never happen. Never happen, I tell you.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:00 PM | shower me with attention

I was going to go to bed after the first set of M*A*S*Hes, but I got all caught up in All About My Mother. Wow, it was good. Rich.

And so we move from complex, emotional, symbolic expressions of the relationships between art and gender back to wacky hi-jinks and krazy kapers at the 4077.

I'm very glad that soon I'll have something besides tv to occupy my time.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:27 AM | shower me with attention

A small, crying cat. Peachskin between two teeth. Purple fingernails. Flannel pear sheets. Idleness. A bellyful of yogurt. Aspirations to pretention. Itchy eye. A list.

What haved you to show for this evening?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:14 AM | shower me with attention

Friday, August 30, 2002

According to emode's True Talent test:

Tavie, your true talent is abstract reasoning
Your ability to look at information abstractly implies that you have a rich imagination. Chances are, you're one of those rare people who can mix two unrelated ideas together to come up with a great new one. Most individuals aren't as skillful as you are at applying knowledge outside of its usual context.
Your combination of strategic thinking and creativity can be an incredible value in both business and social environments.

But if they think I'm paying them $14.95 to tell me what I should be when I grow up, their powers of reason are sorely lacking.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:54 PM | shower me with attention

Why do I find out about these things a second too late?

I wish I was a string-puller.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:31 PM | shower me with attention

This is it. This is the third commenting system in as many weeks. I'm done. I ain't doin' no mo'. If this one doesn't work, god is saying I don't need the extra attention.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:29 PM | shower me with attention

I dreamed about a red-enamel pen with sooty, smoothly-flowing ink. Interpretations?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:08 PM | shower me with attention

I don't know how, but somehow my magical summer of fun has turned into the worst summer since the summer of '90. I don't know how that happened but all of a sudden a bunch of stuff that I thought would be there forever was gone.

Christmas is going to suck holy hellfire this year. It's going to be awful. I had a dream about it last night. It was awful.

Things that should seem happy, like younger friends embarking on exciting new phases of their lives, now seem like more notches on the Latrine Wall of Stuff That I've Lost This Summer.

There is one happy thing I can think to post, and that is the fact that M*A*S*H is on eight times a day. Eight is my lucky number. I have actually been spending my time lately reading message boards of other people talking about a show that hasn't made new episodes since I was in preschool. The show is on in the afternoon from 3-5 on FX, and then from 1-2 am and 4-5 am on FOX. And believe me when I say I've been catching all of the episodes lately.

Not for long now; school starts Tuesday. A blessing.

Still no job, but I haven't been terribly aggressive in my search. Not terribly. I am 99% lazy, after all.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:20 AM | shower me with attention

Thursday, August 29, 2002

I had a very bad, bad, bad, bad, bad day wherein I did not get dressed and did something that neatly undid 5 months of healthy eating. Think junkie. Think crackhouse. Think Gary Busey but with crackers and chinese noodles. It was very bad. Very bad.

But I talked to me mummy and she gave me permission to throw out all of the bread, cookies, crackers and other various sugary crap in the house. And she brought me green grapes and two new pairs of pajama pants. So I am optimistic. Today never happened. Today never happened. Today never happened.

'Cause nobody wants to hear this tale
The plot is clich�, the jokes are stale
and baby we've all heard it all before.

(Aimee sings with this guy, John Doe, in this song here. I like it.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:10 PM | shower me with attention

Took this test again to determine that I am now 99% lazy . That is an impressive score.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:03 PM | shower me with attention

Reason number million why I love WFUV: Lost in Space is their CD of the week, meaning tonight at 8pm ET they'll be playing it in its entirety. And you gotta kind of love that. (Stream it if you want. I probably will, seeing as I'm tired of listening to my sad-ass bootleg of it, and god knows my copy may never arrive in the mail and I will likely have to get off my ass and go to a record store and buy it. And I'd better get that CD single with it or I am going to throw a very big temper tantrum. Inside my head. Which is the same thing as this blog.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:38 PM | shower me with attention

Thrills gum!

I'm a sucker for a throwaway KITH reference.

Someone give me one good reason I should get dressed today.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:31 PM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, August 28, 2002

{whine}

I want my ceeeeeee deeeeeee....

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:34 PM | shower me with attention

Where the fuckety fucking fuck is my CD? It would've been faster for me to just buy it yesterday at a record store. Dammit, people!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:27 PM | shower me with attention

How cool is this image?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:08 PM | shower me with attention

I would love to see this play.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:05 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, August 27, 2002

Lunch today with Aggie in honour of her 23rd birthday tomorrow. Is it midnight yet? I'll jump the gun:

Happy Birthday, Ags!

This is our eighteenth year together. She was my first Best Friend and I love her dearly. She's one of those who's pretty much in sister territory, you know, the kind of friend who's so omnipresent that you tend to take them for granted. To do this is to sell Erica short. The depth of my feeling for her is rarely expressed, and it ought to be more. It really ought. It's been a weird year for us both, great in some ways and terrible in some more ways. And I haven't seen her as much as I used to, as much as I'd like. And I miss her. She is my Aggie. I want to try and not take her for granted so much anymore. And when I want something, don't I often get it? Often I do.

The rest of today went as such: Kirsten and I met with my friend Tommy down at Pier 54 and we attended a free concert. For the price it was pretty good, although the middle act, one DJ Sasha, made me want to sort of kill myself. My feet were dying by the time Moby came on and I could only stand to stay through four or so of his songs. But they were good ones. I was especially taken with his way of saying, "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!" after each number.

Then I came home and that's it. Aimee's new CD is out today and I saw it at Virgin, and wondered where the hell my copy is, seeing as I ordered it off of her website weeks and weeks ago. I'm disgruntled. It's a fucking fabulous album-- perhaps her best yet, I'm uncertain, I'm torn, I hesitate to make that statement, but I'm so fucking taken with Lost in Space.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:43 PM | shower me with attention

I have an enormous desire to listen to my old, scratched Muppet Show record. The turntable is in my parents' room, and dusty. Too bad. I would really benefit from hearing Rowlf and Sam singing "Tit Willow".

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:35 AM | shower me with attention

Monday, August 26, 2002

I'm not having luck with this comment stuff, am I? Although apparently this time it's a temporary problem that they're trying to fix. Yuh-huh.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:17 PM | shower me with attention

Ade taught me how to knit on double-pointed needles this weekend. The hope is that I will eventually be able to make a sock. However, she didn't have time to teach me that far into the lesson, so all I can knit right now is a tube. Either I will have to find out how to do the heel and toe part myself, or else I will be able to make a bunch of sleeves for my sister, and that's all.

Lily will not stop crying. I think she misses her sister.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:55 PM | shower me with attention

Back from the whirlwind weekend in Toronto with the goils to attend the first Hedwig and the Angry Inch Hed-head convention.

The trip: great. I only got really sad a couple times and my goils were there to hug me and distract me. My sister was, too. (Being a Hed-head herself, she was also in attendance.) Wandered around Toronto, visiting MAC stores and yarn shops. Called up the nerve to call up Jim Millan (remembered as the director of the KITH tours and various fabulous plays in Toronto, including The Chet Baker Story and the Toronto production of Hedwig) and ended up having a strange but fun lunch semi-with him. (He was eating at a sushi place with the cast of his current production, and since my group was so large we ended up scattered around the restaurant, with Jim visiting our tables cocktail-host-style and chatting with various groupings of us.)

The convention: Conventions are definitely not my scene-- except for anthro conventions, I usually enjoy those-- because of my Dad's Fan History and the tales of creepy geeks (as opposed to regular geeks, who I love.) This one started out slow and boring, badly lit and awkwardly set up. There were some terrible tribute bands. But eventually they got the little kid, Ben something-something who played young Hansel in the movie, up to do the "Freaks" dance, and then John Cameron Mitchell started answering questions from the audience, and those things were worth every minute. The man is so charming and hilarious. When he started asking for questions, I turned to Kitana and Tara on either side of me and whispered urgently, "Oh, I wish he'd do the Yorkshire accent from The Secret Garden! Oh, I hope someone asks him that! I wish I had the guts to ask him that!" I kept this up ad nauseum. I'm sure both of them wanted to smack me.

And then something amazing happened. Someone asked him about past roles he was proud of and he mentioned The Secret Garden. I started muttering, "Do the accent, do the accent, do the accent" --and heard myself getting louder and louder-- "do the accent, do the accent, do the accent"-- and suddenly I was shouting it-- "DO THE ACCENT!" And John heard me, and he looked at me, and smiled, and said in thick Yorkshire, "Hello there, Mary! I'm Martha's brother, Dickon!" And sang a snippet, "When a thing is wick, it has a life about it", and the crowd went wild, and I was ecstatic. So that, my friends, that was my favourite moment of the weekend. Even better than Lord Jim calling me back.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:41 PM | shower me with attention

Sunday, August 25, 2002

Keep as new, keep as new, keep as new.

There is oh, so much sleeping to be done. So much. Oh.

Keep as new, keep as new, keep as new.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:21 PM | shower me with attention

Thursday, August 22, 2002

My mom has been taking this all surpringly hard. Besides me she's been crying the most, at odd times during the day. I was very proud of her that she went to work immediately following what had to be done on Tuesday, went to work all alone while the rest of us got to stay home.

She's been getting through it by utilizing various online pet loss support sites. She wrote this tribute to the girl. Normally I don't understand those kinds of things, but now I see how it works. She doesn't have this kind of outlet for expression and she needed to do something. I think the only thing she really regrets is the muzac version of "I Will Always Love You" that accompanies the tribute. Gah. She also wrote this story on the pet board on the site. That's good. I'm glad she did that.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:57 PM | shower me with attention

I think my three current favourite distractions, in no particular order, are:

Burning Monkey Solitaire

M*A*S*H

Linn's Sex Chronicles

If you haven't been checking into that lately, you're missing some of the most comical/steamiest Swedish sexploits since... I don't know... 70's Swedish porn, I guess. I've never seen 70's Swedish porn but now I imagine all of it to take place in Linn's apartment.

I wonder if she's installed that h�ngmatta yet...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:09 PM | shower me with attention

The music geek on Beat the Geeks just said, "Scott Miller of The Loud Family is the greatest living songwriter... and I'm the only one who knows it."

Ha ha ha ha ha!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:32 AM | shower me with attention

I just saw a commercial for stuffed Care Bears that looked pretty much as I remember them save for the fact that it began with two freakish, badly-animated 3-D cartoon Care Bears singing, "Who needs a Care Bear hug?"

But I might still be asleep, I might have dreamed it. So never mind.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:46 AM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, August 21, 2002

Name/personality analysis I got from Toronto Steph is surprisingly accurate. Except for the whole "responsible" and "self-confident" part. But other than that... right on.

Now I'll analyze the accuracy of some others. This will be limited to those people I know who don't share a name with any of my other close friends.

Gina: You are stable, trustworthy, homeloving, and logical in practical matters, but rather unresponsive to suggestions from others. You resist change. This is the only really correct part. Everything else is wrong.

Ade: Dead-on accurate.

Kirsten: Eh. Not so much. A little on the restlessness point, but the whole "organized" thing? Nuh-uh.

Cheryl: The ever-present desire to progress does not allow you proper relaxation or the proper expression of the softer feminine qualities of sympathy, encouragement, and affection. Others see you as rather shrewd and calculating. Dead-off wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Erica: Pretty accurate. The possessive/jealous stuff is very wrong.

Kitana: Much here is stunningly accurate, this most of all: You would be most successful in situations where you can use your skills in diplomacy in handling people. Stunningly true. Very right-on. Do they know her?

Steve: Not too much of this sounds very accurate, although I could be wrong.

Matt: This sounds pretty right, although some points (particularly, "too certain of yourself") are inaccurate.

Goose: I'm not too sure, but most of this sounds pretty damn correct. I'm not too sure about the lack of compassion nor the businesslike nature-- in fact, yeah, those are wrong-- but, otherwise, right on.

Linn: It starts out okay ( an intense desire to be of service to others,) but then veers off into the Land of Wrong (you are not especially imaginative or investigative.) Oh well.

Rynn: Nope. Businesslike? Materialistic? Reticent? Tigga, please.

That's it. If I left you out, it means I don't feel capable of judging you yet. Wine and dine me a little more; show me your soul.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:43 PM | shower me with attention

Estelle Getty just said, "for a guy at the center" and I thought she said "for dried placenta".

I think it is finally time to get the ears checked.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:32 PM | shower me with attention

And having done that I'd like to say something else. My friends. You're holding me up. Thank you for holding me up. This is a bad time. I haven't had a time this bad since the summer of 1990. This is bad in a different way, I suppose a more manageable way because so many of you have been through the same thing and when you tell me about your experiences it helps me.

So that's what I wanted to say right now. I'm ready to go back to triviality on this thing because I miss it. I'm sort of tired of missing things. I miss my friends who live far away. I miss my uncle who I haven't seen since June and may not see for awhile because he's not really my uncle anymore in any sort of legal sense. I miss my Rosie. So there's no use in depriving myself of triviliality, because it's one less thing I'll have to miss, and god knows there will be more things to miss in the coming weeks.

That said, I came across this article while searching for an alternate Mac Solitaire game (until I found a code for my Monkies that Burn and needed a new one no longer). Boy, what a snob. I hate chess. Solitaire rules. You see how the author pathetically and obviously refers to the "think different" campaign as proof that Mac users are smarter? Oh, we think outside the box, we do! And smarter people play chess, see? I'm smart enough and I hate chess, and I use a Mac. So, so much for that, you dope.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:05 PM | shower me with attention

I wrote an email to some friends yesterday when I got home from the vet. It made me feel a little better to write it. I think I'd like to have it in this space, too, for my archives. So I'm going to put it here.

--
I don't know what else to do since I can't sleep so I signed on. Being signed on is comforting because it's what I do the most even though there's nothing really to do.

This morning we took Rosie to the vet and they found fluid around her lungs and heart pressing down on her lungs making it hard for her to breathe. It's been building for awhile and although they could have drained it it would have most likely come back within a few days and kept coming back, and the procedure would have been traumatic for her. Just being there was traumatic for her. She hadn't left our apartment the whole 12 years we've lived here. Today was the first time and the last time.

I was there with her and Kirsten was too. I pet Rosie and Kirsten pet me and then Rosie was asleep. She was fifteen years old. She and Lily were kittens and Kirsten and I were also kittens when we first met. Mom dumped them out on Kirsten's bed and they were so little. Lily went to me and Rosie went to Kirsten so we thought Lily was mine and Rosie was Kirsten's, but later on it was Lily who latched onto Kirsten and Rosie became my girl. In her youth Rosie was a huntress who prowled the streets and backyards of Brooklyn. Her best friend was a tailless stray called Mr Mannix. She used to drop mice at our bedroom door as gifts. She looked a little like Batman. When she was two years old she ran out after us one day as we crossed the street with our mom, and right smack into a car. After her recovery she was a little crooked about the mouth. In later years I called her "Mary Jo Buttafu-cat" when I wanted to tease her, which was an exceedingly wicked and deranged thing to do. When we moved to Roosevelt Island she became an indoor dame whose favourite activity was basking in the patch of sunshine on my parents' bed, and drooling.

She loved everyone and loved to climb into laps and lick the hands of strangers. Licking was her highest form of affection. If you pet her she would lick you as thanks, and if you didn't she would lick you as a request that you pet her. She slept on my bed every night and when her licking became annoying I would flop over and avoid her until she got the picture and settled down in the small of my back to sleep. There is always a perpetual hairy patch on my bedsheets.

She was a diva. She was shaped like a meatloaf. She had a lot of mass in her ass. I would sing to her "Really Rosie" because that's who she was. Her full name was Calico Rose.

Dad was her second favourite, and then Kirsten and Mom, but I was her very favourite and she was mine. I will love her forever.

I didn't think I could be there for her at the end. I couldn't even go to my grandmother's funeral. But I was there and I held her. I did not leave her alone at the end.

I feel better having said all that.

This has never happened to me before and I don't really know what to do but it hurts very much.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:58 PM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

She's gone.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:34 PM | shower me with attention

Monday, August 19, 2002

We're taking Rosie in first thing in the morning. She is lying on my parent's bed on my dad's side with her eyes open, breathing too heavily. She keeps rubbing one eye, which is leaking, and didn't eat all day yesterday. She ate a piece of chicken Mom gave her earlier, almost threw it up, but didn't. She responds a little when I pet her and even licked my hand--not like she usually does, she usually slurps at any available skin she can find when petted-- but she is scaring me a lot. I am very very freaked out. I am not going to undress tonight so as soon as my mom wakes up we can take her across the tram to the animal hospital on 66th.

There's nothing here in this house I can eat. We just got huge shipments from grocery.com and freshdirect.com and yet there's nothing here I can eat. What the fuck is that about? I got home and Kirsten and her friends have ordered pizza. So I guess I'll be eating the top of a slice of pizza. Although to be fair Kirsten is trying to help me find something more substantial and seems concerned about my hunger.

Smatthew and I went and saw an exceedingly mediocre concert tonight. We were the youngest people in the theatre. The chanteuse wore the ugliest pants set I have ever seen and almost choked to death near the end of one of the songs. I wonder if that's the last I'll see of Matt before he goes to Yale.

Rosie is my best friend and I love her more than I've ever loved any animal, or ever will. She's the only person who loves me more than anyone else in the whole world. I'm her absotootin' favourite and she is mine. She shares my bed and covers me with kisses and let me use her as a pillow-- before she lost all that weight-- and she loves Dad second best but she loves me most. I love Lily very, very much but she is Kirsten's girl and Rosie is my girl and I don't know what I'm going to do if they can't help her. I really don't.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:52 PM | shower me with attention

I found a dime from 1942 in my piggy bank. It's a Mercury dime. It's neat looking.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:38 PM | shower me with attention

I'm Velma, which ambiguous dyke are you? Quiz by Turi.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:48 PM | shower me with attention

Sunday, August 18, 2002

We finally saw Lilo and Stitch today.

I loved it.

Holy CRAP!

Thass, thassmy fav'rite since Beauty and the Beast. And I'm not particularly anti-Disney, so that actually is saying something. And it's not just because of Kevin. I would have seen it even without Kevin (although I probably wouldn't have been so anxious to see it in a theatre so late in its run were it not for Mr McDonald) and I just really loved it. I loved the watercolour background and the weird characters and the Elvis music and the sly references to obscure Disneyana. (Who else caught the tiny blinking Spaceship Earth on a radar screen near the end? How about the illustrations from the old Disney short The Ugly Duckling?) Man, what a great movie. I can't wait to own it and watch it over and over again. I really want a Pleakley toy and since it's now too late I guess I'll be turning to ebay for that.

Great flick.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:11 PM | shower me with attention

Kirsten IMs me this morning and the first thing she says is, "Rosie needs to see a vet."

No no no no no no no... "What's wrong??? Is she okay???"

"Well, sort of. She isn't eating, she is just lying around, not moving much. She's depressed. I think she's sick. She is old."

Nonononononononono. She had been worrying me lately. She's dropped a lot of weight recently, and now you can feel all her bones when you pet her. She seems to be panting at rest. She's fifteen years old.

"Can it wait until mom comes home?"

"I don't know, I guess so."

(It will have to, I haven't the means to get her to a vet right now, and I'm still in Jersey besides.)

Oh god oh god oh god no. I've been avoiding thinking about this since I was seven years old.

(And Lily, while still active and eating, still has that cold.)

I can't take it, I really can't. Everyone else may get old, but not my Rosie.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:23 PM | shower me with attention

Was this the longest day?

Maybe not, but certainly the hottest. I spent almost six hours in a car today, rode through every borough in the city and Westchester besides, baked in Cadillacs (plural) for hours upon hours with the a/c turned off in the blistering, soup-efying heat, and was returned to Mint Manor, finally, in air-conditioned luxury by Stephie of Staten Island.

I wish I had a dock to jump off of, for the summer certainly wastes away.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:08 AM | shower me with attention

I hope this new comment thing works, because the old one sucked. I sort of hate that all the old comments got erased, but did you notice how much that stupid thing was slowing down my page? Fuck that shit.

Anyway. If you said anything nice about me in the old comments, feel free to repeat them. ;)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:20 AM | shower me with attention

Saturday, August 17, 2002

I am trying to win the Most Stephs Linked in One Blog Contest.

i dont believe in puncaution either

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:52 PM | shower me with attention

Friday, August 16, 2002

Me at best friend Steph's in Staten Island. She buy me two apple martinis. Me like apple martinis. Then we go across street and video store and what we see in window? Big poster for The Wrong Guy. After me have minor heart attack, Steph reserves poster for me to be purchased after release of movie in September. Me very excited; me have own poster soon.

Me like apple martini.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:26 PM | shower me with attention

Kirsten and I were in bed with our mom this morning, giggling about something or other as my dad got dressed-- oh, about my dad's friend's son who saw Scott Thompson at a Sex Pistols concert and threw him into the mosh pit. We were giggling about this, and I said, "And then Scott told the story on Conan."

And my dad replied, without missing a beat, "The real Co-nan was quite a tall man, as well."

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:56 PM | shower me with attention

Thursday, August 15, 2002

Hey, now. Come on.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:59 PM | shower me with attention

Strange variation of the naked nightmare. It actually woke me up from sleep. In this one, a new version of the KITH documentary DVD was being released with new extras. Excited, I watched it for the first time with a large group of friends and family. The segment we were watching was directed by Scott, and I was thrilled to note that the footage he used took place at a party I had attended. Thrill turned to horror as I saw myself in a strapless gown, the top slipped down to reveal my horrifying, obese upper torso. The next scene showed me crouched naked in a shower, crying into a cell phone, "I'm going to sue them for mental cruelty!" The entire rest of the segment showed me, completely naked, making a fool of myself at the party as Derwood filmed it all for the world to see. Watching this DVD, I began to sob, "Why? I thought he liked me. Why is he doing this to me? Why?" Tara tried her best to comfort me but I fled in tears, looking for my cell phone to call Ade. I sobbed my story on the phone to her. "I've always wanted to be fucked by Scott Thompson, and now I have!" I cried.

The funniest part of this dream is the idea that they would let Scott direct a segment for the DVD.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:43 AM | shower me with attention

I love the postcard game.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:10 AM | shower me with attention

Our Lady Peace. It was what I needed: the ear-splitting rhythms, the throbbing crowd, the songs I wasn't familiar with but which were as far from Sondheim as songs could get, the unthreateningly sexy lead singer, the flashing coloured lights, the close contact of complete strangers. It was like tasty medicine, the good kind, like cherry-flavoured baby aspirin (yum!). Even after my feet were numb and I was near-fainting from sleepiness, it was good shtuff, good shtuff.

Frightening: a guy directly behind me fainted during the second warm-up's set. The girl he was with fell to her knees, screaming his name over and over hysterically. The crowd around them (me included) parted a little, looking around anxiously for security; the rest of the crowd continued to thrum. As quickly as he had fallen, he was up on his feet again and they had disappeared into the crowd. Disturbing.

Funny: nothing funnier than someone who is thrown into a mosh pit and allowed to fall to the ground, rejected by the crowd.

Funny 2: near the end of the show, lead OLP guy said, "New York, let me see your hands!" Not being much for arm-waving, my hands remained in my pockets. The girl standing behind me, a hard-core fan whose comments had amused me throughout the evening, evidently decided this warranted punishment, for I swear to god I felt the mosquito-esque sting of a single hair being pulled slowly and deliberately out of my scalp. I swear I didn't imagine it; the girl was punishing me for not throwing my arms in the air and wavin' 'em like I just don't care!

Frightening 2: Lots of cops and police barricades blocking off the streets surrounding the Hammerstein ballroom. A lone tour bus, U-Haul attached, sat askew in the middle of the street. Tommy interrogated a subway employee and found out that the bus belonging to Greenwheel, one of the opening acts, had hit a pedestrian. The pedestrian was nowhere to be seen, but neither was there a chalk outline in sight, so that's good, anyway. Yikes.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:42 AM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, August 14, 2002

I came home to go to an Our Lady Peace concert this evening with my friend Tommy, and, as it turns out, I don't have a bed lined up for tonight. My sister has promised my bed to her friends visiting from Seattle.

Sucks for me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:33 PM | shower me with attention

Dude. Limewire sucks. All anyone has is Sweeney Todd. I can't tell you how much Sweeney Todd freaks me out. You wouldn't believe me; you would laugh at me. I taped it off of Bravo years ago, sight unseen, because I knew it was a Sondheim musical and I'd loved Into the Woods so much. So I watched it. Once. It scared me so much, grossed me out so thoroughly that I couldn't bear to look at anything resembling either ground meat or a pie for weeks afterward, and I haven't looked at Angela Lansbury the same way since. (Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is a musical about a London barber who starts slitting his clients' throats and sending them to the bakerwoman downstairs to have them made into pies, which she sells in her bake shop to enormous profit.)

I was so scared by that musical that I can't even bear to touch the video tape, which also has The Purple Rose of Cairo on it. So I haven't seen that movie since, either.

Anyway. No one has Company and I still need "Poor Baby" and "Finale", goddammit.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:57 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, August 13, 2002

The preceding post looks suspiciously like a rant. Don't be fooled. I don't believe in rants. I'm just overjoyed by the fact that I have a firm opinion on something, anything. Don't bother reading it, it's just for me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:14 PM | shower me with attention

Look, I hate getting called by telemarketers just as much as anybody, but I think what people are forgetting here is that calling you up in the middle of dinner is someone's shitty job. It's the shittiest job I can think of. It's no one's career goal. No one is living out a dream by doing it. Someone is doing it because they are desperate to make a living. They hate their job. They hate calling people up during their dinner hour and trying to sell them something. So the idea of tormenting them is pretty cruel, pretty digusting to me. It's not that difficult to say, "I'm sorry, I'm not interested" or "Please don't call back, we're not interested" in a polite tone of voice before hanging up. Or, if you feel you can't stop yourself from making a mean or cutting remark, then simply hanging up on them is preferable.

I was raised to be polite to telemarketers, because at least one of my parents, at some point in their young adulthood, was forced to choose between a job as a telemarketer or starving. I always feel pity for the ones who get my dad on the other end of the phone, because the only thing sadder than being a telemarketer, really, is someone who looks forwards to telemarketer's calls because he relishes an audience, any audience, to the sound of his voice. I think everyone on the staff of The New York Times and every person working at the ticket office at Lincoln Center knows about my dad's diabetes and how rough supervisors at work are on him.

Of course, none of what I've said applies to those telemarketers who call you up on your cell phone. They're fair game. How dare they make me pay for the airtime it takes for them to try and sell me something I wouldn't buy in a million years? Fuckers.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:12 PM | shower me with attention

I just made a kick-ass broccoli salad, so don't tell me I'm wasting my days.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:21 PM | shower me with attention

And the Company obsession continues. I will O.D. on Sondheim soon and they will find me, huddled in a dank corner, a thin stream of drool drying on my chin, muttering, "bobby baby bobby bubi bobby baby robert darling robby baby bubi...", arms hugging my knees, rocking back and forth, simultaneously trying to hum the unhummable.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:50 PM | shower me with attention

Monday, August 12, 2002

I hate to admit it, but I love this LOTR manga link that my sister sent me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:11 AM | shower me with attention

Early to bed, early to rise
makes Tavie waken with grit in her eyes.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:23 AM | shower me with attention

Sunday, August 11, 2002

Am I blogging too much? Then stop reading.

Ahem.

And here's to the girls who just watch--
Aren't they the best?
When they get depressed, it's a bottle of Scotch
Plus a little jest.
Another chance to disapprove,
Another brilliant zinger,
Another reason not to move,
Another vodka stinger--
Aaahh--I'll drink to that.

Yeah, baby.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:28 AM | shower me with attention

Good god. Look at this page. I'm an emotional nudist.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:38 AM | shower me with attention

Okay. So I didn't get to sleep last night. Could it be because I slept until 6 pm yesterday?

I will not go to sleep I will not go to sleep I will not go to sleep. I will stay up all day until the nighttime.

...

Yeah. Sure I will. Sure!

I'm not at all charming, am I.

My favourite song in Company is definitely "Another Hundred People". Followed by "The Ladies Who Lunch". But the one in my head most is "You Could Drive A Person Crazy".

I had an incredibly realistic dream about bizarro-Roosevelt Island the other day. God, I love bizarro-R.I. I wish I lived there for real. I dreamed that Matt and Jordan's band was playing Aimee covers in the supermarket and I was insulted that they didn't tell me about it beforehand.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:31 AM | shower me with attention

Do you want to know? It's been a week of phone rings, door chimes, here comes company, and online games to distract, caffeine-withdrawal headaches that leave me too tired to make enough coffee to chase them away, gunslingers and lobstrosities, and sleeping, oh, so much sleeping.

Tonight I came Mint Manorwards and we drove to the beach, stared at the sky for ten minutes, and drove home. I am on my very own computer in my very own room here. Pretty exciting, not having to share.

You know sometimes I catch him just looking... and looking. I look right back.

A person like Bob doesn't have the good things and he doesn't have the bad things... but he doesn't have the good things.

Mixtures of versions, and I've finally placed Dean Jones from the the 1970 version; he was in all those Herbie the Love Bug-sort of Disney movies, but more importantly to me (and no one else except perhaps the sister), he was Jakob Grimm in Once Upon a Brothers Grimm, a truly-strange-in-retrospect childhood favourite.

I need, oh god, I need a life.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:56 AM | shower me with attention

Saturday, August 10, 2002

Gina and I are going to go to look at the meteor shower. I hope we have the date right this time.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:49 PM | shower me with attention

Friday, August 09, 2002

So I couldn't figure out how to configure Verizon DSL with my new computer. I erroneously installed it and then went through much rigamarole trying to figure out how to get the damn thing to connect. Finally I called Tech Support and the guy told me that since I had already installed the software there was nothing he could do to help me; I would not be able to install Verizon DSL on my iBook. I hung up.

Less than thirty seconds later I was connected through Verizon DSL.

How?

I am a genius, that's how.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:40 PM | shower me with attention

The Mac is BACK, baby!

Guess what arrived today...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:09 PM | shower me with attention

As much as I've enjoyed the thrill of the search, I'm chomping at the bit to do a little illegal coaster-making (ha!), so if anyone has a CD or MP3's of songs from Company (any version), please email. Apparently, I'm still missing "Poor Baby" and "Finale", "Happily Ever After" and "Multitudes of Amys".

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:38 PM | shower me with attention

Fabulous sacrelicious gadgetry. I want a Hold Me Jesus.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:10 PM | shower me with attention

I loved Amelie, but, man. Stop mainstreaming whimsy. It's too commonplace. Dullness will replace whimsy as the Exotic Other. No more films about charming imps with colourful fantasy lives; grey-faced losers with boring aspirations will... oh, it's been done. Billy Dreamerrrrrr...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:57 PM | shower me with attention

Spent the morning crying my eyes out. Mom is home today. We are taking a break from watching Amelie so that she can wash her hair and I can email my resume to that recruiter who has offered me a well-paying, doable-sounding job in... Mineola. Mineola. I would have to commute out of the city to Long Island. Every day. And then get back in time for school.

It was good to cry my eyes out and think terrible things about my future. It was gooder (not better, gooder) that my soft-hearted progenitor is scraping up enough money for me to spend a few days at Mint Manor, where I rarely cry my eyes out.

Please, I really need to know, someone, anyone: what shall I do with my life? Where shall I go and what shall I be? Please don't say civil servant or secretary or I'll cry again. I used to think I could be more but now I am growing up and seeing how things will probably play out and it is hurting me. (And yes, I know the difference between being a secretary to pay the bills while you're becoming a doctor of what-have-you, and settling for being a drudge for the state because there was nothing else that you were good at enough to do for a living. One is my mentor and the other my father and I'd rather be like her than him, but I think I'm more him than her. This isn't making sense to anyone else but me. I need another cup of coffee.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:11 AM | shower me with attention

Thursday, August 08, 2002

Loser.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:50 AM | shower me with attention

Nothing new to report.

In old business: I have no life, no job, no money and no ideas. That's not new.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:30 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, August 06, 2002

Today is Serra day?! Good god! Get out the erotic cakes!

HURRY!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:37 PM | shower me with attention

iSketch's server has been down. In its stead I have become addicted to Psychobabble. I am supreme ruler here, as well.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:56 PM | shower me with attention

Oh, yes. Yes. Relief. That was good. That was very good. Sister and I left early in the morning. The weather was sunny but cool. Central Park was like a painting. We wandered. We-- yes-- we Roam, Roam, Roamed. We walked down that long lane, sat on the Jim Henson bench (plaque: "In memory of Jim Henson, who loved this walk in the park.") A jazz man serenaded us with his sax. We went to that fountain and I sat in it and sang Godspell songs. At the Alice statue, Kirsten helped a young mother who was trying to pose her baby in the lap of the giant statue. Kirsten held baby steady, and I held baby in my arms as mother scrambled down from the bronze mushroom. A baby in my arms! Only the third baby I've ever held. (First: Alice, a 10-month-old I met on a long flight from somewhere-or-other; second: Savannah, my friend Adam's little girl.) Then to the Zoo, where we saw the penguins. My favourite things about the penguins:

1. When they jump out of the water onto land.
2. When they dive off the land into water.

In that order.

Then lunch at China Fun, where pretty sister insisted on telling me over and over that she considers me a genius.

Then we were sleepy and came home but I will not go to bed, I will stay up all day.

And in my head all day, my new friend:

Another hundred people just got off of the train
and came up to the ground...

...it's a city of strangers
some come to work, some to play.
A city of strangers,
some come to stare, some to stay.
And every day the ones who stay
can find each other in the crowded streets
and the crowded parks...

I felt like singing all day. Mostly showtunes. It was very trying for Kirsten, but she bore it as patiently as she could. For you:

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:42 PM | shower me with attention

Around 4:30 a.m., my sister turned off The Lion in Winter to catch M*A*S*H (a habit I can take thorough credit for), and some time towards the end of the episode, I remembered that I had placed Progo on the floor to run around while I replaced the newspapers in his tank. And I realized that I could not find him. Kirsten, in helping me with my rescue-and-recovery, discovered the five or six inches of dust covering everything in our path. Slowly, as if in a dream, we drifted to the broom closet and the space under the sink where the Swiffer dust rags are kept. What? We have Swiffer dust rags? Surely they have never been used. And slowly, dreamlike, we began to to clean. The television was turned off, surgical masks were donned, and a playlist of Sondheim songs and Japanese pop music was assembled. Objects were dusted, stored in a large metal trunk dubbed "Mom's Box of Travel Shit", or thrown out.

Kirsten is damp-mopping the floor as I type.

It's some sort of miracle. It's not much of a difference, mind you-- I don't think this place has been cleaned properly since the early '90's-- but there is something of a noticeable improvement. Surely this is very powerful magic.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:06 AM | shower me with attention

The plan is to be ready to leave this apartment as soon as the sun comes up. That's as much of the plan as I have so far. Beyond the front door, I haven't a clue. But I am getting out. That is the plan.

Most likely I will, instead, give in and fall asleep, sleep until 4 p.m. once again. I don't want to, but it is what will most likely happen.

But at least I had a plan.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:30 AM | shower me with attention

Which is more important for me to listen to, Sondheim's "Company" or "Follies"?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:31 AM | shower me with attention

Monday, August 05, 2002

I need to get out, I need to go somewhere, I need to be outside doing things, I don't know what. I used to have friends. Where are you, friends? Is Aggie back from California yet? Does Steph ever have time to play? Does Andrew remember me? Is erin moved in yet? Are the superkids at Yale yet? Why is this city so empty? Why am I so bored? Why am I so boring? Rescue me.

Call me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:22 PM | shower me with attention

I really want to watch A Little Night Music but we only have it on Beta and the Betamax broke a couple years ago.

I'm so depressed.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:48 AM | shower me with attention

Let the moments go
don't forget it for a moment, though...
Just remembering you had an "and" when you're back to "or"
makes the "or" mean more than it did before
Now I understand
and it's time to leave the woods.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:30 AM | shower me with attention

Sunday, August 04, 2002

Oh, oh. I dreamed that a wise old man gave me a long white rubber glove containing smoked whitefish. I was to eat the whitefish and give the glove to B.J. Hunnicutt. I ate the fish, snuck over to B.J.'s tent, and was preparing to wake him when the five fingers of the glove burst into flames. The tip of my pigtail, hanging over B.J.'s sleeping body, also caught fire. B.J.'s blanket, too, began to burn. I panicked, tried to blow out the flames, but they reappeared like trick birthday candle flames. What does this dream mean?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:14 PM | shower me with attention

Dave and Crissy got married. I love them.

I wonder if I got that job.

I think I'm allergic to this apartment. When I'm here I sneeze a lot and my eyes itch and water.

I slept most of today.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:03 PM | shower me with attention

Returned early from Mint Manor yesterday due to a variety of circumstances, mostly lack of funds.

Didn't care to return home; disembarked early and wandered to Washington Square Park. Watched group of acrobats perform for the crowd. Good entertainers.

Wandered back down to sixth avenue. Called mother. Begged her to come out and meet me. She came, we went to see a movie. The Importance of Being Earnest. Decent adaptation; nothing special.

Came home with mother, discussing family's woeful monetary difficulties and both daughters' lack of goals and focus. Watched Becket, mother's favourite film. Peter O'Toole, you know. Have a Peter O'Toole fascination since Gina and I stumbled upon a Charlie Rose interview with the actor on Friday night. Amazing blue eyes. Since O'Toole happens to be mother's favourite actor and Becket her favourite movie, choice was appropriate.

Richard Burton impressive beyond belief. I only knew him as The White Knight from the PBS airing of the 1980's Broadway production of Alice in Wonderland.

A-sitting on a gate...

Burton impressive.

Still no goal or focus. Lack of caffeine contributing to excessive sleeping and current headache. What shall I do with my life? Money seems to be an extremely important factor, as we don't have any. At all. And yet somehow are going on trips to Sweden and buying laptops. I don't understand this.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:55 PM | shower me with attention

Saturday, August 03, 2002

My current idea of heaven: Accubroadway.com (Sondheim channel) and iSketch (I am supreme leader of the Expert room.)

Thank you.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:45 AM | shower me with attention

My sweet boy oughtn't write posts that make me cry. I just, I only wish he knew what he was worth. Obviously I'm in love with him, and obviously it can't help.

You... people... you. Stop making me fall in love with you.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:35 AM | shower me with attention

I had a fight with my sister. And I feel sorry that I threw the CD she made me into the gutter somewhere on Bleecker street. She made me mad. But I feel sorry about it.

I got Gina cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery, and, blah blah blah, Kirsten and I had a fight, blah blah blah. I hope she enjoyed her Key Lime Pie.

Gina made me watch Deep Impact. To be fair, she kept saying that I didn't have to watch it if it would upset me, but I kept saying it would be fine. It is fine, even though everything that happened in the movie is going to happen in real life in seventeen years. I have until that time to find out the proper way to shoot someone in the head so that they die instantly, to spare myself and my loved ones the horror of living through a Deep Impact-like situation. The only thing that really upset me was when New York got destroyed and then Morgan Freeman made a speech at the end about unforgotten heroes and rebuilding cities. Then I watched M*A*S*H and I felt fine. I definitely have a Hawkeye crush, but now I am certain that I have a B.J. Hunnicutt crush as well. I just do. Leave me alone. He's wonderful.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:28 AM | shower me with attention

Friday, August 02, 2002

Dude. Dude. There's this guy, and he's practically Gina's neighbour, he lives so close, and he has old Cheater demos and stuff. She got a Cheater record of him. Cheater-- you know, Stephen Trask's old band-- and I just listened to the record, and, dude. Dude. I love this record. The one side, the "dry" side, has a song called "The Hours & the Times" that's almost power pop-y, and it has a really good hook and I could totally hear it being played on the radio (why'd they break up? Fucking Hedwig!) and the other side, the "wet" side, Stephen's vocals are hilariously bad, and it's really punk-y and the lyrics are just not to be believed. Dude. Dude.

Dude.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:40 PM | shower me with attention

Thursday, August 01, 2002

It's fifteen minutes to the birthday of my Heterosexual Lifemate, Gina. I am not currently at Mint Manor but I will be tomorrow. Gina is one of the most important people in my life; I feel very fortunate to know her. The best way to celebrate her birthday is to make lots of typos, laugh at people who fall down and go boom, play with Sims if you got 'em, eat a Pop Tart (if you so indulge), and be as loving and supportive as you know how to be.

I have got to get out of this apartment. I wasted another New York City day sleeping until an ungodly hour.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:50 PM | shower me with attention

Took down some blogs that don't update anymore.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:45 PM | shower me with attention

I have two messages on my phone that I'm afraid to check. It's a Lady or Tiger sort of thing. I really should check them. I'm afeared.

Amendment:
I just listened. It was nothing. Whew.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:32 PM | shower me with attention

Happy Michael Penn day. He's delicious.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:42 AM | shower me with attention

That black-and-white M*A*S*H episode that makes me cry was on again tonight. I watched it with Lily. It's when Radar is talking about the pregnant girl. Radar really gets me. His speech patterns trigger some sort of emotional response. Makes me cry, that Radar O'Reilly.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:37 AM | shower me with attention

Okay, I caved. I'm a cave man. I'm a lonely old cave man just begging for attention.

(Cave men didn't cave in.

Did some cave men cave in?

Well, yes--

Point to Jimmy.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:51 AM | shower me with attention