Alianora

My newfound temporary sobriety has inspired me to search for the adventure I am so desperately in need of. Does anybody have any good ideas about how to go out and have a great adventure? Nothing thrill seeking like drugs or skydiving, something more creative and interactive. Perhaps some good bad ideas or perhaps just some bad ones.

Tortugita thinks I was crying because she slamed the door into my head. I guess that is what the young man who told on her told her. But, I wasn't crying because my head hurt, I mean my head always hurts. I wasn't crying for myself at all for once. I mean we grow up knowing that there are women in relationships like this from made for tv movies and such, but seeing someone you love in that enviroment hits you in the gut, and in my case the head too.

Wake up 11 am. Go out to lunch with Sito and Dave at
Republic (a thai resteraunt in union square) Joke
about how Dave's daughter once remarked "But daddy
this doesn't taste like Republican food?"

Barnes and Noble--read in east village coffee
house....read in park. Look around and remember that
today is gay pride day...approached by pretty asian
girl looking for hair models, decline offer. Get
pissed off that I passed over a free haircut because
I'm afraid of strangers. Sito makes fun of me for
this.

Sito and I are planning to crash a cult feast in our
endless search for the ultimate free meal. To help us
complete the mission is our friend Dagger. (52yrs old,
painter, whore exwife married him for a green card and
left him to pursue a career in prostituion. no lie) We
buy a magenta flower to offer to the head baba hare
krishna whatever he was. Also Dagger painted the mural
behind the alter and he wanted to show us.

We enter the temple which looks similar to any
manhattan apartment building, offer the flower to the
wheelchaired baba, but there is no feast, no singing
and dancing, no drumming and chanting. Lame. Where is
the spectacle we were promised? We leave and have a
beer. Dagger introduces us to a Chipawa Indian women
who is very proud of her 13yo goth daughter who at the
age of 3 was unanymously voted to rule the world. We
head back for the feast, which sadly consitst of soup
that tastes like creamed corn with water chestnuts in
it. We depart, unsatiated. But is our quest for free
food really over, or has it just begun?

Walking down the east village street we have been
walking all day, Dagger remembers that he has a giant
hunk of pork in his old temperatureless oven. (well
you can't read the temperature, the oven does not defy
any physics laws here.)

We met his roomates. Aaron, a pretty blonde boy about
my age and twice as slender, shirtless, tight black
pants with lots of zippers. computer geek. And Aaron's
boyfriend, Ace, 60yo, wears an old hunter green towel,
which slipped off as he extend his hand for Sito to
shake. I turned around just in time. (To miss the view
not witness it.) chuckles abound.

I Notice that the Victorian style Bohemian pigsty is
decorated with illustration of women in precocious
possions with other women whatever that means. Wonder
why gay men would cover their walls with lesbians. And
then Score....Pork, mashed potatoes, spicy corn and
peas. Free food found. Mission Complete. Go home.
Sleep.

I was born a month late. I wanted to be born in July, and since I was cut from the mother, I now enjoyu an arbitrary connection with both the first Caesar and his first born son. These observances would have contributed to a vast collection of self rightous desulions that I used to keep with me in my teenage years if I had never lost my confident egoism. Now I just take not of such things and make lists that I will lose and perhaps find again later. Now, I am in one of those places in life where the wheel of fortune gets stuck, my response has been to remain idle and wait, after all, it has to move eventually.

I think I can hear the wind.

I have been productive for me.

The egg, well acutally the proto-chicken, the egg and then the chicken. Now we are all eating post-chicken, which is meaningless.

Lo, remember that vaguely gay game we made up when we were in school, (not the gay game we didn't make that game up.) I mean the one where you are supposed to dance around the other person without touching them and if you touch them you lose. Well, that game reminds me of death. I was sitting on the R today trying not to look at anyone who might look back when I decided to close my eyes and try not to think about anything too stressful. I tried, so of course I started thinking about death. Don Juan said that death is always just behind you to your left a bit. I pictured her there, then she changed genders the way only figments of imagination and certain frogs can do. So then as I was going through my kung fu forms in my head I saw death. a shadowed form trailing me, mimicking my movements, sometimes even expressing freewill and attacking. Luckly I am trained enough the art of blocking and punching and such that I was able to leave this daydream alive, without having some shadow casanova embrace me.

I am in my bedroom, sitting on a floored mattress with my boyfriend. A black cat walks in from the direction of one of the two large windows. I watch her walk and notice that she walks more like a human pretending to be a cat than an actual cat. So I ask, "Excuse me Miss Cat,"
"Yes," She replies
"Were you once a young girl"
"Yes, I was."
"Why did you become a cat?"
"Because I wanted to."

I think it is here mother, who was a witch, who helped her become the cat.

Sometimes when your down, anger is the only thing that can bring you back up.

When I hide and he doesn't seek it makes me sick to my stomach with anger and sorrow. As a child playing the game I was always terrified of being found, as if the seeker were a actual predator. I'm a runner, I need my love to be a chaser.

I sprained my toe last friday night, now I'm convinced that my Sifu can see through me, or at least through the ego blocking the nest of featherless birds waiting for regurgitated food. I have a vague desire to know everything, but its hard to find motivation when I know that its impossible to understand everything about the world, people and of course, myself. Let's make a list (one of my favorite things along with hypothetical questions) of things that inspire to understand the world is some way. This list reflects how I feel right now.

1. Mozart's Requiem
2. Kung fu
3. Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers in The Power of Myth
4. Thinking about how the brain works
5. 2 1/2 drinks, but not 3
6. The hills in Xico
7. having a clean or messy house
8. Sito not being home, or at times Sito being home
9. biting your pain
10. limits and overresponsive emotions

Its a better list then Woodie Allen's reasons to live in Manhattan at least.

Experience all the way down. Does that imply all the way up too? I guess that is the logical conclusion for one argument toward the reality of the existence of God. Am I being cryptic? Does cryptic have the same root as the word crippled? Cryptic Fight!!! You wouldn't throw words at a cryptic person would you?

I'm getting a new job, a new job, a new job. The best part is that like all great things in my life, this job is being handed to me. Working hard is overrated. People like cool people more

Everytime I sit here to type all of my thoughts leave and I'm blank. I'll try remember to utilize this next time I try to meditate and I can't stop thinking.

Exile is my new theme. I had a dream that the Garden of Eden was in the lush mountains of Afganastan, full of bright flowers and small farm plots. Exile was caused not because of the knowledge of good and evil but because of the need for that knowledge. No good father would blame his children for growing up. My sober old man was my guide to be called upon, my inner prince (sickly mayhap), but always calling me home.

Today is my first Kung Fu lession. I am sooo excited that I must revert to juvenile modes of exclamation. Hopefully they will teach me how to not kick people when I am drunk.

I painted my walls a pale yellow. It's delightful.

Nanno Sito hit me in the head with a wine bottle so I wouldn't hurt myself. Dialog ensues.

Sito: If you want to fight with Ben go outside, so the basement doesn't complain.
Ego: You're not the boss of me. * Kicks Ben in the kidneys
Sito:Remember when he dislocated your shoulder
Ego: Ahhh Suck my dick
Sito: *takes magnum (still full of wine) and pommels my right reptillian brain at the base of the neck.
Ego: I hate you I hope you die. *goes over to couch to complain to anyone who will listen

30 seconds later
Sito: (to Ben) blah blah blah blah blah
Ego: *with arms out to Sito) You're so cute I love you.

And I have the healthiest relationship of anyone I know.

I am slowly degenerating into a looser. Someone please help me devise a full proof plan to prevent this from happening.

My new dream is to write for Weekly World News. I always knew there was a way I could make money with nonsense.

Whichever.

I can't fly. In fact I may even be a hamster in a plastic cage. Or at least that is what my unconscious is telling me and she is usually right. So I continue to think about taking action, realizing perfectly well that that takes sacrifice, which I happen to be sick of. ahh, where is my sangria? My path is clear, I just don't have the patience to wait for the gate to open.

We hit each other with wooden spoons (most of which broke in the ruckus) while I stuffed popcorn kernels in my pocket and rolled on a cutting board table. Then we wondered around the basement of the maze hotel pretending to be stupid, lost, drunk people when we ran into someone, which was easy to do because we were stupid, lost, drunk people. We found the liqueur storage area and looted it to our hearts desire. Then we went to Benji's studio and I was tied to a chair, which I tried to get out of, but ended up having to fight my way home. I hurt myself. Sito and I counted 20 bruises. A fine conclusion for a successful evening.

I need more metal in my blood and bounce in my stride. Perhaps it is just my body unconsciously emulating the day. slow, grey, wet.

Nanna Sito got a job with a salary and health insurance. Cool huh. I think that is one step closer to being a grown up. bye for now.