Last and final rest

Feb 1991 (approx) - June 29, 2006
go in peace


The 4:24 on the Ronkonkoma Line

...kicks ass if you live in Bethpage, or need to get there in a hurry. No Jamaica, not even Hicksville, let alone Mineola, Carle Place or any of that other bullshit. First stop Bethpage. Pre-electrification, trains were slow and chuggy and houses were cheap; changing at Jamaica was mandatory to get to my hometown. Now, you can whiz right in practically directly. We've even got a 7-11 in the parking lot where the gas station used to be, another place for loser youth to congregate (used to have to truck into Farmingdale for a damn Slurpee); it hasn't driven the Dairy Barn (drive up beer and smokes and chips and Twinkies and a carton of milk convenience store) out of business.

The Dairy Barn was the second-most mystifying concept to people about Long Island when I described it to people at college; the first was my actual accent. Fuck 'em if they can't take my cawfee tawk.

The funnyish thing was, yesterday I was coming from a VH1 audition where I had to be a "long island housewife" type, basically, although the accent was never specifically requested. I bigged up my hair and wore sweats plus East Hampton tee, did up my eyebrows nicely. My friend and colleague Becky appeared with a terrific matchy running suit and a wicked top ponytail; found out she was from East Meadow, just up Hempstead Turnpike, prime senior-year cruising road in my friend Lisa's '71 Beamer. (Lisa's family was divorced but slightly mysterious; how did they afford that? No matter, it was awesome, and capable of seating six and blasting Huey Lewis and the News at top volume).

My accent gets thickish as soon as I board the train, standing-room only, behind a large (in number and density) family just come from Police Academy graduation. I try to discern relationships - who's the parent, stepparent, parent of the smallish children, parent of the graduate, girlfriend? sister? brother or babyfather? Family friend or new partner? I smiled at the matriarch, with drawn-on eyebrows, three-inch wedge espadrilles, capris and a pack of Marlboro Lights 100s tucked smartly into her bra. We chatted about the lack of air and movement. Seriously. I wanted to congratulate, tell them my dad was retired on the job, but found it far more interesting to observe than to intrude. I counted the tattoos of the newly minted officer as he tentatively flashed his shield (free train ride) and inspected the baseline of his incredibly fresh haircut.

It takes almost exactly 7 minutes and 36 seconds to get express from Westbury to Bethpage, because that's when I snapped on Billy Joel's "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant." I used to be able to play it on the piano; probably still could. I certainly know all the words; my brother and I have been to the restaurant (he pulled the name and location off a bootleg live concert tape. Yeah, it's like that. It's a pretty good red-sauce place if you know what I mean. (As opposed to the Olive Garden where I was going with my family once I arrived. Sigh. Family friendly chains...it's the pasta Red Lobster. Stick to breadsticks. But I digress.)

The Hicksville-Bethpage passage is something I know quite well. I was slightly dismayed to see the weird old coffee shop by the Hicksville station replaced by a Dunkin Donuts. I was slightly bemused to see that light industry marches on, and there's a Kozy Shack pudding factory in Bethpage (Do they have a thrift shop like the bread and Hostess bakeries, I wonder? Ick.) Much remained the same, on the train ride and the drive to the restaurant - the odd stand alone tavern/grill, the weird churches (the kind with Vacation bible schools), the regular churches (the kind with Catholic schools and Bingo), the satellite malls that orbit the big ones, the little bridal shops and lumber yards.

I just made the 10:44 back to town.

For shits and giggles, here's a photo of a photo of me in front of my childhood Bethpage home, circa 1985 (dieted way down by Dexatrim, stress, and Andy Capp's Hot Fries. As well as a fair amount of Lycra.) Yum! Happy prom girl! My gay best friend was likely in the bathroom, hiding from my dad who'd just flashed his .38. Good times! I am flanked by my aunt and mom who dashed over for photo opps.

Love the hat and sleeves! (Invisible are the 3" red pumps and purse with Lord knows what in it. Fortunately my prom date was roughly 6-2.)


Kitty update

That healthy-looking little fucker below (therein, about 14 pounds or so) now weighs barely 8 pounds, is severely dehydrated, anemic, infected and is in the throes of kidney failure. According to the very nice vetereinarians, his kidneys are 'lumpy and bumpy.' None of this is good in an approximately fifteen-year old cat.

I am, in turns, rational and weepy. I was never what you'd call an 'animal person.' So I'm kind of confused, and weirded out right now. I did raise him. I totally loved him. I gave him up to the ex mostly out of guilt, but I knew he loved him a lot and would be lonely.

Just when you think things suck, they suck worse. Sorry for those who read this cause it's usually mildly amusing.


Please think happy thoughts for my cat

If your're the sort of person who does that sort of thing.


So much for that plan.

I had daytime nightmares that I couldn't breathe. I literally thought I was going to have to call 911 in my sleep.

I am letting people, places and things get to me far out of proportion to their importance. I think. I'm not sure.

I need to see the dentist.

And I can't get close to a beach this weekend. It's going to rain buckets. Buckets.

PS - Cheap toilet paper really, really isn't worth it. But it makes OK Kleenex.


Ha ha, indeed. an effort to de-downer things.

You never know who will, surprisingly, put you in a good mood.

(doesn't mean I'm not still mad. well, a little. kinda.)

(pouts, stamps feet, smiles anyway. fuck!)

But thanks. Seriously.

In other news, as un-PC as this sounds, I need a tan. Fucking SPF 15 can blow me. Whatever happened to Hawaiian tropic oil? yum! sizzle sizzle.


variations on a theme by eliot

We are the damaged men
We are the wounded men
Drawn to you like moths to a flame
Broken and bruised, heartsick and aching,
Knocked about by life's lack of parity and conscience

We come to you, our iceberg-tip of fury
lancing you through the heart
yet covered in soft puppy-fur
smoothing your cheek

Our eyes blaze blue like the sky
blinding you with sunlight
burning you as sunstorms dance across your soul

We wrap you in our spidery arms
burrow into your skin
injecting our venom
paralytic and soothing
until you thrash from withdrawal
or tolerate to its effects

This is the way our pairing ends
This is the way our courtship ends
This is the way our love ends
With a bang
With a cry
And a whimper.

Get a job

For my bad movie-money, you can't beat Twin Peaks-Fire Walk With Me. Great soundtrack and effects combined with a ridiculous prequel-plot and phenomenally bad acting, most notably a living Sheryl Lee who displays terrible, terrible emotions by contorting her giant mouth into a series of deep, dark lipsticky black holes.

Top that off with a replacement Lara Flynn Boyle (a disturbingly bland Moira Kelly) - gold!


I just realized that the ultimate act of self-loathing is to sleep on top of your clothes.

I mean, this is the stuff I put on my back everyday to look good, and I make nests out of it.

Ever since I was a kid, I've thrown it in piles, on chairs, desks, on the bottom of the closet. What gives?

I've got to fix that. Before I wake up hugging another skirt.




If anyone sends you a link from the photo service RINGO - DO NOT CLICK ON IT! DO NOT SIGN IN USING YOUR GMAIL ACCOUNT!

It spammed my whole Gmail address book.

I am angry.

I am usually smarter than this.


It's in my head!

Sometimes I can't resist this crap:

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Black Comedy

In your life, things are so twisted that you just have to laugh.
You may end up insane, but you'll have fun on the way to the asylum.

Your best movie matches: Being John Malkovich, The Royal Tenenbaums, American Psycho


Long Island Verite

Tommy: No, Jerry is allright. Saved my life once.
Debbie: What, he was gonna kill you but he changed his mind?

- Steve Buscemi/Chloe Sevigny, "Trees Lounge"


Besides I can be just as self destructive and loathing on my own.


I apologize for everything I have ever done to hurt, offend, or cause disrespect to anyone when such action, intentional or unintentional, was unjustified by such other person's conduct, attitude or behavior.


That is all. OK?


Leaving Las Vegas? Leave it alone!

First I thought it was hilarious. Then, maybe, good soundtrack, salvageable but merely miscast (Robert Downey Jr and Jennifer Jason Leigh, perhaps?)

But the whole dinner scene/rescue fantasy at its peak has officially pissed me off. For real.

And now that he's brought another hooker to the hooker's house? Full circle back to hilarious!

I needa a drinky.


The Unintentional Joys of Targeted Advertising: Air on a Gmail Thread

Broken Heart? Heartache? - www.howtowinanexback.com - Strategies to get your lover back, even if he/she is unwilling.

I Used to Miss Him But My Aim is Improving: Not Your Ordinary Breakup Survival Guide

Jealousy and Suspicion
Jealousy will ruin a relationship. Learn how to deal with jealousy.

How To Eliminate Jealousy
Increase Love and Connection, Overcome Jealousy, Release Fears.


Song Running Through my Head

featured in Homicide episode "Sniper: Part 1"...but for the life of me, I don't know why it's haunting me. ??

"If God Was One Of Us"

If God had a name, what would it be
And would you call it to his face
If you were faced with him in all his glory
What would you ask if you had just one question

And yeah yeah God is great
yeah yeah God is good
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home

If God had a face what would it look like
And would you want to see
If seeing meant that you would have to believe
In things like heaven and in jesus and the saints and all the prophets

And yeah yeah god is great
yeah yeah god is good
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home
He's trying to make his way home
Back up to heaven all alone
Nobody calling on the phone
Except for the pope maybe in rome

And yeah yeah God is great
yeah yeah God is good
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

What if god was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home
Just trying to make his way home
Like a holy rolling stone
Back up to heaven all alone
Just trying to make his way home
Nobody calling on the phone
Except for the pope maybe in rome