Welcome To My Bed

Sounds of moving.

Pardon my moustache.

The following are highlights from Kait cleaning out her desk. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did. The above photo is a concession so that we are both embarrassed equally, or least close to equally. In actuality, I think I got the short end of the stick here.

"How many cable splitters does one person need?"

"The rubber band around these index cars is so old that it just snapped in half..."

"Oh look. Another cable splitter."

"My grandma bought them for me - engraved pens I got for my birthday that cost about eight dollars."

"I have a keychain flashlight!!"

"I think I can throw out these letters from [insert Kait's ex's name here] now."

"Mini screwdriver set..." "Lemme see that." "It's mine!"

"Do you want some Sticky-Tack?"

"Kyle, this is from when you gave me that gay-ass Guinness Society card?" "Where did you even get this from?" "You made them!"

"I have paperclips from when I was in the sixth grade."

"Want some sparklers?"

"Don't worry guys, I have my Pogs."

I can't believe you kiss your car goodnight.


I may be absolutely, totally, and unquestionably in love right now. I know it's crazy. I don't quite believe it myself. I've been single for such a serious amount of time (the longest since...two years ago? Jeez...) that I almost didn't remember what it felt like. But I got my proof last night.

I drove to Allston, as I do most Wednesday nights, and when we were all about to hop in Wendeline and get on our way to the Cantab for an AMAZING feature and slam, among other wonderful things (like copious amounts of Cherry Coke), she wouldn't start. No matter how much I implored her. Thankfully, the walk there and back was lovely, and I was smart enough not to worry about it at the time. I love wandering around cities with friends, even more so when it takes on an air of exploring. "Urban explorer" is my secret profession after all. But what is truly amazing and hysterical and perhaps would have been frustrating to anybody but me is the fact that upon returning to Chester Street after our night on the town, Wendy started up like nothing had ever happened. Now, I know that my car is old and needs a bit of a tune up if I'm going to keep galavanting all over New England like I do, but this seemed magical to me for some reason. She was simply overheated, but that mechanical issue gave me a really fantastic journey and lots of wonderful sidewalk hang out time. It was as if she knew that was exactly what I needed to turn around an otherwise bad/stressful day. I love my car, idiosyncratic function issues and all.

In other news, the countdown to semi-voluntary eviction from Providence is getting dangerously slim. Three days left. I took my final spin up and down Thayer of the summer just for old time's sake, savoring what down time I have left. Tonight after work, though I will be wallowing in a serious pool of exhaustion, I really need to pack up my books and the rest of the ephemera I spewed all over the apartment immediately upon moving in. I hate moving. I hate moving. I hate moving.

Why I am sad today.


I have not had much time off from work to dwell on this, but now that I've got a few days to myself to catch up on laundry and reconnect with the outside world, I have been making an ever-more-crippling list of things that are depressing me about August. The list is longer than most Augusts. I hate this month. I am sad because:

1. I am leaving Providence in twelve days.

I've definitely talked extensively about this already, but I'll repeat myself for dramatic effect - I am in love with this place. My life here has changed everything for me. I feel most myself here, probably because I got to start from scratch and act exactly how I felt without worrying about how people would perceive me. And in so doing, I made friends, met interesting people, got heaped with praise for my poetry, and even managed to save up a little money for school. I'm not ready to be ripped from this comfortable but challenging place. I've found my best self and I don't want to lose her when I get back to Hampshire. Not that Hampshire brings out the worst in me... but, well, I'm sure you understand my panic over all of this. I'm just not ready to move out yet. I like this semi-independence. I like it a lot.

2. There aren't enough hours.

This follows the first reason. Being that there is so little time left, I'm trying to cram many things into a small space. Even mentally, this is painful. I've got a bunch of work to do for school that I haven't touched simply because I am intimidated by it. This has not been a very academic summer, even if I have been reading and writing as much as time allows. It feels silly to be so anxious though. I haven't been my regular anxious self for months and for that to come flooding back now is foreboding to say the very least. I need more time!!

3. I want to spend every spare moment in Boston and can't.

This is tied to both of the above. Working nearly every remaining day here and packing in the spare time (for both myself and Kait, who is moving to North Providence at the end of the month) I do have leaves very little recreational time to begin with, but it sucks even harder when I want to be on the Chester Street porch with my very favorite people. I need to find a way to fit another Boston visit in this week. Which brings me back to problem #2, which I wouldn't have if it weren't for the pesky nuisance of problem #1.

Hence the sad face.

But there is at least one good thing about today. Borders rewards members have a coupon to buy one book and get the second half off. So I can go buy more books. Yay!

Woodland creatures gumming up the works.

I am being sporadic. This is what happens with two weeks left in my city love and not enough hours in the day to work/chill/spit/freak out. I'm going to miss this, all of it, all of the artists and lazy evenings and talking to the cats. Yes, even talking to the cats. And making bean dip in the middle of the night. Not the skunk though. I could totally do without the skunk that's been lurking near our dumpster all summer. It always tries to sneak attack me when I'm coming back from a night of galavanting. Nature hates my social life. Tales of ciphering adventures with the Providence youth slam team to follow, but for now, I'm going to bask in the afterglow of a seriously wonderful night. Like singing Alicia Keys songs wonderful. Like fruit smoothies wonderful. Yeah, I said it. Stay tuned.

Unwind like kite string.

The other day I had particularly busy day at work (which wasn't without a serious stack of tips, but I end up exhausted regardless of the money) that I needed to punctuate with some serious R & R. Kaitlin and I had planned on whipping up a real dinner since so much of what we eat is either yogurt or in take out box from the restaurant, but it was far too hot to be using the stove or the oven and hoping to remain living. So we went out, bought thai peanut noodle boxes at Trader Joe's, ran some errands, and when we finally got home to eat, I made cherry mojitos. It was really lovely after such a long day. And by lovely, I guess I mean to say that I fell asleep on the couch in a ball of warmth and happiness that remained uninterrupted until about 6 AM.

Target had some strange incarnations of regular household items that I couldn't help snapping cell phone pictures of.


Funfetti bath puff?


What do date rape drugs and garbage bags have in common? A name, apparently.

Towards the end of our errands, Kait and I ended up at Shaw's trolling for an ice cream cake, a search which resulted in a very hysterical interaction with the check out guy and very satisfying dessert.


This is our cake before we got serious. I'm not going to post an after picture, although I can assure you that there is some left over in the freezer. Though not for long. I'm feeling peckish and work has been canceled for the day, so that means I'll be continuing to work my way through my reading list on the couch unless someone drags me out into the rainy world. And most likely having some cake.

Ticking off some check-boxes.

As my summer lover affair with Providence is winding down, I'm trying to get in all the little bits and pieces I've been dying to include since I arrived her back in May. Over the past few days, I've crossed a few things off my to-do list.

Wednesday night I let myself do a little exploring before Writers in the Round at Tazza. Walking around downtown aimlessly with no real destination was something I haven't let myself do nearly enough in my months here. And I got to see this -


Now, Federal Hill is always incredibly striking, but the pink sky made me smile so much, like raspberry lemonade on a dusky porch or something equally as wonderful and worthy of swizzle sticks.

I've also been reading a ton more than I was even a few weeks ago, probably because I've gotten into the groove of things. Just before I have to leave of course, but I guess I'm glad it happened at all. Current reading list:


Lit Riffs edited by Matthew Miele; The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love by bell hooks; Black Book Magazine's rebel issue (starring Evam Rachel Wood and Juliette Lewis); Infinity Blues by Ryan Adams; and Metro Pop Magazine. Not pictured (but almost always in my purse) are the latest issue of Nylon, Dave Eggers' How We Are Hungry, and Hampshire Slam Collective Fishes For Satellites. Black Book has one of the best fashion editorials I've seen in forever. It made me regret all of my high school prom dresses instantly and wish I had been just slightly more obsessed with Grease as an adolescent.



Metro Pop also had a great greaser-inspired spread that made me proud to have short hair. It also made me want to go out and buy a motorcycle, but the feeling has since passed.


But the one rebel impulse that I am powerless against is the compulsion to get tattooed. I've been itching for one all summer and kept making excuses, but today was completely free and Providence Tattoo on College Hill apparently takes walk-ins (and has the best collection of traditional-inspired flash I've seen yet). So I am now freshly inked and very happy.


82 is my house number in New Jersey, and since moving away, I've learned it's possible for me to feel at home wherever I am. Providence is home now, but I've had glimpses of home at Hampshire and on my visits to Allston (I figure those can be attributed to the poets, but who knows). The tattoo is a symbol of that new level of comfort. And it was test drive for the parlor, because I'm in the market for an artist for when I move here next spring. Judging by the bedside manner and the impressive portfolios at Providence Tattoo, I'm fairly certain I've found the place I'll be getting my graduation present to myself come next May.

And now it's time to go pick up some tortilla chips for the leftover bean dip I brewed up as part of a culinary adventure I had yesterday afternoon.

By degrees.

Singing this song with Erick tonight at .B. Very very very excited.

Tallest man on earth - These Days (Nico Cover) - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

Current music obsessions: stripped down acoustics, real-as-raw-vegetables vocals, night drive playlists DJed by near-strangers. I haven't sung in front of people seriously in such a long time. I'm a little nervous? Especially since this is a cover so many times removed - it was originally a Jackson Browne song that Nico covered, and Tallest Man on Earth is covering her version, and then Erick and I are covering his. Is that so far gone that it's a completely new interpretation? I haven't the slightest clue. Alright. Have to go learn the words, and also run poems to read tonight. Rain, rain, go away - they canceled work, now I get to play.

Adventures in red lipstick, among other things.


This is my bathroom, and also my morning face. Thankfully I have not yet left the house. But in all seriousness, I am very excited about wearing bold lipstick. I might make it a regular thing. I have to keep giving myself reasons to be excited about getting out of bed in the morning (I guess that's what the rest of the world calls "being single"), and this is a small one, but a fun one.

Tearing myself out of bed this morning was particularly difficult because of some South County escapades that kept me out much later than I wanted to be out. I didn't get to sleep until almost four in the morning because of them, and I'm only up right now because I was supposed to have work. But because Narragansett loves rain, I am sitting on my couch typing to you all. So here's the skinny: lately I've been designated driving fairly frequently. It's a title I don't mind, nor do I take it lightly. Most of it is as a favor to my sister. She lets me live in this apartment as what we like to refer to as "her ward"- she feeds me, she frequently pays for me to do my laundry, she supports my survival needs without asking for anything in return. So the way I figure it, I can at least drive her home from the bar every once in awhile. Last night, this spirit of reciprocity got me ludicrously lost in Gansett driving around with my friend Brian from the kitchen at work trying to locate George's, which is a bar literally next to the Block Island Ferry. We must've driven around for forty-five minutes because neither of us know the area at all and the only point of reference we could be sure of was the Mobile near the rotary off of Route 4. When we finally stopped to ask for directions and eventually found our way, we came upon my sister - almost an hour after closing time - lying on the sidewalk with one of the cooks. She was not pleased with me. I couldn't help thinking that it was perhaps a good idea to look into buying a GPS of some sort.

When all was said and done, I arrived home completely exhausted after dropping many people off at various locations and took a Benadryl, because (to add to ridiculosity that is my life) I am currently recovering from a case of hives brought on by the lobster roll I had for my shift meal when I worked a double on Sunday. I had never been allergic before, but I guess such afflictions can strike at any time. Maybe it's karma for ordering the most expensive sandwich on the menu and getting to eat for free. In any event, I am still itchy two days later, and it probably wasn't worth all the trouble. The wild goose chase that was my evening has left me feeling like I washed up onto a beach at low tide, but there is now way I'd be able to get back to sleep after showering and getting ready for the day already. Especially when I've already got lipstick on, even if the only beings that will see it for the bulk of the day are my cats. I feel that it's best to keep up appearances in the face of mental cloudiness, and I am sticking to my guns on that one.

Flash flood!

Photobucketphoto from Nat Geo

There are Ganges-sized puddles outside right now - I feel like I just drove home from Gansett through straight water. 95 was like a fish tank, or a faucet turned up as high as it goes. All I want to do is go puddle jumping, but I've decided against it simply because I have no idea what kind of motor oil/city dirt/general grime I'd end up with all over my feet. But God knows, if I was at Hampshire, I'd be doing a rain dance and reveling in the rain about now.

Photographic time capsule.

I just woke up from the deepest sleep I could have imagined, following a double's worth of work down at the beach. And I have a lot less money to show for it than I should. Kait made more than me on one shift than I did on my two combined, which is unacceptable. But I guess I just have to take things as they happen. Speaking of which, I've been going through old photos and came upon a funny thing. There are pictures of me on the internet from around this time for the past few summers and looking back to the oldest one, I look like I have reverted back to that person. Maybe because the summer before I left for college was the summer I was most myself - no boyfriend, no overpowering friendships, nothing to prove except to myself. It's funny to look back on that time as one when I was most sure of myself, especially because I felt so indisputably unsure of everything else. But anyway, here is the timeline of the past few years.

Sandy Hook, NJ July 06

Emerald Isle, NC July 07

Northampton, MA September 07

Amherst, MA October 07

Amherst, MA April 08

Emerald Isle, NC July 08

Amherst, MA September 08

Amherst, MA December 08

Philadelphia, PA March 09

Providence, RI right now 09

The thing that gets me the most is how much the length of my hair has fluctuated in three years: shaved head twice, too many different kinds of bangs, neon wigs, more bobby pins and texturizer than I care to lay down here. I feel a lot like the girl in the second picture, sitting on the couch waiting for something of great magnitude to happen to me. But unlike that girl, who was very timid and scared, I am much more likely to get up off the couch and grab my important experiences before they pass me by. If that is the only thing that ever changes about me over time, I'll be more than happy living in this skin.

Girl-crush, times two; PVD-area whiskey girls and dancing queens.



Continuing my obsession as of late with lady-rockers, pop divas, and all the wonderful gems in between, today I am spending my time with Brody Dalle and Alison Mosshart, or the respective bad-ass front-ladies ofSpinnerette and The Dead Weather. I figure, if I am going to have dance parties while I do laundry and clean the stove, I might as well make it count.

Speaking of dance parties, as part of a many-faceted night out with Lily yesterday (that included a show in a UU church complete with Gansetts, falafel, seeing a living SHARK in a bar, etc.), we hit up Tazza, got some Maker's on the rocks and proceeded to dance for about three hours straight. I have not had a night of dancing like that...probably ever. Nicky and DC were just sitting in the corner laughing at us because of how much fun we were having. Boys who are too cool to dance make me giggle - Lily and I kept trying to get them to come join us, and DC did for a bit, but he did not seem to have the stamina to take it as seriously as we were taking it. When I got home I felt so good it was a chore to try to get to sleep. People talk about loving the single life, but at this point I'm not even thinking about whether I am single or not. And if I keep having such good times where the silly will-he-or-won't-he-look-my-way-tonight isn't anywhere near a factor, I will continue to be a more than happy camper. I am happily in love with the slow builds in dance songs when they bring the beat back layer by layer until you get almost dizzy with it, and that is enough for me.

Tonight Chris's band Paper Eagles is playing at Tazza (Lily and I were remarking that we feel like we live there lately) and we're going to have the second installment of our dance party + destruction. There have been rumblings about a ladies-only brunch tomorrow morning/afternoon, so clearly things are only going to continue on in this highly enjoyable vein for as long as we will them to do so.

Reading Plath doesn't have to mean you're depressed.

I have woken up twice today. The first time was because the cats were jumping on me and the living room window was letting in way too much cold air for me to keep sleeping with only summer-weight blankets on. I ended up staying awake reading and writing for about three hours, then attempting sleep for a second time. The second time I woke up with a hangover I didn't have upon initial waking. I am not happy about this. The culprit:


My bar tab was $6.50, but this wonderous Rhode Island native is about as cheap as PBR and far better tasting. I ordered four and shared about the equivalent of one full beer with a friend over the course of the night, so I basically drank a 40 at Tazza last night. Forties used to be a cake-walk for me. I feel old.

In spite of the resultant headache etc. it caused, yesterday was probably the best day I've had in recent memory. I woke up around noon, listened to Florence almost a dozen times on repeat while trying to find appropriate going-out clothes that wouldn't make me seem ludicrous during the daytime excursions that were to lead into the nighttime ones. Then I took the bus downtown to White Electric, a spare and clean coffee shop on the West side that is my new love for wasting away afternoons, getting caught in the rain for the second time in so many days. On Tuesday night, I was so drenched that the man who runs the convenience store near my city line bus stop ran out with a plastic bag he had cut a hole in so that I would have some semblance of a raincoat, but I was already past helping. Yesterday I was better off, as the brunt of the flash flood took place while I was safely on the bus and I only had to walk two blocks in a drizzle to get to my caffeine. I camped out with a heavenly soup bowl-sized dark roast and The Bell Jar, reading for an hour and half at least. I haven't had that kind of uninterrupted quiet to myself in too long with all the craziness of running back and forth to South County for work and my sister's turbulent love life.

Afterwards Erick and I met up and went to Coffee Exchange on the East side, which was open much later and is one of his favorite spots. We talked for a solid two hours at least and had a wonderful time doing so. Just when I get concerned that maybe I'm not as well settled here as I want to be, I have a day like yesterday and everything makes me grin uncontrollably again.

The show at Tazza was wonderful, as I knew it would be. The place was more packed than I've seen it on a Wednesday before, which was exciting. It was so satisfying to have all of my friends in one place, doing what they do best and loving every minute of it. I keep saying that I need to get a guitar so that I'm not the only non-musician, and I say that because they all inspire me with how diverse their sounds are and how much joy they seem to get from what they do.

So here I am, many Gansetts later and under the weather but still basking in the afterglow.

Holding my breath for a breather.


Hello again! I keep expecting to have time to write something coherent, but there never seems to be a completely free moment, so here we are. It is raining in Providence after a small stretch of promising sunshine and I am doing too many loads of laundry before going down to work. Waiting tables full time is lucrative at the expense of being exhausting, but I refuse to complain about working five days a week when there are so many people (including many near and dear to me) who don't have the opportunity. My dad still hasn't found a new job. He's been looking since November when he got laid off. Talking to him on the phone this morning about the job search, I could hear how desperate things are getting for him, not even monetarily, but socially. He needs to get out of the house. I have my fingers crossed that something will come through for him very soon.

Meg and I got together for some Indian food the other night and had a much needed rap session about all that's happened since the last time we saw each other, which was maybe three weeks ago. I really wish it wasn't so easy for people to slip through the cracks like that. After dinner we sat in Roger Williams Park for almost two hours just talking. I haven't had the opportunity to do that with anyone recently and it felt good to just let everything that's been trapped in my head out into the open.

After tonight, I am off from work until the dinner shift on Saturday, a much-needed break that will be full to the brim, even if it is supposed to be a break. Wednesday night is the special Sound Session edition of Writers in the Round at Tazza, which I am so psyched about. DC, Ana, Chris, Nicky, Kayla, and company are all wildly talented and having them all share a stage is going be so fantastic. The ladies are a special Sound Session guest appearance addition to what is usually a straight up boys club and it's going to make for a really great show. If you're in the area, come down at 9 PM tomorrow night, have a drink, and fall in love with all of them.

Alright, time to check on that laundry.

Happy and not so happy places.

So tomorrow night is the night I have been waiting for since the week I arrived in this Noah's Ark of a city. Yes, ladies and gentleman, tomorrow night is my first real feature in the world beyond Hampshire. I am absolutely having a heart attack about it, but in a good way (if that's even possible). Being that work was canceled (again) because of the rain (it never stops), I spent a good portion of today memorizing and/or performing for Toby and Lucy (otherwise known as my sister's cats). Hopefully it shows. I want to do excessively well tomorrow night so that everyone under the sun buys product and puts lots of money in the hat so that I have at least some cash to tool around with when I'm home in the next few days. If you're in the area, come over to Blue State for organic, fair trade beverages and a decent-sized helping of poetry.

In further reference to the return to Jersey, this impending journey marks a turning point in the summer. Wendeline (my 1992 Cutlass Ciera S, who just recently reached the 60,000 mile mark) and I have to go our separate ways until the end of August, when we will triumphantly return to Hampshire together. Until then, she's got some work left to do for my family. I'm pretty bummed out about this, but in the process of dropping her off, I'll be stopping off at my little sister's high school graduation, possibly having a meal with my family (who knows how long it's been since that happened) and seeing SLZ. I'm trying to accentuate the positives of this visit, because going back to Jersey always destabilizes any kind of mental clarity I acquire, either at school or elsewhere, and based on how wonderful Providence has been for the restructuring of my world-view, I am worried that I'll get back to the apartment Thursday/Friday and be completely destroyed. Hopefully that's not the case, but I'm trying to be at least partially prepared for the worst. We'll see if it works out.

These are the two things I see when I close my eyes to go to my happy place currently:


As long as there are tapirs making funny faces and Kaki King in the world, I have reason to smile at least halfway.

Unplanned hiatus: zine and a haircut.


Sean was teasing me about how happy I am here the other night and said, "Jesus Emily, you've been living in Providence a month and you already made a zine." Above you will find that very zine/chapbook/most recent project I've been filling my days with. It's called Daily Silence and the sequence of the poems and drawings/collages illustrates the emotional arc of moving to Providence and the considerable shift in my outlook that's taken place as a result. Oh how deep and meaningful. Ugh. I hate talking about my work in abstract synopsis. You should just come to my show on Tuesday night and purchase one. With money. Or you can trade me other valuable things. Like your own artistic merchandise. Or you can bring me strange gifts. Surprise me. I can be fairly receptive to strange gifts.

I would like to say that I have been vastly busy lately, but really I've just been mentally vacant. I finally broke an involuntary poetry fast and wrote three or four things in the past few days. I feel good.

And I gave myself a haircut.


It didn't turn out the way I had anticipated because the trimmer went rogue. But we have good days and bad days. Hats tend to help with both. I am getting to the point where I don't even care that the back of my head is prickly and uneven because of an accidental buzzcut. I am trying to embrace the fact that no one has asked questions. Maybe the world just thinks I'm more punk rock than I see myself as when I look in the mirror.

Rebel scum.

A real post tomorrow when I'm having coherent thoughts again, but for now, something from the Digg Twitter feed:


Bad. Ass.

Okay, now I'm going to get back to No Reservations, but before I do, I'd like to make sure you all take a moment out of your day to vote for DC as best Providence singer/songwriter in the Phoenix poll.

The Narrows, the Ron, the universe crammed in between my ears.

Point B, which is our weekly artist shindig at AS 220, was fabulous. I am still inspired by the afterglow days later. It was like being in a multi-medium cipher, and we all had so much fun. Afterwards, Meg and Eric came over and we went for walk down by Roger Williams Park in the dark and told stories for what felt like hours. The friends I am making here are all because of the arts, and they re all exactly the kinds of people I need to be spending time with to keep the wheels in my head turning at the frenetic pace I want them moving at.

Yesterday work was canceled because of the rain, something I found out when I had already driven halfway down to Narragansett, but thankfully I had brought clothes with me this time, so I pulled over on the side of Route 4 near South Kingstown and changed, then hung a U-turn and drove to East Greenwich to chill with DC at work. We had many good talks and I wrote endlessly in the back room until we ventured next door to get delicious Mexican food. I am becoming convinced that a burrito is all I really need when I'm thinking complicated thoughts. After finishing our extended lunch, I said goodbye and headed back to the city for some quality time at Blue State Coffee with Meg and a bunch of her friends. We spent a few hours doodling and talking about old TV shows.

When the caffeine party adjourned, Meg and I headed to my apartment in Cranston to grab directions to Dan's feature at the Narrows in Fall River. I made her what she claims is the best grilled cheese she's ever had. We sang to the cats. And then we sang some classic Alanis Morissette on I-195 East.


Fall River is a very interesting place, as you can see by the graffiti. And I am pretty much in love with the Narrows. DC's feature was fabulous, and there were some really great acts on the open mic. Meg and I were melting into puddles over it for most of the night. At the end of the list, there was a block of four female performers, which was so exciting. I love seeing women perform. I got kind of upset earlier in the night that all the slots had been filled by men, but the quartet of women made it worth it, especially because the night was rounded out by my new friend Kayla, the only performer who played piano. She has the sweetest voice, and it was a pleasure to hear her a second night in a row after the intimate performance at Point B on Tuesday.

To finish off the evening, DC, Meg, and I stopped at Nice Slice on Thayer Street for final sustenance and talked with one of the staff there for awhile. He suggested this delicious creation he had concocted - margherita pizza with broccoli and chicken. We urged him to get it put on the menu and to name it after himself because we had been calling it "the Ron" all night anyway. After considerable ruthless people watching, poetry reading, and group hugs, we put a cap on everything and all headed home. I have been having some of the best nights of my life here, and I do not hesitate to say it.

Today has not been planned yet, but Saturday is the Providence Arts Festival and a whole bunch of the Point B kids are going to get together for a picnic and chill session. And then Saturday night, DC is playing a radio show, which will be destination number two. I could not have picked a better Neverland to steer my course towards. No matter what, I am sure that this is exactly where I am supposed to be.

Also, "Jolene" by Ray LaMontagne has been popping up everywhere, and I thought I should share it with you because it is one of my new favorite songs. Follow the link to see him performing it live at Abbey Road.

Thought collector, weighing in.


Safe among my books, arguably where I belong. Things have been whirlwind-exciting lately in terms of time spent exploring discussing experiencing writing doing shit. I have taken the past few nights off to recompose myself and absorb all of DC's guru teachings and the conversations I've been having with various people at various locations. Nothing has been finger-traced into cement yet, but on our way to work the other morning, Kait and I discussed moving in together next May after I graduate. I cannot see myself living anywhere but Providence. I haven't felt at home like this since New Jersey was the place that word was associated with. It would be silly for me to bypass something so right.

Work is still slow right now, but vacation season is right around the corner and I'm looking forward to reaping the benefits of that whole situation. Sometimes, I feel like the only person at my job with a positive attitude. Two girls have already quit, maybe ever three. And I see firings on the horizon. This bodes well for my wallet, but it makes me sad. Girls my age seem so unrealistic in their expectations for the restaurant industry. True, things can be difficult at times, but that's part of it. And no one's going to tip you any kind of spectacular with a perma-scowl on your face. It seems like common sense, or average logic at the very least, but apparently no one gets this. I constantly feel much older than my on-paper age because of little things like this.

I made my first Salvation Army trip since I've moved here and was not exactly overwhelmed by awesomeness. It wasn't awful. Maybe the rainy day killed my shopping buzz. I found a few things I was absolutely in love with, two of which I bought. The third was this fabulous arm chair I wish I could justify purchasing.


Sadly, I do not have sixty dollars at my disposal, nor do I have anywhere to put the thing. Even if we are in love, this chair and I, I'm just going to have to get over it. Even though it would be the perfect chair to have in bedroom to curl up with some Virginia and a fat cup of mint tea in the mid-morning. Agh. I must stop pining. There will always be this picture, I suppose.

Back at the apartment, I have been lazing on the bland, beige, decidedly un-funky faux-suede couch reading this coffee table book:


about Edie Sedgewick all afternoon. It's not very well written, but the bare bones information is interesting and the pictures are fun to examine. It's a very Andy Warhol attempt at a biography - all style and decidedly less substance, more of a reaction to Edie's stardom than a true assessment of it. But it's published by VH1, so I should have kept my expectations low in the first place.

Anyway, tonight is a night of community excitement - I'm heading over to AS 220 for an underground salon-type gathering of artists to exchange idea and enjoy one another. I am very excited. I'm thinking I'll debut a piece I just wrote this afternoon, some of the riskiest writing I've done in a very long time. And tomorrow night, DC is playing the Narrows in Fall River. Busy busy busy, and loving every second of it. We'll see how the week shapes up. I promise to keep you in the loop.