Watch my steady lonesome gait...*

*From Laura Marling's song "New Romantic" You can watch the video below. This should be the theme song for every single woman over 25.

Here I am again. A rainy day in the city. Mood has been low the last two weeks, beyond that I don't remember.

I got fired in August as retribution for taking a disability leave, which I only took to avoid getting fired in the first place.... but I am better off without it. Except financially. Sigh. I have 6 classes this semester at three universities. 2 lectures everyday of the week. Nights, then morning, night, morning...Each day is a catchup from the day before and a whirlwind towards tomorrow and then the week is over. The new bipolar meds make me tired all the time. If I don't get 10 hours of sleep at night then I need a 2 hour nap that afternoon. A pile of 70 blue books mocks me. The test was Monday and I haven't touched them yet. I stayed up Monday night until 5 am grading 40 papers from two weeks before. Then I slept through my first morning class. So it goes. 40 more blue books arrive next Monday.

I have forsworn dating. Not for me, no thank you. The losers I wasted time on last year showed me that I am still most attracted to abusers. I cannot be trusted to choose a man for myself. And clearly, I cannot sustain an adult relationship. Those men who dare glance at me twice on the subway get a scowl in return.

And yet, the loneliness. It is endless. Night after night in my empty bed, coming home to my echoing apartment, the pains go unnoticed, the successes uncelebrated, the hope worn so thin it has disappeared.

And yet, there is him. "George". The boy I liked before ever we met. A mutual friend had told me of him, I assumed he lied. There was no one like that. My friend Steff laughed that if we ever met we'd have to get married. Months later, I met him and was not disappointed. He, the phantasm, has haunted me for 10 years.

He, the divorcee, told me his girlfriend has moved in. So, why did you call me at 1:34 in the morning!? Who calls an ex-girlfriend in the middle of the night to celebrate the election--when your woman sleeps in your bed one room away?!? If he feels the way I do, if the sound of my voice makes him grin and all the world makes perfect sense when our talking is done... Then I need to know. I can't go on guessing anymore. Yesterday I threatened to drive down to see him (and my other friends). He has not yet replied. He will say 'no' when he finds the diplomatic words. He shares body fluids and a home with that woman. What am I but a vague memory?

It is absolute foolishness to harbor fantasies and feelings for him. We have not seen each other in 6 years. We had plans in April, but I missed the plane--literally. I was too terrified. The memory of all that pain and my depressed conviction that I faced sure rejection slowed my movements to the airport. I think he was hurt. He stopped talking to me. And now he lives with her.

I lost him again. The end.

"Watch my steady lonesome gait and be aware, I will never love a man cause love and pain go hand in hand and I can't do it, again."

In love again...

It is a whole new day. I am in love again. It happened when watching the Fashion Shows on TV this weekend [(NYC TV--ch. 25) or Fullfrontalfashion.com ] I noticed that the music was freaking awesome. Music I had never heard before, and yet it sounded so familiar. I had to know the names of these bands! What was going on!?!? I stayed up all night on the computer researching, from one url to another and another and another...and I am smitten.

The 'new' britpop is the unbelievably awesome amalgamation of 80s new wave and 90s shoe-gazer/britpop. Hallalujah! It makes me so excited, almost painfully so, that I no longer have the need for a man. I feel just like I did at age 13 when I discovered college radio. It's the music I've been waiting for my whole life. Think The Cure meets Blur or The Clash meets the Stone Roses...CAN IT GET ANY BETTER??? I think not.

[If you know the group 'Sparks' from late 70s/80s--this is what music would sound like if they took over the world. Holy Crap! Sparks released a new album this year. Ha hahhahaha How is it that this 40 year old band doesn't have the accolades they deserve? But I disgress...]

I should be working, but I can't. I can't even eat, my lunch arrived 90 minutes ago and I'm starving. But I just bought/downloaded my first MP3: Haunted by Cut Copy. I also bought a CD after class this morning: Boxer by The National.

Here are some other bands I'm checking out. (I'll put in links later. I suggest going to YouTube where you can hear the whole song.)I read one review where they called this Nu-Rave. Very appropriate name. Some of the songs from these bands need work, but they are very young. They have the time to master their skills. In the meantime, enjoy:

*Mystery Jets
*M83
*Black Kids
*MGMT
*The National
*Cut Copy
*Tokyo Police Club
*Laura Marling (runs the same show circuit in Britain with the other bands, but more folky like Suzanne Vega)

If you squint, she could be Molly Ringwold

Back to work now, class dismissed. (If you know more bands of this genre, please let me know!)

Spring Fever

This is not OK. I cannot work for these people. It is not OK for your long distance supervisor to put you on probation and then ask 'What are your feelings about this?' EXCUSE ME?! WHAT DO YOU THINK MY FEELINGS ARE??? You just told me my performance is unacceptable! I knew I couldn't say what I wanted to: "It's none of your damn business about my feelings'. So I tried to think of the answer she wanted to hear..... nothing came to mind. Then I repeated the question, "What are my feelings?" "Yes." I still couldn't figure it out, so I just said, "I feel bad." Please Lord, get me out of this company. Send me to a new boss who will never ask me my feelings, who knows it is inappropriate, and that's what we pay therapists for!

Had she seen me, she'd have seen the tears. There is nothing like failing at a job you are over-qualified for to make one feel bad. This job is too emotionally damaging. These people are worker-bees who thrive on being over-directed and who enjoy the cumbersome behemoth bureaucracy because it creates more work for them. Does it make them feel needed? All I know, they like complaining about the work-load and the minute you suggest ways to alleviate it they shut up and walk away. Martyr, much? The pointless work makes me want to impale myself in the trachea with my pen. Unlike everyone else here, I will not sell my soul to this company, I will not work extra hours for free, and I will not do what my superiors tell me to do if it's stupid. (This seems to piss them off.)

The irony of it all is this: On Monday night, I gave the final exam to my undergrads. At the end, one girl nervously handed me an envelope. She said, 'This is from the class.' It was a thank you card! Half the students signed it--with notes like 'this class was a joy', and 'you are the best prof I've ever had.' Come on! That almost made me start blubbering right there. And then, the next morning I went to work and found a meeting invite from my supervisor, subject: "work standards". SIGH. I got to hear about all the complaints-- how I can't meet my sales people's deadlines, and it takes me too long to make appointments...blah, blah, blah. Now I have 30 days to improve my timeliness and effective communication. Whatever. I just had 20 hardened NYC 18 year-olds thank me for teaching them a required and unpopular class...but it's all on me, not the sales people.

####
And what of the Celibate's love life since last you heard? Ugh. Ugly. I re-fell in love only to shoot myself in the heart, again. Now he won't talk to me anymore. Again.

And what of my mental defect? I have a new diagnosis! Bipolar II. My doctor thinks this will solve my problems. She put me on new meds. I'm not hopeful, my poor little heart can't take disappointment anymore. Besides, I've heard this record before.

Stay tuned (I've been cycling weekly, so in a few days I might write something happier.)

Nature is a language, can't you read?

Farmer Ted only made me cry once during Morrissey week. Which isn't bad considering I went to the Monday night show with him, when I made him cry. Then on Tuesday, I had to watch him with his girlfriend from the mezzanine. But Morrissey makes everything feel better, for a few hours anyway.

Before the last concert, Ted sent me an ugly text reply to my teasing one. He was upset because I didn't help him move to BedStuy with my car. !!! Seriously, what in the world would induce me to help that man move?? I am not his girlfriend, we have a weird friendship which borders on the abusive, he didn't ask--just hinted, furniture does not fit in my car, he has a good job so he can afford movers, I had friends in town, two of which I hadn't seen in 2 years, AND I had Morrissey tickets for that night! It's not my fault he chose that weekend to move. Not only do I have all those reasons, but there is NO WAY I am ever driving my car into BedStuy! If I never step foot in BedStuy again, it will be too soon. He knows how bad it was for me.

I told him not to move there. Of course, he knows better than I do. "It's the nice part of the neighborhood." Umh-huh. We'll see. Ted's attitude is asking for trouble. Folks in the hood don't mess with white girls, aside from the ocassional "Hey did you see Jungle Fever?" However, arrogant, young, skinny, snot-nosed white boys parading through the neighborhood are different. Especially if someone sees how disrespectful he is to his little girlfriend. I can see him making some smart-butt comment to a dude sitting on the stoop who might jeer him . . . I just hope he has the wisdom to keep his mouth shut. But maybe I'm wrong. I hope so.

Regardless, this is finally it for me with Farmer Ted. (I can't stop blogging about him because he is such a piece of work.) He has finally killed the last of my sad romantic feelings for him. (So I'm not sure why I cried on Sunday . . .)

Although I have figured out why I can't get rid of him. The mildly abusive nature of our relationship feels like family to me. That's why I'm so comfortable with him, and I think that's why I let him in so quickly. What else can you do with family, other than forgive, apologize, and enjoy their company?

[The remainder of this post was removed by CITC blogbots, their calculations revealed that it was too personal. And, made JL look a little too scary.]

Why don't you find out for yourself?

You didn't think I could go without blogging about his 5 night stint in the city, did you?





Je Suis Morrissey?! Only Moz himself would wear and/or sell a shirt like that. Such is the madness of a Morrissey concert! (No stage rushers could get past the security at the first show and only one or two made it to the stage the 2nd night. By the weekend, Morrissey must have told the guards to let the ones he touched get through. So if he took their hand and helped them up, the guards backed off. Quite a few made it onstage to hug Morrissey to the cheers of the crowd. --Photo on the right by Juan Miranda Pix. posted on Morrissey-solo.com Photo on the left by Eric M. Townsend: LoudPIX.com.

Still sporting the Pompadour. . .
Morrissey Week in the NYC has sadly ended. I went to 4 of the 5 shows. They were AWESOME. He played the best sets I have ever heard from him. He wasn't there to promote his newest album, Ringleader of the Tormenters.* He was there just to enjoy performing and to satiate the crowd. And that he did.

Each night he played slightly different sets. The highlights were new arrangements of "The Loop" and "Death of a Disco Dancer", some people were in tears. I got goosebumps. And of course, the crowd favorites, "Please, please, please, let me get what I want", and "How Soon is Now". He ended each night with How Soon. The other exciting thing was that he played some rarely performed songs, like "Interesting Drug", "National Front Disco", and (See the setlist for details below). Altogether, the sets oozed with somber emotion and unrequited love --that which Moz does best. Made even better by his new, exceptionally tight band, which backs him with 3 guitars, a gong(!), Keys/synth which simulate Marr's guitar on How Soon, and, of course, Boz Boorer.

I know, I know, his solo work isn't monumental and life-changing and/or influential,like The Smiths. But his performances are the best shows I have ever attended. EVER. And I have seen an awful lot of bands play live. Even the concerts of my favorite bands were not this fun. He is so engaging and enthralling that all the obsessions and ruminations in my mind go silent. What would I pay for 90 minutes of mental peace and the pleasure of being soaked in my favorite songs? I did pay $75 for one night, $55, and $35 twice. But I would pay a lot more.

Three of my best friends came up to go to the concerts and stayed with me. I had so much fun. We had dinner a very yummy dinner at Yaffa's in the East Village, went boutique shopping in Hoboken, watched movies at home, AND I got to drive to the Hammerstein for the last show with the 4 of us. We paid $34 to park in the garage right next to the venue. It took 30 minutes from door to door, only because of the tunnel traffic. It felt so incredibly decadent!

My friend Paul crossed to the other side, he was veclempt at the performance immediately. He even said "I'm having a sexual experience watching him." Steff replied: "I know. Why do you think we go to all of his shows?" Because, when Moz is in a good mood, his sexual charisma permeates the venue. It's a non-vulgar thrill for us celibates. He doesn't strip or get nasty (except for losing his shirt) he is just SEXY.

*Critics are calling Ringleaders Morrissey's best solo work. (Read the album review)

Morrissey has never sung better, not so much soulfully as with an emotional elegance that consistently snaps the icy, burning words to attention.

Visconti[the producer] treats him as a handsome Latino melodramatist suffering from a kitsch surfeit of imagination as much as a damp, exiled Mancunian miserabilist with a cold tendency to nostalgic self-obsession. Ultimately, Visconti helps transform Morrissey's dogged oddness and phenomenal fussiness into pure magic. Love him or hate him, there's no one better at loving and hating. --by Paul Morley

Here are his set lists from the shows I attended. Taken from Morrissey-solo.com
Oct 28th, Morrissey at Hammerstein Ballroom

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before / Billy Budd / Interesting Drug / Shoplifters Of The World Unite / Irish Blood, English Heart / I Just Want To See The Boy Happy / Girlfriend In A Coma / The Last Of The Famous International Playboys / Human Being / I Like You / Jack The Ripper / Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself? / Stretch Out And Wait / The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores / Good Looking Man About Town / Sister, I'm A Poet / Death Of A Disco Dancer / I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris / You Have Killed Me / Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want / How Soon Is Now? // First Of The Gang To Die

setlist provided by Amsden

NOTE: The Sunday show was cut short due to a wardrobe malfunction following a shirt change after Death of a Disco Dancer. Moz was so upset by it when he noticed, that he talked to his band and they skipped to the last song. Poor thing. He was horrified. I don't want to discuss it because the man brings so much pleasure into my life, that I don't want to further his humiliation.

Oct. 27th

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before / The Last Of The Famous International Playboys / You Have Killed Me / The Boy With The Thorn In His Side / Irish Blood, English Heart / I Like You / Jack The Ripper / I Just Want To See The Boy Happy / The National Front Disco / Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me / Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself? / All You Need Is Me / The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores / Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want / I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris / Sister, I'm A Poet / The Loop / Death Of A Disco Dancer / Stretch Out And Wait / Dear God, Please Help Me / How Soon Is Now? // First Of The Gang To Die

setlist provided by Amsden

Note: David Johanssen was in attendance and acknowledged by Moz on either Sunday or Saturday. The band played a rousing cover of the New York Dolls "Human Being".

Oct.23:

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before / Billy Budd / All You Need Is Me / Irish Blood, English Heart / The Boy With The Thorn In His Side / Human Being / I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris / Tomorrow / That's How People Grow Up / Jack The Ripper / One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell / The Loop / Sister, I'm A Poet / Stretch Out And Wait / The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores / Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want / Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself? / Death Of A Disco Dancer / Disappointed / Dear God, Please Help Me / How Soon Is Now? // First Of The Gang To Die

setlist provided by NYCWolf

Tuesday's set was my favorite. But I think Saturday's performance was the best.

Oct. 22:

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before / Tomorrow / Sister, I'm A Poet / London / The Loop / That's How People Grow Up / Jack The Ripper / I Like You / Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself? / Stretch Out And Wait / The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores / Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me / Billy Budd / All You Need Is Me / Death Of A Disco Dancer / Irish Blood, English Heart / Shoplifters Of The World Unite / One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell / You Have Killed Me / How Soon Is Now? // First Of The Gang To Die

setlist provided by NYCWolf

As a final note, the Hammerstein Ballroom is a fabulous venue. There are no bad seats, and it was so well air-conditioned, that we had to put on sweaters.

Goodbye until next time!

Stretch Out and Wait

Too much is happening. Two Morrissey concerts saturated with volatile emotion, dear friends visiting on the weekend--and more Morrissey, disgust with Farmer Ted, sorrow for his sweet girlfriend, confusion at work, the best observation ever!, the best students ever!, my mother's breast cancer, new medicine headaches . . . and then, there is this . . . some knot that lives deep inside me unraveled itself and released its dark burden. I felt something strange in my center, a glowy lightness that had not been there before. My friend said it was Hope.

Someone I call 'George', wants to renew our friendship. I still don't believe it. I won't believe it for a long time. Our conversation, so excited, and full, woven with concurrent patterns like a torn tapestry re-aligned for mending, feels like memory. A voice I used to know falls back into place. As if the wretched crucible of my last four years never happened, all gone but for my hard-won maturity. His voice too, has a change in timbre, his words slightly edged with scars. My natural instinct is to run while I still can. But I won't do that again. I will 'stretch out and wait' for good things.

These days, I sit in the middle of a whirlwind of emotion, plans, ringing phones, too many people, dreams, good and bad memories, email, surprises, songs, appointments, and fears. . . fears. There is no time to think, no peace to place myself in events, no analysis here: No slicing or dicing or looking for answers. No predictions, and no calculations can map what's ahead. Time now, one can only march forward and pray to make no mistakes. Blindly, I crash into life. More likely, life has crashed into me.

Called to Serve

My talk with the Bishop has born fruit already. He did listen to me and take me seriously! Since then, late August, the ward has gotten CES missionaries for the first time, started Institute classes, started monthly family home evening, and the Bishop has called me twice just to check up on me, missionaries have dropped by, and I had a home teacher visit. Very, very impressive. On top of all that, he has also given me a calling (a volunteer church job), because I asked for one. (Singles, go talk to your Bishops! It works! They really have no idea what we need.)

Well, when he said he wanted me in Young Women (program for teenage girls), it made me cry. Being the nursery babysitter is the only calling I wanted less. The last time I was in Young Women, I went inactive because it overwhelmed me. So I tried to talk him out of it. I told him how much I disliked the program. I also explained that the girls look up to you and I don't feel worthy. He said he had faith in me and gave me a blessing. Ok, I did ask for it. But now, so has the ward . . .

The program seemed so weird and silly when I was a teenager. My high school friends were doing lots of drugs, having lots of sex, and literally trying to kill themselves, someone was always being sent to the ER ... My parents hated each other and lived on opposite ends of the house. I wanted to die and had to fight to go on each day . . . "and now it's time for our Mia Maid Class! Gather around girls, we've got the pretty table cloth and fake flowers ready. Now lets look up at the pink posters and chant our values". . . I remember the jarring discontinuity between the YW lessons and my life. They were always about marrying an Return Missionary, serving your family to keep everyone happy, and remaining virtuous. Everything was about 'eternal marriage,' 'temple wedding', 'families are forever' . If you had asked me then, I would have told you that sounded like a nightmare to me. (I was a very angry child.)

My other problem: I feel like a hypocrite teaching the girls to follow the standards in 'For the Strength of Youth'. Honestly, I don't follow most of them myself. I prefer to use my own judgement, which has kept me straight so far. But that's not going to fly. I can see it now:

• "Girls, never let boys touch your bo*bs! Even though I might have let so-and-so do it last night because I was tired. Regardless, you shouldn't do it until you are married!"
  
• "I know I have a collection of rated R zombie movies in my house, and yes, I went to the 6 hour horror festival, but you should only see movies that are rated PG."
  
• "Yes, that is a pen*s (google-blocking the pervs) in the Picasso print hanging over my bed, but it is art! And my Jesus picture is next to my mirror."
  
• "Hey! I did not come here for you kids to judge me! I'm a 31 year old virgin, if you're a virgin at my age, then we can talk, until then . . ."

Tsk, tsk. Not pretty.

It did occur to me that this is my chance to clean up my act, a do-over. Ugh, they're forcing me to do personal development at work which nearly drove me to quit because I'm exhausted with the 'growth' thing right now. Besides, I like the way I am. We'll see what happens.