this imploding heart

Oh Oh, It's Magic

I'm not entirely sure, and please don't hold me to this, but I think I just swung 30 feet in the air, over an audience of 80+ people, attatched to a man who looked like a sunbeam, topless.

See you tomorrow, Seatown!

baby, think twice.

I appreciate New York for New Yorkers, who have developed a system that allows them to be in constant contact with each other without going crazy. I haven't got it entirely figured out, but it makes the cops nicer, the horn-honking more frequent, and the service exactly 50% great and 50% shitty on any given day.

I'll miss this beautiful house, not working, sleeping in the park and waiting for the F train.

Last night, I dreamed I was floating in an invisible boat over the Rocky Mountains. I'm not sure if I got bigger or the mountains got smaller, but I was able to dangle my fingers over the side of the boat and ripple the tops of the evergreens like water. I suspect that this means the mountains have noticed my absence, like a train whistle you hear faintly Monday thru Saturday one week, and are suprised that you miss come the following Sunday.

and she's always gone too long

Tiny left for S.F. (permanently) on Friday afternoon. I promised all the world I'd be good about entertaining myself and not being sad when she left. I've kept exactly 50% of that promise.

It's storming, and the thunder was just so loud that every car alarm on our block went off.

everything you think and everything you feel is alright

I just got home from a lingerie fashion show that had dancers while the models changed and free drinks all night.

On the beach today, we got hit on by a deaf guy, a spanish guy, and a drunk guy. The deaf guy wouldn't say he was deaf, so I thought perhaps I had water in my ears. His buddy leaned over and signed 'Yes', then said 'He's deaf' when I flaberghastedly asked if he was sure he wasn't deaf. He kept trying to talk sexy and forgetting to make noise at all.
The drunk wouldn't leave until Tiny turned her back entirely to him, and I started waving enthusiastically and shouting "Good Bye! Bye Bye Now! So Long! Good Bye! This means it's time for you to walk away! Farther! Bye!"
The spanish guy has the second occurance of the name Joaquin I've ever encountered in my life. The first one was just the other night, and for the life of me, I couldn't remember Joaquin Number 1's name for sure because I couldn't figure out how to spell it. Joaquin Number 2 gave us his number, so Joaquin Number 1 won't have to remind me if I go to his play.(Brilliant!)

Also, there was a guy with hot tattoos, but then I realized he had the words 'Vegan Power' tattooed over his stomach. I laughed so hard, pina colada came out my nose. Poor bastard.

(Fashion Show: 'More')

don't you wanna take a ride with me

I love magical fish that grow extra skins to sleep in, or who break into a thousand tiny fish if you try to pick them up. The Museum of Natural History is the kind of place I expect to meet the kind of guy who'd elope to Coney Island with me.

dinosaurs, frogs, and haircuts, click 'More'

Elwood P Doud

'Years ago my mother used to say to me, she'd say, "In this world, Elwood, you must be" - she always called me Elwood - "In this world, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant." Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. And you may quote me. ' -E.P.D.

hula hooping, halter topping, staying out until tomorrow and worrying about the neighbors, The old car service man calls me delightful, the young one encourages 'sexy dancing' and I decline, I got stopped at the street fair after a 5pm breakfast and offered a $150 haircut for free (it's ultra foxy), bomb threats, and an upsetting fascination with uniforms.

I need a mermaid costume.

I took the 405

Death Cab with coffee makes me homesick for anti-social and mountain-encased.

My mom has been visiting, and she tells everyone we meet that she's from Idaho, and 'has never seen anything like this'. I used to get embarrassed about this kind of thing. Nowadays, hell yes I'm from Idaho. And yes, I once killed a bear with a drinking straw, and gutted it with my teeth.

In other news, I wish you'd take me for a ride on your motorcycle. Or at least invite me over to listen to your records.

the very young at heart

Really? I think the best part is sitting on the back porch with all the lights off. Secretly terrified of the raccoons. Eating strawberry ice cream with real silver. Watching for that one elusive firefly.

I just wanna be here beside you

How do I know I'm turning into my mother?

Well, Tiny and I woke up at 4:40 this morning to take the F, the A, and the Airtrain to JFK, only to realize that my mother isn't coming in until *tomorrow* in the asscrack of the morning.

My mother, on the other edge of the continent, packed herself into the car last night for her overnight flight, got to the airport, checked her bags, and realized that she didn't have to leave until tonight.

Next thing you know, I'll be mailing ceramic shoes and wearing swimming suits with little skirts attatched. Mark my words.

your friend's coming, 'cause the answering machine is turned off

Sarah B and Ryan's party was like being in a movie where the internet develops voices and bodies and materializes around you in an apartment. In New York City. After you've gotten lost on the train.

Tiny was feeling under the weather, and as I'm a terribly selfish person, I basically asked her to stay home so that we wouldn't have to leave a half hour after arriving. She was a great sport, despite being worried that I would get lost on the subway.

My pineapple, ginger-ale and I rode the damn train all the way up to 34th street before we realized that the Fulton St. Station does not say Fulton St *at* the station. I blame the ginger-ale for this oversight, because I obviously wasn't the one checking the map.

I made it to the apartment around 12:30. By that time, I'd convinced myself that a pineapple was a stupid present, my outfit was total crap, and no one was going to talk to me, so I'd better figure out how the hell to get out of there politely. All the pictures of Sarah and I taken within the first few minutes of arrival are smattered with my 'smile big and don't say anything dumb!' face. It's a lot of fun.

Fortunately, Sarah was the most delightful internet blind date I've ever had. Smart, sassy, cute and genuine. We got along famously, and within a few minutes I had the great fortune to meet:

how to be a bricklayer

Self-Aggrandizement

Ben Wagner
and
This Fish Needs a Bicycle

and, I'm sure, many more who I can't remember. The important thing is this. The Cops showed up. And the French Kicks. I didn't see either of them, but Sarah and I rolled back to brooklyn in a cab at 4 in the morning, and that was the best party I've been to since the one where a wall came down. The sharpieness was out of control.

gotta run for shade

The oppressive heat must be taking a nap, and it's cooling off in preparation for rain. We've opened every part of the house that will open and we're running every fan like it's our last hope for survival.

Yesterday was so hot that we only managed to leave the house to get a manicure/pedicure and buy some fruit. I have hot pink fingers and toes and a new pair of flip flops. Not to mention a smattering of freckles that haven't made an appearance since the summer of 98.

I sang a birthday song this morning, and tomorrow I'll have the divine opportunity to meet the birthday girl in person.

If you think you're getting away, I will prove you wrong.

It's a rather good thing that a significant portion of the last 2 days has been spent lazing in the sun. I just don't have it in me to document and recount the tremendous amount of splendour and trauma that occurs in the hours not spent lazing in the sun for there to be many more of said hours.

I saw 2 great bands at a weird little performance space on 42nd street a few nights ago. The space was called The Tank, and it was their one year anniversary. (we sort of crashed the party. But in style!)

The first band was made up of music-snob heart-throbs. I wanted to make secret valentines for their poppy dancy but oh so rocky songs. Also, they were individually and collectively foxy. The We Are Scientists, do you want to be my Bandfriend?

And then a magician refilled a crushed coke can!

Bishop Allen came on next, and I was delighted to find that Tim had either posted or sent me something of theirs months ago that I LOVED and promptly forgot about. They were absolute pros, and I'd see them again anytime, anywhere.

THE NEXT DAYYYYYYY! (DUN DUN DUN!)

Stacia and I saw an afternoon show of "I Am My Own Wife" at the Lyceum theater. The show was done in the taproot theater style that's become so popular recently, and I really enjoyed it. It's refreshing to be presented with non fiction in a typically fictional forum. We really enjoyed the show, but Stacia was distracted by the freezing air conditioning on an already cold day, and the box office manager was so rude to me I nearly called her the unutterable word for womens genetalia to her face.

THEN THE DAY AFTER THAT

We spent the day in Prospect Park. Hoping for paddle boats, settling for romance novels and a box of pepperidge farm cookies. There were geese! and baby geese! Also, pigeons and seagulls, which, for some reason, are less exciting.

Tiny had an event to plan for, so she took a shower while Stacia and I paid a short visit to the lovely Coney Island.
Not to get too healing crystal on you all, but Coney Island is one of those places that brings on a rush of nostalgia for a past life.

Do you ever get that? Whether you've ever been there or not, is there a place that the mention of brings back a weird feeling of longing for no particular reason? No? Just checking.

We were only able to spend a few minutes in the soft atlantic sand, but we got a hot dog and I made a promise to visit again. Perhaps I'll bump into old ghosts of myself, loitering beneath the Wonder Wheel

After a long train ride to the other end of the subway, we met Tiny and our new german friend (stacia's old german friend) Albert. Tiny became a beer drinker in 20 minutes flat, and as a result of that (and many many shots for the both of us), we got flip-the-camera-off drunk and it took us 3.5 hours to ride the subway home. During which, a man mouthed the words 'Highly Fuckable' to Stacia while Tiny and I slept in our stupor. We changed trains.

(I just killed the weirdest looking millipede ever. Tiny was very brave. She got a cup and hovered nervously over it. Stacia contributed a shoe and a go-getem' attitude.)

Today, we visited her lady of suprising shortness, The Statue of Liberty. They've been using length-enhancing pictures of that lady for too long. It makes for great disappointment at showtime.

After lady liberty, Tiny and Stacia deposited my increasingly-difficult-to-tolerate ass in Central Park and went shopping. A man drinking out of a bag sat down next to me and told me where the bathroom was, where a working drinking fountain was, what book I should read next, and how I could get a hold of him, should I need any help around the big city. Thanks, Ken!

Some people had a wedding by the pond, and a young lady complained to her husband-to-be that she wanted a 5 carat ring.

he: "That's not what you said before!"

she: "You didn't give me time to research! I didn't know ANYTHING about carats before!"

pictures, click 'more'

The Tank

the We Are Scientists


Bishop Allen

Prospect Park Geese


Coney Island




You have reason for concern. (drunk)

Girlfriend, I wanna be your boyfriend, yeah.

My loves, how Swedish do I actually look? This is five days in a row that someone has come up to us out of the blue and either asked me if I was from Sweden or asked Tiny if I was from Sweden (beacause OBVIOUSLY, I speak only swedish.)

After breakfast on the porch and a short stint of unrequired lawn care, we took the train to DUMBO, which I think means Down Under the Manhattan Brooklyn Overpass, or something. There are a few galleries down there, and a decent grocery store, but mostly a giant rehab clinic and a beautiful park. Most of todays pictures are from the park.

After we were non-plussed by DUMBO, we salved our souls with the guilt of slavery-produced clothing. This isn't something I usually indulge in (new clothes, as opposed to used but still made for pennies overseas, just purchased by someone else originally.), but I spent an hour salivating over five dollar options at H&M.

I've never been in an H&M before, but it's a lot like an Old Navy. Ladies going crazy and incredibly loud music playing to coax you thinking that it's alright to buy a new shirt for 5.90.

As you may or may not know, I'm a bit hard of hearing. I don't participate in conversations in automobiles going over 25mph. I zone out in crowded bars. I only respond to hand signals at rock shows.

So I'm standing next to some red polka dots responding to Tiny's uplifted eyebrows - (What do you think? They only have it in Medium.)- with a slight grimace - For 39 bucks? You can buy that for less in a better color in Chinatown.- because all I can hear is Beyonce, when he walks up. I don't hear any of the conversation, but I see Tiny say the words 'No. American.', carry on a short conversation, then put on her 'Oh crap, get me out of this' big ol' smile.

I asked her later what he said.

Tiny'd had her phone out in the store when he'd approached.

dude: "I don't suppose I could get your number, because you've got a boyfriend, right?"

Tiny: "Right."

dude: "What about her? Is she Swedish?"

Tiny: "No. American."

dude: "Do you have a boyfriend? You look like you're from Sweden!"

Sonya: understands clearly what's going on, but is useless in the actual conversation portion. Raises eyebrows at Tiny.

Tiny: "She can't hear you. And she's got a boyfriend."

Dude, whispering, which is hilarious.: "Is she deaf?"

Tiny: "Not much."

Dude:"I've got a girlfriend. She's watching me on the security cameras right now. I'm a movie star. I put on a little weight for the role (shakes belly). You're gonna see me all over. I'm huge."

Tiny: "That's so great for you! Good luck!"

as we walk out of the reds and into the greens.

Sonya: "Did that fucking guy ask if I was swedish?"

On the train home, a buisnessman was wearing a lampshade on his head like it was the latest craze. I tried to take his picture without being obvious, but the train came to a corner and it blurred. I can't resist posting it, so do your best to spot mister lampshade man. The shade is cream and slightly to the right of the hand on the pole.

I tried to call you on the telephone

Can I please first note that Billy Joel's "She's Always A Woman To Me" has played in a different location for Tiny and I once a day for the last 3 days? It has. Once, from beginning to end, each day. I had totally forgotten that Billy Joel had even existed at all until I heard that song, and now he's everywhere I go.

It's not a terrible song. It's about how ladies break your heart, but that's okay, right? Sure. Sure it is.

On to our day's adventures!

We stood outside our beautiful little temporary home for nearly ten minutes while I asked Tiny if she was really sure I wasn't going to need a sweater. You can take the girl out of the Pacific Northwest...

We bought coffee from the catty girls and sunscreen from the friendliest counterman in Park Slope, then set out for a gallery in Chelsea.

Tiny's mother works with a woman who's aunt owns a gallery, and through this convoluted connection, we introduced ourselves to Helene. Or, Tiny introduced Us to Helene, and Helene's gallery introduced Me to the work of Cindy Sherman.

The exhibit was all Cindy Sherman in self portrait as different clowns. I liked it very much.

Helene made a map for us of which galleries were worth visiting and which were crap. While we semi-ignored the actual map, we did accept her favorite line of advice, "And, you know, you can just ignore any galleries you walk into and don't like right away."

We saw 3 paintings by Hillary Harkness that I liked very much, each dollhouse details of scantily clad ladies in compromising -and sometimes undead- positions. I immediately thought of how much Cake would like them. I went up front to see if there were postcards, but there weren't, and the gallery attendant, like all the gallery attendants before him, was a total assface.

(Dear Gallery Attendants: Please get over yourselves, you're just receptionists who don't have a phone to answer.)

We had gotten into the habit of walking into any room that was painted all white, so we had the supreme misfortune of waltzing into 'comme des s'. comme des s was an upper-scale clothery filled with psudo-inspired fashions, funhouse walls, jerks, and a catfood smell.

I ran smack into my 5th sneering face in 6 seconds as Tiny was trying to figure out why a particular wall was constructed in a semicircle to the side of a room for no particular purpose.

Sonya: in a whisper, trying not to put her fingers in her mouth. "TINY. PSSST."

Tiny:"What's up, Sjet?"

Sonya: "I hate this place! Please get me out of here!"

and she did.

We went to a similarly outrageously priced clothing store next, but everyone there was nice and didn't snarl any more than the mandatory amount. Even when I dropped something in the fountain! (What was that place called? We can't remember. This only proves that if you piss us off, we will be back to destroy, or be snarky about you.)

(oh no. We just had a little blogging interlude, see? And in this interlude, we had a few drinkies. Bear with us, as we have become TERRIBLE drinkers. Nothing of the champions we once were.)

After the clothing store, we went to the catholic church thrift shoppe, where the old ladiesa made Tiny put on sequined dresses and black shoes because she reminded them of Ginger Rogers. I bought a set of coasters from Dubrokovic, Yugoslavia and was asked for the 4th time this trip if I was from Sweden.

(there aren't so many blondes here, I've noticed. particularly not blondes as blonde as my bottley blonde of death and blondeness.)

We had lunch at a french cafe in the meat packing district. We're tending to order the same thing lately, which...for some reason...makes waiters tend to look at us as though we're five year olds dressed up in mommy's clothes. But whatever, they were nice and the food was good (the place was called Phillip Marie, we think. On Hudson street, near all hte things that call themselves 'Hudson __________'. And the catholic thrift shoppe.)

We followed all our free and artsy hub bub with a trip to Century 21, which has always been a real estate agency, as far as I've known, but will now be known as Department of Discount Death. I bought an all white dress that I'm calling my coronation dress, and Tiny found Pants Made by Cherubim. We followed with the 'try things on in the aisles' school of thought, and the staff made known their opinions about our selections. They were very helpful, and helped convince Tiny to buy a very head-turning black and white number. You're going to just DIE when you see it...

or not, whatever.

We had roast beef on the porch and watched the sun set. Stacia came in to town around 9:30, and that's how we ended up with the drinking. The waitress said we should come back, because all the hot guys came to that bar. We left anyway, and another bartender tried to get us to come to his bar. Are there a shortage of women in Prospect Park?

See you loves tomorrow. Click 'more' for pictures, (all photography today by Tiny.)

and it burns way down in my soul

My mother is going to be SO disappointed.

You don't know me the way you really should

I think. that I have. a sunburn.

Tiny and I took orange dot trains a bit farther than we intended this morning. Aiming for natural history and central park but landing in harlem, we decided to explore. We took the cherry walk from harlem along the hudson river to riverside park, through the park, by the hotdog man, past all the nannies and the hundred million babies to central park, where we ate a carton of strawberries and napped in the sun. Old-ish ladies took their tops off and sat on the rocks.

The poor, sweet hudson. I wanted to give it a sad river hug, but...ew. It's a smelly baby. I know it's been cleaned up a lot, but whenever I'm near the water or in the park, all I can think of is 'New York City used to be flat-ish rolling woods and a living river to the atlantic, and trees and underbrush and animals. Now it's totally unrecognizeable, but for these immitations of what it was."

Central Park was the most foresighted idea anyone ever had, by the way. Way to go, guy who thought of that.

Today's pictures can be viewed by clicking 'more'

breakfast on the deck


under the bridge in harlem


the hudson


napping in central park


the land of shopping frenzy

Activity, or lack thereof

(For Clarification:
The house we're staying in is beautiful. Old wood floors, windey staircase, piano and original mouldings beautiful.
The house 41 stories above the ground apartment belonged to a friend of Tiny's who graciously took us in out of the rain yesterday. )

We went grocery shopping this morning. the store was about as far from where we're staying as our seattle house is from our seattle grocer, so when the checker offered delivery service for 2 dollars, we pishawed and set out with our burley muscles.

Our burley muscles worked for crap! We should have taken the offer as a message from above and paid somebody to lug our junk home for us.

Anyway, by the time we got home, we definately needed to make ourselves a salad and then lay prone in the sun for several hours. We spread ourselves out on the picnic table on the back porch and played 'Out of these 3 people, who would you screw, who would you marry, and who would you kill?' until it started thunderstorming.

I think we're going to have a fine time.

a lover that won't drive me crazy

Hello Comrades,

I think Tiny summed it up best last night on the subway back to Brooklyn when she said 'I feel like I just did everything one could possibly do in New York, but all in one day.'

We ate bagels and drank coffee, bought cheap shoes, ran into old friends, went many floors above and below ground, walked around in the pourning rain, were offended by store clerks and overpriced k-mart vintage, kissed some sailors, got hungry and cranky, attempted to eat 7oz of a cow in a diner, were fawned over in Spanish and followed 2 blocks by a guy in an all red sweatsuit.

The only downside, (and this is surely temporary), is that I never know where the fuck I am, or where the fuck I'm going. And I tend to not just go into any old restaurant when it's time to eat because everything is unfamiliar and daunting.

The unfamiliar dauntingness is a little...exhausting. But give me another day or two. and a map.