BOO!

Happy Halloween!

be afraid. be very afraid.

and now for the local news...

OK, now I swear Rosie is copying my blog site.
First I write 2,000 dead. Then she writes 2,000 dead.
First I write about Bill Maher. Now she writes about Bill Maher.

i should be so lucky.

Truth be told, the more people shouting the praises of that damn HBO show the better. Every time I watch it I become overwhelmed with this sensation of "I hope my parents are watching this." Actually its more like, "I hope EVERYONE IN THE WORLD is watching this." That show is what America could be. Divided, yes. But constantly, steadfastly pushing towards truth. Through all the bullshit, all the lies, through the spin, the canned answers and the smug smiles.
Follow our fearless leader (Bill Maher that is) and always do as your mother told you:

Tell the Truth.

or until the rest of the nation catches on, at least have a laugh in the meantime...
"Real Time" goes off the air for a hiatus after next weeks episode. Criminal, I tell you.
Criminal.

I was gonna write a for-real "entry" today. An actual column that had a topic, a structure, even a throughline of sorts. But I guess one of the benefits of blogging is a new found familiarity and comfort in just writing what is.
(or is that one of the downfalls?)
No need to push anything.
I'll be here every day.

To end, I'll remind anyone who happens to be reading this that today is daylight savings time and that you should set your clocks back an hour. You gain 60 minutes of life for now, which is nice. But it is an immediate gratification, like sugar, that you'll find you regret for the rest of the season, like the stomach ache that just wont go away.
It's gonna be dark at like 4 o'clock from now on. So get used to it.
we've got a long road ahead...

well its been a pleasure.
hope i didn't bore anyone to tears.

and now back to Ted with the weather.

My Bright Side

even in my times of trouble
even when I'm all alone
somehow I know you'll always love me
with you forever we'll be home

tomorrow brings a future promised
tomorrow brings us something new
tomorrow brings me closer, closer
no purpose living, before you

"No Bravery"

"You need to decide if this is an AM or a PM exercise," says the Corporate Zombie Blank Eyed Stare.
"You need to just back the fuck off and let it be what it is," replies Creative Voice of Reason.
Coming to Terms with new blogger status 101 as taught by professor yours truly.
Embarassed at myself I quietly type,
"I can't help but be sad that I have 0 comments."
The number 0 laughs at me, open-mouthed, every time I click cgc...
But I have to say, there's only one thing worse than 0 and that is
"1 comments"
that extra "s" just hanging there, a reminder of how little I matter
daring someone to reply. "please reply, please, please, please reply."
Like standing over a just planted seed and expecting instant gratification.
"BE A ROSE NOW! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE A ROSE NOW?!"
how many fucking more things can I put in parentheses today?
"I don't know?"
"You tell me."
Please no one comment on this blog.
I need to just grow the fuck up.
If I were a much braver man I would just turn the comments off.
But there's such promise, such possibility in leaving them open.
Like I said, if I were a much braver man...

Lord, how many more times can I use the word, "I."
I do not know.
The level of self-absorption, I fear, is surpassing sea level.

In other news, Mr. Scooter Libby was charged with five felonies alleging obstruction of justice, perjury to a grand jury and making false statements to FBI agents.
This is only the tip of the iceberg.
This is only what's allegedly been discovered so far.
An organization built on deception will crumble and fall, eventually.
Turns out we the people are smarter than they had expected.

The American death toll in Iraq has surpassed 2,000.
2,000
2,000
2,000
For what?
Honor?
Freedom?
Democracy?
Practice what you preach, boys.

cue Ricky Ricardo, "You have a lot of 'splainin' to do."

P.S.
(If I was technologically advanced enough I would link the Scooter Libby story from aol.com) (I would also link James Blunt's song "No Bravery." I have no idea what he wrote the song about, had never heard of him before last night actually, but download it fast. Play It. Perhaps place George W's face in your mind as he sings)

and until next time, be strong, for me.

This Is My Playground -now-

There's something so alive about going to work. The process of it.
And I am the anti-morning person.
just going through the motions alone
sleep rubbed out of eyes
contacts
teeth
shower
dog walked
-just a bit more sleep-
what the hell am I gonna wear today?
so personal, private, and alike.
I love exiting the subway and jaunting to the office.
ipod on, as expected, scoring the everyday
Nothing is more vibrantly cold than 53rd and Park on a weekday morning.
It's just like High School all over again. Perhaps more money, more independence and just a bit more wrinkles, but the drama is all the same. Everyone's dressed their best. Everyone's got something to prove.
If you stare hard enough I bet you'll even notice cliques.
Dare you to spot the popular crowd.
The misfit.
The whore.
The thing that makes this process so thrilling is the realization that life, as it turns out, is just one big circle. Not the forward sweeping motion that I'd feared. Not the "no-turning-back." It's all the same.
Backpacks to Briefcases.
Polos to Pinstripes.
Sweatpants to Suits.
We're all aging, that's for sure, every moment that we're alive. But who says anything's changed?
I'm excited that I get to go into work this week.
I'm excited that next week maybe my whole life will be different.
We're all working towards something.
I just want to stop every now and then, laugh at how much life is exactly as it should be, and make sure that the only thing that I'm working towards isn't death.

This morning I think I noticed my hairline receding.
possibly, maybe, perhaps, I dunno
If it happens I'll carry it off with the greatest of ease.
After all, there are more important issues at hand.
We've all got a chemistry quiz fourth period and I barely studied at all.

FUCK OFF (to me)

I watched HBO's Real Time with Bill Maher last night.
Currently it seems to be my main source of news.
I'm thinking about taking the New York Times link off my site.
God, Who do we trust now?
so many lies
on so many levels
coming at us from all sides
a war, fighting for truth
even over here.
I fear we're losing.
can't help but feel someone should hold up a stained GAP dress
the hypocrisy
maybe I'll hold it up.
fuck, maybe I'll wear it.
I'm still struggling with the vanity of writing a daily blog.
At this point it is mostly for my own pleasure, I suppose.
Trying to write about something unrelated to myself I sense pockets of snickering,
"his site is just like Rosie without fans"
sadly, the snickering comes from inside my own head
deep, cavernous, dark, hidden
with white cartoon snake eyes
self doubt is a bitch
self consumption is pathetic
so many choices in this world
is my sjp lovely half empty or half full?

Life In/ Life Out

92 full years
rest rosa rest

our civil and human rights became that much more possible
because of your strength.
there's a seat for you I'm sure.

and 2 B
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you

Today (what else?)

as I dream I hear the music to the film "Brokeback Mountain" accentuating the drama of my subconscious
-or "Bareback" Mountain as Matt says, giggling-
it's funny how when a big budget/ big star/big studio feature finally comes out involving the gay experience, even it has to be hyper-masculinized, cowboys, wives, lots of grunting and spitting
baby steps
i tell you
baby steps
(i still can't wait to see it)
I'll tell you the process of self-induced daily creation is a terrifyingly life-owning high that I would definitely recommend to any and everyone still living. There's something in the blogger "publish" button that makes it mandatory. Something in the "online" part that makes it real. No longer will my life be shrouded in secrecy, jailed to pages, shoved on shelves. No longer will I worry, "What if my journals burn and no one ever learns of my time here?"
it's the daily part that's the scariest and the best
daily...daily...daily...daily...
It kind of in its own way proves that every day's worth living.
every single day gives you something more to feel, something more to say, something more to work at.
write
paint
draw
craft
sing
make time.
be the you you never thought you could

going once, going twice, gone...

an autumn slow fade

words.
so many of millions have been set down before me. novels, journals, theses, songs, blogs, cave walls
who cares what I think?
sometimes it seems who cares what anybody thinks except for oneself.
this blog of mine is silly and self-indulgent and small.
But life often is silly and self-indulgent and small.
If it wasn't, then it would have to be serious and lived based on others' expectations and huge.
There is room for both.
I wanna put positive energy out into the world.
I also want to be blonde.
Some things just weren't meant to be...
I was described last night by someone who means more to me than most anyone as an "optimist negative"
stuck between the two, I think he might be onto something.
Genuinely, whole-heartedly optimistic. Every day a wake up on the right side. But simultaneously inherently honest, verbal, critical, truth-seeking and thusly (I suppose) negative.
When explained about how to look for the good in life, trying to see positive in all-- I told my boyfriend, "I'm not ready to be that happy."
There is room for both.
Wallowing in self-doubt or pity is a life wasted. Respecting the beautiful melancholy of it all, taking in those times...
(to this blogger anyways) is a life lived in full.

today...beginning

The first of many. I am sure.
Where to begin?
If I didn't have television or a penis I could get so much more accomplished I swear.
My life is beginning to feel a lot like "You never know what you CAN'T do until you DON'T do it.
This, luckily, is not OK by me.
I have a problem.
Luckily it should be rather easy to fix.
Seems to be that I'm at another one of those damned crossroads in life. Unable to proceed due to an overactive fear drive or an underactive energy drive, there is so much ahead of me. But I don't know who or what I want to be.
A wise lesbian once said in one of my even darker times of trouble that, "You don't want to have everything be perfect in your 20s. Then you have nothing to live for." But it isn't perfection so to speak that I'm after. It's more or less a sense of assurance that one life will be enough.
I'm consumed by the ridiculous quasi-fear that if I make one choice then countless other possibilities will go away. It's the old adage in reverse, "When one door opens how many other windows close?"

more later.
if you are ready

thank you for your time
people of the cozmos

-Chris