wish you were here

I kinda miss playing music with other people.

I’ve had my Andy Warhol journal for two and a half years, and I’ve only got a few pages left in it. I think that’s the longest I’ve ever taken to fill up a journal.

I think I’ll use the last few pages to write you a poem.

This isn’t the poem, though.

Continue reading about - shots.

I’m completely out of words. But I’m psyched.

Still, after this hangover is done with, we have a lot of hard work to do. A lot.

But:

Let’s go, America.

Right. So I went Downtown as Shaun Of The Dead (with a real badge and everything!), and was not told I had Red On Me. Very disappointed.

Somehow we ended up at the MGM, and I lost my debit card there. But it was cancelled and I should have a new one by the end of the week.

But it made me feel all weird and lost for awhile last night. I was at Noreen’s for a birthday party, and didn’t want to ask people to buy me drinks, so I just mostly sat and watched people karaoke, and I got up on the mic a couple of times to do some Beastie Boys and some Dr. Dre. People kept asking me if I was going to sing. I don’t sing unless I’m in the car or the shower or softly with other people who can actually sing.

I should be writing right now. I’ve been writing, intermittently, over the past few weeks. Mostly poetry and the novel. I’m still struggling with working on shorts. I’ve just been feeling so overly busy with working full time and then spending my Sundays at the bar for Steeler games. It’s like I have a 6-day work week. It makes my brain mush. I spent all day at home today just to clean and get some laundry done.

Anyway. I kinda feel like I’m waiting for something. I’m not sure what that is though. Just doing my own thing to stay occupied while I wait for the winter to pass.

Speaking of winter. A new poem.

Continue reading about - things, and poetry.

blahlblahblahblah.

Continue reading about - dancing on fremont st.

I normally hate Keane. But Jesus Christ if this song isn’t constantly in my head right now. It’s 80’s perfection.

I’m not dead, just busy. And sick. But a few things.

This is my favoritist song in the whole wide world right now.

Friends coming to town, friends leaving town. Mikey and Roz were here, and Mikey’s back in Macau already, and Roz leaves tomorrow. Jocelyn’s back for a weekend, then Montreal. And Scotty’s leaving for better times in Austin. Stop bringing up my abandonment issues, people!

Running. It’s been up, mostly down. But I think I’ll be able to finish a half by the time December comes around. I’m not sure if I’ll be actually running the entire way, but at least we can attempt.

I don’t like clubs. I needed to be reminded of this once again on Monday night. While we got hooked up with a couple of bottles in VIP, the night ended with a guy sucking on a lollipop and giving me a lap dance in trying to mack his way into the VIP section. I would comment on this travesty, but it’s just so heinous that I can’t. I just can’t.

Writing? What writing? I’m a bad girl. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about my stories. By the time the weekend comes around, I’m so spent that I just can’t wrap my brain around writing something down. It’s just. Urg.

Fighting off the occasional icky feelings. Because I’ve been running consistently, I’ve been on an even keel emotionally, but there have been a few moments during September that really taxed my brain. It’s not that I see the fall or winter getting to me, but knowing those moments are there really scare me. I’m trying to be realistic without being cynical.

I’m kinda over the election by now. Listen America, just vote for Obama and get it over with.

Fonzie says hello.

I always say that I’m going to be better about blogging, but in actuality I’m really bad about it. But I do think about it an awful lot. I’ll think of something interesting and see what happens.

So, I’m on Twitter. The username is karinotvery.

Now off to run and finish cleaning.