Behind any good curtain....on many a tabletop....

just wanted to share this. I was shoved into a side booth at the Museum of Sex. Was standing there watching this continuous video of person after person masturbating. I was standing next to what may have been the mary tyler moore of older midwest couples who kept on with auditory sighs and oos and ahs of appreciation. whoa.

Museum of Sex

Yes. It is a Makita. Sawsall.

Robot Sex.

Made of masking tape. Seriously.

true to life sex dolls, that you can touch.

ok. This just struck me as morbid. The artist is living with AIDS. So? Why can't they just put born in 1963....why, in this temporary exhibit, do they have to leave a space for the death year of this still LIVING artist?!?!

Monkey hands.

Bonobos having sexual relations. I believe this sculpture, and all other sculptures of animals are made out of masking tape. awesome.

I just need to have these photos up. Nevermind the lack of chronological posting.

Yay Museum of Sex.

On The Nature of Violence

Recap: The Gang Unit Guy at the little Brooklyn bar tells me he buried his nephew the other day. Which he kept repeating how the nephew was like his fucking son. Heart wrenching. Apparently the story of his nephew's untimely death unfolds thus: Nephew is 6'1", driving down a country road in Pennsylvania. He spots two 16 year old girls fighting on the side of the road. He pulls over, gets out of the car, and proceeds to pull the apparent aggressor of the agressee. Once seperated, the aggressee pulls out a pistol and shoots Nephew, killing him. The killer has been arrested, as well as her mother, who apparently is addicted to heroin and gave the girl the gun in the first place.

Questions: What entices a mother to give her daughter a gun? What was the driving emotional force that lead to the pulling of the trigger? And what is it about me that lends to people pouring their guts out on my person? Why am I a vehicle for personal therapy?

I offered to buy Gang Unit Guy a drink and he insisted he should be buying my drinks. So he bought me two beers and we continued to discuss the nature of violence. War states. I went into a couple of the stories represented in our project Neither Heaven Nor Earth. He told me of an Israeli woman who was so afraid to loose her children to attacks that she put them on seperate buses in the morning in order to ensure that is something happened she would be left with at least one child. Whoa. This further confirms that people in conflict (all parties) live in a state of fear. And yes, the Palestinian situation is terrible....but that doesn't mean that Israeli citizens don't live in a tense state as well. Touche.

I gave Gang Unit Guy my card and told him if he were ever in Seattle to give me a call. And then I headed to Harvey Danger. Farewell Danger. We will miss you. I was surprised at the amount of Die Hard fans there were at the show. I don't even know all of the words to all of the songs! I spent a bit of time wandering around with Rob Knop and then made my way into the house, complete with complimentary Tecates in belly and bag. Attempts were made at video recording, which might make even the strongest stomached person ill.

It was made evident early on that I would be taking a cab home. I must have been a little drunky when I got into the cab because I remember insisting to the driver that he wasn't taking me to Astoria (how the eff would I know?). Personally surprised I managed to get home without any major incidents. When I woke up I had a good half an hour to get on the subway...which was successful. On my train ride I found a t-shirt from the opening band Jukebox The Ghost in my bag. I wonder how that got there. I made it rehearsal by noon. Thank God.

because you only have one life to live

Ok. I haven't written in awhile. I know. It has been a looooooong weekend. We will start with the story of the guy at the bar-pre Harvey Danger concert at Bell House. I had just taken the subway from Church Ave and St. Paul. In my particular car there was a guy with one of those Dewalt boomboxes and he was playing Michael Jackson. I almost didn't get off at my stop because I didn't want to miss out on Don't Stop Till You Get Enough. I danced around the back of that car with a group of rather intimidating looking Thugs, a couple of under five year olds, and a very old asian woman. It was fantastic.

And then I walked. I had a general sense of where I might be going. And eventually I found The Bell House. Although this part of Brooklyn was decidedly more industrial than where I had been rehearsing at John and Gabriella's, I felt much more at ease. It was like being in parts of GJ. John and Gabriella's house is in a very distinct neighborhood. After the first day of rehearsals, I walked out of their apartment at around eleven pm to be greeted by a yound man with a bottle of bourbon in his hand.....

he was very specific in his solicitations. And he kept calling me Mary. Although I was pretty sure he had a gun, I was very annoyed with being called Mary and corrected him about five times before turning around with the words "Dude, I have a BOY friend". I left the apartment building with the echoes of "How about a MAN friend baby-girl?". Ugh.

So let's go back to Saturday after my subway dance party. I got to The Bell House super early and thought I would find a little bar to do some work on the old computer before the show. I found one. Worked a bit. And then went outside for my one cigarette of the day...

A man came out and asked for a light. I let him use my lighter (a little blue number lisa made me before I moved to Seattle which I am surprised still works after all this time). We talked about the weather. Seattle. New York. Rain. His work on the gang unit for NYPD. I went into my having come here for the show with Poliglot and how different this part of Brooklyn was from where I had been rehearsing.

"Where have you been rehearsing?" He asked.

I thought for a moment. "Church Ave and St. Paul."

He blinked at me. "A lot of shootings down there. I know that place well. I wouldn't be caught dead in that area without a gun."

I blinked at him. "ok. I felt like I should have had my knife or something."

"oh honey", he said, "don't bring a knife to a gun fight."

Noted. Good advice.

And then he launched right into it. "I buried my nephew yesterday. He was like my fucking son. I buried my son yesterday". More later. I am getting kicked out of Time Cafe. Which apparently closes NOW.

Let's start of with the dream....

...and the fact that my ears JUST NOW popped (as a side note). I slept restlessly last night, which seems to be the norm these days. I woke up and guzzled a glass of ice water, waking up every now and then to stick ice cubes in my shirt to cool down. Not that it is warmer here than Seattle has been-----but my god, the humidity! In betwixt waking spells I dreamt my teeth were falling out. Not just falling out, but being forced out of my gums because I was chewing on glass. Once I realized I was eating glass, I didn’t stop….but rather tried to move my teeth around so I could extract the glass from my flesh. This is a reoccurring dream. I woke up with what felt like lockjaw this morning…and an aching need to rinse my mouth with wash.

It was about ten thirty when I left this morning and I had about eight hours before I had to meet Gabriella and John, so I thought I would make my way down to the Natural History Museum. Somehow I had forgotten the Natural History Museum is more of a glorified taxidermy display center…Needless to say I stuck to the extinct mammals, galaxy, and dinosaur exhibits. This was only after I had walked into the room with the herd of elephants positioned in an ever so graceful dance of familial bliss. Stuffed elephants from 1920? Fantastic! Including a cute little baby elephant caressing it’s mother’s trunk. Precious. Stomach knotted, I wandered for a couple of hours through prehistoric relics and then made my way outside, and eventually to the East Village.

I was asked directions and advice on the city a total of ten times this afternoon, which leads me to believe....nothing really....but it became a bit of an issue. I knew the answers to all but two inquiries. Eek. Who knows on that one.

Gabriella and John? Wonderful! I exited the Lafayette Starbucks (there is no escaping the buck) and was about to cross the street when I turned my head to the left-immediately reccognizing John. Whoa. He waved, I rejoiced. We danced on opposite sides of the street. I crossed, hugged, chit chatted a bit. He told me Gabriella was on her way, and within minutes she came rushing up behind us and hugged us both. We made our way down St. Mark's in search of a place with both drinks and munchies. John insisted he knew of a little place somewhere down there that was nice so we trekked a bit. Sure enough we found it, Yaffa Cafe. Drinks were ordered, as well as food. I hesitantly tried something called cucumber yogurt soup....which was exactly what it advertised. Not bad.

John asked me my life story, which, he said, he was sure more interesting than theirs. I have never known where to begin with this question. I began a with being kicked out and running away from home. Gabriella then piped in with "was this when you went to Kansas?"

...

It took me a moment before I realized she was referencing my 25 things off of Facebook. Whoa-what an age we live in. They had apparently been in a debate as to whether my 25 things were actual or imaginary...I didn't realize how fantastical my life can appear to be.

John told me his mother's life story instead of his own, which I thought was fun. She reminds me a lot of myself. Odd. Gabriella went into her families past, I in mine, and a good time was had by all. Post Yaffa we made our way to a little yogurt shop and then sat in Washington Square for a bit....discussing Seattle, Palestine, the project, and goals for the future. I was very at peace....aside from the whole ears not popping thing.

Silly little me spent about an hour and fifteen minutes chasing subways home to Astoria. But that's another story altogether. I must say I had numerous people help me out with advice and 70% of it was accurrate. Decent odds, if you ask me. When I finally made it to my stop, I crawled out into the fresh air and bolted to the new favorite, Time Cafe. It seemed closed, but there were people inside drinking it up and...wha?...smoking inside? I thought I would try the door and if it opened they couldn't really say no, could they? I tip toed in and asked meakly "are you open?" and got a hearty 'Yes!" from my bartender friend from last night. I was greeted with a shot of tequila. Perfect.

Did I mention?

My dear friend from college Megan Cunningham has made me a set of keys to her apartment and is letting me stay as long as i need during the month of August! Last night I was welcomed with my own set of keys, a coffee maker (thank GOD), and two little monkeys on Megan's bed....I am sure they weren't there specifically to welcome me, but I can pretend. I am currently having an affair with their couch. In the picture I am dreaming of the places we'll go together. Plus, there is an adorable pipe shooting veritically from floor to ceiling in Megs' room.....and it's painted silver.

It's a strange feeling travelling alone. Normally right now I would be doing something similar to blogging or finding some means of food or drink while Kaylynn worked out what we should do or how we should do it....the few times i have travelled alone i was going to meet someone. That doesn't count. And although I am meeting with John and Gabriella tonight, I am still very solo. It's very new. I needed this I think more than I knew.

Although it would be nice to have k. what here :(

I have eight hours before I have to be anywhere...I think it is time to wander on over to the Natural History Museum. And perhaps the Museum of Sex. Thanks Christy for the handy Metro card....let's see how far i can get with it. sweetness. What a boring entry this is.

Cheers.

The Likelihood of a plane crashing cuz of turbulence is one in....

hopefully a million.

I made it. New York. Solo (weird). After a whirlwind of a week wherein I accomplished far less than I had hoped but still managed to make a dent in my to-do list before I left. Scooty is still out of commission. Car is still mine. But I ate oysters, hung out with my dad, 14/48-ed with my buds, drank with the family(ish)-I feel rather full. And exhausted. It sort of feels as though I have been on cruise control for the past few weeks and (months?) and am now being handed a steering wheel.

A brief interruption: Someone at the bar is talking about tequila. I just thought I would share. Despite my being a bit sick today (most likely as a result of the resent drinking binge), my ears still prick up at the sound of those three succulent syllables. Yum. Maybe just a little. And now I will digress...

Speaking of tequila, I went to Elliot's with Rob, Lisa, and my dad yesterday. Awesome. I had some tequila (of course), so did my dad (whoa!). It was a pleasant affair of oysters, chowder, and the regular dinner conversation, during which my father made the following notes:

a) Maridee can drink tequila for days, no problem. Have you ever had tequila with her? We have deduced that she actually does not get too drunk (too?) on tequila.

b) all of Maridee's ex boyfriends have been driven to join the army, to join the navy, or to insanity (literally).

...I couldn't tell if my dad was saying these things out of pride, awe, or disgust. Perhaps we will never know. No matter, I just ordered a shot of tequila for $5. Beer was $6.50. Who can guess what I am going to be drinking from now on?

that's a hard one.

Lisa gave me a bunch of drugs for my flight, and I believe they helped. Granted I was sort of, shall we say, fuzzy all day...a good sign? Thanks Lisa. I sat next to the most obscure little jewish couple that fought with me over my seat when I first boarded the plane. I try to get an aisle seat whenever I can or I will blow a tantrum all over my section of the plane. I stood my ground with them despite their puppy dog eyes and eventual muttered shouting. Don't question 'muttered shouting', we all know what that means. Then I watched He's Just Not That Into You, and I cried....because sometimes I am an emotional idiot. The little jewish one that wore the pants in the relationship (the woman) asked me if my ukulele was a tennis racket. Yes, I told her. It is. I am on Scholarship. I only said this because she was just asking to be polite. As soon as she had said the words she had moved on to something else. I regret nothing.

I made it to Astoria.....although I exited the airport too soon and lost track of any air train, so I took a cab :( BOO on CABS! Not this trip---I can't be dropping $40 on a cab from or to anywhere. But perhaps I can justify a splurge to kick things off. A champagne bottle of transportation.....which makes me think i should have just taken a damn limo. But that ain't my style.

I meet with Gabriella and John tomorrow night for drinks. Until then I may wander the Natural History Museum. Fantastic. It will be so interesting to finally be able to meet my friends in person. Eek!

p.s. I have been given another shot of tequila, on the house. May I reccomend Time Cafe for all your tequila needs. Super cute.