He Smiles When I Need Him

You know, i got Mr. Camel back in New Year's and i still haven't named him. He just hangs around on my bookshelf - without judgement he watches me as i make countless mistakes and refuse to clean my very chaotic messy room. Thank you Mr. Camel...soon i will think of a the bestest name for you.

I Knew I Was Adopted

When i was little my sister always teased that i was adopted. Looking at these pictures of my sister and my cousin Emil i think she has a point.


Brother and Sister?

Can't. Help. Myself. Must Link.

Bucky just looks too cute with the two party hats on his head.
I heart his attitude to birthday presents as well.

Ambivalence

A few while ago i found myself walking from a very late dinner with one friend to meeting two other friends for dancing and drinking. My get up wasn't too provocative a simple red dress with a black top and one inch heels. Hardly a tawdry looking number. And yet while walking for several blocks i got at least two cat calls. Hey baby, looking fiiiine. And there lied the confusion. Sure i was annoyed (and little bit scared since walking alone at two o'clock in the morning is not the brightest idea), but part of me was secretly flattered. Here i was acknowledged as desired but it was the lowliest of kind of desire. The elemental that is vital to our survival yet which we reject on the basis of its pedestrian nature. This ambivalence always reminds me of the Denise Levertov poem The Mutes. The last three lines always get me.

The Mutes

Those groans men use
passing a woman on the street
or on the steps of the subway

to tell her she is a female
and their flesh knows it,

are they a sort of tune,
an ugly enough song, sung
by a bird with a slit tongue

but meant for music?

Or are they the muffled roaring
of deafmutes trapped in a building that is
slowly filling with smoke?

Perhaps both.

Such men most often
look as if groan were all they could do,
yet a woman, in spite of herself,

knows it's a tribute:
if she were lacking all grace
they'd pass her in silence:

so it's not only to say she's
a warm hole. It's a word

in grief-language, nothing to do with
primitive, not an ur-language;
language stricken, sickened, cast down

in decrepitude. She wants to
throw the tribute away, dis-
gusted, and can't,


it goes on buzzing in her ear,
it changes the pace of her walk,
the torn posters in echoing corridors


spell it out, it
quakes and gnashes as the train comes in.
Her pulse sullenly

had picked up speed,
but the cars slow down and
jar to a stop while her understanding

keeps on translating:
'Life after life after life goes by

without poetry,
without seemliness,
without love.'

Relief

It's one of the best feelings to come out on the other side of the crush, to weather the storm of my emotions and allow reason to rule for once. Like a long hot fever finally breaking, a breath of relief comes over me. I am no longer your slave. Suddenly my cheecks don't burn at the mere utter of his name or the curve of his long-studied lips stop producing those butterflies in my stomach. I get up and brush my skirt with one swift motion, hold my head high, and leave the room. It's good to be free.

Everybody Is Working For The Weekend

Sometimes i find myself thinking that maybe i would be better off being born in a earlier decade or a whole different time period all together. But then i look at all the lovely toys i have (camera, computer, unlimited supply of hot water, my car, etc.) and i realize how happy i am to have been born when i was.

Going into work today (which i don't particularly dread or like) i was thinking when and where would like to have worked if i had a choice. The first thing that popped up were the 1950's, strange huh? But how cool would it be if i was a man living in Manhattan, being some powerful exec, and going to lunch drinking huge amounts of martinis or whatever cosmopolitan men drank back then. Coming back to work slapping my secretary on the ass (the one i was having an affair with, obviously). And smoking a nice cigar while giving vague instructions to the underlings.

This made me think of Revolutionary Road, a fantastic novel set in New York in the 1950's about what else - a bored ad executive and the unraveling of his and his wife's dreams as they settle into suburbia and have 2.5 kids. Really worth the read - it's actually quite a devastating novel a sort of The Great Gatsby for the 1950's. The American Dream gone horribly wrong - Richard Yates' writing is strong and consuming. Worth checking out.

OK, maybe i'll re-think the whole dream job.

Update: Inspired by my post, i decided to head to one of the trendy South Boston cafes in the neighborhood i work in. And although i didn't get a martini, i did get a very strong g&t (at least that's how i ordered it) - i am feeling the effects already - wohoo, i love being of the drinking age - now all i need is to go find me a sexy ass to slap. That is all.

Following Your Calling

Last night i saw a recent graduate of Vassar and one of my closest friends - D. On greeting him i joked on the proper way of calling him - his still a bachelor and not yet a master - the more things change the more they stay the same, i thought. Let's just say that D. has a reputation with the ladies. What's amazing about him is the is that he is not a player - his approach to women is genuine and well meaning - and i think this is why the guy gets so much play. He's not afraid to get shut down, sure it doesn't feel nice to be rejected but most of the time he doesn't, specifically because of his willingness to try and the honesty he approaches the situations. D. is no Greek Adonis, yet he has this way of completely disarming you with his easy going manner and understated confidence. In high school (and now) he was this short guy with a crazy Jew fro - not the typical High School stud - but he always had a girlfriend or at least a girl to hook-up with. Things didn't change at college - besides he went to Vassar, the hedonistic capital of the college world.
It was nice to catch up and spend sometime with someone who really knows you. And what does one talk about with someone they know really well (or not that well)? Sex. At some point we got on the topic of cunnilingus, D. very earnestly recounted a recent encounter with a cute Asian girl (ed. note someone has a slight fetish in that department). It seems the girl has never been pleasured properly.
- You would not believe how many men don’t know how to properly go down on a girl!
- Um, I think I have a rough idea…
- I mean half time I’m with a girl is just to go down on her, it’s so hot to see her squirm with pleasure.
- Really? Just going down?
- I’ve been with so many girls who have never been eaten out well. Most of the time guys don't know what the heck they are doing down there, they slobber all over and they think they're done. There such pleasure in giving her pleasure. There's a fine art to it. You know I really need to teach class on this. I think I would be really good at it. Too bad Vassar never offered a course in female orgasm and cunnilingus – I think with all my, ah, field research, I would have been a good candidate to teach it.
- Hmm, I think you missed your calling.

Boston Common

Boston Common, originally uploaded by approachingchaos.

I had a few minutes to kill before meeting some people in early May. The day had been grey and plain yucky. But then suddenly the sun came out - setting the tops of buildings ablaze. Reminded me of the beautiful evenings in Edinburgh, except Arthur's Seat was replaced by brownstones. Who would have thought the financial district could look so romantic?

Memeing I Will Go

Candy in her sweetness passed along another questionnaire. And since i lately have not been inspired to write anything new or original i'll give you my two cents.
Total size of music files on my computer: Like Candy - not a clue. Probably no more than 1 GB.

The last CD I bought was: Beatles for Sale, i realized it was the only Beatles cd missing from my collection (heresy). I also "borrowed" Kylie Mingogue's Fever, it's a bit embarrassing but we at Petitedov believe in truth. I really need to go shopping for music. My collection has become a bit stale.

Song playing right now in iTunes on my computer: Dresden by St. Jude's Infirmary. An amazing Scottish band my friend manages. I am bit obsessed with this song, it's been more than five months and i still listen to it incessantly.

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me: Both! Since I don't get to answer the others.

LISTEN A LOT (RIGHT NOW):
1. Let Go - Frou Frou
2. Wasted and Ready - Ben Kweller
3. The Holiday Song- Caroline Date
4. Auf Achse - Franz Ferdinand
5. Jesus - Velvet Underground (actually the whole damn album)
6. Y prerodi net plohoj pogodi (In nature there is no such thing as bad weaher.)

EVOKE A LOT:
1. Save Me - Aimee Mann
2. Cathedrals - Jump Little Children
3. Between the Bars - Elliott Smith
4. Asleep and Dreaming - The Magnetic Fields
5. Do You Realize - Flaming Lips

Five people to whom I'm passing the baton:
I want to see what Murph is listening to right now - he writes well about music and he has almost convinced me to go and buy the new Aimee Mann cd.
C because she says her music taste is more popular than most - also she hasn't done the other meme i tagged her with. I'm not afraid to call her slacker. Slacker!
Writersbloc once complained of running out of space on her ipod. Let's see what she actually has on there. (I promise last one, W).
Also Esther, because i might know her preference for dating and films, but in the music department she's a mystery.
Jessica so i can steal the music she loves next time i visit.
Anyone else who would like to share their music profile especially people without blogs, (ahem Mike / Bobby) . Music talk is fun.

Basically My Room...

without the moving part. One of these weekends i will stay home and clean. Ya right.

Love That Lasts Forever?

The shelf life of love always fascinated me. It was always odd to me to think that people i once adored and cared for floated away from my life only to become glimpses in the fog. There is a great line in Hey Ya by Outkast
If what they say is nothing is forever,
Then what makes
Love the exception?
Is love the exception?
I remember my first serious break up. Her name was Liz - we had an intense six months relationship. She was everything i wasn't - lanky, sexy, and out of control. Every week she had another solaticious tale to tell me about the guy she blew behind the Starbucks or dancing all night long in a cage while high on E.
"Petitedov," she would say looking me straight into my eyes, "don't ever have sex when you're on e."
She was full of worldly wisdom. My virgin self would keep this in mind for a long time - hoping that maybe her bad ass behavior would transcend onto me. I couldn't understand why she wanted to be my friend. I wasn't beautiful, punk boys weren't chasing me or bedding me, i didn't even smoke pot. I was awkward and lonely, i read a lot - i liked talking to adults, what did she see in me?
So i should not have been surprised when she stopped talking to me. But I was. I was hurt and stunned. I agonized for months my love for her burning me. And then one day i woke up and realized how much i really disliked her, besides the occasional "shocking" details i found her to be boring and shallow.
Then there was my first romantic relationship - to put it simply he was an asshole. I know people say that all the time about their exes but in this case it is not just an opinion it's practically a fact. I cringe thinking he was ever a part of my life. It was the classic case of girl with not enough self-esteem meets Jack Ass and falls madly in love even though he treats her like shit. Suffice to say he broke up with me. A year went by before i could truly hate him and then let hate turn into indifference. You can't really have hate without love. The two emotions are very closely entwined, to hate is to care. And if you care than "it" or "they" have power over you.
So where did my love for him(and her) go? Why didn't it last forever? And can love last forever?
I have a few theories - coming soon in the next post.

What A Difference A Few Decades Make

I recently saw ''À Tout de Suite,'' set in 1975 Paris it follows Lili, a bored bourgeois nineteen year-old art student, as she falls in love with a mysterious French Moroccan, Bada. His mystery is quickly shattered when it turns out that Bada is a bank robber – (although, a bank robber with Robin Hood ideals that turn sour when he kills a guard). Lili decides to join her lover and his accomplice (and his girlfriend), on the run from the police. Romanticizing the adventure and calling herself a “bandette,” while Bada is horrified and disillusioned from his actions. Ultimately, Lili is abandoned and encounters a series of strangers who's kindest she must depend upon in order to survive.
The film is shot in black and white and is interspersed with documentary footage of busy streets of Paris and other locales the couple ends up visiting on the run. It mostly focuses on the kind of desperate romantic love (that i hope to never experience again) and the loss of innocence. Basically it's your typical French movie - not a lot is said or done, lesbian love scenes and menage-a-trois abound, and intense close ups of Lili’s face and full lips fill the screen for half the movie. Worth checking out if you’re into that kind of thing (which i am).
When i was describing the movie to DS, he of course pointed to the obvious that the film sounds a lot like and homage to Goddard’s classic, Breathless. On a whim i looked up the original review of Breathless. I was surprised by the moralizing and cautionary tone of the review. It’s quite amusing – the film critic making a big deal of the disaffected youth and the hedonistic culture- I wonder what kind of review would “À Tout de Suite,'' generate?

A Mystery or Self-Loathing Part 271

Why is it the people that i most dislike, remind me so much of myself?

It Must Be Said

Too long i have been hearing people bash Catcher in the Rye and other Salinger work. I love Salinger - i don't care if you think Holden is a whiny bitch or Franny and Zooey are way too self absorbed pseudo-intellectuals spouting Eastern platitudes or if there something wrong with a book that psychos choose to carry around while trying to assassinate people.
Have you read Salinger's writing? The man can write about dog poop and i would still defend him and re-read him. I read Catcher in the Rye in seventh grade - i was in love with Holden and his hate for the phonies for 3.5 years. But that's not why i am defending the book, look i don't want to marry Holden or discuss deep important things with Franny - i do however adore re-reading For Esme, With Love and Squalor or A Perfect Day for Bananafish. The man can in 1.5 sentences reveal so much about a character, situation, motivation - what it takes most writers 25 pages to do. I'm writing from work - so this post is lame and without examples. Maybe tonight there will be an update with examples of the gorgeous writing.

Post inspired by Sara's post (and other comments and conversations i have observed recently). With who i mostly agree and find a fantastic writer in her own right.

MIT was after me, you know. Wanted me to Rule the world for them.

I love the film Help!, i quote it all the time. I find all the sight gags and clever puns hilarious. The problem? Well most people have never seen Help! and don't know it from Magical Mystery Tour. (Believe me, big difference between the two, like a comprehensible script and good acting). I quoted Professor Foot the other day in the comment section -
"With a ring like that I could - dare I say it? - rule the world. " - brilliant i thought, until i realized no one would get the reference to this cooky scientist trying to take over the world via the Beatles. So i guess what i'm saying is, if you haven't seen the movie - go see it, then you can all get my clever references. Even if you're not a Beatles fan the jokes work on other levels. So check it out.

And speaking of quotable movies. Gib quotes one of the best loved and known movies of all time - by one of the best characters of all time. (I personally think it should be made into a weekly segment on the blog.) Check out entries 1, 2, 3, and 4. Finally pop culture put to a good use - ridiculing asshole politicians.
Seriously i use, "I am Inigo Montoya you killed my father prepare to whatever i want!" All the time.

The Tally

Four salad bowls full of lettuce knocked over and spilled.
Three times car(s) almost ran me over.
Two wine glasses broken (one at Jessica's apartment - while trying to um, clean up. One while walking out of a bar where I didn't even drink).
One incident of a car backing up on me.
(Other incidence of clumsiness and total obliviousness this weekend include: metal rod stuck between my foot and sandal causing me to fall in the middle of an intersection ruining my favorite pants with tar all over them. Banging my head on the tile wall while taking a quick shower - not once but twice.)

Just another reminder of how smooth, calm, and collected I am. I am left wondering how is it that I'm still alive with only minor bruising? I think next time I'm NYC I'm bringing a helmet. Oy!

Any Takers?

So yesterday i complained about the lack of a "real" social life. So what do i do when i have a few days off? I head for NYC, where ninety percent of the people i know there are bloggers. That's the way to kick the addiction, hang out with the people you're trying to avoid. Anyway, i'm going to be in NYC tomorrow night to catch my favorite girl and her new band perform at the Lucky Cat. However, my host has this thing called a "day" job so she will be "busy" on Thursday and Friday - and although i'm pretty good at entertaining myself i wanted to ask if anyone wanted to, um, hang out - catch some cool sights, just lunch, even a movie? Entertain me, dammit.

Those Damn Annoying Jews

I loved this. I know it's a week old, but ecveryone should appreciate some good old fashioned Jew bashing. So sad i didn't grow up a gentile with manners.

She Loves You, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.

There are two (ok three) kinds of people in the world those who like going down... oh wrong post. Let's start over, there are three kinds of people - those who are Beatles fans, those who are Elvis fans, and people who think both of them are shite aka people with no taste in music.
I'm a Beatles fan. I first heard The Beatles when i was eight, the year i came to America. My Mother's sweet Italian boss gave her tape of The Beatles/ 1962-1966. And i was hooked.

So i thought i do some analysis of who was my favorite Beatle in different times in my life. I think the changes reflect not only my evolving taste in music but how i saw the world. Isn't it great to use The Beatles as your world philosophy?! I guess you can do it with anything you like - kindergarten, blow jobs, etc.

Age 8-11:
1. Paul (Paul was cute, i dug his eyes.)
2. John
3. George
4. Ringo (Although Ringo was always my favorite in Hard Days' Night)

Age 12-17:
1. John (The sarcastic humor the irrelevant interviews. Norwegian Wood, i was getting a bit more sophisticated.)
2. George
3. Paul (His sweetness was beginning to grate on me, although Why Don't We Do It in the Road was probably part of my sexual awakening, a nice surprise.)
4. Ringo

Age 18-Now:
1. George (Almost every song he wrote while in The Beatles blows my mind - both instrumentally (is that a word?) and lyrically. Also my aesthetic taste in men developed, he's hot ok!?)
2. John
3. Ringo
4. Paul (I hate his current music and his cocky persona, only good song after The Beatles: Baby I'm Amazed)

Your turn now.

Update: There are very few things i can talk about in confidence - mainly two topics myself and The Beatles. So i decided to put the post up top - because people who actually know about music (and also know how to write well about music weighed in). I have to agree with Murph that the genius of the Beatles was their unique combination.
To be honest i haven't listened to Paul's solo efforts that much - so might have been talking out of my deriere on that one. Although, I have heard his latest stuff and i don't like it.

Addiction?

How do you know you've been reading too many blogs? Does the point come when, reading a blog of someone you never met, you know exactly who and what they are talking about - in a half-assed attempt at a veiled threat. Dear Lord i think i need to get a social life.

Get Fuzzy Is Punny

What's In A Name?

I really like the name Lola - i think it's one of the sexiest names out there. This is probably the result of a mix of my love for Nobokov's Lolita (just the first paragraph gives me chills: Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.), the Kinks' Lola, and the Levi's commercial featuring the Damn Yankees' Whatever Lola Wants . *

Update: Esther reminded me of another Lola - from Run Lola Run (Lola Rennt). This chick made me want to color my hair red and learn how to run without getting winded. On a side note: I went to the first showing of Run Lola Run in Boston. I introduced all my friends to the film. I even met Tom Tykwer (very sweet man). But as my professor says, telling someone you saw/heard something first is as impressive (and useful) as dick measuring.

A few year back a friend told she wanted to name her child Lola. I didn't like the name at the time, but even then i associated with sensuality, it was weird to think of a baby possessing it. This was the kind of name that needed to be shouted from sweat drenched sheets not whispered into a pristine baby crib.

So there is the dilemma name your child a name that later would prove irresistible or make it cute a cuddly forever.

Names have personalities, especially girl names. Bethany and Martha are prune eating, plastic hoody wearing, old names. My name in Russian totally falls into this category - an old-spinster-aunt name. From time to time i'll get some fourth generation Russian/Polish American person tell me, i share the name with their great-aunt from the Old Country. How flattering, thanks Mom and Dad.

Then there are the prissy names the Ashlies and Victorias of the world. White trash stripper names like Trixie. Black pride names like Shanequa. WASPy names like Megan and Jennifer (fun fact, in 1983 Jennifer was the most popular girl's name in America, Boys - Mike). Jewish names like Rachel and Rebecca. You get the picture.

I also despise naming the child the same name as the parents. There are thousands of names in the world, pick one that doesn't require Jr. after it.

So does choosing the name of your child based on the later attractive qualities of the name seem a little bit fucked up? Or the fact that i think a name is sexy because of how a pedophile described his love for nymphite? I don't know, but i think "Lola" will be my chosen pseudonym as of now.

*Although Barry Manilow's Copacabana threatens to ruin all romance with the name.

Things To Remember

Sometimes you have to remind yourself that your job as a friend is not always to be the cheerleader. A sobering thought, when you feel like every time you hear your friends' problems you need offer a stupid generic form of advice. It's a hard realization that you can't always help or save the people you love. Sometimes you listen and nod in agreement about how much things suck.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

I received this e-mail from my favorite boys at MIT:

That's right folks... Today we celebrate the great holiday of CINCO
DE MAYO... the commemoration of General Ignaclo Zaragoza's winning
the Battle of Pueble over the French who were desperately trying to
take over Mexico.

General Zaragiza's victory calls for massive celebration and chaos!!
Let us join, my brothers and sisters, and be happy that Mexico is not
French!! Let us be thankful that Anna's Taqueria doesn't serve
smelly cheese and wine!! Dienu. Let us be thankful that the cute
dog on TV says "Yo Quiro Taco Bell!" rather than "Je voudrais Taco
Bell!" Dienu. Let us be thankful for Mexico's drug trade with the
US. Without Mexican marijuana, Steer Roast could not have happened.
Dienu.

Ah, the mixing of cultures is this what America is all about?

Question

Is drunk blogging bad? Because i'm being really, really bad right now. I know i should spill some juicy details about my life or at least tell you my favorite sexual position but i think i still have some restraint. I will admit to leaving two horribly mispelled comments on blogs who know me personally. If you haven't checked it out, my "favorite" strip joint aka the only one (in America) i've been to is closing down. So sad. No more extreme lap dances. But then again that might be a good thing. I guess three very strong martinis in one hour is a bad thing. Can't wait for the hangover tomorrow.
Nighty, night folks. Oh, and check out Life Goes Off for fabulous book reviews.
Song of the moment: "Ho" by Ludicris. "Why you think you take a ho to a hotel?" alternative Brigheyes - "A Song To Pass The Time"
This weather has me wanting love more tangible. Something I can hold because it's getting cold.

Shallow Lessons Learned This Weekend

* Listening to Kylie Minogue can make me feel better. (My gay friends were right. I am a gay man trapped in a girl's body)

* If you don't want go somewhere badly enough your body will make itself sick.

* Blogging on the weekend can be seen as uncool.

* Talking about blogging with non-blogging friends makes you doubly uncool.

* There something to be said about a watermelon. Mainly, it's the perfect snack food.

* Waking is better than sleeping. (Ok, I just stole that from a tv show, but it applies so well to my weekend i can't help but stealing it.)

* I miss having my own personal bathroom. ("two more weeks, two more weeks" mantra seems not to be helping)

* why do i even waste my time scribbling words down about my life when David Sedaris exists? favorite story from his latest efforts "Repeat After Me"

* no matter how sick a person is and how out of their mind, the insensitive remarks still hurt

* i cannot turn off my heart, but it would be nice to have an on/off switch from time to time