Saturday, August 17, 2002
sigh.

floodtide had a sonnet written for him. lucky man.

k

love, krissa .... 4:49 PM ... link!

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running through my head.

we lay in the bed there
kissing just for practice
would you please be objective
Cause the other boys are queuing up behind us
A hand over my mouth
A hand over the window
Well, if I remain passive and you just want to cuddle
Then we should be ok, and we won't get into trouble
Cause we're seeing other people
At least that's what we say we are doing.
b & s

feels appropriate these days.

k


love, krissa .... 5:52 AM ... link!

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Thursday, August 15, 2002
perma-linky-goodness!

your erstwhile webby-neophyte petithiboux is certainly moving up in the html world. i figured out how to perma-link!
look,
this is where i talked about conrad leaving! and here, I got really sweet comments from flood and erin.
Wow. I rock the html casbah. now, if i could only figure out how to make my links bold and not underlined... next time, gadget.
cheers, k.

oh, but do read the previous post. i'm so funny, i knock my socks off. witty commentary abounds.

love, krissa .... 10:51 PM ... link!

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incommunicati
There are two things that make new yorkers a completely different species from the rest of the country. These two things are: housing and food.
One of the reasons I love this city is the pride new yorkers take in their chosen neighborhoods. What's really ironic about these eternal struggles is that most new yorkers live four blocks from that neighborhood they purport to despise. New yorkers care enough about their neighborhoods to engage in friendly fire about why greenpoint is better than park slope, or why murray hill is far inferior to gramercy park, or the fact that the Cup Noodle in times square is the last living vestige of the old times square and when it goes, i go.
New yorkers don't really communicate like other groups of people. It's not that age-old stereotype that new yorkers are assholes. far from it. we're just in a hurry. When a tourist near my work stops me and starts to s-l-o-w-l-y d-r-a-w-l a-b-o-u-t- w-h-e-r-e they're going, I have to restrain myself from offering to carry them to the fucking theatre unless they bloody talk a little faster.
We're not unfriendly. We're just picky. If you lived in a city with 9 million interesting people, you'd be picky too. People in the hinterland only have, like, five people in their towns. no wonder they're friendly. if they weren't, they'd die of boredom.

The other thing new yorkers get passionate about, besides their obsessive-compulsive banter about rent, doormen, and eat-in-kitchens, is food.
my friend james macnab once made the very valid point that the only thing new yorkers can communicate and connect about is Food And How To Get There.
You know you've heard it:
Guy A: I know this great deli up on ___ - you take the ___ but be sure to be at the ___ of the train and transfer to the ____ but be careful because at night it turns into the ___ and you're f__ed.
Guy B: No, No no - look, that deli stinks, for one, and even if you were going to go there, you'd take the _____ instead of the freaking _____ and then hop on the crosstown _____ and walk four blocks on the east side of street - but don't go to that deli, go to the ____ instead, and that's on the corner of _____ and W._____, so take the _____ until you get to _____ -
Complete Stranger Walking By: That's ridiculous, you should obviously take the ______ express and transfer to the local _____ but don't take the _____, besides that deli sucks. What you gotta try, this one deli on ____ two blocks from ____, been going there since i was a little kid......
ad infinitum.

And this is how lifelong friendships are formed in new york.


love, krissa .... 6:47 PM ... link!

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Wednesday, August 14, 2002
is that with two Fs?

tell me something. okay. i understand that my last name is really confusing, nothing short of completely impossible to understand, the first time round. I'm used to hearing/seeing it interpreted as Kaboris, Cabonis, Cavowris, and many, many other strange versions.
But Krissa? okay, I used to think I was the only Krissa, ever. Then, i did
this and discovered exactly how many krissas there are in this large world.
And yet, and yet, when i say my name to people on the phone - okay, I'll get to the point:

KRIFFA? I mean, let me emphasize that again, KRIFFA?
is that even a name?
C'mon people. I do not have a lisp. Clean the crap out of your ears and get it right, in a few years you'll be announcing it for such things as the Pulitzer, the Editor Of The World, and All Around Superwoman.
So get used to it.
Krissa.
see? that was easy.

point of pride: i am the only krissa cavouras on the web.

love, krissa .... 9:39 PM ... link!

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six hodgepodge points of order.

1 my dear sweet roomie, lil viva, is an immensely cool person. i think i don't realize this very often, because i live with her, and thus am sort of immune to all the ways she is a rockin' babe. last night, i got home a little tipsy from knocking back cosmos with marky mark, and she got home five minutes later. we both stripped to our underwear, started chainsmoking and talking, and we talked for two hours about everything - our love lives, our flaws, our body image, poverty, our mothers ... it was awesome.

2 i saw paul from spin city (
you know, the chubby one) on the upper west side yesterday, walking his two golden retrievers. i smiled at the dogs.

3 sarah lawrence has unceremoniously dumped me from it's email system. hence, all of you trying to write to ccavoura@slc.edu are getting your mail returned. there will be a mass mailer on the subject (sorry folks) but until then, just email me at petithiboux@aol.com.

4 i'm going home to rhode island this weekend. yay, mom and dad driving me back and forth for just one weekend. yay, being able to take my laundry home. yay, playing with kathleen and donna's new german shepherd puppy, noah (for those of ya'll that didn't know, tucker died a few weeks ago. sad.) yay, someone taking care of me, for a change.

5 also important travel news: for my birthday weekend (that's right, you heard me, birthday. saturday 31 aug. amazon wish list imminent), which is also labor day weekend, i have the distinct pleasure of travelling to the great Lone Star State for the whole weekend to visit with four of my favorite people in the entire known world - luiz the rockinest brother a girl could ask for, erwin the bestest friend ever and general 24-7 therapist, raychul the penguin spy and master of soulfulness, and mattchoo, elusive frenchman. This makes me very happy. I will eat magnolia's fantastic queso, go to lake travis and have margaritas at sunset, get stoned and walk to metro, go shopping at buffalo exchange, walk to taco cabana late at night, and generally recharge my batteries with some really awesome mind-blowing folk.

6 i forgot to shave my legs today, and i wore a skirt. eww!
that is all.
cheers,
k.

love, krissa .... 6:18 PM ... link!

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Tuesday, August 13, 2002
Vanity, Going UP!

I am not a particularly vain or insecure person. Okay, okay, I'm vain. But I'm not all that insecure. Sure, I have my moments where I am reduced to tears when trapped in the dressing-room with a particularly hideous bathing suit. But I bounce right back - hence, seeing me on the beach this summer with my teeny-weeny brasilian bikini. See? I like myself fine.
But.
I work in a building that, outside from housing my illustrious talent as a junior editor, also houses a variety of hotty fashion mags. Like Elle. and Elle Girl. Fine, those are the only two.
And at said hotty mags, there are women who are my age.
And about half my size. And you know the worst thing?
I have to ride the elevator with them!
And they have the hippest clothes!
And the teensiest waist lines!
And their unrealistically pointy shoes!
And the hippest bored expressions!
Why, even their lipstick, purchased at a trendy soho boutique, mocks my mainstream clinique makeup.

Sigh. I am not a vain or insecure person.
But those 4.5 minutes a day spent in silent proximity to such tragic hipness is really starting to take it's toll on my self esteem.
To cheer me up, you should send me some tragically pointy shoes and a peasant skirt from Deisel.
K


love, krissa .... 11:53 PM ... link!

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and here come the waterworks again.

what is wrong with me?
I don't even know
this one and yet, today, meandering around the pages of the diaryland sect, I found his odes to the recently departed seastreet - i realized this stranger was the person who so desperately called my apartment, looking for seastreet, and I read this entry and then this older one (which mentions me!) .....
and well, there came the waterworks.
I guess he's really gone, huh.
When're you coming back, C?
cheers,
k

love, krissa .... 5:56 PM ... link!

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Monday, August 12, 2002
bold. simple. new.

for some reason (perhaps earlier references to end of era) it felt like redesign day. i was getting tired of the blue.
there are a few little glitches to clean up. on the whole, i like it, don't you?
cheers,
k


love, krissa .... 2:26 AM ... link!

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Sunday, August 11, 2002
one goes out, they all go out.

you know how at a party, when you're all having fun, and then someone decides that it's time to head home, and then all of a sudden, there's this mass exodus and everyone's saying their goodbyes and leaving you all alone?
that's how i feel.
first, beth and josh have gone to california for two weeks.
and matt left for france for three weeks.
and
conrad, well shit, he really left the party. and the continent. i know, i know, i mentioned this already, blah blah blah. bear with me, since ful gave him such a nice farewell and got me all teary-eyed (he does say NEVER MIND like that, ful).
I just never thought conrad would leave. i don't know, something about the whole tck* thing, we were on the same page about new york. we were both somewhat homeless, we'd been trucked around unwillingly our whole lives with mixed results, and we'd both gravitated to this city. we'd both made it our own. we'd claimed it, threw down our little stick-and-bundles and said, here. I'm staying right bloody here and no one can make me leave.it was the first home i chose for myself. him too. we were both proud of this adopted love we'd managed to form for new york.

and for all the umpteens of crap we've been through together, the early failed attempts at tenuous friendship, two crazy ex-friends (one more scarring than the other), the phoenix, nerve, fiction class, picking him up at the buttasscrack of dawn for class, getting coerced over IM into going to the diner at goddamn thirty in the morning, or macdonald's, sleeping in the same bed many times, smoking about a million cigarettes and talking about books for hours on end, playing four-digit scrabble tournaments, arguing over each other's ridiculous love lives.... for whatever reason, we've formed some sort of pact, like war buddies or something. we're honest with each other, even when it's hard to say, and we stay friends even when we want to kill each other. he's like a brother.
i guess i just never thought he wouldn't be here.
and of course nothing will change, and we'll talk all the time, and we'll still discuss books and we'll still make fun of each other's love lives and i'll still worry that he's eating enough and sleeping enough.

it just, i don't know. something's changed.
new york has somehow changed for me.
now, sarah lawrence feels like a really long time ago.

cheers,
k

*tck - for those of ya'll that don't know, it's "third culture kids": growing up in a culture that's neither our mother's nor our father's. you know. "i was in africa", that kind of thing.

love, krissa .... 7:01 PM ... link!

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