Friday, August 01, 2003
five for friday

five new york memories

1. winter 1998 - slipping in the ice with beth on prince street, our hands full of christmas shopping, both of us laughing too hard to get up.
2. fall 1999 - driving in manhattan for the first time, kate telling me to simply roll down the windows, turn up the radio, and drive by instinct. true advice.
3. early spring 2003 - otto's pizzeria, watching the protest in WSq, drinks on hudson and cupcakes at magnolia with stephanie,
ful, and jw.
4. spring 2003 - the whitney, hot chocolate in the park, grey's papaya, and krispy creme donuts, with jw, talking and laughing and walking arm-in-arm.
5. summer 2003 - last weekend. friday night party for ful, saturday morning brunch at the mercer with stephanie and shiv, saturday afternoon barbeque at jeb's. friends, beer, laughter.

five food+drink i couldn't live without

1. black coffee - mornings, afternoons, evenings.
2. feijao e arroz - brasilian style black beans and rice. my soul's food.
3. cupcakes - the universe's answer to heartache, and a little piece of heaven.
4. queso - a nice warm bowl of texas-style queso, late nights, in austin.
5. beer - what better answer is there to a hot day?

five loves i'll never forget

1. s - my sweet sixteen boyfriend. my first time. crazy, but loved.
2. a - my first serious boyfriend. not sure why i loved him, but i sure as hell did.
3. m - the only ex i still adore. funny. sweet. loyal.
4. mb - empirically, the best sex of my life, but the most unattainable man alive.
5. c - holds stubborn claim on my heart. still greatly loved, despite everything.

...and five i wish i could!

1. d - arrogant middle-school boyfriend for whom i was nonetheless smitten, leaving my friends with a lot of embarassing ammo to this day.
2. f - my first encounter with a living breathing asshole. scars fading but still evident.
3. s - one night stand turned horribly sour. left me with funny stories about having sex in my parent's car, though.
4. mg - crazy. crazy crazy CRAZY. on the other hand, sex machine. like my mother famously said, "sometimes, you've got to fuck a scumbag."
5. p - nicknamed by my friends 'roly poly sensitive'. seriously the strangest blind date i've ever had.

five secret dreams for the future

1. become famously brilliant attorney fighting for gay rights, preferably working at firm like lambda legal.
2. write wonderfully inquisitive and thought-provoking book about my mother's family in brasil. stories that shock and amaze. murder, incest, suicide and catholicism! avoid getting subsequently whacked by angry mob of family.
3. raise beautiful children in my parent's house in providence. have martha stewart life i now mock all the time, but secretly want anyway.
4. start travelling right now and never stop ever. destinations include: fiji, peru, alaska, finland, siberia, nepal, mongolia, portugal, new zealand, and tierra del fuego.
5. invent something, win the lottery, or wed prince harry.

what are some of your favorite foods? exes? dreams?

love, krissa .... 6:12 PM ... link!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, July 30, 2003
why saturday rocked the house

beer, cigarettes, friends, sun, and laughter.
moments like this.

[photo: shiv and i.]

love, krissa .... 12:54 AM ... link!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

i never had my own idols.

when exactly did this TWEEN bullshit start? when i was thirteen, i sat around depressed and wailed about how no one out there understood me, like every other self-respecting teenager. then i went to the mall and stuffed my skinny little body full of high-fat, high-sugar treats and complained to my friends about how totally un-cool my parents were.

when i was twelve, thirteen, fourteen, i WASN'T a tween. i didn't have pop stars only two years older than me whose biggest problems on their TV shows was when two cute boys both asked them out. i had claire danes and kurt cobain and SMASHING PUMPKINS for crying out loud. it's amazing our generation is as ... well ... ALIVE as we are.

my point is [insert grouchy old man voice here] these teens these days, they're just too PAMPERED and PANDERED to. excuse me, did i say teens? i meant TWEENS.

love, krissa .... 12:15 AM ... link!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Tuesday, July 29, 2003
but i mean...

... you've only come so far when you hear a strain of
this song at the deli and your throat gets tight.

love, krissa .... 12:49 AM ... link!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Monday, July 28, 2003
a loss in five stages

first, there was Excited. he was arriving, something i'd been waiting for a long time. he was the highlight of my day from thousands of miles away. his was the face i saw at my side for baseball games, slow-cooked winter meals, studying for law school, riding on the subway. these were the things we'd discussed, the things we'd hoped for together, the affection we'd openly shared with each other. and so, for months, his was the face i saw. i told myself not to, i staved off Excitement, i told her to 'wait and see' but before i fell asleep, in that period where you know you can't fool yourself and midnight brings on the greatest truths in the deepest corners, i knew Excitement had me in its grasps. Excited was looking in the mirror and feeling flawless. it felt like cooking your first thanksgiving dinner. Excited was the butterflies in your stomach at the top of rollercoasters.

then there was Insecurity. i'd forgotten, through the days and weeks he'd been gone, how vulnerable i was to his every mood swing, to his every glance. as soon as he was home it seemed he was already shying away from me. i wanted to think i was imagining it, but i knew him too well not to know when he was backing away slowly, backing away from me. Insecurity was dropping a strawberry ice cream cone on the sidewalk. Insecurity felt like falling out of bed in the middle of the night. Insecurity meant walking on sinking rocks across a long river.

then there was Realization. the realization that he wasn't happy and it didn't have anything to do with me but it was in my path and i was going to run headlong into his unhappiness and it was going to hurt me whether he wanted it to or not. he kept telling me i was taking his life personally and it was all i could do not to yell out, what else would you have me do, after all the things you said?! but Realization stopped me from saying all the things i wanted to say. Realization told me, he's not going to listen to you. he's lashing out. better to let him be. Realization was cold water running down your back. Realization felt like waking up from a nightmare about giant cats to find a giant cat in your room.

then there was Fury. Fury felt good, after all the drowning helplessness of Insecurity and Realization. Fury came blasting through the saloon doors, guns firing. Fury whispered in my ear all the tiny, nearly-invisible ways he'd hurt me since his return, and Fury made it easy for me to stop crying. Fury was what it felt like to be a woman scorn'd. Fury took each little disappointment i'd experienced, each thing that hadn't gone as planned, and whipped me into a frenzy. Fury was the crack of a homerun baseball. Fury felt like finally ripping off a bandaid. Fury was the euphoria you feel when you've just run a red light and escaped death one more time.

then there was Honesty. Honesty was the hardest, honesty took the longest. Honesty required the most of me, for she's a demanding mistress. Honesty quietly strode into the room at the eleventh hour, when I'd exhausted every other means of expression. Honesty didn't have props or gimmicks. Honesty sat me down and said, you have too long allowed his behavior to make you a cringing wallflower or a furious neurotic. you are strong, and you have nothing more to use but this. and i did. i walked up to the final act, to that rushed and unfair goodbye, with clarity. it felt hard, being that honest, laying down that blame, and not being able to soothe him with tired and near-meaningless promises of how much i love him. it hurt to see in his eyes that he knew he'd disappointed me. it panged to hear him say he was sorry, because i so desperately wished it could have gone another way, that he wouldn't have had to apologize, that i never would have lost any faith in this love. but i said my part in a clear, loud voice. and in exchange, Honesty gave me a salve, a soothing balm, where i don't regret and i'm not angry. Honesty felt like a clean shower. Honesty was making eye contact with a proud horse and holding its gaze. Honesty felt just right.

love, krissa .... 8:24 PM ... link!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

i'm turning in my hipster passport. wait, you say i never had one?

down with williamsburg!

love, krissa .... 6:51 PM ... link!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Site Meter This page is powered by Blogger. Is yours?