texas was perfect and worth it and i got back, dove head first onto the ground and into reporting. dangerously close to something big, but we'll see tomorrow how it pans out.
i should/could be writing some of it up right now but i think i'll just zone out instead, save it until tomorrow, dream on it and then hit it with maximum impact tomorrow.
plus i'm tired
my fingers is tired
my brain is too
so it's an early night of sleep.
learning these social media tricks, these deep-web searches, these background searches... reminds me (makes super clear) that i've got all sorts of wild shit out there. but i can't help it man, gotta live. even if that means babybirding out of a beer bong and having my mom stumble on the photo.
at least the video was emailed. and if it resurfaces in ten years, then this should too.
LIGHTEN UP GUYS! it ain't that serious. at least not in 2010 it's not.
the future is all speculation. but it's feeling pretty good.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
“Desire is the diamond ring on the finger of eternity.”
The hand-painted façade of Port 41, scrawled with these words, beckons to the few stragglers who make their way down the alley next to the Port Authority on 41st Street near 9th Avenue.
Mostly the passersby are mailmen, pushing mailbags like wheelbarrows down the nearly empty block toward their warehouse. They ignore the signs.
Others are stragglers who come from the bus. Maybe their eyes light on the awning’s signs first. POOL. Or the other one. BIKINI.
A man stands outside puffing a Newport. “Why not?” he calls after someone who looks intrigued as they pass by.
He ducks back in, away from the cold, unbuttons his jacket. The girl at the bar is indeed in a bikini. Leopard print. A man sips a PBR tallboy and calls her “Maria” when he orders another.
The bar counter is red, with a dinged-up wooden edge, and there’s a sticker plastered on the cash register that says “Down By My Sins.”
The smoker from outside orders another. PBR is his drink as well. Maria bends over the trough full of ice to fetch the tallboy, and everyone peeks at the appealing curve of her ass.
Maria has a slight accent, light brown hair, kind eyes.
A sign near the bar lists “No sleeping anywhere in this bar” as one of its rules. The Newport smoker tells the other PBR drinker that he looks stressed out.
“Shit happens,” he says. “Welcome to the club.”
There are only men in the bar, besides Maria.
“I was critiqued!” A man yells on the TV at Dr. Phil, in response to a pointed question about why he felt he could sleep with other women, but not his wife. Maria changes the channel to a recap of the Giants’ win.
An older man in a black coat limps in on a cane. His Chuck Taylors are an unusual match with the rest of his outfit, which is distinguished, understated. The Chuck Taylors must be the key to why this man is here, in the Port 41 at 3 pm on a Tuesday.
His phone rings as he slides into a stool, and he answers it.
“House of Pain!” he shouts into the receiver. Maria smiles. She’s sitting carefully on the counter behind the bar, so as not to make any creases in her stomach. She fiddles with a personal-sized heater that’s directed at her legs.
The man with the Chuck Taylors hangs up the phone. “Well ain’t that a bunch of shit.”
He nods at Maria and limps out for a cigarette. His smokes are Marlboro Lights.
Mostly the passersby are mailmen, pushing mailbags like wheelbarrows down the nearly empty block toward their warehouse. They ignore the signs.
Others are stragglers who come from the bus. Maybe their eyes light on the awning’s signs first. POOL. Or the other one. BIKINI.
A man stands outside puffing a Newport. “Why not?” he calls after someone who looks intrigued as they pass by.
He ducks back in, away from the cold, unbuttons his jacket. The girl at the bar is indeed in a bikini. Leopard print. A man sips a PBR tallboy and calls her “Maria” when he orders another.
The bar counter is red, with a dinged-up wooden edge, and there’s a sticker plastered on the cash register that says “Down By My Sins.”
The smoker from outside orders another. PBR is his drink as well. Maria bends over the trough full of ice to fetch the tallboy, and everyone peeks at the appealing curve of her ass.
Maria has a slight accent, light brown hair, kind eyes.
A sign near the bar lists “No sleeping anywhere in this bar” as one of its rules. The Newport smoker tells the other PBR drinker that he looks stressed out.
“Shit happens,” he says. “Welcome to the club.”
There are only men in the bar, besides Maria.
“I was critiqued!” A man yells on the TV at Dr. Phil, in response to a pointed question about why he felt he could sleep with other women, but not his wife. Maria changes the channel to a recap of the Giants’ win.
An older man in a black coat limps in on a cane. His Chuck Taylors are an unusual match with the rest of his outfit, which is distinguished, understated. The Chuck Taylors must be the key to why this man is here, in the Port 41 at 3 pm on a Tuesday.
His phone rings as he slides into a stool, and he answers it.
“House of Pain!” he shouts into the receiver. Maria smiles. She’s sitting carefully on the counter behind the bar, so as not to make any creases in her stomach. She fiddles with a personal-sized heater that’s directed at her legs.
The man with the Chuck Taylors hangs up the phone. “Well ain’t that a bunch of shit.”
He nods at Maria and limps out for a cigarette. His smokes are Marlboro Lights.
cold is coming.
texas country's on, that's almost all i feel like hearing these days. waylon.
i'm in my old chap soccer hoodie and i'm drinkin chamomile tea. it's just starting to get cold now. this week i've been playing catch up for all the fun i had last weekend, when i didn't do anything but enjoy my best friends' company. ash and jed are my fam.
now the apartment is a cesspool and i'm running behind on all this week's assignments. hopefully by tomorrow night, when i get out of class, i will be on the side of the winners again.
this running behind is exhausting.
i talked to kel tonight, and her and ferrick are in love, and it fills my heart with happiness to hear it. she asked me how things were going besides school. i told her, there really isn't much besides school.
after the election, my brother will be ousted into his next phase. it's disappointing in a way, but exciting in another way.. because he's got all the things he needs to do all sorts of awesome things.
this weekend i'm going to the turkish bath. i'm going to clean everything, and make my home a cozy place for the winter. I think I'll buy some sweaters, too, and possibly a space heater. i'm just wondering if my heat will ever come on? my landlord says it's like a sauna in here when the heat comes on and maybe that's why he hasn't turned it on yet. the other day i woke up and it was 38 degrees and the apartment was like a freezer.
i'm a woman of the desert. turn the fuckin heater on.
i'm gonna make it through this winter. no telling just yet how hard it will be.
i'm in my old chap soccer hoodie and i'm drinkin chamomile tea. it's just starting to get cold now. this week i've been playing catch up for all the fun i had last weekend, when i didn't do anything but enjoy my best friends' company. ash and jed are my fam.
now the apartment is a cesspool and i'm running behind on all this week's assignments. hopefully by tomorrow night, when i get out of class, i will be on the side of the winners again.
this running behind is exhausting.
i talked to kel tonight, and her and ferrick are in love, and it fills my heart with happiness to hear it. she asked me how things were going besides school. i told her, there really isn't much besides school.
after the election, my brother will be ousted into his next phase. it's disappointing in a way, but exciting in another way.. because he's got all the things he needs to do all sorts of awesome things.
this weekend i'm going to the turkish bath. i'm going to clean everything, and make my home a cozy place for the winter. I think I'll buy some sweaters, too, and possibly a space heater. i'm just wondering if my heat will ever come on? my landlord says it's like a sauna in here when the heat comes on and maybe that's why he hasn't turned it on yet. the other day i woke up and it was 38 degrees and the apartment was like a freezer.
i'm a woman of the desert. turn the fuckin heater on.
i'm gonna make it through this winter. no telling just yet how hard it will be.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
people gon spray no mater what.
Okay, when i get to huffington post and the human resources association in google before i get to my blog... it's time to write a blog.
tipsy off whiskeys. and after a great (and long) fucking day.
i really just dig my professors and dig the way they are pushing me out of my comfort zone. once i realized that that's truly what it is, and not just general punkassness, it's easier for me to see the benefit to me of doing it their way.
if i hold onto myself, it can only make me stronger.
i feel like i'm on the cusp of something big. i think the skills are coming together. and that, honestly, feels awesome.
charles has a worm or something, but she's on antibiotics and i think she's a-ok. she charmed the pants off all the vet staff.
i really miss ashley and sanja and charmaine and i just want to have a damn beer with them, or a sleepover. i'm so glad i got to be back in vegas before i came here, because i treasure that time i had with my genuine, 100-percent-down life support. and having the time to be there for them, physically.
sometimes you just need that physical connection. life these days, and skype, and the general accessibility of everyone and everything, it's so good and it helps so much.
but it just doesn't cut it all the time, when all you want is to smoke a bowl with that person, or go shopping, or juice some veggies.
i'm just lucky as hell to have all these awesome bad ass women around me, here in the city, and in texas, and back in the desert.
yall are all still awesome. even though at least 50% of the time, you pee on the seat.
tipsy off whiskeys. and after a great (and long) fucking day.
i really just dig my professors and dig the way they are pushing me out of my comfort zone. once i realized that that's truly what it is, and not just general punkassness, it's easier for me to see the benefit to me of doing it their way.
if i hold onto myself, it can only make me stronger.
i feel like i'm on the cusp of something big. i think the skills are coming together. and that, honestly, feels awesome.
charles has a worm or something, but she's on antibiotics and i think she's a-ok. she charmed the pants off all the vet staff.
i really miss ashley and sanja and charmaine and i just want to have a damn beer with them, or a sleepover. i'm so glad i got to be back in vegas before i came here, because i treasure that time i had with my genuine, 100-percent-down life support. and having the time to be there for them, physically.
sometimes you just need that physical connection. life these days, and skype, and the general accessibility of everyone and everything, it's so good and it helps so much.
but it just doesn't cut it all the time, when all you want is to smoke a bowl with that person, or go shopping, or juice some veggies.
i'm just lucky as hell to have all these awesome bad ass women around me, here in the city, and in texas, and back in the desert.
yall are all still awesome. even though at least 50% of the time, you pee on the seat.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
get in where you fit in.
life has been coming fast.
these mondays through thursdays are like a four-part marathon. i was sitting in the health & social services committee meeting tonight in fort greene... all we were talking about were liquor licenses and all i was thinking was how much i wanted to be at the bar.
but i think i got a plausible story idea that i have until friday at 5 to complete... because i think liquor licensing is a large point in gentrification tension... or at least an outlet for it. these oldies are downright bold with each other.. it can be pretty entertaining. but a couple times i had to fight not to say something... they were trippin on these license approvals, and then at the end they casually mentioned that the owners can completely bypass their approval and it's on cursory.
that's this week's story, essentially.
the new digs are dope and i love this hood. some dude called me a snowflake tonight when i was walking home. new one. but there's an old man that sweeps in my street at night and sings the jams... he was singin tonight, and i was humming along.....
STOP! in the NAME of LOVE... before you break my heart...
think it over.
btw, a couple weeks ago i went to the coney island tattoo show, and i finished the video today for my interactive class. check it out.
these mondays through thursdays are like a four-part marathon. i was sitting in the health & social services committee meeting tonight in fort greene... all we were talking about were liquor licenses and all i was thinking was how much i wanted to be at the bar.
but i think i got a plausible story idea that i have until friday at 5 to complete... because i think liquor licensing is a large point in gentrification tension... or at least an outlet for it. these oldies are downright bold with each other.. it can be pretty entertaining. but a couple times i had to fight not to say something... they were trippin on these license approvals, and then at the end they casually mentioned that the owners can completely bypass their approval and it's on cursory.
that's this week's story, essentially.
the new digs are dope and i love this hood. some dude called me a snowflake tonight when i was walking home. new one. but there's an old man that sweeps in my street at night and sings the jams... he was singin tonight, and i was humming along.....
STOP! in the NAME of LOVE... before you break my heart...
think it over.
btw, a couple weeks ago i went to the coney island tattoo show, and i finished the video today for my interactive class. check it out.
25th Annual Coney Island Tattoo Show from Roxanna Asgarian on Vimeo.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
"it's a revelation only had on your knees."
this week has taken a toll on everybody at school. i saw three girls crying, separately, at school yesterday. honestly, this made me feel a little better about my public breakdown two days ago.
but alas! i've got a secret weapon. it's called CALL BLOCKING and you can do it right from the verizon website! i found this out today and i feel like writing them a letter.
dear verizon,
thank you for saving my sanity by allowing me to easily block motherfuckers. you have my undying support and affection.
love, rox
sigh. this is hard but i feel a lot better. honestly, it's also NOT RAINING today which i feel like helps a lot. and i got my move worked out. so YUHH.
i'm on a new roll. lets keep it comin, week. we're gonna power through.
but alas! i've got a secret weapon. it's called CALL BLOCKING and you can do it right from the verizon website! i found this out today and i feel like writing them a letter.
dear verizon,
thank you for saving my sanity by allowing me to easily block motherfuckers. you have my undying support and affection.
love, rox
sigh. this is hard but i feel a lot better. honestly, it's also NOT RAINING today which i feel like helps a lot. and i got my move worked out. so YUHH.
i'm on a new roll. lets keep it comin, week. we're gonna power through.
Friday, September 24, 2010
common search phrase here.
in interactive class yesterday, my professor starting talking to us about writing for search engine optimization.
now, this was at the end of a 6 hour day that started out 'blah blah blah' and continued in a steady stream, ending the same way.
everything he had to say about it, i hated. i feel like i am doing really well in school, and right on track, but i somehow feel like i am only half a self.
half myself.
suddenly i'm so MATURE, so RESPONSIBLE. while i welcome this in a way... it means none, or less, of that gut-wrenching 'i completely forgot' feeling... in another way it's like, where did that self i know so well go?
where is she hiding? in my dreams limas is getting mauled by bears, and i'm sexually entangled with inappropriate people, and i'm fucking in the whisper room.
i don't want to write headlines that trick algorithms into popping me up on your screen. i want to fucking say something.
i packed all day and immersed myself in old mixes, old pictures, letters. searching my brain for the spark i don't want to lose.
i worked so hard to harness the energy into focus. that's good, i'm happy with that, but can i smudge the edges a little? if i hold the energy too tight i might throttle it.
and what will happen then? i'll be writing headlines and ledes with the hottest search phrases embedded inside, waxing journalistic on blah blah blah forever.
no.
now, this was at the end of a 6 hour day that started out 'blah blah blah' and continued in a steady stream, ending the same way.
everything he had to say about it, i hated. i feel like i am doing really well in school, and right on track, but i somehow feel like i am only half a self.
half myself.
suddenly i'm so MATURE, so RESPONSIBLE. while i welcome this in a way... it means none, or less, of that gut-wrenching 'i completely forgot' feeling... in another way it's like, where did that self i know so well go?
where is she hiding? in my dreams limas is getting mauled by bears, and i'm sexually entangled with inappropriate people, and i'm fucking in the whisper room.
i don't want to write headlines that trick algorithms into popping me up on your screen. i want to fucking say something.
i packed all day and immersed myself in old mixes, old pictures, letters. searching my brain for the spark i don't want to lose.
i worked so hard to harness the energy into focus. that's good, i'm happy with that, but can i smudge the edges a little? if i hold the energy too tight i might throttle it.
and what will happen then? i'll be writing headlines and ledes with the hottest search phrases embedded inside, waxing journalistic on blah blah blah forever.
no.
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