Archive for September, 2008


Posted in Uncategorized on September 29, 2008 by Anoush

I laughed in the middle of a scene yesterday. Broke character, aka fucked up the scene (or made it better, more real) who knows. Long story short, I enjoyed the laughing even though it was wrong. I cried a little it was so funny. I possibly think i need it real badly  and my inner laughies challenged my angries to a royal Fuck-You.

I’m meeting more huggable people now and that’s really nice. Maybe I’m a monster who gets so sad and so famished who maybe only THINKS she’s so “without” that she’ll just use people and their offerings sucking life out of one person at a time, feeding some imaginary need. Maybe I’m a large barnyard animal. One who’s never happy til she gets it her way and when she does, she’s just bored. Or is so used to feeling wrong about things that when things are right, well, then FUCK.

What is loneliness, really? Is it hanging out with your friends and only engaging in the conversation 3 or 4 times. Feeling like you want to go higher, but don’t think these folks can follow you, but then realize you don’t even have what it takes to function on this NORMAL level, that you doubt you’ll ever get higher anyway? Feeling waves of slow-motion laughs, dark lighting. The laughs don’t make sense and they’re repetitive and you want better? haha, she wants better. She wants happier. Cute. Train rides.

Fucking train rides, mannnn. Fucking train rides and ear phones. Fucking walking…….man, to music. Til i actually have to get back to the place i’m “train”ing to. And you tell yourself, well i DO have to pee, and the place i’m going back to DOES have a bathroom. And a kitchen. And a room, a few rooms actually. We’ll get into the people later.

*I don’t trust any of you. Most of you are all parasites – wellread parasites – and I know this because i’m one too. I know that smell. And as soon as i get comfortable, I get suspicious. Face-scraping, neck-biting, inspiration, sure, but then more neck biting. No? Am i wrong? GOOD! Let me be wrong. Let me be SO wrong.

“Would you prefer a……..NON parasite world? One with butterflies and pina coladas?” “No. Actually, no I wouldn’t.” “Cause you LIKE the parasites. LOVE ’em, even.” “Yeah, i like the parasites.” “They get you all riled up and they make you strong and you BANG BANG BANG on your tummy muscles.” “Yeah, I like the parasites.”

I don’t like when non-Spanish (speaking) people say “Hola” as their greeting all the time as if it’s their “thing.”

I haven’t the patience for humorous commentary on how absurd a situation is. If I’ve heard it before and if i KNOW you’re doing it to cover up something, I don’t waste my acknowledgment muscles on you. I haven’t the time. I’m also let down with your stoop on the humor scale. Especially if you’re so bright and beautiful and have nothing to hide anyway.¬† Right there is when I make the judgment that it’s gonna take another OHHHHHHH 6 months to a year before we find out who you really are. Maybe longer. Definitely longer.

I like the use of Kiddo. Not from people my own age, or people who work above me, but anyone else, Kiddo is real good. Maybe it’s ’cause we’re equals but you’re slightly thicker or stronger (not necessarily stronger) and OK with how I’m still so unsure.



Posted in Uncategorized on September 27, 2008 by Anoush

I’m talking about huge apples. I’m talking about the kind so big and round that the little fuzz-thing on the bottom very much does NOT touch the surface the fruit sits on. A butt at the bottom. A Double_U. Dont tell me i eat too many of them, because i eat nothing else. If you criticize, I expect a list of suggestions that I can look over as I’m re-evaluating my whole value system. Or, I can just shrug it off. “I’m at the store. What Kind of apples do you want cause I always forget.” “Whatever’s the biggest.” “Really?” “Yeah.”

The monthly pass on the LIRR satiates my craving for invisibility. NO clicky motions needed from the conductor to ensure that I am here, not even a look in the eye. It’s a dream come true. Know i’m here enough to NOT ask me for anything concret. I’d use that pass in other areas if it were more widely accepted

I was talking to her about patience and how i have none. Walking behind slow movers in the supermarket. What are they STARING at – old couples with gaping mouths staring through the glass in the fozen food section, as if the ice cream will move on its own. Like, if you stare long enough the flavor you want (which this week is not in stock) will appear and do the Charleston into your cart. You know what I do when I don’t find the things I like? I get into my car and drive to the other store. There are truly four things in life (in a supermarket) that I like. Meanwhile I’m stuck behind the slow moving, one at a time cucumber inspecting woman who should just be taken out in the parking lot and……………I hold myself though. I wait patiently. Unless there’s a screaming child present and that throws off all kinds of meditations I try to calm myself with. With a mother who’s too busy looking for the exact diet soda to shut him/her up. In that case, I hate the mother. SO much hatred. Only because I must drive back home, make chit chat as i walk through the living room, make my way to the ice box (I don’t have an ice box, but i like saying it) and stock. Then smile sorta and walk up to my room. My room which has nothing but a laptop plugged in and a shiney green light exploding from the side of it in pitch black darkness. Sometimes orange light. My room has more than that in it. It has a lot of beads and pink and books. Books. And a TV. I don’t want to make contact with you as i run downstairs and do my thing. I just want to run downstairs and run back up. No talkie. No talkie. Just shuttie. Take the shuttle down to shuttie-ville. People who speak to me, well, their noise does a small, constant smack on the back of my neck and I just want to slam a door in their faces. (but I don’t because I don’t like apologizing.

I sat on the train next to some baseball fan and his cute kids hiding under my hood. The song, plus the energy plunge, plus the awareness that I was going home on an empty stomach made me cry. I was able to do it quietly. I’ve been wanting to do it since about 1 pm today. I could sense it coming on. I will never like Shea Stadium or Baseball and Hot Dogs and if i do and have to wear that stupid cap with my turkey-looking husband and kids, I’ll divorce it all, I swear to God. I’ve always had weird feelings about super sportsfans who have to go sit in the audience and OBSERVE because it’s not like they’re PLAYING the sport. How Lazy. Ok, so they may like the GAME aspect of it, how they’re looking down at people “fighting” but but but but there’s really no fun in that for me. I just want people to win. I want hugs. I want crying and throwing into the dirt and blood and then a big hug. And an apology. And then a cigarette. You know? I have no interest in “the game.” I fear men sitting in my future living room watching “The Game” and eating chips. GET OUT – GET OUT OF MY LIVING ROOM! Unless we’re watching blood and people potentially getting beaten to death, I don’t find this fascinating at all. Again, something I may have to get over in the next six months or so. For my own sanity. But the cherry on-top, or the kicker as most of ’em say, is that I friggin loved that sob on the train.

No Armo Here

Posted in Uncategorized on September 25, 2008 by Anoush

Much of being Armenian is reflecting on how things used to be. I don’t mean talking about what the country used to be, or things like THAT. it’s talking about (in the case of my family) how things used to be when so,and,so and so,and,so and so,and,so were alive. How we used to dance like this, and talk about this, and how pilaf used to taste like this. A bunch of talk, talk, and less do. Ya want your pilaf to taste like that? fucking make it. Is it that our culture is petering out or are we just overly sentimental? We’re survivors – why are we still starving?

“Armenians are very family oriented.” No fucking shit. Yup, So is every other ethnic group. What that conveys, when they talk about themselves like that is more of a: “Look! We’re here!” Why such NEED? Putting up little Armenian flags everywhere we go…. JUUUUUUUUST INCASE we’re forgotten.

It’s friggin’ embarrassing. You know what Greeks do in situations like these? or Czechs? They BE Czech. They’re not gonna be like, “Hey looka me!! I’m being so Czech right now! Aren’t we so warm and funny and take forever to leave a home after a family gathering?” Nope. they’re just being Czech, without any need to be noticed or saved.

I wonder what would happen if one day all of us just didn’t mention anything. I mean, unless someone asks us where our names originated from. If someone asks, then it’s ok, but otherwise: SHHHHHHHHH.

Your need is so apparent – so unsexy, so unseductive. Your flamboyance doesn’t embarrass me, but your need to be seen, heard DOES. You dangle there, waiting to be fed. It’s embarrassing. (sometimes). That’s why when it comes to stuff like this, I SHHHHHHHHH.

Just a figtree of your imagination

Posted in Uncategorized on September 25, 2008 by Anoush

For those of you who give a fuck:

I’m… busy. I’m working – not enough, i mean not making enough, but no one is. Cool. So. I’m working and traveling in and out of the city for fun+writing+improv+fun. I don’t have enough time to judge myself that much. sUch a weight lifted off my shoulders for the time being. I begin to live and not have so many fears about death, loss of bone density or potential worthlessness.

Meggie and I went to Harold Night and saw 3 improv teams and SO GOOD. We saw some of our new friends in the audience, were shown cool places to stand then sat on the floor. As long as you’re in the room, right???On my way to the theater, I ran into my parents at Penn station. I liked that. They were heading home and I was heading out. A quick Hi then running down 7th Avenue. Sorta like, See YA! Sorry, can’t talk, never can talk, will never be able to talk, would never want to – for a while… I watched the show trying to see where each line came from. I will be doing what they’re doing (god willing) soon and want to know how it all works- slash – laugh like a mad hatter.

I read a blog about a woman who couldn’t eat stone fruits (apples, pears, peaches, plums, cherries, etc). She was so allergic that her lips would puff up and get tingly and her throat would close up, give or take a quick trip to the ER. Every once in a while she’d treat herself to a bowl of cherries or a peach with people around her ready to call an ambulance if need be. That’s terribl

Of course

Posted in Uncategorized on September 22, 2008 by Anoush

There are





that I do not write about here. Mostly because they’re really, really sensitive beings that fear sunlight and are waiting to see a better world.

Me attempting to write about what I’ve been up to

Posted in Uncategorized on September 22, 2008 by Anoush

Yeah so umm Last weekend I went to the Camp Nubar reunion and it was really awesome. Magical even, I say magical because it’s like something you could’ve put into a movie. A movie with very little plot but with a great coming of age story (ew). Let’s not call it coming of age – let’s call it maturation. Not that the evening itself held the maturation but oh my god you know what i’m talking about.

I got there early and i didn’t want to be the first one there, also camp nubar has been a home to people of two generations, maybe three. and I didn’t want to arrive to be the only one from mine. Plus I wasn’t sure if i was dressed appropriately. I wasn’t wearing sequins and high heels. So there was NOT an armenian band which was great. There was a jazz band, an open bar, an auction (ew, the only ew) but it’s armenian so ya gotta. I saw Inge, the cool girl from the Netherlands with the thick black glasses who was a counselor one of the five years I’ve gone who decided to come before this concert she had to go to. How do i put this: I SAW EVERYONE. It was good. That’s all. So i went home via subway by myself which was fine, as always, then waited at Penn. Saw the Marines, got on my train, rode home, made it to my bed, slept and woke up too early the next morning.

Next morning: worked on writing that i’m still iffy about, read (head pounding) went to Improv 101 classes and enjoyed. I could do this. I could live this. I could french kiss this whole establishment.

Then I stumbled back onto the train, rode home and waited til a normal time to go to sleep so i’d sleep fully. and Oh My God, how i did NOT sleep well that night. the next few days were a series of nightmares and early wake ups followed by tryings to go back to sleeps but so interrupted by thinking of loans and how the fuck that all works and when the fuck that’s all gonna start AND ohhhhhh AND how little money I’m going to have in life. <- I did it again, i said “in life.” Fuck, i’ll leave it.

Then i had a gyno appointment one of those lack-or-sleep days. Usually i’m ok with them, actually enjoy them, think they’re cool. So much going on in there. BUT this time, It was very technical and there was nothing soft or warm about the whole visit. Whatever that means, take from it what you will. I wasn’t expecting it that quickly and I almost kicked the doctor away from me and i put my hands over my face and started crying <- due to lack of sleep, not cause i’m sensitive about women (doctors) touching me. She asked me if I had ever been “hurt’ in the past that could have brought this on. I said “I wish.” then i was like NO NO NO NO I Didn’t mean it like that! What I meant was, I WISH cause that would explain why…. but yeah you didn’t need me to spoonfeed you that last line. So then I went home.

This weekend was a lot better. Saturday is a secret I’ll keep to myself. Sunday was good too. I went back to my class and got all their email addresses – now I can be a normal, status quo stalker instead of the scary alternative. I went out for Indian food afterwards and had a conversation about art and inspiration. I went home and my mom was cooking five different things for the week and my brother was being Lowell from the show WINGS and I just wanted to get something from the fridge and go up to my room, but I would have to have a conversation first cause not having one would be mean and weird. I DON’T WANNA TALK I DONT’ WANNA TALK. NOTHING’S WRONG, NOTHING’S WRONG, NOTHING’S WRONG. oh, here’s your train ticket – the one we share, the one i can’t afford on my own, in the house we share which is fine but ohhhhh and right, how the things I did today were all fun and voluntary – not pay-y. <- things my voices tell me, not things *they* tell me. but who knows, right?

Get OUT! Oh wait, that’s right, this is YOUR house. So *I’ll* Get out and… oh wait, no I won’t. No I can’t.

So I’m here now…. Being not good enough, again? Damnit. Damnit. (Voices)

Posted in Uncategorized on September 22, 2008 by Anoush

There’s always the fear that i’ll accidentally post this to the Heartpunch blog, and not my own blog. There’s always that fear. And that’s why I double check afterwards. You know, like making sure the burners are all off on the stove before you leave the house (even if you didn’t really cook anything yet.)