Archive for December, 2008

I don’t take titles too seriously

Posted in Uncategorized on December 30, 2008 by Anoush

This (Blog – i hate that word) is a bad place. if it had a smell it would be that seaweed/muck smell at the shallow end of Twin Lakes. Negative energy breeding, just creating more worms on a plate. More of me talking to myself. Awesome. (I guess that means I’m strong.)More of me running chasing temporary highs. Highs ARE temporary, though. So, psh, why so surprised, ChickenPie? Sometimes it’s all in a stick of gum. Or a train ride. I only like four things in the whole world and I keep them all in this tiny wine bottle, see? Makes my escape less noticable. My Fuck-up less noticable. Things will change, but things are currently too busy being severe.

I hopped on a train to see what a storySLAM at The Moth was all about. Whoa. Long line. It’s like Assscat’s cousin. Me and forty people surrounding me didn’t get in. (And they all looked storytellingish. I dunno, the coats, the hats, the boots, the leggings. the world is getting too large, ya know?) But it meant I WAS gonna be around later for a late night Long Island drive with my friend and her crew. More talk of how her life’s gonna change (wedding.) More of her smacking me on the head, making me think straight about things I don’t think straight about. Smacking’s good.

Back before on Bleecker street I walked quickly ’cause of the cold, cause of the fast music I listened to, but STOPPED when i saw it hanging there. The store was only one of those horrible souvenir shops, but oh ye of little faith. One of those black T-shirts said “Fuck you, you Fucking Fuck!” And I stood there in the doorway laughing. Giggling like a girl – I didn’t know how loud I was because of the earphones. It kind of made my day, catching me by surprise like that. Serendipity. And not being sarcastic.

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Clowns

Posted in Uncategorized on December 26, 2008 by Anoush

Something happened on Christmas where I got broken (in a good way.) It wasn’t when my mom told me in the car that I act on things and always have to prove myself (to men, say)and that I don’t have the ability to just let things be. “You? Just let things stand?” Like, “You? Find someone with a dick MORE massive than mine?” (Ohhhh, but that’s not a nice thing to say.) Feels bad I don’t plan on children or don’t think about husband-fairies. Us surprising each other. That wasn’t what broke me, though.

Nor was it when my brother walked into the room to find me on the couch, him rolling his eyes, sorry for what he was about to tell me. “Mom wants you to stop writing and come and sit with everyone else.” Eyes looking off to the corner – borrowing face expressions of mine. Not happy to be a messenger with bad news. i was done with indulging anyone. All i wanted from this xmas (which started at 6 a.m, with fat, with talking of the past and dead relatives and with how it felt like 10 p.m. for the past five hours) was to AT LEAST write something good. That wasn’t it, either.

Nor was it when she shuffled in saying “you brought your laptop?” I might have to use it later.” (Well, flip me over while my pants are down to my ankles, why doncha?) (And… that wasn’t it either.)

It was when I came out and sat with the happy people (not jealous, just observing) around the kitchen table. OH! by the way… my Massachusetts cousins are gorgeous. I mean that in all ways. And this house is like a Wedding Crashers house and dinner was everything except a grandmother saying BIg Dyke. Well, it was just pretty, is what i mean. So. I rejoin the living almost done with the necklace i was working on, talking to my uncle about Frank Capra WWII movies when he pops a mini pretzel into his mouth and yells down to my brother: “How was the shower?” Raffi nods, his arms crossed awkwardly over his stomch. A deep voice “Awesome.” “You didn’t see any clowns staring at you through the window, didja?” IT WAS GREAT. FUCKING HYSTERICAL. I threw the kitchen table across the room, cheering – all the Round Two xmas snacks flung against the wall – banging on my chest for that fucking breath of fresh air. (not really.) CLOWNS! outstanding! How we managed to make it to Clowns, i’ll never know. Bravo.

Who hates clowns? Everyone. Not me, i say. Being that one person who says “OH, i LIKE the rain” when everyone’s upset that it’s, ya know, raining. (analogy.) Maybe I am afraid, though. He says, “A woman in a hospital asked the nurse to please take that clown statue out of the room, when she replied, ‘WHAT clown statue?'” Turns out it was a patient from the Psychiatric Ward who came into her room at night.” THAT SCARED ME. Psychiatric Clowns. Crazy Clowns. But i won’t say anything. I woke up at 5 a.m. Day after Christmas. Dark. I forgot where I was. I didn’t see my usual alarm clock in my room. Then I realized i was in my cousin’s room. And that, I dunno, maybe, there might be a clown standing in the corner. Ok, if there WAS a clown in my room, how loud could I scream? My cousin wasn’t in there and Ill just remind myself he’s just a normal guy named Ben or Roger who just needs to feel pretty with makeup once in a while.

I liked being shaken. I needed it. ‘Cause so far it’s been being put down and bored then flipped over and mindfucked and lending my laptop to people who snore loudly next to me on a couch where my self-conscious brother widens his eyes for me to nudge her awake slightly cause everyone else is quietly watching the movie. They were like softer nudges… Cause that’s what i do – I CARE/WORRY, ya know? Sonofabitch.

What the clown scare DID do was teach me how to appreciate all the people around, who WOULD come and protect me, should they hear screaming or a mini rumble in the next room.

Something

Posted in Uncategorized on December 23, 2008 by Anoush

“Cause, cause i mean i always kind thought i was alright, but when you nod like that, and say it that way without saying it at all (even though I can’t tell if that’s what you really meann cause i still don’t really trust people), well… it gives me some kinda energy to work with.” 

I’m scared of a lot of things, i’ve come to realize. FREAKED OUT. Then other things, ehh not really. That’s pretty standard, i’ve found, with humans, but I surprise myself with what does scare me. Things that shouldn’t. And the things that should? Don’t. I’m more afraid of someone thinking i’m too emotional and that I’m just being silly than, say… bats. Or rats. Or rodents. I fear bugs, but not rodents. I think that’s a strength. I’m more scared of the idea of being handled. I’d like to know where that originated  from so i can crush it and stop it from growing.

I read this short story from an Alfred Hitchcock book of … short stories where this woman thought everyone was hiding something from her. Her sister was sick, sure, but she died on a day everyone was out except for the maid and all the doctors told the woman to stop worrying about things that she can’t control. Long story short, the daughter in law was the one who gave the sister the wrong pills so that she and her husband (and stepchildren) could move to Europe without worrying about the sick woman. (She was a pain in the ass, the woman, and no one really missed her, but being killed is wrong.) 

So i guess… being ready for anything is a … um… GOOD thing. Gets tiring after a while, though. I’m not afraid of bats. I have stories. Not that I have to, ya know, prove it or anything

This happens every year

Posted in Uncategorized on December 15, 2008 by Anoush

What does it mean when you wake up crying? Like, what does it MEAN? Worrying that you won’t be able to compose yourself while you’re a guest in someone else’s house for a couple of days when the people you’re traveling with are the thing you need to travel from. Then feeling guilty you’re not counting your blessings. I’m poor – I can’t move out. I’m weird — too weird for contemporaries (I tell myself, anyway) even though I’ve got a whole bunch of ’em. I might die, you know? Inside, if i keep going like this. I might die. Haha, it’s not like I LOOK like death. I wish I did though.  Sad people are just so damn attractive, but I look too normal for this. I’ll be a fat girl forever.

I’d like to be shocked or given some kind of sedative. Be beaten up, kicked a little. Beat the hunger out of me. Just don’t break any bones – I’m terrified of that. I call her names in my mind even though I love her. When they talk to me I wince. I’d write about what I’m up to lately, but all that’s candy. I’m a strong person. Logical, too. Then the guilt comes back telling me everyone’s healthy, people are doin’ fine. Maybe a little depressed, but ‘least no one needs a kidney, right?

I’ll never have children. No matter how Armenian-cute or half-armenian-cute they might be. I don’t like real things.

Leaving their house, I knew I wanted a cigarette in the car. I put on my jacket and squeezed my tummy muscles so tight, nudging myself to not not not not need one. I’ll have one tomorrow. I wish cigarettes were NOT not good for you. And that every time you had one, it’ll feel as good as the first, or feel like that ONE ’cause they’re just NOT anymore. (Same goes for a lot of things.) Celebrating with a big dinner and two bottles of wine on the table frightens me. Alcohol is better on an empty stomach.

3 crumpled up tisses at the side of my computer. Drawings — bullshit doodles on the margin of this — that don’t really mean anything. Mostly screensavers, with the intent of keeping your mind busy/numb so everything else won’t seem so… and then… LOOK! PRETTY-PRETTY PICTURE.

Maybe a little melo-dram, but writing it made me feel better and I threw the tissues awway. So, thumbs UP!

Something

Posted in Uncategorized on December 11, 2008 by Anoush

I have this image in my head where I’m crawling (maybe in rain) back to somewhere or someplace new (in the presence of a person, maybe more than one) with a cry’y Drew Barrymore face (Ever After’esque or Never Been Kissed, more Ever After cause it’s more true (truer?) saying “I’m really not that mean.” I fall  over on my side (wearing a gown-like dress, sopping wet by now) Roll up in a ball and shiver.  I’d like to stop being drawn to bites and zings just ’cause they nourish for the time being.

A  safety word or… safety-whisper where I tap y’all on the shoulder and say, “It…it’s too much.”

And then… I look at life sans Mean and it kind of sucks a little. It’s kind of … ghaye. And I run from it, Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, there’s a bug, there’s a bug, there’s a bug.

It’s good.

Posted in Uncategorized on December 11, 2008 by Anoush

I left work early on Monday to go to The Moth. I like it there. Storytelling’s something I can do well (women can’t tell stories well – no no no not true.) Not social storytelling – because social-storytellers are hams and needy-to-talky’s, whereas going to a place where you expect some humble non-stand-upy thing (with that perfect lighting, music, bar and people with poet faces) well, it just works better. Where everything – EVERYTHING – is allowed and Ok.

I wrote a story about it (I’m talking about something else, now.) And I don’t know. I think I wrote it pretty well, coughing up the last of that unright feeling. My brain is quite the sex symbol. Kinda like… I’m thin-skinned and mustn’t be messed about, but I’ll also…um… fight

Who do i show the story to? I don’t know. I kinda just wrote it (edited it) then put it away. Just, like, put it away. In my own little Raiders of Lost Ark Museum. Don’t really need it. Just like GrrrrrrYeahhhh That’s a fucking good story, Anoush. HEY! THANKS!An odd feeling finally purged and I feel lighter.

As someone whose lower back always holds rhino-sized tension and whose stomach feels like it’s been grinded against concrete, I… Oh, I have no idea how to end that one. The set-up just took so much… I’ll just leave this one half in the air, then, I guess.

The week’s not going fast enough. Today feels like Friday and my bedroom needs to explode and I’m feeling, like, fat. I don’t say things like “I’m awkward.” Cause it’s not true. It’s not even cute to say. It’s not even NEWto say. I’m a Nervous Nelly <- that’s much better than I’m Awkward.

I got invited to the screening of the new Danish film we’re distributing on Monday at Scandinavia House. The image of me lightly trotting down Park avenue on Monday night with the mounted film poster in my new heels, well, that’s an image i’m looking forward to… Embodying? Being in? Encompassing? You know what I mean.

Crypticccc

Posted in Uncategorized on December 3, 2008 by Anoush

“Hey Anoush.”
“Hey, ____ ?”

“Does anyone tell you you’re incredibly cryptic when you speak or write about yourself?”

“No. Never. In fact it’s the thing least said to me – ever. in the world.”

“But it’s your blog, GOOSE! What’re you afraid of?”

“Me? Fear things? Crazy-talk.” I save that stuff for paper.

“True.”