brk-in-nyc

new york city is surprisingly dull when you're broke. I mean, i'm sure there are a lot of free things to do, but even then, you still spend all your time being miserable and moping about because you wish you had more money to spend. God... I can't even remember when I last bought myself some new clothes, or treated myself to a really good effin dinner, or splurged on a cab ride when i didnt feel like walking.

of course things havent been a complete mess without cash. I went to the beach with Connie and Pammy and that was pretty chillaxing, and all i really had to pay for was the train fare. But then of course, I got hungry and completely surrendered my spare change to the overpriced goodies at Coney Island (except that funnel cake was pretty shitty and not worth the $5 we paid for it). I still go to restaurants... I just usually end up getting water and watching everyone else eat, or mooching off of a really kind and caring friend. I've filled my days with work and computer/internet junk and trying to rack my brain for ideas for a script for the film i'm making in the fall-- so i try not to think about how poor i am.

except i went to this byob affair this past saturday nite and i got really upset because the only thing i could afford to buy was a coors light 40 ouncer, which, as large and beer-filled as it is, got me to a substantial level of tipsy but then completely wore off haf an hous later. I wanted to get piss-fucking drunk, but i'll have to wait til i'm richer in the pockets.

And it's not even like i don't work or anything... I put in 34 hours a week at Todman, and i could even be workin at Kim's and puttin in a few more hours there, or following in my cousin's footsteps and pursue my inevitable career in male erotic dancing (but then i decided that no matter how much the pay, im not lettin some grubby old gay man touch me up just so he can get off). *sigh* I'm doin all this work for the sake of funding my film in the fall-- the film that I don't even have a clue what it's about yet!!!

so, anyways, im in new york city. its really hot. im really broke. and on top of it all, im breaking out all over my face.

fuck.

Orientalism

Orientalism:
- something considered characteristic of the peoples and cultues of west, east, or Central Asia

For the last five summers, I do little "supernumerary" jobs at the American Ballet theatre. This means that if you see Giselle, Swan Lake, or any of the other summer ballet productions, chances are that the little spearman or litter-carrier is me. Right now, I'm a Tiger-man in La Bayadere. La Bayadere is the story of a beautiful temple maiden who falls in love with a handsome prince, but their love is doomed by a jealous priest. It is set in a wonderfully theatrical version of Ancient India, complete with dancing golden idols, poisonous snakes, monks, and rajahs. In any case, in the begining of the ballet, the prince shows off a tiger he has just killed, and it is carried by four guys. I'm one of those guys. The hours are long, the pay is not enough, but you get the great experience of watching all these ballets from the wings. So I'm not going to complain...that much. My only problem is the amount of time I spend sitting (or standing) around in costume. I get pretty bored, so I try to brush up on my reading.

The New Yorker is always a good read. I found an article about the 1920s fashion designer Paul Poiret and his new exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Apparently, he is the guy who managed to get the corset out of fashion, and introduced the first 'couture trousers'. Many of his clothes were inspired by "the hyper-refinement of an imaginary Orient." [The article also describes an amazing party: "Three hundred guests consumed nine hundred litres of champagne, while parrots and monkeys screeched in the shrubbery, and semi-nude black houris and jinns circulated with platters of exotic delicacies."] Poiret began to decline the same time Chanel (who is a real person I discovered) started to rise. “For whom, Madame, do you mourn?” Poiret is said to have asked Chanel, alluding to her favorite color. “For you, Monsieur,” she replied." Wicked burn Chanel.

After that I was pretty much stuck sitting in the dressing room, bored out of my mind again. I headed over to Barnes & Nobles to pass the time, hoping to perhaps find a new Star Wars book. Instead, I browsed through the graphic novels, and found "The Sandman Papers." Now, just in case you don't know, The Sandman is an amazing comic book series by Neil Gaiman, which completely revolutionized the comic business by injecting some fresh blood into the regular superheroes by the way of British gothic literature. [The Sandman is the anthropomorphic manifestation of dreams, and he wanders the human world being super cool, super powerful, and super emo. "A Midsummer's Night Dream," one of the chapters of the series, is the only comic ever to win a World Fantasy Award for short fiction. ] "The Sandman Papers" is a collection of papers that various people have written about the comic series for their discussions at their little english-major meetings. One of the papers is about the story "Ramadan" from the comic. "Ramadan" is about the king of an imaginary Bagdhah who summons Dream (the sandman) to preserve his city, in all it's glorious golden flying-carpet sexy-men-and-ladies splendor. The author discussed how this story dealt with Orientalism. He defined the Orient (east) as the complete opposite of the Occident (east). He said that Orientalism was how all Europeans (like Marco Polo) defined the West, when it was not completely explored or understood. So the more we learned about Asia, China, and India, the more the mystical worlds of La Bayadere and the Other Baghdad (as Gaiman describes it) disappeared. It's really too bad.

I think that Adriana and I are experiencing a little bit of what the old Europeans experienced when the encountered the West. I mean really, how much do we know about the Factory, or rockstars, or partying in the 70s? I have tried my best to brush up on Andy Warhol: I watched Factory Girl, Basquiat, and the 4-hour PBS documentary. I read one of his books. I read his Wikipedia article. I run around in my wig and glasses but I still know that I'm not really capable of impersonating him truthfully. And people accuse me of participating in a fad, but you cannot deny the fact that his art was completely revolutionary in his time, and that his presence still resonates in today's culture. (I have no doubt that if he were alive now, he'd be running around with Paris Hilton). I think that we should just enjoy our fascination in this mysterious world, and try not to shoot down the flying carpets. Thank you for reading this possibly incoherent rant.

the beginning of the end of the beginning

so, here we are. introduction to the characters:

ava

that's me, the creator of this page. i make movies, i write movies, i write short stories and poetry, go to school, and document nightlife. i like all sorts of film cameras and have just acquired two polaroid cameras for $6.
i split my time between the two cities that make up gotham:
chicago and manhattan. this year i'm also conquering florence.

shackney
is currently growing out her hair, post-mohawk, post-baldness. no, it had nothing to do with britney spears. she likes (according to me, at least) nature, and camp, and occasionally new york city, were we reside. she does things her mother would never approve of, and studies lingusitics and makes prints and writes.
she makes art because she needs to, not because she wants to be pretentious.

jam

is a superstar being born. he's a jack of all trades, filmmaker, writer, musician, singer, former figure skater, and actor all in one. he also claims to speak hindi. other than being related to andy warhol, he refuses to take anyones bullshit, and is from near san francisco, currently residing in manhattan, occasionally attending his classes.

stefani "slore"
is excited about not making movies in the upcoming year. her one true love is technology, especially mac. she proudly receives checks from apple for working in their store on breaks. she's been known to invent words, and tackle huge projects. she is a fan of watching tv and pommes frites, however.
she's from near los angeles, and is not a fan of cold and rain. in fact, she often refuses to go out when manhattan is being nasty.

candrea

the canadian urkranian, she has opened our eyes to the 24hr pierogi wonder that is veselka (on the corner of 2nd ave and 9th st). an avid fan of shevchenko, both the soccer player and the street, she also loves iced spanish lattes, a certain latin barista, jonny the bartender, cool music, and experimental films. she makes awesome movies, shooting at night, in construction sites, and without light meters.
she resides in vancouver and manhattan, and is set to conquer dublin this fall.
she also says "soooow-rry", which has rubbed off on me.

ted
is candrea's roomate. she owns a library stamp, and has an awesome wardrobe. she feeds people pretzels, and takes really aweosome photos. she's from somewhere in pennsylvania, and also lives in manhattan.

tristgolightly
is part of the eastern bloc crew of filmmakers. occasionally he shows up wearing a silver wig and carrying a polaroid. he's the photographer of polaroids at the past couple rockstar parties, capturing the madness... he makes animations and has a taste for dance parties and techno music.
he moved the long distance from queens, to manhattan, where he currently resides.

tina-star
is occasionally blonde, but only for a party. she is just basically a resident rockstar. she appears to love music, makin' movies, and dressing super cool. she also finally attended a party thrown by me! wooohoooooooo

the conn-artiste

is adorable, and shows up to nearly all of the seventh st. parties. also a filmmaker, she also appears to be a professional rockstar, and actress in trstgolightly's films.

residentrockeralso one of the most devoted rockstars. he got up at 6am after a party to be in my film. he also ones a polaroid camera and diligently attends rockstar parties. he also seems to enjoy the company of disco balls, dripping multicolored paint on girls for his films, making them snort cocaine, and making them look drop-dead gorgeous.

last but not least.... the face of the blog
is also a filmmaker, and sometimes twiggy. she is chill, brave enough to live near a homeless shelter, and also resides in manhattan.

song that you desperately need to download:
jurgen vries, featuring cmc, "the opera song [radio edit]"


stefani "slore"'s word of the moment: potmohawk