Why I love Jill Sobule

Lifted straight from Jill’s myspace blog:

That’s Not a Costume At All

I was again the guest op-ed troubador on NPR’s The Bryant Park Project. Here’s the NPR link and song Women Whose Halloween Costume is Just That They’re Slutty — That’s Not a Costume at All.

Here are the lyrics — remember, I only had one day to write the song. But I meant every word of it. Oh, also check out my pal Eban who brought in his theremin:

Halloween was my favorite holiday, but in these last few years
Something so terrible has filled me with fear.
It’s not the razor in the apple; no, I heard that never happened
No, it’s something much worse.

It’s women whose Halloween costume is just that they’re slutty
That’s not a costume at all.
What happened to Witches and monsters?
They left the Halloween Ball.

Just putting kitten ears on your head is not creative.
A skimpy black dress is not very scary — unless you’re Ann Coulter.
Stiletto heels are not that special unless worn by a man.

I’m not a prude, but I’m not a fan… of

Women whose Halloween costume is just that they’re slutty
That’s not a costume at all.
What happened to Witches and monsters?
They left the Halloween Ball.

Okay, maybe if you play a dead prostitute from, say, Jack the ripper days
or maybe a zombie whore from outer space.
But the naughty devil outfit in lingerie?
Well, that’s… just not good.

Busting makes me feel good.

I woke up two hours late this morning. Which is still only a bit past 7:30, but I usually get on a 7:45 bus. Because I can be, when necessary, a miracle of speed and light, I made the 8:05, fully showered, dress, and cosmeticized. Witch’s hat in tow.

So it’s halloween in Manhattan and… nothin’. I suppose there are neighborhoods, and I’m sure tonight will be different, but other than that, as far as the eye could see, it’s just Wednesday.

I am on the crosstown bus, near Bryant Park and through the window I spot something. It’s a guy with a green monster attached to the back of his head. Then I see it’s four guys, in khaki jumpsuits, and the one with the monster also a large… well, a ghostbusting apparatus. It was awesome.

I get to work, finally, and tell my co-workers about it, because I was so excited. And Lori says that they were the winners on the Today Show this morning!

So check them out here (you have to scroll to Today’s Costume Contest Winners or something like that, then sit through a commercial).

I am just so happy that the one thing I saw (and I really admire when a group pulls something off well) was of such quality and noteriety!

All these beauties in solid motion

I had a job interview this morning, and I’m home now, waiting for the next bus so I can go to my freelance city gig this afternoon. I am very tired, with a touch of a migraine. Just a touch.

The something that started on Saturday night has ended. He twisted and turned and agonized over the feeling that, for whatever reason, it wouldn’t be right, and it would end badly, mostly for me. He is probably correct.

The change, it had to come

 

Part I

I am not particularly one who worships via crystals, but I do from time to time wear stones and crystals based on their magical properties. Many, many years ago, someone told me (and I can’t for the life of me remember who) that when you lose a crystal, it means that its work with/for you is complete, and you don’t need it anymore.

Last February, at Wicked Faire, I got a tarot reading and some massage/body work. These two women (the reader and the healer) happened to be situated right near each other, and had connected with each other through the event. Both the reading and the massage were powerful experiences. Separately, each of the women told me I needed more of a particular stone, (one was rose quartz and one was… maybe garnet? amethyst?) and the both told me I needed hematite. So I went and found myself, for only seven bucks, a little beaded bracelet with all the stones, and came back and showed them both. And I wore it every day.

But it was always really hard to put on… the clasp was cheap and annoying.

Separately, I had this friend. A man friend. An entirely unavailable out-of-the-question-on-every-level friend. But I dug him, and had some attachment to him. And there was this one time many many months ago when I was trying to put the stupid thing on in front of him and I secretly wanted him to help me because… because I just so wanted that moment of him helping me on with my bracelet. God, it is such a girl thing to want that, but guess what. Me? That’s right–a girl.

Nothing to say; it’s still okay

I did it last year too.

Today was my half birthday. 42 1/2 years old. Halfway to 85.

I feel okay. Not sad like I was one year ago today. Still want the same things, still no closer to having them… well, I suppose I am one year closer to having them. Huhnh! Weird.

This year I began writing odes to people on their birthdays. It is not my birthday, and I am not writing myself an ode. Instead, I shall share some poetry.

Mad Men… come and play

My sister and I, who like to talk about TV way too much, have started a blog devoted to Mad Men. I set it up, she made it look all pretty.

Go there.

PS… a word about color quality

 

The color of that jacket is so exquisite. I did my best to capture it. But I am now going to post two pictures. These are the roses Joe got me last Valentine’s Day. One is off my cell phone camera, and one is off his actual real awesome camera.

(Let’s see if you can tell which is which.)

(That beautiful stone wall is what the bed leans against… he lives on the top floor of an amazing farmhouse.)

 

Saturday Jacketblogging

It is a magical jacket. Joe gets pretty excited when we just talk about it… he says You’re like this beautiful magical creature in it… it’s like Roberta plus.. MORE. (or something like that).

These are some crappy, taken myself before I’d showered ’cause I’m about to do yoga, cell phone ‘quality’ photos. But you get a taste.

I am officially one THOUSAND years old.

 My ankle is starting to get sore, and so I reached for my little supply of pain relief, pulled out four advils, and said, out loud, Gimme druuggss.

For some reason it hit me in the moment that those words, and the tone in which I spoke them, was from an episode of Welcome Back, Kotter. I think they were acting like more badass kids than any of them were, and, if I recall, that was Epstein’s line. Perhaps repeated through the episode.

Hey PAHHTTT-SY

I have been meaning to write about so many things, among them, some of my experiences of Manhattan. (I have lists and notes and I just don’t have the energy when I get home at night, or the time or privacy while I’m working, except, well, right now.)

Yesterday I had job interviews in the morning (both in New Jersey) and so my commute was in the afternoon; an odder experience than my usual, after having become accustomed to the morning rush. My travels are quite mainstream… I work near the Chrysler Building, and come into the city at Port Authority. So it’s essentially midtown from west to east. No funky fun neighborhoods, nothing off the beaten path. It is, in fact, as beaten a path as a person can trod. (tread?)

I mean it’s always interesting and always diverse, but at this time of day the ratio of professionals vs. nonprofessionals is certainly different… there is a higher percentage of shoppers, tourists, mentally ill. All the flavors are running together.