MAMA NEEDS A JOB

Going a little crazy trying to find a job. Although I do love morning television, there really is a limit to how much Star Jones and Kelly Ripa a boy can take. Seriously, if you have ANY leads or can provide ANY help looking for a job I would greatly appreciate it. I really don't want to move back in with my parents.

My Skillset:

-can make good foam for a cappucino
-make pretty good mix cds
-have had extensive experience in therapy (very good at dimestore psychology)
-outstanding lipsynching (must be seen to be believed)
-pretty good at trivial pursuit, except sports and geography questions
-certified in food sanitation
-have worked selling big macs, artificial chrismtas trees and commercial wallpaper
-performed in two, two person shows, Chicago Reader called me "a freaky gay boy" and said that i did a dead on impersonation of a school counselor, "Hilarious"
-very good at putting me or my friend's heads on celebrity bodies using Photoshop
-can hookup vcrs and dvd players very quickly
-good with my nephews (except playing Pokemon or YuGiOh--- dont like it, dont understand it, not interested)
-know all the lines to Annie
-can do long division

A Very Merry "The Jeremy Show" Christmas

Hello everyone,

What are you doing checking my blog on Christmas? Christmas isn't on the internet.

Take this time to remember the real meaning of Christmas. This is the day Jesus was reborn and lit eight candles with a miraculous oil. This oil is called "Kwanzaa." With the light of these candles Jesus wrote something called "The Declaration of Independence." This is the true meaning of Christmas. Remember this tonight as you light your jack-o-lantern and put it under your pillow for St. Patrick.

I wish you all a Merry eChristmas and hope everyone has a great 2005.

Love
All of us at
www.thejeremyshow.com

another dream

I am studying abroad in London. I am by myself, my school self. A red and blue atomic bomb is dropped on London, it takes the shape of a dome over the city.

People are laughing and smiling at first, then screaming and running everywhere. I hide between a truck and a wall. I try to call my mom to tell her I'm ok and then I wake up.

Listen to my radio play

Listen to my radio play "Pepso-Fine's Tonic for Women presents The Story of an Hour."
**The audio file takes a second to load**

This is my version of The Story of an Hour by Kate Chopin. I played all the parts. (Read the real story here, Quick read.)

New apartment

I am moving to Tokyo. I will have a super small apartment. The walls and the floors and the ceiling and the floor will be made out of one continious piece of red shiny plastic. Kind of like Sigourney Weaver's room in Alien, but red.

Can we talk?

The royal blue trimmed screen of Microsoft Word is my lighting source. I am in a quiet apartment in Wicker Park at 1:18 AM. My roommate is sleeping. The whole world is sleeping.

What would it be like if someone else was here with me? Not my roommate, A boyfriend sleeping beside me.

Pausing to light a Camel Light.

Have I missed that boat? David Sedaris didn't have a boyfriend until his late twenties. I still have time.
But I am not David Sedaris. Clearly.

Really, what would it be like to have a boyfriend here, a man, a guy sleeping behind me on my bed while I do my homework? It's hard to answer because I feel like I don't fit the mold.

I am twenty eight. I am supposed to be out of college by now. I am supposed to be a smartly dressed gay man, wearing square toed shoes, riding the el to my office. When I get there I am supposed to be the fun loving gay man that all the office ladies love, the "Will" to their "Grace." On the way home, I am supposed to make plans on my cellphone for the evening with my group. We will go to a nightclub that has a one-word name taken out of a science glossary, perhaps "Catalyst," "Theory," or "Inertia."

It's at one of these nightclubs that I should have met my man. The two of us would be from the same socioeconomic class, have similar haircuts and body types. Everything about us groomed, trimmed, cleaned and polished. Not a nose hair or DVD out of place.

But I am still sitting in my messy room, listening to whoever it is that I choose to have a parasocial relationship with at the moment. Carrie Fisher or Madonna or Robert Downey Jr. or Oprah or David Sedaris or Conan O'Brien or Joan Rivers on QVC hawking jewelry. These are my friends. This is my group. Cry me a river.

Every once in awhile, there is glimmer of hope, a spring leaf that starts to sprout from a branch. A meeting over coffee when I'm particularly funny with my cigarette smoke swirling around me. A connection to a wonderfully sexy and complicated person who I know I could spend years trying to figure out.

goosepimples

I was in bed listening to a Carrie Fisher audiobook that I already listened to, pretending that she was my friend. More on parasocial relationshIps later...

Anyway I decided to get up and found a message from That's All Jack. I watched her video, which I loved and saw the quote "Everything you can imagine is real." I think I am just discovering that.

Going to school has burned new synaptic pathways in my brain. I realized I am capable of so much more than I ever thought. Sorry if I'm talking in greeting cards.

Anyway here is the video link again for I Live and Work Here This is Me, it's about moving.

P.S. Here is another video that gave me goosebumps- Power of Goodbye (Contact and Madonna and The Wizard of Oz blended deliciously). I can't wait to take video production classes. I hope I don't have a crappy teacher.

thirdpost

Off the el at Division. Did I go up the right staircase? Yes. I went up the one closest to the exit closest to my house. The house I will probably move out of in May. Shame.

Up with the detachable microfleece hood slash scarf. Hood frames my view of Division. Free to smoke now Jeremy; thank you, i will. Oxygen might be good after that breathtaking two flights of stairs. No thanks to the oxygen. Yes to the Marlboro Medium. Lighter doesn't light. No worry, just needs to get warmed up in my hand.

There are smoking fetishes. Not into it. I'm usually up for a fetish; not one involving encouragement of potentially deadly behavior. I won't be holding a smoking fetish night anytime soon. I won't be inviting smokesuck98 and cameLFilter over to engage in smoke drenched orgies.

comforter

Pardon me, You must have mistaken me for someone with good credit
I haven't purchased any new clothes in over a year. My hair is growing into a mullet. No, I'm sorry I can't leave this room. Not this weekend.

Keeping things under control here.
Keeping a close eye on things from my bed.

temporary employee

I am temping. I am on the 34th floor at 181 W. Madison. High above the street. Ridiculous, really. So high. They don't allow smoking at my desk. Unusual. "SG Americas Securities" is the name of the joint. I think I am sitting at the desk of a gay man. A Disney Villains coffee mug. I have one at home on my desk. Three muscular action figures. A giant rubber band ball. A postcard from Dollywood (really want to go there.)

Just sneezed on my arm and green stuff flew out of my mouth and on to my shirt. Classy.

Dream on Thanksgiving Day:

Kara and I were in line for Great America. A security guard was searching through my bag and found my journal and scanned it for dirty words or controversial material. He found some bad words and wouldn't allow me entry into the park. Kara took a liking to this guy and they went off inside Great America. I waited outside Great America for Kara. Each page of my journal had been ripped down the center.

family

(assignment to write about picture that looked like a cult)

Thank you for coming. My name is Sheila, I'll be your buddy for the first day. You can put your things in the cloak room. Don't worry about theft. There is no theft in our community. We share everything.

I hope your journey was pleasant. It can be hard to find the compound. But that's how we like it-- remote, cozy.

You will notice that we don't ask about your past life. This is unimportant. What is important is that you are here now. You are part of your real family now.

Let me tell you what you can expect.

First, we have morning devotion. I am so excited for you. This will be the first time you will meet Mr. K. He loves you. Mr. K loves loves you so much.

Then we have our first meal. This is the first time you will meet your sisters and brothers. It's so wonderful to be able to share a meal with so many people who love you.

Then we start our work devotion. You will work in the harvest rooms, as most newcomers do. We grow all our own fruits and vegetables here, indoors. You will learn how to handle the food so gently and discover such love for it.

Then we have another devotion celebration for Mr. K.

You will need to memorize this and be able to recite it for Mr. K:

Mr K, I have so much love for you,
and what you represent for myself
and my sisters
and my brothers

You represent the will of the people
of your community

I love you and thank you for teaching us the
values and morals that will
allow me to become a productive member of our community

The rest of the day is yours to wander the compound or select a book from the library of books written or approved by Mr. K.

I'm so excited you are here.

lord, here comes the flood

Just got back from Bette Midler concert with Rob. It was beautiful, wonderful --everything I remembered and more. Like going to a big beautiful church.

Yet, somehow I'm empty.

I don't usually like to post my emotions on my blog. Ugh-- but I'm feeling so drained I need to let it out- all over you.

Everything I say is wrong. Everything I'm wearing doesn't fit. My attempts at holding onto sanity are laughable. And everyone knows it. Goddam depression, bipolar, general anxiety disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, borderline personality blah blah blah whatever the hell this is.

I know that I can hold on. I've been through this before, and will go through it again and hold on. It really fucking sucks though.

Yeah, I don't know where I'm going with this. Again, that's why I don't write stuff like this.

Mama needs to get to sleep and start this whole song and dance again tomorrow.

Comfort Food

I'm writing this while my microwave macaroni and cheese "sets" in the microwave. I don't like it to be too hot or too saucy. It needs to sit in the microwave and coagulate a bit.

I read in the newspaper that Rupaul was going to be at Borders today, signing cd's. Rupaul was one of my idols, growing up and coming out. I remember seeing the video for "Supermodel (You Better Work)" for the first time and being blown away. It was okay. I was okay.

I waited in line for an hour and fifteen minutes. It was hot and stuffy and I was wearing a winter coat and jacket. Slightly annoyed but understanding of the nervous kids behind me making comments about people's clothing choices. "Look at crazy over there in pajama pants."

When Rupaul came out, things started getting going, I started having fun. Chills.

When it was my turn to meet with Rupaul, all that came out was--"I really like your blog."

I had the strangest sensation. Like she should know me.

"Remember me? I watched you on MTV after my jaw surgery. You made me feel better and I taped your video and played it over and over. Remember that?"

Walking around boystown, waiting to meet Rob, I listened to her cd. Looking at everyone in their halloween costumes, people smiling, really enjoying the season. Seventeen again! Something waking up inside me. A stereophonic voice telling me it was okay. I was okay.

Cocktails

I know it must be hard for all of you to keep up with my boozy, chain smoking, jet set lifestyle. Don't think I can't hear the murmured conversations at another one of my lavish, A-List, over the top parties.

"His fire burns so hot. Of course, It's beautiful to watch."

"Well, yes. But who's going to be there to pick up the pieces when he falls off the wall. Not me, I've had to put Jeremy back together again one too many times."

"Sure, he's got more talent than all of us combined. He just can't keep a hold of it. Like gold dust slipping through his fingers."

"...he's riding a schizophrenic horse into a wildfire."

"I agree. Let's not mistake insanity for genius."

"Well, you know that I've dealt with so many others like him, Marilyn Monroe, Brando, Belushi, Carrot Top...and look what happened to them."

"Like they're on roller coasters-up and down, up and down, fast and furious. Exhilarating as all get out. But where does it lead?"

"Nowhere."

"I've lost my lunch on that ride before. I'm not about to do it again."

"I'd just as soon sit on a bench with some cotton candy and watch it go."

"Look it him over there, so pleased with himself."

"As he should be, I suppose."

"Yes, but where does that leave him when the party's over? I mean we're all going home to our beautiful spouses and partners. We've all got something other than a musty old pillow to hold onto at night."

"Well he's certainly had the chance, with a face and a body like his-"

"An Adonis!"

"He could have any man he wanted. And they've all approached him"

"Every single one, myself included."

"It's sad, really."

diet

I have the diet of cartoon character: root beer(snoopy), cheesy poofs(south park gang), coffee (cathy), donuts (homer simpson), lasagna (garfield).

"Enough" by Alice McDermott (for school)

I read Alice McDermott's "Enough" at work today. After reading Jhumpa Lahiri's "When Mr. Pirzada Came to Dine," it was a breath of fresh air.

This story reminds me of a scene from the television show "Absolutely Fabulous" where Edina Monsoon, a woman clinging on to her hipster youth, is sitting at the kitchen table playing techno music, popping pills, smoking, reading a magazine and shoving ice cream into her mouth. The protagonist in "Enough" has an unquenchable appetite for pleasure: Sex, sex, sex, ice cream, ice cream, ice cream, children, music, children, fudge and lattes.

I think I have an addictive personality. I smoke a lot, drink a lot of coffee, spend too much money on stupid stuff, etc. I don't drink too much, but when I do- I want an oversized strawberry margarita that's going to put me on the floor. I wasn't deprived of things as a child. I wasn't spoiled but I always had stuff. I don't know where this desire to constantly be in a heightened state comes from and I don't really care.

When the nameless main character in "Enough" is a child she loathes stewed fruit for dessert on Sundays. She wants the ice cream so bad and counts down the days until she gets to it. She wants instant gratification. I really wanted the character to get what she wanted. I wanted her to continue to indulge her every whim, lick every plate, sleep with every man, get fat and not care. In real life you can't do this. That is what is remarkable about this story. I knew she shouldn't be doing this, but was delighted when she did.

Despite being very upset about her miscarriages and having a bit of latte "repeat" on her, there doesn't seem to be any punishment for her actions, which was so refreshing. I also loved the last lines of this story where the narrator speaks to the reader and says not to worry about the old lady and "put your tongue to the last vein of fudge in the empty carton. . .Take another, and another. Plenty. Never enough."

autobiography (for school)

I wasn't breathing when I was born. "You were a little blue, you were fine. You just needed a little help getting started, I wasn't worried," my mom said.

I grew up in San Jose, California. We had palm trees in our front yard and an orange tree in our backyard. Most of my time was spent at my best friend Nicole's house. We put on puppet shows, game shows, talk shows, cooking shows in her backyard.

I was very interested in female entertainers from a young age: Barbara Mandrell, Bette Midler, Dolly Parton and Joan Rivers.

Our family moved to Crystal Lake, Illinois when I was eleven, which turned my world upside down. The palm trees and orange trees were traded for mean Illinois winters and even meaner Illinois boys. I don't think Midwestern sixth grade boys know what to do with a chubby California boy that sings Dolly Parton songs on the playground. I did discover that if I sang the dirty songs and jokes I learned from my Joan Rivers and Bette Midler records, that I earned more respect or at least saved myself from being beat up. Towards the end of sixth grade, I became best friends with a girl named Kara. She was different from everyone else, talked back to teachers, and we shared an interest in Barbara Walters.

I began working at McDonalds when I was fourteen. McDonalds was the closest I ever came to playing a sport. As cheesy as it sounds, it really gave me a sense of a team and I was good at it, which made me feel good about myself. I have only recently taken it off my resume, as it doesn't impress people as much as you might think. I worked there on and off, but mostly on, until I was 24. I quit on September 11th and haven't gone back. It seemed like a good day to quit.

By the age of sixteen, I had a severe overbite. My dad had the same problem too, and because of this he developed some breathing problems and very crooked teeth. My orthodontist decided that I would need corrective jaw surgery. I did not really grasp what this meant until I woke up from surgery with a massive swollen head, a chin implant and my mouth wired shut for six weeks. Having my mouth wired shut was a turning point in my life. Internally and externally, I changed in many ways.

I came out of the proverbial closet in my junior year of high school and was elected prom king (or queen, whichever you prefer) my senior year. I never really had plans for college until it was too late. I took a few stabs at my community college in town, but it never really stuck. Instead there were lots of suburban nights riding around with friends, smoking cigarettes, listening to bad pop music. This continued for a long time until people started to get married, move away, go to school, morph into adults. I was a gay 24 year old prom king living with his parents, working at McDonalds.

My grandfather was a television critic. When he died, I inherited some money and decided to move to Chicago and live with Kara. We wrote and starred in two plays. The Chicago Reader called me "an awkward, freaky gay boy...and hilarious." I took some more improv comedy classes and kept writing. After a brief internship working on a television show, I decided that I wanted to go back to college and study television writing.

I've always been a bit behind. A little blue, just needing a little help to get started. I'm curious where I will end up.

Barbasol!

I didn't use shaving cream for the longest time. I would usually use regular old soap or conditioner to shave with. Then I discovered all the deliciously fragrant flavors of shaving cream that are available to women and men. Glistening Pear, Tropical Fruit, Thanksgiving Dinner, etc.

I was shopping for toiletries one day, trying to budget. The cheapest shaving cream available was Barbasol. I liked the way it looked with it's barber pole design, the alternating red and white. Very masculine. Very suburban dad in the late seventies dressing up for a dinner party at the Benson's house on a winter evening. He's in an unhappy marriage and everyone knows it. He's very hot for Susan Benson, the blonde hostess. Maybe he'll wind up in the garage with her- making out on top of the car, while the rest of the party snorts coke off of a glass coffee table. Susan Benson will always remember the smell of Barbasol. She'll buy it for her own husband, but it's not the same as that winter night on top of the car.

The Barbasol can doesn't have a rustproof bottom. I shave in the shower and it left rust rings all over the tile, that can only be removed with bleach. I had to wrap a plastic bag around it so I didn't have to keep scrubbing the tile clean. I won't buy Barbasol again. Back to Gilette or something with metallic sports car fonts and graphics. It's not as sexy as my Barbasol fantasy.

like a prayer

www.saintclinton.com

This morning

Listening to "Send in The Clowns," and indulging in seasonal depression. Kara is getting ready for work. I wish I could put on makeup for work. I would totally over do it and come in to my temp job like a drag queen. That would take away the depression though.

biggest fear

Tonight, I listened to an archived recording on NPR of Carrie Fisher on Fresh Air with Terry Gross. Carrie talks about how she still remembers all her lines from Star Wars. She says that her biggest fear is to be senile in a nursing home babbling on saying things like, "I have placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."

Also, something to really fear...Bill O'Reilly

how i got the scar on my nose

When I was a child, I dressed up and performed shows in my basement to an invisible audience- lip-synching to songs and what not. In one of my performances, I decided to dress up as my version of Bette Midler- who I loved. I decided that for my opening number I would wear a porcelain Asian mask on my face. I could not figure out how to attach the mask as I would be dancing and it would surely slip off if I only used the flimsy decorative ribbon it came with.

I went to my dad's tool chest and found some chemistry goggles. These would be perfect because they would add a futuristic look to my big number, and they would keep the mask in place. While the opening chords of Bette Midler's Oh Industry (a song about industrialization and the depression of the working man) began to play, I held the mask on my face and slipped the chemistry goggles over it.

As I firmly tightened the straps of the goggles, the porcelain mask suddenly cracked and sliced into the bridge of my nose. I began to scream, my mother rushed down the stairs and saw me in my mask now shattered and dripping with blood. She got me in the car and had my father drive us the hospital. On the way, my dad, a bighearted guy, someone who beats himself up for everything, shook his head and said, "I should have warned you not to do that."

Life is a ball again

I don't know what you were doing Monday night but I took my hair down, put on my best imitation silk pajamas and kicked back with Suzanne Somers and the gang on HSN for Suzanne Somers' HSN PJ Party!

Suzanne's introducing her new Fall line of high quality/low priced cosmetics, apparel, jewelry, diet books, low calorie desserts and on and on. You name it Suzanne makes it.

Suzanne and co host Bobbi Ray Carter can barely hold it together they're having such a good time. Suzanne gets so wild. I'm in hysterics myself, I can't imagine what it must be like to be on the set. In fact, Suzanne and Bobbi frequently say, "I can't believe this is a job this is so much fun!"

When they can pull themselves away from the craziness, Suzanne and Bobbi will take the time to answer some calls from HSN viewers. So many of the callers are cancer survivors or they just lost their jobs or they have trouble getting around but they love Suzanne's products too. Suzanne and Bobbi will ask them which product they bought and encourage them to buy more of the same item in a different color or maybe a piece of jewelry that would compliment their Somerstrech pants.

"Why not take advantage of our deal today and save yourself time and money and buy several pink faux fur vests for Christmas gifts!" they will suggest. The callers usually appreciate this advice and take them up on their suggestion. It really is a good idea. Christmas is right around the corner.

Those two are a kick! Can you believe Suzanne is a grandmother? She looks great-- all that Somersizing. I guess Suzanne's grandchildren think she's the cats pajamas too. She said they will go home and tell their mom "Grandma lets us eat Dove bars for breakfast!" Can you imagine-- Dove Bars for breakfast!!! So decadent.

Well, next time you aren't doin something in the evening and are depressed because you are single, you have a wierd rash, you're never gonna amount to anything and you owe money to every single person you know--- Tune it to Suzanne Somers' HSN PJ Party on HSN and kick back and relax with the ladies.

My Shopping Cart:

Suzanne Somers Faux Reversible Vest
HSN Price: $119.00
Sale Price: $110.00



Suzanne Somers Faux Cashmere Ruffle Shawl
HSN Price: $99.90
Only 10 left



Suzanne Somers Tall-Shaft Boot with Ties
HSN Price: $63.50

ahluvit! ahluvit! ahluvit!

Just finished watching the Apprentice. I haven't been this into a reality show since the early days of The Real World. I don't care if it's all scripted (which I don't think it is). I love being on the edge of my seat.

My favorite right now is Carolyn, Trump's second banana. She scares the shit out of me. I can't imagine what she'd think of me. I'm like a small smudge on a window to her. I tend to like women that scare me.

I feel a lot better than I did the last couple of days, in large part to Kara and my mom.

afterschool special

I'm going to throw out all my music. It's garbage. Burn all my clothes. My fan that i insist on having directly on my face while I sleep goes in the garbage. My stupid penny jar, my "Disney Villains" coffee cup, my alarm clock that Kara probably wants to shove down my throat, my computer that has to have the cover off to work, dumb used books I buy, all my prescriptions-- everything goes.

God Bless America!

Tonight I had dinner at McDonald's. Two delicious Filet-o-Fish sandwiches, a large fry and a medium coke. It was so good. I felt kind of sick afterwards but it was so good.

Then I came home and watched Joey, which was ok. Next, I watched "The Apprentice." Maybe it was the two beers- but I love that show and I love Donald Trump and I love gold furniture!

I should probably be eating dinner somewhere else. I should be eating something with cold sesame noodles and cilantro. I should be going to poetry readings or at least communicating with another live human.

But tonight with my Miller Lites, and my Camel Lights and my McDonalds and The Donald-- I was in heaven.

Like an old lady in a nursing home, beaten and battered by life- I want my programs and my smokes and my fish sandwich.

another dream

I had a dream I delivered puppies from a black dog at a craft fair.

Catastrophe Canyon

Written in September 2002


Today, in the midst of another bout of depression, I was thinking about the Disney MGM Studios Backlot Tour. At the end of the tour the bus takes you into "Catastrophe Canyon," which is an 18 wheel fuel truck sitting on what looks like a very small canyon. The tour guide tells you that this is a set from a new movie they are filming at Disney MGM Studios. Suddenly, a tidal wave of water shoots down the fiberglass rocks of the canyon. The Fuel truck starts shooting flames and a controlled explosion occurs as the bus falls slowly toward the tour bus. The tour guide tells the driver, "Let's get out of here while we can!"

The "Catastrophe Canyon" set was not part of a movie. They have never filmed a movie at the Disney MGM Studios. I knew this all along. Today, it really hit me. Hard.

I love fake things, fake fruit, fake hair (wigs). I even like and even prefer fake cities, like the fake New York at the New York, New York hotel in Las Vegas. I decided today that I can not handle a fake movie set from a fake movie at a fake movie studio. I will tolerate it no longer.

I hope I didn't ruin it for you. I don't know if you ever plan on going to Disneyworld. The next time I go, there will be no tour of the "Disney MGM Studios" for me. No sir. I have seen "The New Leave It To Beaver" house one too many times.

Sad

Snippets of recent dreams:

(i always remember them when im doing repetitive tasks, like filing)

Trying to drink a coke but kept finding office products in it-- binder clips and staplers--- i was so thirsty but so repulsed

Dyed my hair silver-- sounds cool but it was poorly done

My hair was falling out so I got hair plugs and they were like big locks of hair held together with rubberbands that were spaced like an inch apart

"To dream that you are losing your hair, denotes that you are concerned with the notion that you are getting older and losing your sex appeal/virility. You are preoccupied with aging and your appearance. Losing you hair also signify a lack of strength and that you do not possess the power to succeed in an undertaking. You may be feeling weak and vulnerable."

"To dream that your hair is white or turns white, indicates that something important has just been made aware to you. It is a symbol of wisdom and insight. The dream may also be a metaphor suggesting that you are feeling 'light-headed'."
Dream Moods

Dream

Dreamt I was at work and Gretchen Helfrich (host of NPRS's Odyssey) called. She didn't understand who I was and I explained that I was a temp and I was covering for a girl who was out sick. She didn't like this. She asked where I came from, where I worked before and where I went to college. I told her that I didn't graduate from college and that I worked for McDonald's for ten years. She found this fascinating and continued interviewing me. I told her that I was performing at my old high school with my friend Kara in an improv show and tried to plug it. She wasn't having that.

Then I was at my old high school and Kara was on stage. I was trying to explain to this little girl that I was supposed to be on stage. Since my act depended on lip synching, I didn't want to be on stage until I knew that the right piece of music would start at the right time. So, I told her to go in the sound booth and when I said "Whitney Houston" on stage that the music should start. She listened very well and said ok. Then I woke up.

Dream

Dreamt I was at work and Gretchen Helfrich (host of NPRS's Odyssey) called. She didn't understand who I was and I explained that I was a temp and I was covering for a girl who was out sick. She didn't like this. She asked where I came from, where I worked before and where I went to college. I told her that I didn't graduate from college and that I worked for McDonald's for ten years. She found this fascinating and continued interviewing me. I told her that I was performing at my old high school with my friend Kara in an improv show and tried to plug it. She wasn't having that.

Then I was at my old high school and Kara was on stage. I was trying to explain to this little girl that I was supposed to be on stage. Since my act depended on lip synching, I didn't want to be on stage until I knew that the right piece of music would start at the right time. So, I told her to go in the sound booth and when I said "Whitney Houston" on stage that the music should start. She listened very well and said ok. Then I woke up.

books ive read this summer and quotes from them

The Working Life by Joanne B. Ciulla-

"People on there deathbeds rarely wish they had spent more time at the office."
"One of the most tangible ways
to show respect for others and to earn their respect is by telling them the truth."

A Slender Thread by Diane Ackerman
"Frightened of being immobilized by despair, depressives often fling themselves into frantic activity. Hoping to keep gloom at bay, they work until they drop, seem to have inhuman stores of energy, and create art nonstop. They can't afford to stop. If they slow down, the missle of depression might catch up with them."
"Animals are busy living, It is only humans who wander the world like outcasts, feeling lonely much of the time, wondering what they're here for."

as far as i got with my npr short story

"There's only decaf darlin'," she said as I was looking through the cabinets, "That's all they give you in here." It was probably just as well, as I was having trouble with anxiety. I was showing my parents around my new home. The fourth floor of the psych ward in a suburb of Chicago.

This was the third time I was hospitalized with anxiety slash depression. "Major depressive episode" it said on one of the forms in the packet that they gave me, my brochure for my vacation. I had always brought myself in. Unable to break myself from the constant nagging of a demon that will undoubtedly haunt me for the rest of my life, I had someone drive me to the emergency room. I didn't want to hurt anyone, including myself. The anxiety tricked me into thinking that I could, though- that any dark thing was possible. The demons, the dogs, the black clouds. The unraveling thread would break and any dark thing was possible.

She knew it too. We all knew it as we walked around our crazy hotel.

Overkill

its the summer of low carb coca cola and the high heeled sandal. today i walked to jewel to pay for a check that bounced and buy groceries with my rent money. i noticed my protruding belly in the window of a dollar store. sometimes im disgusted by myself, sometimes i dont care. what is the healthiest thought to act upon? should i exercise because i find my body repulsive? or should i wait to resolve "my issues"? According to our Oprah Culture, my weight is not about the food, or the weight itself-- its about some ambiguous thing that I haven't spent enough time working on-- something I've overlooked in my therapy and self-help regimine. this makes me feel like ive forgotten to do my life homework and makes me want to eat and not exercise even more. and i don't even consider myself overweight. extremley unhealthy, but not overweight.

Hello!

I go to Dunkin Donuts before work and spend about a half hour drinking coffee and people watching. A lot of regulars.

One of them is a twentysomething Filipino girl who rides a bright pink Hello Kitty bike with a basket and huge handlebars. She has a Hello Kitty backpack and usually wears a Hello Kitty tank top. She rides her bike with hard plastic high heels on.

I thought maybe she was a graphic designer, or maybe she just traveled down a Hello Kitty rainbow to the Dunkin Donuts on Ohio and St. Clair for coffee. Either way I thought it was cool that she had taken her love of the constantly content kitty to the extreme. This is what she liked and she was going to live in this Hello Kitty world, whether anyone liked it or not.

One morning, I arrived and she was asleep. She was taking up three tables laying down. Taking a closer look I realized she looked CRAZY. Her plastic high heels were totaly scuffed and shredding on the heels from her bike riding. She looked like she didnt have anywhere else to go. She had Hello Kitty pencil with a Hello Kitty pencil topper between her small breasts.

Had she spent all of her money on Hello Kitty merchandise, thinking it would take her to another happy, cheery, perfect, japanese cartoon, Hello! world?

I felt like she was trying to escape something really bad. I can relate to this. Trying to buy yourself in to another prettier fictional world.

Ode to 2324

When I met you, I hated you
I wanted to go back and live with my parents
But the die had been cast

That first summer was hot and hard
I would soak a towel and stay in bed
with the fan on and wonder how I ended up with you.

You smelled bad
dog shit
wet cardboard

Somewhere along the line i fell in love with you
despite your ridiculousness

I spent a good winter with you
and was prepared to spend another

But you have to leave me
and I am sad

I will remember you and love you always

Jeremy

lipstick

I think I have, in the last couple years, somehow convinced myself that it was wrong to be creative-- That I should shut up. No one wants to hear it. I decided somewhere along the line that I shouldn't send out mass emails about myself or what I'm thinking that day. I stopped telling everyone everything about my life. I stopped saying hey, we should watch this Bette Midler concert, it's really good. I stopped wearing lipstick and crazy outfits. I stopped being creative because I was worried about what people thought about me.

I became very serious. I think in doing this, I thought I was being an adult. You know what, fuck it.

Springtime on The Jeremy Show

I went out to brunch today with a good friend of mine and her boyfriend. They chose to sit in non-smoking. Actually, they tried to pass off some lie about it being non smoking during breakfast...I wasn't buying it. But hey, I'm flexible whatever.

Whenever, I go to a restaurant and I can't smoke and I smile and act like it's no big deal-- I AM REALLY PANICKING INSIDE. I don't know what it is. I think I am worried about the conversation that I am (by normal social standards) expected to take part in. I find it much easier to talk with a cigarette in my hand.

Today, I went outside the restaurant, while we were waiting for our food and had a cigarette and realized that it is spring! The garbage smelled sweeter. The clothes were shorter. People seemed happier. I felt like I was on vacation.

I went back in the restaurant and said, "I feel like I'm in California." This announcement was met with a quizzical, "Really?"

Talking to people is hard.

Undated Journal Entry

I am a PseudoSlacker. That's someone who has tried and failed so many times, that it looks like I'm not trying at all. Really, I am just not too smart.

Rather than having some hippie revelation after college and deciding to pursue leisure as a way of life, I work a minumum wage job like a madman. I'm not tricking the system, folks. I don't even know what the system is.

Book club run by man with low self esteem and very bad memory

I had a dream that Oprah picked me to pick her next book for "Oprah's Book Club." I was so excited in the dream. It was almost a wet dream. I wasn't concerned about the book at all, more about Oprah picking me. In fact, I don't think I could come up with a book if she really did pick me. I've read some good books. But I don't think other people would like them. Here is my list of books that you probably won't like:

1. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
See I told you, we are already off to a bad start. But, it was the first book (that wasn't a female celebrity biography) that I actually read all the way through. I fell in love with the character and I actually got chills at the end. Guess that makes me a serial killer like all the other people who are obsessed with that book. Judging by my Jeffrey Dahmer wardrobe lately, things could easily slip down that path.

2. How We Die by Sherwin B. Nuland
I read this book last summer while I was working at a temp job opening doors for people with a buzzer. It was at the Macarthur Foundation, a philanthropic organization that donates money to rich people. I also had to answer phones. I kept accidentally answering the phones "The McCartney (as in Paul and Linda)Foundation" or the "Mccarthy (as in Joe) Foundation." The only thing that I remember from the book was that the way everybody dies is lack of oxygen reaching the brain. I was/am so (over?)medicated that I don't remember much else about it. It was really good though. It belonged to my roommate.

3. His Bright Light by Danielle Steel
See what I mean-- it's by Danielle Steel. I mean come on. It was good though. It's one of those books that I read passages from every now and then. It's about Danielle Steel's son who committed suicide. Very tragic. People express concern when I read books about depressed people. I get depressed when people express concern that I'm reading books about depressed people. So, you know.

4. Possessing the Secret of Joy by Alice Walker
I read this so long ago that I have no idea what the hell it's about. Something about female circumcision in Africa. I remember it being good though. I think I read it in the summertime. I'm sure I thought I was real smart for reading it. But I do remember liking it. If you do read it, let me know what it's about because I can't remember. I like Alice Walker. I also like the color of the book. It's purple. Go figure.

5.Imagine That by Lydia Stux (Epilogue), Russell Denver Harold
Ok, this one I really do remember. This is just a collection of letters back and forth between a gay man and his best female friend. Russell lives the 1980's San Francisco gay life and Lydia is back home in the Midwest. I am so obsessed with what it would be like to be gay and young in 1980's San Francisco. .Imagine That really gives you a good idea of what it would be like, Pre-AIDS and Post-AIDS. Really good.

Well, enjoy what you choose to read, cuz I know damn well no one is gonna read any of these books. Or even this blog, who the HELL AM I KIDDING. I might as well be typing on a computer that's not turned on!!!!!!

It's my party and I'll blog if I want to.

Originally Published
Sat Feb 28, 09:07:11 PM

In an effort to be able to try and sleep before 4:00 AM, I have decided to ban coffee after 1:30 PM. Oh, but I want it so bad now!!!

I am afraid that my blog will come off as showing that I have the personality and intelligence of a fourth grade girl, as one person once said I did. If it's true, so be it. This fourth grade girl wants to blog.