Sometimes when I listen to a song over and over again, I have a certain vision or daydream that plays in the background in psych with the song. When the song stops- the vision stops. When the song plays - the vision picks up from where it left off.
My personal discovery of the White Stripes (I have been avoiding this phenomenon for the past year - thinking that they were nothing. I was wrong. Forgive me.) has awoken an interesting dimension of visions and daydreams.
One would think that the visions would be of punk parties, inebriated nights, and breaking hearts. Quite contrary.
My vision involves an older married couple living in a small house with a covered porch in a suburb of Minneapolis. Some people in the neighborhood compare them to Adam & Barbara from the movie Beetle Juice, because they remain quiet and focused on each other. They have a son who is 12, gawky, and totally embarrassed by the fact his parents hold hands at his choir concerts, teacher conferences and school plays.
On the certain Saturday afternoon that I envision, their son is spending the night with his computer geek friend Micah. The couple, feeling nostalgic, start going through old CD's from the attic. After a while, adventure sets in. They change into their old ripped jeans, red bandanas, and stained white t-shirts. Hours later, still in the attic, they put on Seven Nation Army. The husband cracks pen a beer, and the wife breaks out the hidden cigarettes. They start jumping off boxes, lip syncing, dancing, and playing air guitar. The climax of the afternoon is when ‘The Hardest Button to Button’ starts playing. Sweaty, and excited, having just finished throwing an old vase across the room, they look into each others eyes, and together, scream with Jack White:
"Now we're a family
and we're alright now
we got money
And a little place to fight now!"

Yesterday on the subway, I went to go sit down, and like people before me and consequently after noticed, that there was a little mess, and in turn, did not sit down. At each subway stop following, some other subway rider would make the same discovery, and walk away. As I stood there watching this, I wondered about the future of the mess: how long it would stay there, and how it would eventually be cleaned up. I finally concluded in my mind that by the days finish, the mess would have been soaked up by children who sat without looking, and then probably by a few people during rush hour - sitting down in a hurry. All of this speculation was put to an end at 51st street. a older woman (I later gave her the name of babushka) got on the subway, noticed the mess, reached into her black plastic bag, and pulled out a thumb, no just kidding. Okay - so she reached into her bag, and cleaned up the mess with a tissue that she was carrying with her. She then folded the tissue, put it into a brown paper bag, and folded that up into a small square the size of a wallet. She then got up with this disgusted look on her face and sat somewhere else.

left wing america's superhero Michael Moore at his brightest.

Homeless Jingles That I Would Like to Record, and Play at Parties:
1. that one guy who recreates the "bing bong" door opening sound, and thinks that he is fucking funnier than a whoopie cushion.
2. "hi. my name is teddy. I am collectin' for the homeless..."
3. "excuse me, we are from germany, my girlfriend is pregnant, and we need money to get back home before she has her baby."
4. (out of breath and looking confused)"hey - I just locked all of my film equipment and wallet in my friends apartment - could you spare 20 bucks so I could take a cab to get his keys?? give me your address and phone number, so I can reimburse you."
5. "excuse me, this is somewhat difficult for me to do. I was recently released from a mental hospital and would like your change..." something like that.
number five's jingle belongs to my favorite homeless guy. his style reminds me of a beastie boy. whenever I see him, in my head I call him adam yauch. he is the most hip homeless man around. he shaves, his hair is salt and pepper - elvis style, and his clothes are right out of diesel catalogue. It is my goal to someday interview this guy.
Here are some questions I would ask him:
q: dude, where did you get those wicked puma sneakers? those have got to be circa 1972.
q: in your jingle you make reference to having just been released from a mental hospital. where were you staying? do you miss it?
q: do you ever go back for visits?
q: was it like that one movie - "girl interrupted", was wynona ryder there?
q: where did you get that sweater?
q: you are always so well kept. where do you shave?
q: what's heroin like?

you know in the beginning of amelie when they are introducing each character, saying their likes and dislikes? I love that part of the movie. actually it may just be one of my favorite movie scenes of all time. its one of those scenes that you never really forget. when I see things I like/dislike - I imagine that the French narrator is telling people what I like/dislike and picture myself sitting in the situation showing the action. anyway, long intro to tell you that my current dislike is people standing in front of me while I am seated, in the subway, in the morning. especially when thier ass is in my face. i feel so embarrassed - and never know where to look. I guess I should just look straight at thier ass, and call it a day. Anyway.

My idea for a comedic act would be to simply get up on stage and read a letter. The letter would be fiction, and have to last long enough (10/15 minutes) for the general industry length of an act. I would give no intro, and no closing as to what the letter was about and would just start reading. I would simply be known as the girl who reads letters. I am still considering if I would include emails. Some possible topics:
1. A letter from and Alaskan citizen to her local congressmen about the number of moose killed by vehicles over the past winter. highlight would include possible suggestions on what to do with the moosemeat/carcasses.
2. A letter to an uncle in prison. the letter would recap the past year's family events, but after each event, the neice or nephew would add something really fucked up and horrible - so the uncle wouldn't feel so bad at having missed out on the experience.
3. Anything written by someone who is high, always gets some kind of laughy response. would only be done once - because that is kind of an obvious topic. same goes for a letter written drunk.
4. Letters to school boards are always amusing - mine would concern the gym teacher's dress code.

From Jesus to you... Happy Easter!!

Alaska, April 15 -- Herman, poet laureate of the mixed breeds, died at 12:15pm at the age of 16. He survived by his loving owners (my very own g-ma and papa) Josephine and Gary. Herman enjoyed being outside, eating dog biscuits, and relaxing on the couch. He died of old age, and was put to rest at the Veterinary clinic owned and operated by Steven Mersch of Soldotna, Alaska. As my g-ma would say; "oh, bless his heart."
_________________________________________________________________________________
Here is a story that G-MA wrote up about Herman and the legacy he leaves behind:

woke up one night hearing herman's nails as he paced on the kitchen floor. usually he stayed on his bed in the front room unless we got up. he was pacing back & forth. herman never went into the bedrooms or any room except the kitchen, dining room or front room. when he came into the bed room he came to gary's side and nudged his face, then went back and forth to the door wanting to be followed. i heard grpa say "what the hell?, herman, what are you doing?" i sat up and said that i heard him pacing in the kitchen awhile ago, maybe he wanted out (he had never wanted out at night before or since.) grpa got up and put him out. i got up too, in case he was sick. we sat at the dining room table together. while we were sitting there we heard a pinging noise. found it was a smoke detector low battery alarm going off. grpa took it down and took the batteries out. herman barked to come in. when the door was opened he rushed right to the area where the detector had been and raised his head trying to hear the sound he had heard before. right then, we knew!
the minute we figured it out we hugged, praised and loved him. we were so excited at what he had done, that we stayed up at least an hour, keeping him company.
that happened twice.

everyone that ever met herman, loved him.

he could also balance a dog cookie on his nose until you told him it was all right then he would fling it in the air, catch and eat it.

as a young dog he could say "bone" & "out", just as plain as could be.
_________________________________________________________________________________

Hi Herman - I feel sad to know that you will not be keeping my grandparents company. I hope you protect them in spirit. You were a good dog. - Anise.

Monday I had surgery on my mouth. boo. bawh. I don’t like knives, needles or staying awake while other parts are put to sleep. I don’t like stitches, or the way that nurse was wiping the blood off of my face after the slicing.
Things people have told me to make me feel better about my lip being the size of my thumb:
1. "at least its not purple"
2. "its more like the size of a pinky"
3. "you can just tell people that you got collagen implants"
4. "wow - they really sliced your mouth up, didn’t they? that cut is huge."
5. "well, when you talk I just pretend that you have a cancer sore or something"
6. "oh. my. The incision is on your soft tissue. that must hurt."
thanks. it does hurt. here's a little something about PAIN: Today I read that here in NYC, one can attend work outs run by a dominatrix. just what I have been waiting for. You mean, once I get the courage to join a gym, I can in turn get beat up? I am so psyched. register today!

While I was holed up in my apartment, mopping up blood, and drewelling all over myself; I managed to watch 6 movies.
here is the list in viewing order.
1. the secretary
2. sweet home Alabama
3. bloody Sunday
4. 13 conversations about one thing
5. fiddler on the roof
6. spellbound
in preference order:
1. the secretary
2. bloody Sunday
3. sweet home Alabama
4. spellbound
5. fiddler on the roof
6. 13 conversations about one thing
in alphabetical order:
1. 13 conversations
2. bloody Sunday
3. fiddler on the roof
4. the secretary
5. spellbound
6. sweet home Alabama
in chronological order:
1. nah, just kiddin.

My friend's friend's cousin's sister's gerbil's coworker sent me an email with these symbols and some captions. Here is my interpretation. These photos are taken from a new safety site set up by our overly concerned, nurturing government.

1. If you look and dress like the Ice Man - run as fast as you can away from fire.

2. If you spot acts of terrorism, and have blue hair, blow your anti-terrorism whistle. If you are Vin Diesel, yell really loud.*

3. Beware of big red arrows. They are agressive and want to enter doors before you do. If you happen to come across a big red arrow, pin it down with your right shoulder.

4. If your building collapses, climb under your desk, and give yourself a blowjob while waiting to be rescued.*

5. In the event that orange spray paint should attack you, stand and think about the orange hazard sign, and how it feels when it's attacked like that.

6. While relaxing under debri - get creative with your flashlight. Make hand puppets. Pretend like people are with you, put the flashlight up to your face and shout "boo!"

7. From this, I am getting the strong feeling that a certain point in Texas is Radioactive.

8. If exit door is being attacked by orange arrows - grab your plastic hand (should have gotten one of those when you were getting duct tape) and karate chop door.

9. God, that orange sign wont leave me at peace. Gee, is that a dead bird? What's this? Dead fish? Man, everything is swirling together in an orange haze. First my face, then my hair, and now this? What is going on here? I may have to stand here for a while and think this through.

10. When you look at people with pink crud in their eyes - your hands get all pink and blotchy. People will start calling you Michael Jackson.

11. Michael Jackson wears a mask, and dangles babies from balconies. This shot was taken of him in Paris, back in January - after he was allegedly caught breast feeding ChiChi the Chimpanzee at the Le Presto Zoo.

12. Try to absorb as much of the radiation as possible with your groin region, for about 5 minutes and 12 seconds.*

13. After exposure to radiation it is important to consider that you and your pet arrow may have mutated to gigantic dimensions.

14. If you've become a radiation mutant with a deformed hand, remember to close the window. No one wants to see that shit.*

15. If you hear the Backstreet Boys, Michael Bolton or Yanni on the radio, cower in the corner or run like hell.*

16. If your lungs and stomach start talking, remove all clothing, paint yourself white, with a black border, and stand with your arms open, so we know that you are the freak with the lungs, and stomach that started talking..

17. I keep seeing strange colors in front of that orange swirly thing. I might as well strangle myself.

18. Avoid standing around. This can only lead to ungodly urges - such as wanting to pretend like you are a doggie- getting attacked by a red arrow from behind. Then you will remember that your dead relatives are watching from heaven. The guilt you will feel upon realizing this will force you to cover your eyes in shame, and roll circles in the fetal position.

19. "911? Yes, there has been an accident. My name is Mark. I am 9 years old. We are on the corner of Keltcher and Curry. My Mom drove us straight into an electical pole. I don't think she has been drinking, why do you ask? What? Do I put my mom under a lot of stress? Well, no more than the usual kid. Yeah, my parents are divorced. No. we live alone - I see him on the weekends. He is dating some blonde lady from this really fun restaurant where all the girls wear owl shirts. Yeah, sometimes my mom gets upset about it. No, I don't think she is on a death wish......"

20. Hi. I have blue hair, I wear the same thing every day. I have no face. What is the point of my existence? Why am I here? Should I walk over to the other side or not? Should I walk over to the other side or not? God, I just dont know. My whole life I have felt like some symbol, just going through the motions....

21. Should the explosion happen on a Tic Tac Toe grid, here is your escape route:

22. Along with duct tape, be sure to carry an apple and orange soda can with you at all times.

* denotes that the caption was to my liking - so I didn't change it completely. just did a little tweaking.

the cat with a white stripe down his back was in love with the cat with no stripe. no matter how many times the no stripe cat told the stripe cat that it just wouldn’t work (she wasn’t attracted to stripes) - he stayed around. one day stripe noticed that no stripe was purring for someone else. it suddenly occurred to him that he cared more for the no stripe, than the no stripe cared for him. realizing this, he turned cold. the chill remained for days, leaving him numb to any feeling, and dim to any light. determined to make better for himself, the stripe stayed away from the cat with no stripe. doubting his actions, he first felt empty, lonely, and sad. as time passed, he slowly began to forget the cat with no stripe. the more he separated himself, the more he gained perspective. feeling liberated, he began reading Cheever, and watching Fellini. finally, one day he saw the cat with no stripe walking through the square, purring. he remembered how he used to purr with her, and out of instinct took one step toward the cat with no stripe to see what was so purry. once his paw hit the pavement, he retracted in fear. didn’t meow. and was paralyzed with memory. watching her for as long as he could - he walked home, and fell into a deep trance. forgetting to take care of himself, he never showered again.

everyone now calls the cat with one stripe, a skunk.

I have nothing to say. however 80% of the time, after writing that - most people find something to say. I feel totally content and at peace - with who knows what - my block maybe? I don't really know, and am not really dying to find out. It might be Central Park - its so fresh/new right now - despite the weather.
News: I am relieved that the Saddam statue was taken down in Iraq. What an eyesore. I had been reading too many atrocious Saddam/Uday/Qusay stories during the past few weeks - so I am feeling happy for those who were formerly repressed by the Regime. However, all the street commotion yesterday was a little scary in the "okay you are happy now, but what about in two weeks from now, when you are still cleaning up the blood/bodies/bombing mess the Americans made" sense. I was watching the events yesterday on TV with semi dread. But for some reason, it's all becoming the same. I guess I have successfully immunized myself. I am no longer filled with guilt when I spend two hours painting my nails, spend all day watching movies, and read People Magazine.

Yesterday, NYC had a surprise snowfall of about 4 inches. Most people were miserable and complaining. I watched four movies: Unfaithful, The Anniversary Party, All or Nothing, and Black Hawk Down. Pretty eventful day! As tradition warrants: I will attempt to compare/contrast my two favorites of the day: Black Hawk Down & The Anniversary Party. (All or Nothing totally sucked, and Unfaithful was good for the make out scenes... not much else.)
Compare:
1. Fighting was involved with both films.
2. I have seen one person from each film in the flesh.
3. British directors.
4. Near Death experiences.
5. this is getting really difficult. the movies were nothing alike.

Contrast:
1. war / party
2. one had no women / one had women
3. Mogadishu / Los Angeles
4. massive amounts of death / no death
5. no one was doing drugs / everyone did E.

Yin and Yang of the 2003 NYC Smoking Prohibition Act:
Smokers are taking to the sidewalks - and leaving a trail of fiberglass/cotton/paper behind them...

YIN:
1. No smoky clothes! now you can wear that hot clubbing outfit night after night! In addition, none of your co-workers will even suspect you were out until a mere 2 hours before arriving at the office, smelling fresh... (sort of)
2. No more misleading smoky red/watering eyes. (example: gosh, he must really like me - I can't believe I am making him cry... or, was my joke that bad??)
3. No more feeling guilty for the person who has to find a place to blow their smoke, put out their ashes, and how they should hold the dang thing. I don’t know why, but I always felt guilty about that.
4. No more accidental cigarette burns.
5. Smoking love connections:
"Say, how did you guys meet??"
"Well, we met over a cigarette... back in 2003."
6. Putting smokers on the sidewalk is going to be amazing socially. I am looking forward to a new dimension of the "Friday night drunk walk home". I already meet a ton of people via drunk walking, but this is putting 200 extra drunk, single, horny kids in the same path. The odds couldn’t be more in our favor. Perhaps this is the mayor's way of getting us to reproduce?? "Forget about the war! Make illegitimate babies! I am tired of hearing the singles whine. lets get it on!" okay. wishful thinking...
7. No more coughing/wheezing two days after that big night out!!
8. Better lighting resides outside the bar, letting you actually see just what you are hooking up with.

YANG:
1. Cigarette butts on the sidewalks. This can only lead to horrible things.
2. Believe or not, there is that rare night when each of us enjoy a little peace and quiet. with more of the bar population outside, than ever before... it might get rowdy and loud.
3. It will eventually get annoying weaving in and out of all of the people who are taking over the sidewalk. So far, no one has been paying attention to the fact that they are taking over the space. bar owners are going to have to start roping off a smoking section.
4. Angry smokers don’t really appeal to me. Reminds me of the caddy girls that hate me at my job.
5. Come to think of it; Cold, Angry, Drunk smokers aren't really on my checklist of things I want to be bumping into on the sidewalk, nor listening to as I try to sleep.

Other than that - I am totally thrilled about the new smoking ban. In most ways, I feel that it's bringing people around the city, together.

Current fave song/video is 'Beautiful' by Mr. Snoop Dogg. If I could call something fly - I would call the end of this video fly.

April fools joke 2004: Torturing My Roommate. Part 1.
This is a transcript between my roommate (James) and myself. James - if you even read this, I am really sorry for posting this, but I found it highly amusing at the time, and hope it doesn’t offend you. If this does offend you, please refrain from poisoning anything edible, or putting insects in my room. Thanks.

From: Anise
To: James
Subject: fire.
Date: Tue, 1 Apr 2003 12:27:14 -0500

James - was something left in the stove?? A small fire broke out in the kitchen this morning........ I wasn't using the stove.
Did something happen stove-wise last night??
Anise.

To: Anise
From: James
Subject: Re: fire.

Shit!
Nothing fire-related happened last night. And I could have sworn I turned it off after I used it. What was the damage? Did the alarm go nuts again? Sorry about this - I might have to stop using that oven - we seem to make a bad team. (background: he has had a rough start with the stove....)

From: Anise
To: James
Subject: Re: fire.
Date: Tue, 1 Apr 2003 12:41:36 -0500

APRIL FOOLS !

To: Anise
From: James
Subject: Re: fire.

Erm...right...I knew you were joking all along. Honest.
James "gullible twat" Scanlon.

From: Anise
To: James
Subject: Re: fire.

James. word to the wise - I would never refer to yourself as "twat" under any circumstance. It could be HIGHLY embarrassing for you, and your co-workers, if this were to ever happen at work. It could be HIGHLY embarrassing for you and the deli owner if this were to ever happen at the deli. and It could be HIGHLY embarrassing for you and whomever is standing next to you if this were to happen in a place where you stand next to people.