Live people ignore the strange and unusual. I am the strange and unusual.

I have nothing really to say today, even though I know I have a lot on my mind. I probably shouldn’t even post since I don’t feel much like talking. But, I’m obsessive compulsive so I will.

I’ve had an exhausting day of not running around at all. It’s strange to be mentally exhausted when you’ve been inside all day, but sometimes it’s what happens.

Sundays are always so draining. I’ve hated them since I was a little girl. Something about having to go to school the next day never really appealed to me. Then it was work, when I held a “regular” job. Now, now it’s just deeply inborn in my skull to hate Sundays.

and now…
I’m watching Beetlejuice. Do you think Alec Baldwin looks back at himself in that movie and is sad that he’s so fat and ugly now? Not that it matters, but really, if you saw Alec Baldwin in Beetlejuice you would think he was hot.

Okay. I’ve got nothing else.

Last night. Late.

I had no idea that when I got in a cab at three-something-or-other in the morning I would encounter a psychic clairevoyant, but that’s exactly what happened to me in what must be my most un-fucking-forgettable New York moment ever.

At first we weren’t getting along. He, the cabdriver or intuitive being, was being a “where was that address again?” driver, and I was being an impatient New Yorker. When he didn’t go my way to get downtown, I immediately got my panties in a tizzy and began asking questions.

“Why are all New Yorkers so impatient?” he asked me.

“It’s the nature of the beast,” I replied.

“Please don’t tell me how to go,” he said, “and I promise to get you there.”

I knew he was right so I just shut my trap.

We drove the next seven blocks in silence, and then he began the conversation.

He was intuitive…probably the most intuitive “capsule” I’ve ever met.

He told me things about myself that only a few, very close people even know. He told me things about myself that only I know. He told me who I would become and he told me what I’d have to face to get there. Basically, it was the scariest, most dead-on, holy shit experience of my life.

I asked him if he was from another planet. He told me he was an angel. His parents had named him Godson, as if they knew something about him. They were pretty much right on.

He found me. Other cabs passed me by, literally, as if at 3AM I’m invisible under the jacket that has been termed “my sleeping bag.” He cut through traffic to get to me. It was as if he had to get to me.

Not all he said was good, although he tried to explain how I could turn the bad around. Things that I had already known were reaffirmed and words that I needed to hear were said.

I didn’t sleep much last night. I couldn’t. After all, the experience had been so out of explanation that I couldn’t think about anything else. How did he find me when he knew I needed him? How did he know me? Who was he?

I know, I know. I’m a kook sometimes, but really, this time I know, I was touched by an angel.

The 405 Wednesday -Los Angeles, CA.

That same night…in NYC…some girl was murdered on the Lower East Side and
the shooting happened right in my neighborhood. Literally.

“Actress Slain”

Clinton and Rivington. I’m not even going to tell you how close that is to my job or how close that is to where I’m living these days. And the “thugs” that the NY Post refers to probably live in my building. I’m feeling vulnerable, vulnerable like I did a certain time a few Septembers ago when everyone thought the world was coming to an end.

Here one day and gone the next. Shot in the chest. Surrounded by friends and fiances. Is that anyway to die?

Shit. No one should be allowed to chose when someone else should die. Not by gun. Not by knife. Not by anything unless of course there’s a living will that says if you’re really sick and in pain you have the right to go.

Okay, enough death talk…Like I said, I’m freaking out…

Feeling trapped?

1. Tylenol PM really works

2. Tylenol PM really works

3. Okay, yes, Tylenol PM works so well that the next day you cannot fully recover from the fact that Tylenol PM really works

4. Don’t make big plans after flying back on the red eye from LA and taking Tylenol PM

5. Actually, don’t make ANY plans after taking Tylenol PM

6. Every month I will cramp A LOT on the second or third day of my period (or “harry with the red hair” as we used to refer to her)

7. You cannot wear headphones, even ones that aren’t plugged in, during the emergency movie that plays at takeoff. You must watch the emergency movie without headphones on, or you will get yelled at by the flight attendant. You can close your eyes while watching the movie, but headphones are a big no-no

8. American Airlines really does have more leg room

9. LA is much, much warmer than NY but I don’t really like it there…I blame the smog and the plastic surgery for my dislike of the city of Angels

10. Did I mention that Tylenol PM really works?

I think it’s the “recycled,” and I use that term loosely, air on a plane that has changed the course of my breathing pattern since yesterday. While before that I thought I might have been getting sick, once I woke up from a very long, hard plane slumber, I began to sneeze…frantically. My right nostril kept on itching along, screaming “NOTICE ME!!!,” and of course I did. Usually I’m one of these one time sneeze kind of gals, who after she lets the big hhhhhaaaaa-cccchhhoooo out, she’s done for a while. But yesterday, sitting in the aisle seat of emergency row 20 on the 2:30PM American Airlines Flight to LAX, I sneezed over six times in a row, and on more than one occasion!!! It didn’t stop there, bceause once I started sneezing the snot in my nose only continued to mass produce. I don’t understand how so much snot can happen in so little time, really, especially when there should never be that much snot in one’s body at anytime. Still, I went through almost all the tissues in the ‘business class’ bathroom, which eventually got me into trouble. Not the tissue part, but the fact that I, a common airline passenger, could use the elusive business class bathroom. It looked just like all the other lavatories, and it was closer to my emergency row seat than the pee-on’s bathroom, and I almost told the flight attendant to shove it where the sun don’t shine, instead of hanging my head in shame and screaming, “why, why oh lord can’t I afford to be in business class!”

I didn’t scream. I just stayed cranky and irritated until I arrived at the car rental place and found that a)I had to pay out of pocket for the car I thought my company took care of *don’t worry they will take care of it and b)the car that the obnoxious Dollar rent-a-car man gave me had mirrors that didn’t move so I had to, after inspection and the thought of leaving, go and get a new car…

Today I am in LA. Tomorrow I’m back to NY. I can’t follow me anymore.

So…follow this….

Attention sexy couples:

From the Creator of Star Search, Adam & Eve Announce the Production of “Reality-X: The Search for Adam & Eve” Open Call in New York City on Saturday, February 12th

“Reality-X: The Search for Adam & Eve” is the first reality show to scout for
the Sexiest Couple in America—and then cast them in their very own movie, which will be the climax of the series. The series, hosted by Adult Film Star Carmen Luvana, will feature men and women from all over the country vying for an exclusive contract with Adam & Eve Productions, worth up to $250,000. 16 contestants will be taken to beautiful Hedonism III in Jamaica to compete in the semi-finals and finals to decide who will become ‘Adam & Eve’.

WHERE:
NEW YORK CITY
AER Lounge
409 West 13th Street
NY, NY 10014

WHEN:
Saturday, February 12th From Noon until 6:00pm
……………………………………………
I went to Hedonism II once…it was quite the “unique” experience. I’m not going to make it to the auditions. But maybe my snot will somehow find a way to show up…seeing as it always does…

Oh..and I made THE VILLAGE VOICE this week. I’m not as dumb as I may sound in this little clip..You’ll have to read the whole article to find my name, but I promise, it’s a good article and I am in there!

I’ve had these reoccurring nightmares that I forget are reoccurring except that they happen over and over again (which is, in essence, what makes them reoccurring.) They aren’t a particular nightmare, it’s not like I’m always going into the cookie jar and being bit by a spider, but they have one character that continues to haunt my dreams and kill everyone I know. This big thing, which I will refer to in pronouns as “he”, wears a suit of brown armor, stands taller than anybody I know and likes to ride a motorcycle. He also likes to destroy everything in his path, and tends to find a way to be around me at places that have large groups of people I care about. He kills them all in a variety of ways -with fire, with his motorcycle, with his hand… oh, and he doesn’t really like me at all…

I don’t know what this means or who he is. I forgot how badly he haunted my dreams until two nights ago when I woke up because he had been there. All I remember was that my sister was a predominant figure in this last one, but I can’t recall why.

I did fall back to sleep about a half hour later, and the brown, robotic, destroyer man wasn’t in the next nightmare, but there was a second one that same morning. This time I was starting a new job, which happened to be in a desert-like office environment, and as my new group of co-workers began “showing me the ropes” water began to flood in from out of nowhere. “What’s that?” I asked, and I remember someone’s response was “Oh, it’s war games. People sign up and pay to kill each other. We should probably get you out of here before they really start killing, because you’re not signed up to play, and you don’t want to accidentally die.” And while getting out of there seemed like a good idea at the time, I coudn’t believe that there were people who wanted to play this game, people who wanted to test the limits of their lives. People who weren’t so much afraid of dying as they were of staying alive…well, at least that’s what I think I thought.

So, now, me and this other girl we’re in this open-air jeep with some guy whose driving us through streams of bullets and water and military style charades. I’m wearing a hat to cover my eyes, because I’m from the school of thought (at least in my dream) that if I can’t see it, then it must not really be happening. So we’re driving and all of a sudden a screen appears before us, and it starts to show pictures of all the players so that everyone involved in the game knows who to hunt down. And the first picture on the screen is of me, and it’s not the most flattering picture, and it says CODE NAME: SANTA CLOOSE. I have no idea why a girl like me would have a code name like that, but this was the name that I remember seeing. And then I screamed, “Holy shit, I am part of the game,” and I woke up in a cold sweat, with my faux fur/satin blanket combo on the floor, like it usually is every morning, and I couldn’t think straight for a minute or two. I tried to take it all in, and after two nightmares in one night, there was no way I could go back to sleep.

Two dreams, or nightmares, depending on if the glass is half empty or half full, in the same night. I know there’s some meaning behind all of this, and while I can think of what it might mean, I’m still trying to figure it all out. I don’t want to see the destroyer in any more of my dreams, and I have no desire to take part in any war games.

Where does this leave me? I’m really not sure…all that I know is that once again I am sitting on the floor of an airport waiting to board a flight to LA. Don’t ask. I mean ask, but until things happen I won’t tell you. I’m returning late tomorrow, or early Thursday, again depending on how you look at it all. And then I’ll be back in New York, at least for now, with lots of exciting news to share…maybe…or maybe just some more bad dreams. In a world where most things are good, how can sleep be so bad?

Blizzard ‘05

I’ve had a relationship breakthrough. A therapy thing of sorts, without ever going to therapy. Now, before you think, here goes the obsessive, compulsive future crazy city lady who will eventually live in a cramped apartment with plants and fur, let me explain. I think it’s a real big admission and decision.

You might not agree. I know one of the two people I ran it by doesn’t. But it’s my newest way of understanding how to grow up a little more.

One to Grow On. Not all that original, but really, it brings me back to those lessons of sharing and caring we were supposed to learn before our favorite Saturday morning cartoons on NBC. I actually liked those vignettes at the top of every hour. I still preferred Pee Wee’s Playhouse - mekka lekka hi, mekka heini ho- to anything else, but when one to grow came on, I listened.

So, now I’m listening to my internal “one to grow on” clock. The one that’s telling me I’ve been obsessing about relationships for the past few months, with the only success being that I have a consistent record when it comes to obsessing. Relationships, on all levels, are more important than relationships on any one level, and while I do love, love - I also need to remember that I have a lot of other shit going on. And I love that too. And I need to focus just as much attention on this other “shit” as well.

So..I’m going to start now, and I’m not going to talk only about one aspect of life, but I’m going to talk about many, or a few, basically whatever else I feel like. And here are two things that really caught my attention today - the first day of my not obsessing on relationships, while yes, obsessing. I’m being annoying and obsessing on them now, but that’s only to be annoying really. *Sometimes I like to be annoying, just in case you were wondering…

Is Spongebob Squarepants really gay? I had my suspicions, but who knew? Apparently James Dobson, the lovely head of the most “charming” organization on the planet, Focus on the Family, knew. He outed him at a recent dinner celebrating our next four years of doom and destruction. Mr. Dobson, a direct descendant of the devil’s seed, actually believes that Spongebob Squarepants is propoganda that manipulates and brainwashes kids.
Oh, how I love this country!

Rob Black, a naughty film producer, wins a big case. How’s that for generic? It’s an obscenity charges case, and it’s all about first amendment rights. Read it if you care about these things…and…..oh…..by the way, have I mentioned you should care?

What have you grown on today?

There isn’t much more to say about it. For once the weather people have predicted right. There’s a lot of snow on the ground in New York and a lot more to come. Still I’m at work, in a dress, (Okay, I have no TV so I’m not fully prepared for this weather) planning on attending a dinner party that was planned long before the storm was even a sparkle in it’s daddy’s eye.

Most people don’t move when it snows like this. I am not most people. I don’t want to know most people that don’t move. I ask to meet the movers and shakers not the “oh, poor me, it’s too cold to move types.” Although I know some of my friends are part of the “pussy people,” as I have decided to refer to them today.

There is nothing wrong with being a pussy but a little white on the ground shouldn’t mean life stops. Unless of couse, it does. But that’s not necessarily the case, and besides, if you’ve never been in New York City during or after a big snow storm, you don’t know the beauty you are missing. Really. I’m more than sort of psyched to get off work and get out in it all.

I’m no pussy. Are you?

Not that anyone ever comes to see me teach even if I do promote it…
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Friday, January 28
EditrixAbby’s Sexy Soiree
Recently voted “Best Orgies” in New York Press, EditrixAbby brings together disparate individuals and foments unlikely situations. While some kinky parties “are harder to get into than Stanford,” she prefers a more egalitarian approach, which always results in a uniquely erotic event.

Sex Educator Jamye Waxman warms up the night with her “Sexth Sense” class at 9:00
Masks by Miyong
Pasty Twirling Lessons by Darlinda Just Darlinda
Erotic Encounter Room by Orgasmateria
Trixie¹s Group Grope Room
Fetish Dungeon presided over by Mistress Dante Posh & Mistress HarleQuinn
Plus Donna of DD1nc.com will offer tastes of Karma Sutra’s newest Body Dust
flavors and demonstrate their delicious Chocolate Body Paints.
Refreshments will be available, but you are invited to BYOB.
DJ Mic Rage provides the sensuous soundtrack.
And The Handsome Cowboy will be there to welcome you.

Doors at 9:00
Single Women: $10
Couples: $30
Single Men: $40

RSVP to Abby at aehmann@nyc.rr.com for reservations, prepayment information and the midtown Manhattan address.
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Then, on Feb. 6th (yes, Superbowl Sunday) if you don’t want to watch a bunch of big, bad boys and overdone commercials I’ll be teaching the Sexth Sense at Toys in Babeland ($30, 8PM).
————————————————-
Last night….I had a great night with art stars at an art party. I particularly fell in love with the 80-something year old Taylor Meade. He was in Coffee and Cigarettes (the last scene, the one scene in that horrible movie that actually made me cry). That’s all I’ll say about it now, cause I want to get away from the computer and do some shopping for my place to live.
———————————————-
And this:

“Jenna Jameson, the world’s best known sex icon, has teamed up with technology developer Wicked Wireless to provide Latin American cell phone users with “moantones” and other steamy content.

The new Modeltel Mobile Storefront program will provide TelCel Telefonica subscribers in Central and South America with access to a continuous flow of, music, R-rated wallpaper, ringtones and other content from Ms. Jameson and “Jenna’s Web Girls” - adult stars whose websites are managed by her company, ClubJenna, Inc.”

What will they think of next? Don’t answer that, I don’t really want to know…

Aside 01:
Inauguration Day ‘05: Four more years of Bush!!!! Isn’t that exciting…
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“Relationships”

I know I shouldn’t want one (see title), at least not right now, in the midst of the craziest career time(s) of my life, but still I sort of do. Okay, I maybe more than sort of do, but admitting that yeah, I want a relationship right now, is enough to scare off any of the non-existant potential relationships that have or will pop up in my life. I’m sick of over-dating, or first conversations (although I really do like those first few get-to-know-you-moments), tired of the endless “did I say something wrong” that comes with not really knowing someone right.

It’s not that I want to be married, or have Jamye Jr. growing in my uterus any time soon. I don’t feel a biological clock ticking away, and I don’t feel like at 30, I should be wearing some rock that signifies I “belong” to someone else. I don’t know that I ever want any of that, but I do want something now, something more; a growing experience that involves sex, laughs and intelligent conversation. I want to wake up in a man’s arms more than just once in a while. I want to know I have someone to share the good times, and bad, and that I have someone to call when I’m feeling a little off *which I have decided is how I always feel the week before my period. I want to experience an emotional bond that I can’t find with anyone else, even if physically we still mess around. And while I should be focusing more on certain other things, I keep going back to wanting this now.

Maybe it’s because it’s the winter, and it’s always nice to cuddle when it’s cold…

It would be nice to have someone to share parts of my life with. At least I think it would be, seeing that it’s been more than a little while since I’ve had that whole experience. I’m always involved with those boys who want to be a little less than involved. And while I enjoy the time that we share, I know that it’s more limited than say someone who can committ to even six months. I want to be able to say I love you, and mean it, and feel it again, because the last time I know I felt it and meant it, it was almost a decade ago. *Note: I have fallen “in love” since I was 20, but due to outside circumstances it could never be a fully acknowledged sort of love.

I don’t want a relationship that takes up all of my time, because having a life is just as important as having a relationship, but it would be nice to find an emotionally available, geographically desirable, easy on the eyes, sort of guy who wants me for a while. And putting it out there like this isn’t going to help me any, I know, and still I don’t care if it just makes me sound more desperate. I’m not desperate. I’m not even dating enough to find what I’m looking for. I don’t want to make any effort, because I don’t have the time to make that sort of committment *yes this may sound crazy, when all I’ve been talking about is finding committment.

Still it would be nice if someone, outside of my family, could just say I love you and mean it for a while.

That’s all.