I guess you could say this is some sort of diary or blog. Or rant. Or whatever. But sometimes I just have to say a few things and share. It makes me feel like a part of the world instead of the microscopic speck of humanity that I actually am. So here's my act.

August 4, 2008
It is done. I am home. The pup is back, the cats sleep on the bed, Victor is my pal. I got home yesterday and was ready to sink into the warm home-iness of my little life in Somerville. But noooooooo. This chick can't relax! It's not in her nature! I was completely grumpy and perplexed. On the one hand - sure - happy to be home. On the other hand, it's the same ol' life I had before. Back to the usual fare. And so between stressing about being away and then the anti-climax of coming home, I've resorted to a state of agitation. Once again, I realize that the notion of "being in the moment" is completely lost on me. I don't appreciate anything in the present. Dancing is the closest I get to just BEING. Otherwise, I fret. I should be this, I should be that. I should be doing this, doing that. What about what I'm doing? What about who I am? Ah, what a bore. I am incorrigible.

I love my puppy, though. She makes me laugh and I want to pet her every minute.

July 27, 2008
Two weeks done, one week to go. I'm adapting slowly. I've discovered I like swimming in the ocean. It works better than Ativan in terms of clearing my chatter brain and stressed out body. I've even mastered the rough waves and have come to enjoy them. Occasionally I think about sharks eating me and jelly fish stinging me, but for the most part I am happy to be swimming. I guess it takes time to learn how to relax, to wile away hours with one self. I've learned a lot about my own paranoia and how time-obsessed I am. I was walking back from the beach the other day - a mere 20 minute walk - and I was feeling panicky and weird. I said to myself, "what the fuck are you doing? No wonder you're never happy with your life - you always think you should be somewhere else! Just take your goddamn walk and shut the fuck up. You have nothing else you have to do today. SHUT UP." And then I noticed the enchanted forest to my left and the open field to my right and I walked home with relatively less self-conscious bullshit. Not that it wasn't there at all, but it was less.

Kirstin is a good role model. She takes walks every day, picks up rocks, takes pictures...She seems to not have the bizarre, constant worry that has somehow ensconced itself in the lives of most of us Pierce's.

The girls are very excited about their performance next week. I have a lot of work to do to get them ready, but they will be themselves and that should be charming. I dragged them to a show at the Yard and I suspect it was an eye-opening experience for them which made me happy. As I was sitting there I felt happy. I love dance. There's no question about that. I love it and even a little bit of moving bodies on a Saturday afternoon is enough to re-confirm that dance is The Shit.

On the music front, there is a piano at the property, but I've been too shy to sit down at it for anything more than a quick tickle. There was talk of my practicing for a sing-along with the guests (arriving tomorrow) but I haven't made an effort to make that happen. Too chicken. Plus I'm just not sure what is imposing on their space and what isn't. Best to keep to myself and lay low. I'm a paranoid little geek.


July 22, 2008
I spent the first of my 3 weeks away in Delaware with the Tiernan clan. A nice time for the most part. We drove there and that was LONG, but I made it with the help of a few Ativans and a lot of over-eating. I'm now on Martha's Vineyard at the start of my teaching gig. I ended up with 6 girls who are all sweet enough and I imagine everything will be fine. They are very excited about their "show" at the end. The estate where I'm staying is UNBELIEVABLE. Sprawling grounds, a house here and there, a barn, a pool, pigs, cows, chickens, horses, goats, a driving range - you can use a golf cart to get around the place it is so big. Pretty gorgeous I must say.

I'm a little lonely and I eat too much. I feel fat and un-glamorous. I don't match my super-fine environment. I could exercise - I have a ton of time on my hands - but have yet to start that bright idea.

I miss my home but I'm not freaked. Thankfully there are two darling Cavalier King Charles spaniels where I'm staying and they are my new best friends. In fact, they are here sitting on the bed with me as I write. I just look at them and they wag their tails. As I suspected, I have not been too brave in my first 36 hours. I did manage a 10-minute bike ride to the town where I bought an avocado, a cucumber, coffee, a loaf of bread, hommos and cheese for $31.00. Oh - and a shitty ice cream that tasted like chemicals for $3.00. I will attempt a trip to the beach this afternoon. I know it's hard to believe, but that is actually a challenge for this shy girl. I'm insane.

Kirstin picked me up from the ferry. She was a sweetie. Brought me immediately to the beach and whipped out cocktails and baguette sandwiches for watching the sunset. What a gal. That has been the highlight so far.

I think tonight I'm tagging along to a reading by Michael Pollen (sp?). Thank god I brought that canvas tote. Plastic bags need not apply...

July 9, 2008
An old college beau googled me and found this site. It's always a little funny to think that anyone actually reads this shit. Nice to know - but then I go back and read it trying to imagine what an objective person might garner from the ramblings (it ain't EgoArt, Inc by accident). I've spent a lot of time talking about canines. Perhaps it's time to move on. Sorry everyone - been a little obsessed.

Of course the other obsession is the impending doom that will inevitably arise when I have to leave home for THREE WHOLE WEEKS. Truly, this causes a high level of anxiety. I hate leaving. I hate it. I hate it. That moment of putting the key in the door is just torture. Usually, once I arrive, I adapt. Despite knowing this, the torture is no less. I will bring my computer for more agitated prose if anyone cares.

In preparation for our trip to the beaches of Delaware, I got my annual bikini wax yesterday done by this Russian woman - Natasha. MAN! She did a real rip job. She kept going over the same spot and RE-ripping. Not pleasant. Painful to be beautiful. My L.A. roots will never die when it comes to the bikini line. Gotta be hair-free. Just gotta. No "Brazilian" by the way - just a basic clean-up job. I once had a lady tell me that my kind of bikini wax is the "Baked Bean."


July 2, 2008
Summer always feels strange to me. I guess you could say I'm more "relaxed" - less to do, less running around. But then I get this constant underlying feeling of agitation as if I'm wasting my life, not doing enough. I can't truly relax, enjoy the down time, watch the puppy, chill out. I worry about money, about domestic chores, about grants I need to write, about the pace of my dance-making...Then I procrastinate by nibbling on the kitchen. Then I get fat. Then I get depressed. Then I think I'm a loser wasting my life. Ah the vicious cycle.

Victor had a little job scare - thought he might get the ol' lay-off. Fortunately, trouble averted. Still employed. (Thank god I don't have to go back to bartending.) I am such a lucky guilty girl. Victor takes care of my ass and then I sit here wondering if I'm doing anything. Am I? Is it "enough" to warrant my being supported? I think I should be in a constant whirlwind of creativity and productivity in order to deserve a part-time-work life to make art. Oh dear...I think I need some almonds.

June 23, 2008
Life with Bell puppy remains divine. God I love that dog. Despite the nips, the accidents, the whining in the crate...this girl is a love bug. You can click her cute face to see a bigger pic.


Soon I have to face my 3 weeks away. One week in Delaware with Victor's family; one day home and then off to Martha's Vineyard for 2 weeks teaching dance to rich 12-year olds. I get so anxious about leaving my nest. No one believes me when I tell them that I'm actually a shy gal. In a familiar environment, I can be my loud-mouth self. But get me somewhere new and I am a lamb. Self-conscious, afraid, lacking courage to explore. That's when I realize how much I depend on Victor for breaking the ice. Bell is going to Vermont to stay with Babs and Odee the poodle. That's another thing. I hate to leave her - even in good hands. And the cats - I hate to leave the cats! My nest, my nest! Sometimes I think that's why I'm not rich and famous - too addicted to my little hermit life.

June 18, 2008
The universe came through. I was tested with Axel and must have done okay because as of last Friday I now have a glorious puppy! I am utterly smitten with "Bell" - our 8 1/2-week old Portuguese Water Dog. She is sweet, gentle, smart, funny, adorable as all hell. I will post some pics very soon. My whole world is sweet puppy-ness.

Mommalama Babs most generously funded the pup adoption. While I have some mixed feelings about not getting a rescue dog, I am so utterly charmed by this girl that I have to say I think it's worth every penny. Her personality is so easy. I don't have to go for walks with fear, confusion, worry, stress. I realize how very damaged our poor Axel was. If only we had got him at 8-weeks instead of 5 months...but Bell has two little black spots on her nose that match Axel's exactly and so in my new-agey fantasy, I pretend it's a message of reassurance that we did the right thing when we put Axel to sleep. Perhaps he has sent a message through those 2 little spots that he is better off now; that it's okay for me to have a new puppy.

So the Celtics beat the Lakers. It was a fun series. I tried to fight it, but my heart ended up with the C's! I never thought I'd say that. But when you watch a team all season long, ya can't turn your back on them during the championship. Plus, I don't like the players on the Lakers these days. Kobe is a total prick; I don't like Odom; Gasol needs to shave his goddamn neck; Fisher is...well...I guess he doesn't bug me that much. As Victor says, I like the jersey more than the players. He's right. And so during every game, I found myself rooting for our Boston boys - Pierce, Garnett, Ray Allen, Perkins, Rondo and the good Doc Rivers. After the win last night there were horns beeping all night long.

June 7, 2008
We put our puppy to sleep 2 weeks ago. It was one of the saddest, most painful, awful experiences in my whole life. Axel was getting worse. We had taken him to a vet appointment for a rash on his belly and he ended up held down by three people, muzzled and handled by a woman in big leather gloves. The vet was pretty clear with us that Axel was a dangerous pup, that he was a "loaded gun" and that he would surely hurt or kill our cats. He had even started growling at us and lunged at me once for just simply standing up. So we did it. It was a hard decision and I cried and cried and cried. All of our friends have supported our decision, but I can't help but wonder once in a while if I couldn't have worked with him, held out a little longer, etc...But I supposed it was the most humane and responsible decision ultimately. It sucked and we still think about him and talk about him. He got under our skin with his cuteness and beauty - it was just that he turned into Cujo when we least expected it.

Otherwise, I'm rolling along. I started rehearsals for the Requiem. Got rejected from the MCC grant. The usual.

May 21, 2008
A ray of hope. Took the pup to a trainer yesterday and I was completely bowled over. I arrived to a room FULL OF DOGS - on beds, sitting around, some in crates. I was a complete wreck bringing him in. They said bring him in. He was barking and pulling, snarling - beside himself. And the other dogs just looked at him like he was a nut case who didn't know the rules of the club. With me holding Axel on a short leash, she (Jenifer) sat me down to ask questions and we just let Axel play out his snarling until he calmed down a bit. Then she and her assistant took him and I swear to god, in under 10 minutes he was sitting on the trainer's foot, wagging his tail and getting pet. By the end of my time there he was sleeping at my feet and didn't care about the other dogs. It was miraculous. SIGN ME UP, I said.

Granted, it's no easy fix. She did say that it was atypical for a dog this young to have such a high level of aggression. But she was impressed at how quickly he turned it around and that he was sleeping by the time we left. She said by Thanksgiving I could have a dog sleeping on a dog bed with people coming in and out of the house. Sounds like a nice goal to me. So we're going to work on the little bugger. I feel so much better having a plan. It felt terrible floundering around trying to figure out how to deal with him, probably making things worse. I already made some improvements on our walk this morning.

May 19, 2008
Distaster has struck. Turns out that cute puppy we have has a full-on case of dog aggression (amongst other things). We took him to puppy school and he went ballistic - attacked other dogs, snarled and lunged and scared the shit out of everybody. Had to be pulled from the class. The trainer handled it really well but then proceeded to tell us that he was far along and that training him would be an uphill battle. Every walk is stressful. Victor and I have each bawled our eyes out and we are beside ourselves. He's also still biting me. Not with aggression, but putting his whole mouth around my arm, catching my fingers in his mouth. He does it less, but still doing it. I'm making some calls today to meet some trainers. It is a grim situation compounded by Victor's injury which continues to hurt him.

Home is not a comfy nest.

May 16, 2008
MY. GOD. To say I've been distracted is an understatement: Victor's injured shoulder, starting a new project (the Requiem), and OUR NEW PUPPY.

Axel the pup is our new adopted child since last weekend (almost one week). A Pit, Boston Terrier and who knows what else mix of a guy. He is VERY CUTE. And he can also be an asshole. I have begun training myself to be the "top dog" after a nightmare day this week when he kept biting the shit out of me and made bruises on my arms. He also pulls on his leash, lunges at other dogs and barks at children. Since then, I have been pinning him to the floor, making gutteral voices and anxiously waiting to start puppy school. I love him to death, but he is a handful and has a lot to learn. It's been intense and I am once again reminded why I will never procreate. I'm so unhinged and preoccuped by this new arrival that I can barely do anything else.

I am anxious alot and worry that he'll never be a good boy. But little by little, I see improvements. It'll be good for him to be around other doggies in puppy school. And I haven't even mentioned the fact that our cats are are still upstairs in their own world. I fear for their introduction. Oy...

And then, of course, there are those great moments when he is licking my face with his warm little body draped over my lap - and that adorable face! Then I am reminded why I love this little bugger. Plus, he loves ME!

April 25, 2008
Oh my goodness! I have been neglecting this writing! Gotta get back on track here.

First and most importantly is that Victor got hit by a car on his bike. His shoulder is all screwed up and his collar bone sticks up out of his skin all weird. It also has a nice yellow bruise all over that is rather intriguing. He's really bummed he can't ride his bike with all these nice days we've been having lately. I feel badly for him. He's like a hyperactive kid and if he doesn't get enough exercise he starts getting depressed and grumpy. So I hope he recovers quickly - and really, that's for my sake.

For what it's worth, which is very little I imagine, writing here is good for me. I used to write a ton - poems, short stories. I was an English major! But over the years I've really slacked off. I don't read enough anymore either. It's the New Yorker, crossword puzzles and a few articles online from the NYT. Not too good. Well...I did read Omnivore's Dilemma and that got me thinking a lot about our food chain and the nastiness of grocery stores. I'm this close to planting some vegetables. Now I'm reading Musicophilia and that's a fun read but not the deepest.

I'm still spending hard earned dollars on expensive appointments with the homeopathic psychic lady. Two appointments ago she called my "whole tribe" from my father's side "into the room." Apparently, many generations ago my tribe was starving and so they adapted a pattern of conserving their energy. As a result our mitochondria began operating at 70% which is why I'm so fatigued all the time. So she asked them and various angels to release me from this pattern cuz I'm not starving anymore. When she was done, my nose started gushing blood. NOT KIDDING. I am not prone to nose bleeds and this was a real flood. I'm talkin' 5 kleenexes. AND, during this whole magic show I started getting really hot and sweating. I am not a superstitious gal and I gotta say this was strangely intense. And guess what? I'm not as tired. So much in fact that I've been waking up in the middle of the night for weeks and the weird part is that it's not making me a zombie the next day. Generally I need a good 8-9 hours of sleep or I feel like kaka - but I've been ok. Go figure...I gotta make Victor go see her and see if I'm going new-agey-crazy-loony-tune-whack-job or not.

April 2, 2008
My TV show airs, or shall I say, DEBUTS tonight on our local cable channel (Somerville, Channel 3, 11pm). I just realized it and feel a little jazzed. The website is cool n' all but I can't help but admit to feeling a little extra zing about being on TV. I think about all those Saturday nights as a kid when I was by myself watching Love Boat, followed by Fantasy Island, followed by SNL. Not to mention Letterman, Carson...those were formative years and my secret fantasy of being on TV, not to mention a talk show host (another fantasy) is finally being realized. Granted it's teeny local cable TV - but I still feel just a little bit fuzzy inside.

My art work is often the result of my fantasy life. Whether it's a dance, an installation or a stupid ass TV show - there's always some fantasy, magic, hopeful dreaminess that is part of its making. My mom has asked me what I'm doing for the world when I do my art work as if it's all some kind of indulgence. I have to admit, I wonder that sometimes myself. But I seem to manage reaching someone with my work - there's someone out there for whom my shit has some kind of resonance. Or at least I can hope. Or at least I can believe it for now while I continue this pursuit. Frankly, it seems to be what I'm cut out for. Plus, what am I suppsoed to be - Mother Fucking Theresa? Lord. I'm a lot bettter to my fellow humans than a lot of schmucks out there, so what if putting on fake eyelashes and saying naughty words floats my boat once a week for a cable tv show. Right?! Now...if I could only find a way to get paid for it...

I was obsessed with this (white) guy today who was driving his black Mercedes very recklessly and achieving absolutely nothing. So nothing in fact, that I pulled right next to him at a red light. The amount of energy he was expending to be in the same exact spot as I was really laughable. He was also on the phone and neurotically checking his hair in the rear view mirror. Who is that guy? Does he really take himself that seriously? Why? How could he be so out of touch with life and people and what's important? Does he have friends? Was he put down over and over by his parents? How did he become such an asshole? And who am I to make all these assumptions? Do you think it's possible that when he gets out of his car and talks to you that he's actually a great guy with a sense of humor, intelligence and a warm demeanor? Are these my own values that other people like him don't share? Are niceness, humor, intelligence and warmth only for suckers? For nerds? For the minority? And really, if he's such a tough guy, then why bother stopping at the red light?

I often think about red lights and why we stop at them. Ultimately we humans like structure. I suspect that anarchy is only for the very few. The rest of really prefer our boundaries.

March 26, 2008
Victor and I invested in neti pots. We've been rinsing out our noses with the things since last weekend. Victor maintains that he's doing it incorrectly because he feels like he has swimmer's ear. I am fighting a sinus infection and while my nose feels super right after - 15 minutes later I'm back to green boogers. Hope you're not eating your breakfast.
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I'm craving Spring. This is the time of year when 30 degrees feels like 10 degrees. I am eager to warm my bones with some good strong sunshine. Alas, New England will torture us for a good month or two longer, I'm sure.

I went to a workshop with Sara Rudner - the iconic and beautiful Twyla Tharp dancer (original company I believe). She is one of those exquisite people that exude warmth, patience and knowledge effortlessly and with grace. The type I'd like to have for dinner. She's pretty fascinating. But the workshop wasn't what I'd hoped for. I was hoping for more process exploration and instead it's more about learning material. Good material, of course, but still - I need some new ways to break up my creative process, freshen it up a little.

I'm a little stuck in terms of what to do next. Should I finish Mozart's Requiem (dance)? Mount a plain dance concert at GSS? With a video component? Should I redo the Coolidge Corner video? Should I make a dance for camera? Should I redo the video with Julie at the BPL? Try to get the White Room built? Take the last concert on the road?

I'm also out 2 dancers which is a BIG BUMMER. Now I have to replace them. And if I want to do the Requiem then I need more on top of that. And then there's the money issue. How to pay them? Will any of my grants come through? Blah blah. I feel a little bit frozen by the money problem.

Ah fundraising, fundraising...what a constant headache it is. That's the beauty of Ambience - it doesn't cost a thing and it's fun. But it ain't high art. That's for sure.

Lots to do today - gotta go.

March 20, 2008
Thank the lord a day off. Nice to drink my coffee without an eye on the clock.

We shot episode #2 of Ambience last night. It went a lot better but I haven't looked at the footage yet. I have my usual pangs of worry over whether it will be boring. As I have said here before - I HATE BORING. Hopefully with savvy editing I can make it work alright. To be determined. My beloved John Gertsen came as a a guest and mixed us a fancy antique cocktail. And then I invited a woman that I met at a party who used to work for a wig company to talk about wigs. She was fun.

I'm sick of therapy. I think my therapist is too nice. Doesn't stick it to me. I've told her, but she doesn't seem to get it. Maybe I can go about my life therapy-free. Okay so I'm a depressive, anxious narcissist - BIG DEAL! No NEW NEWS!

I'm boring my goddamn self. Probably time to say goodbye for today.

March 16, 2008
Long time no write. Or so it seems. We shot our first episode of Ambience at SCAT last week and we're doing another one next week. I create a project in my head and then I procrastinate thinking how hard it will be and that I'll never swing it - then I finally make the push and do it and I think, "Geeze - that was easy! No big deal. I can do this." It happens all the time and every time, and yet I never trust that I will really do it. First I have to over-eat, think I'm a failure, mope around the house and complain to the therapist - and after that's done, I go and do it. It seems that knowing one's patterns doesn't help anything.

Granted, having done this TV thing only once, I realize there are a ton of things to make it better. I did a quick edit with the footage yesterday and noticed a bunch of little snitty things that bugged me. Once I get it back to them, it'll air in about a week or 2, and then they'll run it for a month. 'Will post here when it's up.

The Lakers just lost to the Rockets who are tearing through a major winning streak (22 games). My Lakes' were looking sluggish to me. But hope is not lost.

About Spitzer - I read David Brooks' article in the NY Times about the casualties of over-acheivers and their stunted growth in the social relations department - I suspect he's right. There's also a part of me that thinks he shouldn't be punished anyway. First of all, prostitution should be legal (and drugs). Not that I think it's the best career choice, nor do I think that those that use the service are really stable-minded (sexually) people. But it should be a choice like anything else. And secondly, the sex lives of politicians shouldn't play any role in our judgment of their political work. It's not our business. If the work's getting done, who cares what they do in private. I'm completely ignorant of Spitzer's work as a governor and maybe he was terrible. But still, judge him on that - not his retarded sexual development.

And about sex - this country is so crazy about it. We are child-like and obsessed and the result is teen pregnancies and a constant (although covert) undertone of sexism. If we just let it ride, we'd probably be better off.

More on this later - but gotta go...we're going to dinner in Newton.

March 7, 2008
My eyes are buggin' out because I've been on this freakin' computer all day. But I figure I ought to check in anyway.

From the sports desk: Victor and I have been engaging in some faintly drunken yet utterly in-depth analysis of the Celtics. We were talking about "elegance" and also what makes a good "fake." I was maintaining that Paul Pierce is elegant, but Victor things KG is more elegant. For me it's Pierce's "touch." It's the way the ball floats out of his hands like a balloon. Very smooth. I'd say, in fact, elegant. It looks a little like it's in slo-mo, the way it drifts right in the basket. But Victor may be right in terms of raw physicality - Garnett is pretty velvety in the way he dashes around. And he's killer for a fake. We came to the conclusion that just a quick little jab one way or another doesn't fool 'em. It's that extra microsecond longer that makes your opponent believe. Garnett does that - he really commits to the fake - in dance we might say he "fulfills the movement." The result? Smoked!

And this, my friends, is why, as a dancer, I love basketball.

The first shoot for "Ambience" is next Thursday. I have some wacked, silly, cuckoo, entertaining things lined up for good times.

Here's a copy of the insane email I sent to Caitlin & Ann the other night - I think it's one of my more brilliant moments.

"Subject: stoned project idea
Greetings Earthlings,
I'm stoned. Off my gourd. Completely wacked to kentucky.
Anyway - Here's the project:
1. We go to Henry's (Ann's bro) farm
2. I dance around with the cows and inside the stinky chicken coop
3. Caitlin and Victor, directors; Ann, camera
4. I get the first stab at the edit. Ann gets the last stab at the edit.

Back to 'hoops. GO CELTICS - KG I love you.
VT, CC, SA - I love you too.
Love,
Nicole Berylle "Bunny" Pierce "

God I'm good. Toodles.

March 2, 2008
Well I did one productive thing. I went and scheduled two shooting dates at SCAT (Somerville TV) and therefore I am officially beginning the comedy show. Phew. I feel better that I made a move. I'd been really dragging my feet.

Last night, Victor and I went to this fancy shmancy fundraising dinner at the ICA. It was one of those events where there's a live auction and people bid and WRITE CHECKS for, like, $10,000 for a bottle of wine. Victor and I were there as guests of one of the trustees who we happen , strangely, to know. I felt a little odd. A pauper. A hanger-on. But a few glasses of Sancerre seemed to rectify that a little bit. Standing in a room with "the haves" and being myself a "have not" - I make seething judgments about the ugly generic blond hairdos, the personal-trainer-toned arms, the tarty spiked heels, the boring buttoned up suits and then assume that I am infinitely more interesting and talented than any of them and so I have no need to feel like a loser. And yet...I sure as hell can't write a check for $10,000. I did wear my bitchin' Ralph Lauren sweater that flairs out and so I was not fashionably challenged. We sat at a table with our host and his wife - both very kind and smart and have senses of humor - and they invited a coupla' other arty types that I could blah blah with. I still left feeling like a nobody and wondering if I'm a good artist, if I'm a loser and if I'll ever get some fancy recognition - like a goddamn grant.

I also left feeling fat and disgusting because I've been eating too much. Going into the studio this morning only supported the idea because I looked puffy and ug. I fear I may have to hit the "dub-dub" (i.e. Weight Watchers) point system and take a few off this ass. Boring.


February 25, 2008
I have a giant herpes sore on the left side of my upper lip. It looks like I'm walking around with a cornflake stuck to my mouth. Aside from its disgusting factor, it hurts like hell. In order to drink I have to pour in from the side. I'm sure my piano students are going to wonder what is on my face. YUCK.

The Oscars did not sport any risky fashion choices and considering that's the only reason I watch the thing, it was most disappointing. I'm not kidding either. I haven't seen a single one of the movies. Not one! I simply tuned in for the haute couture. Which was LAME.

The Celtics are looking a little shaky lately. Three losses in a row. Some redemption last Sunday night - but it worries me.

I've watched that show "Frontline" on PBS exactly twice. I must say, however, that I was impressed both times. Pretty fair reporting. I just watched one about Haditha - the area in Iraq where the Marines were accused of killing women and children needlessly. It's complicated - those guys are under such incredible pressure and such scary horrible conditions - it doesn't surprise me that they freak out. Then again, according to the show, it's a little questionable whether they really did freak or if they were defending themselves. Whatever the reason, I am just convinced for the umpteenth time that war is NEVER EVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES right. I don't believe in violence ever. It's killing - psychologically killing, physically killing - it's just wrong ALWAYS. End of story.

On the lighter side - I have to mention - I noticed a bunch of the Marines on that show were sporting those nasty red-neck style little moustaches. It must have been a "thing." Ya know - like all the Red Sox shaving their heads. Those guys thought it'd be entertaining to grow ugly little moustaches. I'm pretty sure I'm right about this.

February 18, 2008
The best thing I've done so far today is watch the old "Vegameatavitamin" episode of I Love Lucy. And for those of you that don't know what I'm talking about - you are missing out. I really do love Lucy. Lucille Ball was a terribly underrated comedienne. She was great physically, and had super timing. So there.

Otherwise, I've wasted a SHITLOAD of time on this damn computer. There are oodles of things I could be doing, but somehow I'm not...and just writing that down gives me anxiety. And guess what? I plan on napping!

I saw dear ol' Ma this past weekend and went shopping at the outlets in Manchester, Vermont. It was my belated birthday present. I did well - one skirt, one shirt, one sweater, a lacy camisole thing and a comforter cover for the comforter that I've had since college that has turned brown and disgusting. We had a good time doing the mother-daughter thing and I left feeling a little sad as I always do. I worry about her being lonely up there all by herself.

So with a shopping trip financed by my generous mother, I managed to pay some bills today, leaving my checking account with 62 dollars in it. And I didn't even pay for all the bills. Shouldn't a 39-year old with an advanced degree have more than $62? And if you think I have a savings account...ha! That's a good one.

February 13, 2008
Obama seems to be running the show these days in electionville. Victor thinks he's a great speaker. I just can't like anything about any politician because I feel like they're all power hungry schmucks. Are any of those people really true when they say they care about their country? Then again, it's too bad they are forced to campaign and campaign - eventually anyone is going to sound like a faker when you have that kind of constant attention and expectations. I gotta say, I don't envy those people. I admit I didn't vote in the primary. I just don't have an opinion about Clinton or Obama. I thought I'd let the primary go by and show up for the election. Just get penis-face out of that goddamn white house. Jesus I hate that guy.

And what about the rest of the world - I ask what Rodney King asked - "can't we all just get along?" I'm scared that fuckface (a.k.a. Bush) is going to do something horrific in his last year. He is such an embarrassment. Truly. It's hard to be a proud American when we look like violent, evil, money/power grubbing assholes.

Feeling a little negative this morning.

It's gross out. It snowed then rained. I have to leave my warm little nest and go out into the world and I dread it. I want to stay home and be a hermit. Am I depressed? Perhaps a bit, but not too bad. Mostly sleepy. I'm going to Vermont to visit my Mom this weekend and she's taking me shopping for a belated birthday present. That's nice. Maybe some mom-time is just what this big baby needs. Except I'm going with guilt because Victor wanted me to stay and hang out with him over the 3-day weekend.

I am a baby with my mother and an adult with Victor and that always seems to cause problems. It's been a major topic in therapy for 9 billion therapy sessions. I aim to please them all and end up in a bizarro triangle that isn't fun. I am slowly cutting the umbilical cord, but still, at the ripe age of 39, it's hanging on by a thread. Now that's an nice image - a little crusty umbilical cord hanging on by a thread. Yum!

February 8, 2008
Ok so we didn't win the goddamn Superbowl. So what. You think I care? You think I care about those overpaid savages losing the last game after a perfect season? Yeah? You do? Well I do a little. But I'm basically over it. There's always next year. Now it's all about hoops.

I'm feeling a bit lost and wishy washy lately. I'm wandering through my days, just getting through. I've been thinking a lot about what to do next as an artist. I went to a grant information meeting last night and while I will apply, the chances are slim to none. It's like 3500 applicants to 40 slots. But more importantly, as I was sitting there, I was flipping through my mental roladex of art projects, trying to decide which one is best for this grant and then questioning my desire, my ability, the WHY of it all. Having no review from my last concert has really got under my skin. I realize how much I need public recognition to feel like I'm really doing anything. That's wrong, I know that. You make work cuz you make work. But it affects my momentum, my drive. Nonetheless, I know I will push forward in some way or another. I always do.

Ideas:
1. An installation in a hotel - 8 rooms, 8 installations
2. The White Room as a traveling "happening"
3. Or, The White Room as the set for finishing the complete Mozart Requiem
4. Video project with Jimena taping people doing their own special performances

I haven't even mentioned the fact that I'm madly procrastinating from "Ambience" even though I publicly declared its launch by the end of this month. MUST DO. Oy...

My kids' piano recital is this weekend. They break my heart they are so cute and innocent and pure.

February 2, 2008
I must have PMS cuz I'm laughing my ass off at this dumb blooper video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QGHL-G_AA8&NR=1. I've always been a sucker for people falling down. Why do I laugh when people fall down? Even when I am horrified at the pain that someone may have suffered, I still giggle. And when it's PMS time, my giggling is just a microsecond away from bawling my eyes out. A hormonal feeling that I imagine men don't get. I saw it happen to my friend Rain once, though, so I know this is a common phenomenon among us gals.

If you happened to be on the edge of your seat wondering if I left my last entry to go binge like the eating disorderly person I am, the answer is not really. A little heavy on the dinner (pasta), a little heavy on the wine (3/4 bottle) - but not an all out make-myself-ill masochistic binge out - I did NOT go eat at Taco Bell. But still a little curious about that gordita crunch...

Super Bowl tomorrow!!! Manning, Jacobs, Bradshaw - we're going to kick your New York butts.

January 31, 2008
No review. No goddamn review. I beg and I plead and I can't get the friggin' press to write a word. I don't care if I get slammed! Just something! I want public evidence that I gave a concert. That's the problem with live art - it goes away. Nothing to hang on a wall, nothing to playback except some shitty video which doesn't do it justice. I mean this is really becoming a problem. And to add insult to injury it was a REALLY GOOD concert! I got nice feedback! People are still sending me emails! It sold out on the 2nd night! I did something right! BUT NOOOOOOO! NO PRESS!

I shouldn't care so much. I know I shouldn't, but I do. It makes me angry. Growl.

I have nothing else to say. I feel like comforting myself with junk food and booze. Watching sports means a lot of commercials for the Taco Bell "gordita crunch" which I have to admit appeals to me. I know that's totally white trash and I really don't eat from those nasty places ever since I saw a rat smooshed into a McD's burger on the news a few years back. Plus, if I binge out, I'll get fat and feel gross and have to go on a diet again. I won't eat the gordita crunch, but I may eat something like a fat-ass cheeseburger (homemade) and or pizza (homemade - really). It remains to be seen who will win out - my mouth or my mind. It's a tight race at the moment. We'll be in touch.

January 28, 2008
Well it's over. The concert came and went leaving me with familiar confusing feelings of the blues mixed in with a little wee drop satisfaction and a whole lot of and "so fucking what?....." I went back to teaching today and life proceeds in its regular way. Nothing changed. No offers for a world tour, no sudden riches. All in all, though, I feel pretty good about the whole thing. I got a bunch of really positive comments both in person and through email and that's nice. The big hit seems to have been my solo. The easiest one! Saturday night was a sold out house and that's good for the ol' ego. Yes...And so, back to the grind. I think a review comes out in the Phoenix later this week. We'll see what she has to say.

I spent yesterday nursing the cast party hangover (which went until 3:00am - oy!) and the hangover of a week spent in high, high gear. I even had to knock out an application for the Yard residency. By the time I went to bed around 9:45, I was so grumpy that I started screaming naughty words behind tears when I hit my knee on the corner of my desk. And I was a blue-meanie to Victor. The poor thing - he's such a trooper and then I have to go and be a brat. Sexual favors might be a good idea at this point...

The dancers are so kind and good to me. They work their asses off (for very little pay), and they say supportive things. Sometimes it breaks my heart they are so goddamn nice to me. Sometimes I wonder if I deserve them. I mean, I know I am a respectful director, but because of my guilt-ridden soul, I never feel like I can give back enough. Then again...I imagine this is my own shit. They make their choices to be a part of it - I didn't force anybody. But still...

What's next. Let's see - comedy show on SCAT, find places to tour this concert outside of MA, get money for the White Room, cross my fingers for a Yard residency, make more silly videos, fix the quartet, visit my mom, clean the study, paint the kitchen, go back to eating healthy, lighten up on the alcohol, teach a lot, try to save money (NOT)...and on and on and...

January 22, 2008
Ok so I got the damn HDTV. Victor bought it for us. So that's a wish off the wish. It's fabulous. I can watch all my sports without squinting. And I can see how much make-up they slathered all over the faces of the Democratic candidates at the last debate. Now if only I could get my hands on that new video camera...

My favorite lighting designer/excellent human being by the strange name of Blu has arrived. With his arrival comes the smack of reality - the concert is really going to happen. (Unless I get run over by a truck tomorrow; but I imagine that I'll still be alive in 3 days.) He and another excellent human, Jayne, hung lights today and tomorrow night we go into tech. Fun. I love lighting the dances. Of course reservation paranoia has set in. The reservation list is okay, but not packed to the gills. I want SRO for shit's sake! Ok. Tantrum subsiding.

I was guiltily throwing plastic bags into the trash while simultaneously thinking about the environment (which I am contributing to its demise with my car and other things) and I had a sudden selfish yet unusual thought: I thought, "Good thing I'm gonna die." Can you believe THAT?!!? Me! The gal that fears death more than anything! Dead birds! Dead goldfish! My mother's mortality! Me! The girl that imagines my car crashing into the side rail of the MassPike when I'm going 75mph. For a split second I was actually comforted by the fact that I am mortal! Because then I don't have to live on a planet that I imagine is going to run into some SERIOUS environmental disasters. (There are those, however, that believe those disasters could be in my lifetime, so my morbid thought may be for naught.) This is very strange. Maybe it's the psychic homeopathic lady who is "reorganizing" my patterns...maybe now I can accept dea...mmmm...well...no, no, no - not ready. Still terrified.

Blu said he's already picked out his next life - he's going to be some swimming reptile in the Galapagos. I forget the name of the animal, but he hung out with a hoard of them on a trip in 1976 and apparently it changed his life. I don't want to be a reptile. I want to be a domesticated house cat with a nice owner.

Teaching at Emerson starts tomorrow - I'm in denial.

January 18, 2008
The CrashArts gig is tonight at the ICA. My beauties are beauties but they seem to be a little vibed out with each other. Some personality clash or something. I haven't been able to get a straight answer, but then again, I'm trying to stay out of it except as the choreographer which I imagine is a good idea. I hope people don't go to this concert and then say "screw it" to next weekend cuz they've already seen a dance concert (my work included)- and so they're January dance-going budget has already been blown. I hate to admit how important it is to me to have a good house. We artist types need stroking, you know. At least a little. And so I pray to the gods of audiences that people will come.

I've taken Ativan 2 nights in a row to get some damn sleep. I've been waking up multiple times every night for a coupla weeks with my mind all chattering and whirling around. I make up monologues, worry about things to do. Then the cats see that I'm awake and start crawling all over me and buzz-purring in my face. Very hard to get back to sleep. Gotta say the chemicals work. I don't take that stuff very often, but I'm glad I have it when I do. My psychopharm said I will never be a drug addict. Ha! And what d'ya call those big juicy glasses of wine, huh, pal?

We Pierces know how to do some drinkin'! My 76-year-old mother can drink me under the table. Not to mention my brother. He can knock it down too - but he's compulsive. He goes weeks without a drop and then goes on a bender. Yes, the Pierce's enjoy addictions - drugs, booze, food - we're good at all that stuff. But we have VERY GOOD hearts. And that's the truth. A Pierce is a pain, but don't ya love us? We ain't boring.

Gotta clean my dirty house. Guests this weekend. And next.

Strangely, my birthday wish list just isn't coming into fruition. How 'bout the new TV. What if I just cut the list down to that? Someone out there must work at Sony. Hello?! Are you reading this? I want a 26" HDTV. Not even that big! It's my birthday!!!

January 13, 2008
Patriots game a success. I was too tired to watch the end, but I did see the swanky weird pass that Brady knocked out on sports highlights this a.m. What was up with the arm in the air thing? He's probably a schmuck but he can throw a football - that's for sure. I know that sports personalities aren't really what I should be concerned about in this world. But sports watching has become part of my life. I like the athleticism, I like the sexy muscley bods (male and female) and I like the story line - who's winnin,' who sucks, what's the coach like, who's going to the playoffs, etc...And football isn't my main sport - basketball is my true love. But I'll watch anything. Football, basketball, baseball, boxing, track events, rugby, soccer. I went to my first hockey game this year and found that I like that too; although I don't know the game very well. It's also the escapism - there's just something really relaxing about being on the couch watching games, wine in hand, mind going blank.

Maybe this will sound like an excuse, but sports watching also tells me about our culture. Watching commercials, fans, the hoopla around sports. You realize what America is into. It's pathetic and we're pretty goddamn dumb, not to mention fat as hell, but you can see why when you watch TV. So, I like to think I'm doing a wee bit of sociology study when I sit down in front of the ol' tube. C'mon give it to me...

In my art world, the concert is looming. Rehearsals are a whirlwind. I've been trying to track down the ever elusive Boston dance press. Sigh...I haven't had a concert reviewed in years. Whatevah. My gals are working their little tushies off and they look fabulous. And probably, they're the only ones that read this thing, so "hi ladies!" I went to an opening on Newbury Street last night that had a couple of my old mates from MassArt in it. It was nice to see them and the show was pretty cool. A little crowded and claustrophobic, but I guess that's what ya want in an art opening. Fortunately I had my cool new wide-leg pants on and therefore did not suffer any outfit paranoia. In the meantime, they are still bombing the shit out of Iraq.

January 9, 2008
Clinton and McCain in NH. End of story. No comment for the moment.

I had my 2nd visit to the homeopathic psychic lady. I don't know ladies and gents, some pretty strange things happened right before my very eyes. She was holding divining rods and asking questions to my Higher Self (see Dec 8 for explanation) and those things would MOVE. I was watching her fingers for a hint of quackery, but no - those things were truly moving. Not only that, she also made some insightful observations about my family history and memories that I've had from a very young age (my mom scolding one of my sisters) and I didn't tell her a damn thing. So there you go - a little evidence from the other dimension. And so after all the chatting, "balancing" and whatnot - I was sent off with the recommendation to get some rose extract and take it everyday to boost my heart energy (in preparation for my concert). Also, as I was leaving, she said that "they" were telling her to tell me about working with the note D. Yes, the musical note of D. And so because I have become this superstitious wacko, I immediately thought through my piano repertoire to note all the pieces I've played in the key of D major or D minor. The first one that came to mind was a Bach prelude and fugue in D minor from Book II of the Well Tempered Clavier that I've been playing forever. And I do love that piece. But I've decided I will learn something new - something short that I can play at my students' recital in February. But why D? Who the hell knows...

My friend Rain just told me about this guy Titler on youtube. Check him out. Pretty funny. And he's coming to Boston. The whole Adolf-German-Drag-Queen thing is awesome.

January 4, 2008
Well here we are in 2008. My birthday is coming up - Jan 24 - and I'll be accepting gifts throughout the month. I would like a new video camera (Sony, HD please), a video projector, a new TV, a nice big monitor for my mac, a shopping spree on Newbury street, large cash donations to EgoArt,Inc and maybe a facial or massage. Now is that too much to ask?!!! I'll be 39 - one more year til it's over...just kidding. But I have started to dislike my birthday. I used to love it and always celebrated, but not anymore. This year it coincides with my concert, and that's not a bad way to spend it. In fact, that's a pretty good way to spend it.

Obama and Huckabee came out victorious in the Iowa caucus. Please, please, please, everyone - don't let Huckabee be our next president! I will die! It would be such a nightmare. Not that I'm the biggest fan of Obama either - but Jesus - Huckabee?!?!? That guy is a LOSER. I can not deal with evangelical types. Those people aren't thinking. They're following some easy structure that explains the world in black and white. A very narrow and harmful way of thinking. Honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do about this next presidential election. I don't like or trust anybody. I am still slightly tortured by Hillary Clinton. I want the babes to rule the world, but not that babe particularly.

I watched the grossest, most foul video I've ever seen in my life a few days ago. I will not link it because I have to keep some semblance of sanity and class on this web site. I mean, my relatives might come here for god's sakes. Let's just say its title had something to do with "girls and cups" and you can google it yourself. But be warned - it is nauseating. Some of you probably know what I'm talking about - two words to describe it - excrement and vomit. Need I say more? The point is, I am a hopeless voyeur. No matter how much I am warned, I must watch. The curiosity is just too great. I want to know what people do in the most underground worlds. I can't seem to help myself. In fact, I was thinking of getting some business cards made that say "Nicole Pierce, Professional Voyeur." Is it okay? Am I a bad person for watching? Am I lacking some moral boundary? Am I a freak? I mean, I know I'm a weirdo, but am I bad? Usually the saying goes that as long as you're not hurting anyone, do anything you want in private. Still, I feel a bit degraded by watching that thing. Good fodder for the therapist anyway.

On that note...ta ta.

December 31, 2007
A quiet morning. Bach cello suites (supreme beauty), some snow flurries and nothing to do til 1:00pm. That's nice. Except the Lakers got creamed by the Celtics yesterday. That's not nice. But Victor is happy that the Redskins are in the playoffs. That's it from the sports desk.

New Year's eve. Whatevah. My concert is weeks away and the pangs of anxiety are beginning to mount. One piece ain't done - like really ain't done and that is mildly freaking me out. As this is the 2nd time I have done a concert of dances only (no schlock, no monologues), I face my usual insecurities about the horrendous possibility of boring people. I NEVER WANT TO BE BORING! NEVER! I HATE BORING! However, I have kept things short and that is always a plus. I'm all about one-acts. No intermission. See the stuff, go for cocktails. That's my world. Once this concert is over it's comedy, comedy, comedy. I'm going to get the ball rolling for my Somerville TV show. YAY.

Hmmm...I think I hear the faint gurgle of one of my cats hacking her guts out. Gotta go.

December 27, 2007
I just got back from rehearsal and every single one of my dancers is depressed. Either they had a terrible time over Xmas, or they had a great time and dreaded returning to their regular lives. No one seems to be happy with themselves. And I'm no different. Not because of the holidays, but because I'm never happy with myself. No matter how much I do I never feel like I've accomplished anything. My friend George says he has gone about his life going "near" what he really wanted, but never directly to it. Somehow that hits me. I sometimes wonder if I just dance around my real dreams (fear, fear, fear) instead of really going for them. But then that's the next question - what are my dreams? Goals? Fantasies? I guess rich and famous would be nice.

The snow is basically melted and what's left is all dirty and yucky. That's Boston for ya. Today it's dreary, grey, nap-inducing. My eyelids are heavy and my ass is big.

All is not well.

December 24, 2007
It's Xmas eve and I really couldn't care less. I sorta had a holiday over the weekend visiting my mom in Vermont.

What's in the front of my mind at the moment, is the laundromat - laundramat - laundrymat. However ya spell it. I am REALLY REALLY LUCKY cuz I have my own machine in my house. This has been true for over 2 years and the novelty hasn't worn off. In fact, just last night when I was fighting insomnia and trying to get to sleep, I was thinking about the Salvadoran women doing their laundry on Broadway in East Somerville. They probably have kids, a job, maybe a piece of shit car with a lot of things broken that slips all over the ice and the heat doesn't work very well (been there) and they are TIRED. Those women are tired. They don't want to be doing laundry. They need to relax. Get some time for themselves. I have a charmed life in my whiteness sans kids. Every now and then I gotta remind my depressive whiny medicated self that things in my neck o' the woods are pretty darn good.

And yet STILL - I went with Victor to the Stop n' Shop, slipped on the ice two times and started crying. Like a little kid. When I fall down, I cry. That response never went away. And I'm no sissy, ya know. I can take pain. All dancers can take pain. We're really good at that. I can twist my ankle, tear something in my hip and then perform. But take a spill on the ice and it's curtains.

Speaking of medicated self, if you happen to have read my entry from Dec. 8th, I've now taken that magic potion a.k.a. homeopathic stuff three times. I have absolutely NOTHING to report. Except that I keep falling down and I really crave sugar. And frankly, I'm not sure that's anything new.

December 21, 2007

Extreme holiday shopping, muddy snow puddles and piles of dirty snow are making the road rage attain levels that one wouldn't think possible. I looked over at a guy yesterday at a red light and he was banging, yes BANGING his steering wheel and yelling. I had to laugh a little. But the guy was suffering. Everybody is grumpy. They're forced to buy stuff, hang out with their families. I botchy shrinks, massage therapists and chiropractors really rake it in this time of year.

Fortunately, we try to NOT "do" the holidays. Hard to avoid the consumerism - the commercials, the sparkly store decorations, radio, internet - all of it. No need to go on. You all know the deal.

The best part for me is that as a piano teacher, you tend to get some little gifts. I got 2 (!) $50 gift cards for book stores and that rocks. But the best was these two holidays drawings that 2 of my little guys made. You can check one out.

By the way, I feel like a fatso.

December 16, 2007
Snowing again and the Patriots are playing the Jets at 1:00. And how 'bout those Patriots? Not to mentions the C's and even the Bruins. This is quite the time for Boston sports. Having come from L.A. as a genuine 1980s Valley Girl, I was hard-pressed to like the Celtics - I mean Laker fans just don't like you guys. Victor even gave me a Celtics Pierce jersey and I couldn't wear the thing - even with my name on the back. I still haven't worn it - except once, when I went to a game here in Boston - and yes, I admit it - I rooted for the Celts. But here's the thing: I have now officially been living in Boston longer than I lived in L.A. I've decided to become a bi-coastal sports fan. But if it came right down to it and the C's were playing the Lakes - I'd have to go L.A.

I'm almost a real crustified east coaster now. It all came clear when I was peeling a clementine. I said to my friend Scott (Morty), "I bet clementines don't have as much vitamin C as regular oranges." And he said, "Why not?" And I said, "Cuz they're too easy to peel." And he said, "You're a real Yankee New Englander now." The crust has formed.

December 14, 2007
Website is still not launched. The upside being more time for these little diddles. And they are certainly diddly diddles indeedy.

I feel a little badly about the fact that I can't stand Hillary Clinton. Usually I have to support my gender - especially when they are trying to knock down gender barriers - but she sounds like a lot of hot air. And that bullshit is horse shit.

I did artsy fartsy things today - I had a meeting with someone to try to help our beloved dance studio (where I am a board member) survive its never ending string of crisis (crises? plural?). Then I rehearsed with Kate Cross - a little solo I made for her to perform at her school's winter concert. She is an awesome dancer and I love her. THEN, if that weren't enough, I had the head of the Somerville Arts Council over for grilled cheese and picked his brain about getting my White Room Project up. Two VERY GOOD reasons to eat GRILLED CHEESE which was more exciting than anything else in whole fucking world. Yes, grilled cheese. That's what it's about. Without grilled cheese, there is nothing. Well, ok - I also picked his brain for yet more advice on what to do with the struggling dance studio. And now, I am fit for a nappy-poo before I head out to Harvard U. to see a concert over there.

Cheese = nap.

We had a giant snowstorm yesterday and when I woke up this a.m., the world was all white and frosty. Very cool. Now it's melting.

December 8, 2007
As this web site gets closer to launching I am beginning to get more self-conscious about this page. Then again, that assumes that anyone gives enough of shit to read it. So maybe it's no big deal.

Yesterday I went to a homeopathic healer-type chick. She had complete conversations with my "Higher Self -" and I mean OUT LOUD. She even giggled at times (I guess my Higher Self is a real joker). I didn't hear anything my Higher Self was saying. Then she drew out some of my sad energy. Then I got a mysterious packet of crystally looking stuff that I have to take for 4 Sundays. My friends think it's wacko. I thought it was kinda' interesting. And I'll report back. Its cuz I'm so sad all the time. Twelve years of anti-depressants and therapy and I'm still yammering on about the same old, old, old, crap. So, I decided to try this. By the way, according to the lady, the weight I'm carrying might be from a past life. Can't wait to hear more about that.

Anyone out there believe in past lives? Email me. I could be convinced. At the moment I'm on the fence.

December 3, 2007
First of all, as many of my friends know, I basically see the world in terms of genitalia. Everything is a penis or vagina. If you think about it, it's really true. Believe me, this is profound. Come to think of it, both my flowering cactus and the narcissus bulbs I have going look especially like dog weenies.

I hate the president. Our administration is a bunch of evil, lying, greedy, human-and-plant-murdering assholes and I wonder how they can sleep at night.

I lost 32 lbs doing weight watchers online. Kind of a suburban sort of thing to do. But I look better. And goddamnit I feel better. But I still think I'm a little fat and have total body dysmorphia. I know it, but still have it. Best binge = pizza. I can eat a whole large pizza. I feel sick after, but I can do it. (It's kinda' funny how I went from world-wide mass murder to my diet. Then again, the name of my company is egoart.)

I like animals more than people.

The Boston dance scene is a pain in the ass. A lot of it sucks, there's no money. Audience development is like pulling splinters out from under my fingernail and we all complain. It's a small little community, but it's active and there's always something to go see. But jesus christ, so much of it is crap. I often think I should move to europe, but now I'm too old and set in my ways. I have immense jealousy whenever any of my dancer friends succeed in some way - a rave review, a good grant, a cool commission. Isn't that terrible? Then the jealousy turns to guilt. Then I think my own stuff sucks. Then I go to therapy. Then I get depressed. Then I get better and it starts again.

I have a feeling that starting this little bloggy, webby thing is going to be a great way to procrastinate.

Projects in the works: Dance concert in January, comedy TV show on SCAT, big outdoor installation in Somerville (if I can get the funding).