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the guide
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shivery is terribly fond of:
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shivery has a distate for:
flying. spiders. express trains during rushhour. crowds. pretension. standard transmissions. hipsters. weekend service on the mta. fresno. men who grope (without express permission). the decline of democracy. gin in winter. liver. the horoscopes in the new york post. williamsburg. ralph nader's presidential campaign.

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so much moving.

in the words of rayanne graf, "go! now!"

we're moving. you can now find my rantings and me at!

ah blogdrive. angst for the memories.

now follow me!

writ at 4/23/2004 12:00:33 pm by shivery
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we interrupt this bulletin...

much confusion 'round here. stay tuned.

writ at 4/22/2004 3:02:00 pm by shivery
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help me out, here.

okay, liebchens, audience participation time!

the time has come for miss shivery to compile a mix (never mind the fact that she hasn't got a cd burner--let's not get pedantic just yet). the idea is to lash together a pile of songs that have no choice but to elevate one's mood and feel fabulous.

so. my question is this: what songs make you feel like you could take over the world?

writ at 4/21/2004 10:56:11 am by shivery
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So, I wrote this song a little over a year ago, for someone going through a rough time. The grand irony of the situation is that by the time Iíd finished writing it, the friend Iíd written it for had basically decided he didnít actually need to talk to me anymore. So the song got shelved for a while, out of respect for irony so extreme that it rendered the message of the song utterly moot.


But Iím finding more and more that the lyrics are applicable to some stuff thatís going on right now. So I hereby rededicate the song, to someone who is, in fact, still speaking to me.


Breathe in, breathe out thatís one more day youíve made it through I know itís hard now but thatís just what youíve got to do I know that itís hard now but you can make it through Whatís it going to take for you to listen when I say this is not the worst decision you could possibly have made I know the days are short now and itís getting hard to see exactly how much better for you things are going to be hold on a little longer and I promise you will see but till that day comes round youíve still got me I know this isnít quite what you had bargained for this place so cold I see you looking for the door you try to I wonít let you lose your way so easily whatís it going to take for you to listen when I say this is not the worst decision you could possibly have made I know the days are short now and itís getting hard to see exactly how much better for you things are going to be hold on a little longer and I promise you will see but till that day comes round youíve still got I will be your shelter I will get you through the night I will be your strength when youíve got nothing left to fight with I will be your beacon I will always guide you home youíre not in this alone

writ at 4/20/2004 2:45:06 pm by shivery
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last night was interesting, in that "isn't fate odd?" kind of way. we found ourselves at bar tabac shortly before sundown, where the windows and doors were flung wide to let in the beauty of the warm evening.we'd seated ourselves next to the front window and were swilling our drinks when the maitre'd walked up to us and informed us in the most regretful tone that in about an hour, we'd need to move, as they had a gipsy jazz guitar duo coming in, and our table was their performance space. far from being put out by this news, we cheerily moved tables and even decided to stay for dinner, so that we might see the show.

the music turned out to be wonderful, and our close proximity to the staging area allowed us to chat with the musicians between sets. at one point, dom asked if they had a mailing list, so that we might go see them again. one of the guitarists, a burly frenchman, then produced a card and said that if we sent him our email addresses, he'd add us to his mailing list. he also made sure to point out that, while the phone number and email were correct on the card, the address was not--he'd moved to park slope since having them printed.

"oh really? we live in the slope, too."
"ah! whereabouts?"
"really? i live on _________________. where on __________________ do you live?"
"between 6th and 7th."
"where between 6th and 7th? what's the number?"
"you're kidding. you're kidding, right? i live in ____, too. we will be neighbors!"

we are going to live next door to a french jazz guitarist.

dom thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

i hope he rehearses noisily.

writ at 4/20/2004 10:22:30 am by shivery
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i've been brunched!

i think that fish covered the spectacle of brunch best: it was delicious, delightful, delectable, full of transatlantic crosswordy goodness and dirty minds and very favoritest new people. and cannolis.

writ at 4/19/2004 10:16:12 am by shivery
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this story isn't mine, but it's fucking priceless.

once upon a time, there was a man, a man with a boyfriend. the boyfriend was an adventurous short, who suggested that they take on a third, a lovely lady with whom the original friend ultimately fell in love.

that doesn't, of course, mean that boyfriend ever went away.

so, when i say that after love comes marriage, i mean for all three of them. the interesting part is, if you have any interest whatsoever in current events, you know that the subject of gay marriage is still causing an uproar, in that the conservative establishment doesn't want to grant an entire sect of the population the right to holy matrimony; if it's impossible to be officially married as a pair, what's a trio to do?

well, the polyamorous three have neatly sidestepped this problem. as far as john q. law is concerned, these three are celebrating their commitment to one another by declaring themselves a limited liability company.

so it's not so much that they're getting married. they're really just getting incorporated.

writ at 4/16/2004 2:35:48 pm by shivery
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caption me.


writ at 4/16/2004 10:15:25 am by shivery
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touching (cheese alert)

i had an all-too-extended period in my life where i didn't want people to touch me, for any reason at all. casual taps on the shoulder made me recoil, and god help you if you grabbed me or startled me.

..i still don't know what triggered this; i know it was perpetuated by a series of unpleasant encounters, one of which comprised being thrown against a wall on 13th st. and having the contents of my shirt mauled by my date, despite my repeated protestations. that encounter ended with a long line of scratches on the responsible party's neck and a display of freakish strength on my part; i emerged unscathed (other than some bruises), but after that, i manifested my dislike with visible flinch when people i didn't know well attempted to touch me.

it ended last summer, when i finally encountered someone whose touch was gentle and delicious, and came accompanied by no sudden moves to make me shy away. though the relationship didn't, the lesson stuck, and i find myself a resolute contact junkie--discriminately, of course.

and it's a strange and exciting world. there are days when i want to simply absorb into dom, because being in contact with him feels so good--it calms me down, slows my heartbeat, banishes bad dreams. there are theories that this is a shared human trait, something built into our genetic heritage that makes us crave touch. ostensibly, it's connected to our fight or flight reflex--soothing touch gets it through our thick human skulls that we're someplace safe, that we're allowed to relax.

i don't really know much about that. 

what i do know: i can barely be in a room with my boy without wanting to touch him, and that we spend the entire night curled around each other, and that i never feel more peaceful than when my face is buried in the crook of his neck.

and that i can't believe i missed this stuff for years.

writ at 4/14/2004 2:49:32 pm by shivery
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on counteracting holly golightly's mean reds.

yesterday was absolutely positively one of those days where playing with others was a Very Bad Idea for this little shivlet. i felt frumpy and incapable, and just generally on the wrong side of the coffin. fortunately for me, i managed to escape the notice of management for most of the day, which was good--having a big ol' project that they don't understand the nuts and bolts of has bought me quite a lot of alone time around here.

but i digress. my point is that when such frumpiness hits, there is only one thing to do to countermand its horrid iron fist of melancholy.

get a haircut.

i was greeted at the salon by the house beagle, who eyed me warily until i found the secret spot behind her ears, after which she set up camp at my feet until i was called. upon sitting in the chair (an old-fashioned barber's chair, which i date somewhere in the victorian era; rather incongruous next to the leopard-upholstered electric chairs scattered throughout the rest of the room), the first thing that was said to me was "please tell me you're not going to ask me to cut this off. tell me you're leaving it long!" to which i nodded, smiled for possibly the first time all day, and politely said that all i wanted was a cleanup and a fringe. throughout the cut, we chatted about music, he told me about his new band, i told him about my new apartment. we spoke with various east village characters who drifted in and out--antibiotics, burlesque, methods of counteracting the dry heat of new york apartments...i walked out significantly lighter in the wallet, but also lighter of mood--which was really the whole point.

after the cut, i trundled to my arranged rendez-vous with dom--under the canopy of the flatbush pavilion, which is two blocks from our new apartment. we stopped by the place to take some measurements and sort some things out with the current residents, after which we retired to my house for some whiskey, some sushi, some guitar playing and some...sleep.

i felt much better by morning.

writ at 4/14/2004 11:33:12 am by shivery
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