Greetings from Joey Ramone

Reasons why this year's Halloween costume was Gabba, Gabba, NOT:
a. The wrong wig.
b. Exactly 19 inches too short.
c. Booty.

What you don't see:
Converse low tops, faded CBs t-shirt, studded punk belt, silver chain hanging from pocket, tapered jeans strategically ripped at the knee & washed 100x so as to give the illusion that I'm a dirty sod, a Shure mic, Queens!

Running Woman 3

I did two 5K races on consecutive Saturdays. One for foundations that Battalion Chief D. Cross, who perished on 9/11, supported & another for endangered ridley sea turtles . Running was excruciating - a sad affair considering 5K is only 3.1 miles. It seems breathing has become cumbersome during most physical activities. I quit after 2 hours of biking, struggle extending notes when I sing, or in flamenco, can't quite do the long pieces of zapatiando without panting. Anyhow, I went from 35:05 to 33. Things are looking up. As much as I despise running, I'm going to continue. I've got to get my lungs, especially the heart, in shape again. There was a time, after joining a women's soccer team, when I could run around for hours. Kicking balls. Not getting hurt. Ah the good old days.

Milton Works

I made it!

Milton Work

Milton wrote an elegy, Lycidas, after his most ardent period, six years in the making in pursuit of immortality. What he grappled with, well I have an idea. I've decided, in honor of a man still living, when someone asks why I am alone, I will simply reply, "because I am working."

Speaking of work. I'm getting ready for what was supposed to be drinks with friends in celebration of the fall and my birthday. The latter being a mere ploy to get my friends in one place - so I could hold on. After sending the email, I realized I wasn't that person anymore. Someone who celebrates. It made me sad for a second, though I do appreciate this more quiet me. It's not that I can't be happy, but I'm not sure about what I "really, really, really want." And if you'll allow me to be a girl for a moment, getting ready sucks. It's arduous. Do I become Cheetah Rivera tonight? Flash my maryjanes? Break out the red lipstick?