ponytail junction

Cute and Delicious

2009-02-12T13:41:00.000-08:00

I LOVE BEARS!

2009-01-02T14:29:00.001-08:00

Happy 2009, world.

Season's Greetings!

2008-12-20T17:16:00.000-08:00

Love for the holidays from Maddie and Jenni at ~~Ponytail Junction~~ Hater Mansion.
Also, good tidings from Phil, who does not live here. 2009 is going to be great!

Things I Saw on the Internet

2008-12-19T13:51:00.000-08:00

From Nathan of The Zone, and other City Folk

2008-11-30T05:35:00.000-08:00

While Maddie and I continue to languish in the weedy backwaters of Gamecube provincialism, Kei, Mordecai, Corinne and Nate have moved on to Animal Crossing: City Folk for the Nintendo Wii.

Here is a link to Kei's recent post about her cosmopolitan life.

Here is a photo of Nate's house, sent directly from his Nintendo:

And here are photos of my living room in 90210. As you can see, I live on the moon:

My house is so big! Will I ever abandon being a hot shot in the country for a new life of impoverished city squalor? Perhaps little Dylan will someday feel the need to attend graduate school...until then, we'll be staying put.

Homes: Past, Present and Future

2008-11-27T07:21:00.001-08:00

My virtual friends in 90210 spent Thanksgiving morning getting wasted down by the wishing well and viciously hunting a turkey named Franklin. Apparently, my character (Dylan [after McKay, obviously; seen below]) is some sort of vegetarian, peace-loving hippie square because not only did he NOT drink, but he also spent quite a bit of time helping Franklin escape his gory, sustenance-providing destiny. In an expression of gratitude, Franklin gave him a set of turkey-themed furniture.

Here, you can see the top floor of my house, pre-Franklin:

This is where Dylan goes to hang out with his stuffed bear collection and totem poles. It's also a good place for reading Marxist critical theory while sitting in a rocking chair. Cozy, right?

Below is the same room, but now decorated almost entirely in Franklin's "Harvest Collection:"

It doesn't really come through in the photos, but all of the furniture has PINK CLAW FEET. I don't know. This really gives me the creeps. It's like Franklin thanked me for not eating him by transforming my house into his corpse. Yes, I am quoting the passage in Hal Foster's Design and Crime (2002), in which he quotes Adolf Loos's Ornament and Crime (1908):

"The Gestamtkunstwerk does more than combine architecture, art, and craft; it commingles subject and object: 'the individuality of the owner was expressed in every ornament, every form, every nail.' For the Art Nouveau designer, this is perfection: 'You are complete!' he exults to the owner. But the owner is not so sure: this completion 'taxed [his] brain.' Rather than a sanctuary from modern stress, his Art Nouveau interior is another expression of it: 'The happy man suddenly felt deeply, deeply unhappy... He was precluded from all future living and striving, developing and desiring. He thought, this is what it means to learn to go about life with one's own corpse. Yes indeed. He is finished. He is complete!" (15)

Tomorrow, I'm pawning the entire set at Tom Nook's. Thanks-given present or no, that turkey is not going to guilt me into living with his pseudo-memento-moris.

And, while we're on the subject of presents, promises and death....

In keeping with another, non-holiday tradition, I recently sent a friend an email reminding him of the fact that I plan on spending the post-corpse portion of my life haunting him. It said:

"When I am a ghost, all the places I will live are all the spaces in your brain between rational thought and primal terror."

He responded by sending me a photograph of his brain, so that I could become familiar with my future home :

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

CP v. CC, Halloween Edition

2008-10-26T14:15:00.000-07:00

The sickle is already starting to wither. Capitalism triumphs eternal.

GOODBYE GOOD LUCK GOOD RIDDANCE

2008-08-27T20:11:00.000-07:00

Goodbye witch.
Goodbye bedroom ghost.
Goodbye doors that mysteriously break and lock themselves.
Goodbye men peeing on our door step at 1pm.
Goodbye bad teenagers next door.
Goodbye vibrating chair.

Lauren and Rachel are gone.
Maddie and Jenni are leaving.
Ponytail Junction, RIP.

Postcards from....

2008-04-16T16:33:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

So, I told everyone I got a full-time job. Unfortunately, this was untrue. Instead, I am traveling the world with my friend Phil. Here's the photographic evidence:

Here we are IN NATURE!

Phil "accidentally" dove over the edge of the waterfall, so I went to Paris by myself to court Loris Greaud.

Found Phil underwater, somewhere in the Atlantic.

Then I died and went to heaven, i.e. Japan.

Be talking to you from beyond the grave!

xo,
Jenni

A Bird In The Hand...

2008-03-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

Last fall, you might recall, Rachel killed a dove and then Lauren buried it in the backyard. Well I for one would like to publicly thank Lauren for doing such a crappy job at digging its grave because on Monday, as I was clearing the dead leaves off the flower beds for spring planting, I wound up with a fully intact bird spine in my hand.

I thought about turning it into a necklace and jump starting a new career on Etsy...death and animals have had good runs at Urban Outfitters and Chelsea in the past year. But I quickly decided that would be crass, not to mention totally passé, and tossed it in with the rest of the leaves and debris.

This move to get "back to the land" was inspired by the astute observations of the New York Times which tapped into my budding desire to feel like a part of my generation. Afterwards, I sold all of my rock records and walked over to the Bedford Cheese shop to buy artisinal ricotta with the money. Boy do I regret that decision!

The Sunday Styles section is inane.

RIGHT NOW AT PTJ

2008-03-09T10:36:00.000-07:00

there are two birds making a nest on our window ledge.

watching them is kinda like watching two people wrapped in the same tuba-ruba.

this is how a bird says "f you!"

Brooklyn Ghost Investigators

2008-03-08T22:08:00.000-08:00

ATTENTION! This is a local phone number. Three dudes in Carroll Gardens, ages 20-27, have decided to offer their ghost clearing services for a mere $20 per hour. They even use a homemade ouija board and burn sage - JUST LIKE US.
Love connection?

A Ghostbuster in Carroll Gardens?
NYC Ghost Investigators Just a Call Away

Ponytron Junction

2008-02-23T12:27:00.000-08:00

Animal Crossing

pizza contest

the Dirty Rachel Roll

Ben Bell: phew!

Our Valentine

Where I Been

2008-02-18T20:20:00.000-08:00

So - you may be wondering...
Lauren? Huh? Did she move? Runaway? Have a nervous breakdown? Elope and move to Siberia?
maybe. maybe all of those things.

Here's the truth:
I did in fact briefly runaway to a desert island. I spent weeks in solitude roaming the beach and dreaming of a new oceanside utopia in which every inhabitants' main occupation was simply staring at the horizon, our currency was miniature seashells, and the frozen margaritas were always free.
My society did have a short-lived success, and I was appointed Miss Totally Awesome Town (in lieu of traditional political titles, which are, like, totally oppressive, the general consensus was to base our nation on the rules and titles outlined in a Miss Desert Island USA entry form we found washed up on the beach).
With my title came a handsome sum:

However, even by the sea, politics are politics, and my rule was overthrown by a no good spineless freak. Seriously. The new ruler is this guy:

Such is life.
Luckily, however, we were around just long enough to be recognized in international currency exchanges, and I was able to cash in my seashell stash for a ticket beck to the Junction.
Well, I have to admit I was pretty down and depressed after losing Totally Awesome Town. I sulked and sulked for days on end, sitting on the couch, playing Animal Crossing, and wishing that Cutopia cold be as real for me as my world by the sea.
Then things really made a turn for the worse... I took to the basement.
Permanently dank, moldy, and generally melancholy, absorbing myself in this space was, in retrospect, a bad idea from the start. I tried to befriend the occasional waterbug, but they always ran away right as the conversation would get good. The mysterious fungus under the stairs was my only other option, but it only returned my advances with blank stares.
Then one day while exploring one of the many stacks of buckets holding unknown (probably toxic) substances, I came across an ancient looking can with no label. Desperate for mystery and any excitement, I peeled away the lid, revealing fresh, hot, just fried (delicious!) pierogi! I was shocked, stunned, absolutely awed. I could smell the oil, the melty cheese and spiced potato inside, and couldn't resist. So I picked one up, and nibbled off a corner... And this is where it gets real bad.

I had just begun to chew when suddenly I was throttled into darkness. The floor fell below me, and I was floating without time or space. I was now surrounded by nothing but an overpowering stench of frying pierogi, and the deafening sound of the horribly clanking bells from the church on our corner. It felt as though I was falling forever, and then a voice erupted and a white form appeared before me...
I cannot say what transpired, but I feel as though I learned things that are not to be repeated; not in this world at least.
I do not know how long I was gone for. When I awoke, the house seemed unchanged (though eerily cleaner than usual...).
As a possible clue to that mystery, I will add this note:
Right before my escape to the sea, I had cut all my hair off in a fit of care-free rebellion. My ponytail was only a memory.
Upon my return from the netherworld, In a dazed attempt to pull myself together I unconsciously reached back behind my head to make a ponytail, and was surprised - and relieved - to find that I could.
Our world is, once again, as it should be.

Full Speed Ahead!

2008-02-18T14:37:00.001-08:00

What's more fun than being on the wagon? Telling people that you're on the wagon!
What's more fun than telling people you're on the wagon? Drinking!
What's more fun than drinking? Telling people you're on the wagon with a whiskey soda in your hand!

This post is dedicated to everyone who supported me during my three months (i.e. 48-hours) of sworn sobriety. You guys are the best.

it's in the way she...

2008-01-28T14:39:00.000-08:00

for my birthday, jenni put bugs in my bed.
then she ichatted this (censored):

Jenni Wu
5:36

rachel is such a **** ****.
5:36
i ******** hate her ****.
5:36

in animal crossing news, my boyfriend the bluebird, ace, calls me "babydoll" and "my love"
photo to follow.

Form, Function, Frosting, aka The Martha Stewart Blues

2008-01-23T22:28:00.000-08:00

Someday, Ponytail Junction will create architecturally impeccable gingerbread cake houses. Roofs that sit symmetrically on structurally sound foundations. Facades that do not threaten to crumble at the slightest provocation. Precisely measured house-shaped houses with well-placed chimney accents. For those who were there, Maddie's Christmas confections came out much prettier than my Acconci prefab village. Also, I have frosting all over my forehead and a sugary pain in my stomach. Failure. It lurks in every corner.

Unless, of course, you live in the house of Stewart.

More on Carp

2007-12-27T10:25:00.000-08:00

Sunday night, after enjoying dinner and drinks at our local haunt, Enid's, Jenni, Lauren, and I went to go say goodbye to the plastic tub of Carp on Nassau Avenue before we all went home to our families and they were all eaten by our neighbors.

To our surprise the scene was far more horrifying than our initial encounter. The water only reached half way up the side of the tank and the fish were all lying on their sides, with their scales peeling off, DEAD. Even worse, there were two 24-inch black eels, barely alive themselves, floating around on top of the bed of dead fish. Luckily for all the Poles who had not done their shopping in a timely fashion, the price per pound had dropped a whole dollar.

WHY WOULD ANYONE EAT THIS????

After reading a few polish message boards, it seems like there is no better explanation other than blind traditionalism. No one actually seems to like the taste of carp, although most people will conceed that farmed carp, which is fed a grain based diet, is vastly superior to wild carp, which eat mud. According to one message board expert:

***************
Quoting: Dice
Is there any way to cook this fish so it's actually eatable?

You need to keep it in fresh water without any feeding for a couple days before the execution. That help the fish crap out all the mud it normally is plugged with.
***************

In what may be a related tradition, the fish are always bought live and then kept in the family bathtub until Christmas Eve. Now, I can think of lots of problems that could arise from keeping mud-filled animals in your bathtub for a few days, but it seems that such questions of hygiene are not high on the list of concerns for most Poles. Instead, I found complaints of house cats ripping the beasts to shreds, and of people naming their carp and then setting them free.

Please note that we are talking about the common carp here, not the much cuter Japanese variety:

Fish, Finality: An Essay in Two Parts

2007-12-23T12:39:00.000-08:00

Part 1 of 2: Life as it's Lived, or Do Fish Live?

On Thursday night, Maddie and I went to the New Museum with a small group of fellow ex-Grinnellians, including visiting Chicagoans, Kei and Mordecai. For reasons I need not get into here, I ended up getting quite drunk over the course of the evening, and by the time Maddie had successfully shepherded me through the maze of public transportation that separates lower Manhattan from upper Brooklyn, I was incoherent and craving apple juice. Kindly, Maddie suggested that we stop by Rachel's, the 24-hour grocery store near the intersection of Nassau and McGuinness. Approaching the store, we noticed a sign that neither of us had previously seen. It said:

LIVE FISH $2.99
CLEANED $3.99

And indeed, where there had once been bins of multi-hued apples and plastic grab bags of overripe vegetables now stood two long plastic troughs filled with hundreds upon hundreds of carp. The scene was terrifying. Hundreds of rubbery O-shaped mouths gaped and groped airwards, while a few utterly defeated fish lay flat and immobile on the water's surface.

“Disgusting,” I said.
“We could eat one!” Maddie replied.

This is not the first time that Maddie and I have jointly encountered large groups of creatures straddling that sometimes fin-thin-line between life and death. A few months ago, after dropping Matt Blake off at a Chinatown bus station, we took a mini-tour of the surrounding supermarkets. Here is what I wrote, after-the-fact, to a friend who often thinks about fish and who hypothesized that “fish don’t know if they’re alive or dead:”

Maddie and I stayed on, perusing weird Asian fashions at a split-level shopping mall and looking at an assortment of weird dead animals in a quintessentially disgusting Asian supermarket. Birds, fish, rabbits— all bodies with heads, all heads with eyes. Some of the fish weren't even dead and flopped listlessly in giant waterless buckets, surrounded on all sides by friends above and friends below. If only we could all be so lucky as to die on a bed of FRIENDS. Well, some dead and some thinking they were dead and some wishing it could be true and some knowing that they weren't but would soon surely be—or are those all the same categories for Their Kind?

You may already know that I have fish issues. They are somewhat complicated. I can eat fish that does not look like fish and enjoy doing so. One fish in a tank is fine. Aquariums are usually okay. However, at certain times, for reasons I’ll probably never understand, large groups of fish (schools, I suppose) make me go rigid with fear. Hordes of dead or dying fish are the worst. They symbolize, in my mind, the incoherency of experience and the ultimate pointlessness of life.

And so, it’s been a bit alarming to watch our section of Greenpoint being transformed into one large fish emporium. Beyond Rachel’s, another fish market has mysteriously opened in a once-vacant building on Nassau, and many of the other local supermarkets have upped their stock of headless fish-on-ice. Hoping that these changes might be seasonal, I googled “Polish fish Christmas,” and learned that, when cleaning the Christmas fish, one should “not throw the scales away—put them in your wallet and they will bring you wealth. Also, you may place scales in a red sack. Nail it to the door. It will bring love.” Moreover, unmarried women are advised to place raw fish beneath their chairs during Christmas supper. Afterwards, a dog is released into the room. The girl sitting above the first fish it consumes will be the first to get married.

Of course, it's a bit ridiculous to believe that these probably antiquated customs are responsible for the sudden skyrocketing in the fish population around Greenpoint. As an alternative explanation, Maddie has suggested that the Polish may have their own version of the Seven-Fish-Christmas-Feast rumored to take place in certain parts of Italy, or that many Catholics eat large amounts of fish around Christmas.

There’s a reason we call her “Smarty-tail.”

The author as fish in 2004.

Fish, Finality: An Essay in Two Parts

2007-12-23T07:26:00.000-08:00

Part 2 of 2: In Which I Quote Some Famous People

Let’s return, though, for a moment to my morbid preoccupation with the-fish-as-memento-mori.

While visiting Chicago last summer, I spent a fair amount of time talking to Kei and Mordecai about Nintendo’s Animal Crossings. The main point of this game is to live peaceably in a virtual world of talking animals. This involves routine repetition of several commonplace tasks, such as shopping, collecting acorns, and walking through the forest. Additionally, you can capture approximately 40 different kinds of fish. Because the game plays out in real time and certain fish are intentionally elusive, one must plan one’s fishing expeditions according to weather, date, and season if one wishes a complete collection. There is also a social aspect to the game, as its title suggests, and one can converse and correspond with one’s creaturely neighbors, as well as visit their homes. After about a year of game play, Kei told me, some of her oldest neighbors had begun to exhibit bizarre behavior, slowly selling off their furniture and replacing it with fish tanks.

“All they talk about is fish,” said Kei, “No one knows why.”

If we were to ask Roland Barthes, incessant interpreter of signs and eternal pervert, about this preponderance of fish, he might respond that it is but one more indicator pointing towards the inherent emptiness of Japanese culture. This happens to be exactly what he says about fish as a subset of Japanese cuisine in Empire of Signs. Despite the fact that carp are used to represent strength and vitality in the “Tango-no-Sekko,” or annual “Boy’s Festival,” for Barthes, the “soggy, fibrous, elastic, compact, rough, slippery” fish is a purely “interstitial object.” A foodstuff comprising “the dream of a paradox,” offering nothingness as nourishment to a people devoid of central essence.

Yes, yes, yes, one might understandably argue, but fish is not nothing and, moreover, it’s delicious! Well, this protest leads to its own set of problems, as W.G. Sebald outlines in his elegantly haunting meditation on destruction, The Rings of Saturn.

In his chapter on the drastic decline of the North Sea herring population, Sebald tells of a time in the 19th Century when “untold millions of herring [rose] from the lightless depths in the spring and summer months, to spawn in coastal waters and shallows, where they [lay] one on top of another in layers.” At its peak, he tells us, the fishing industry pulled something close to 60 billion herring from the sea per year. He then contemplates whether fish can truly feel and specifically whether they feel in those crucial moments between capture and death:

Given these quantities, the natural historians sought consolation in the idea that humanity was responsible for only a fraction of the endless destruction wrought in the cycle of life, and moreover in the assumption that the peculiar physiology of the fish left them free of the fear and pains that rack the bodies and souls of higher animals in their death throes. But the truth is that we do not know what the herring feels. All we know is that its internal structure is extremely intricate and consists of more than two hundred different bones and cartilages. Among the herring’s most striking external features are its powerful tail fin, the narrow head, the slightly prominent lower mandible, and its large eye, with a black pupil swimming in the silvery white iris.

Regardless of whether or not the fish feel, Sebald clearly feels for the fish. What follows the above quotation may be the loveliest and most curious passage I've read recently. This I will leave for you to discover or remember while I turn my attention to a less worthy work of fiction, namely Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.

If we’re Facebook friends, you might know how passionately, viscerally, and venomously I hate this book. Though I read it months ago, thinking about it now still makes me want to throw up— not throw up due to the grotesqueness of McCarthy's imagery, but throw up out of hatred. That, however, is neither here nor there. What matters, at the moment, is how McCarthy ends his post-apocalyptic tale of the inexhaustible depths of human suffering and the futility of hope. He ends it with fish. This is the last paragraph:

Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.

That’s the end. The fish had secrets that men ruined. The world is awful, so go die. At this point, many readers may automatically think of the famous fish ending of another epic account of disaster and despair:

I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plains behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?

Of course, it’s debatable whether the end of Eliot’s “Waste Land” marks an eternal descent into meaninglessness or sets the stage for eventual regeneration. If I could think about it rationally, I suppose that the same arguments might be made for and against optimism in The Road. But I’m not rational, remember? I look at fish and automatically see death.

For whatever it’s worth, let it be known that my 2007 ended in fish. Who knows what may follow.

Ponytail Junction on Holiday

2007-12-08T14:11:00.000-08:00

This weekend, we're all practicing a bit of escapism. Lauren's in Miami, Maddie's pretending to be Jewish, and Rachel's been living in some fantasy world called "Dawson's Creek." As for me, I'm hiding on the second floor of the gallery with the lights off imagining that I am the last person on Earth.

Smells like a tree around here!

2007-12-01T08:00:00.000-08:00

Jenni, visitor Matt Blake, and Rachel fall in love with a tree (well, I don't think Matt did, actually.)

Maddie's Molasses Ginger Muffins

2007-12-01T07:27:00.000-08:00

Thanks for the giving

2007-11-23T08:21:00.002-08:00

So the poor little junction spent last night alone.
Waving goodbye as I ran out the door to attend thanksgiving at the home of mum n dad VHS, the house looked a little like this:

maddie and I will be back tonight though. Just in time to plan our christmas party!

Jenni has gone back to Iowa and Rachel to Lousiana.

So, for this week, the sisters rule.
o dear.

The latest on baking

2007-11-19T10:12:00.000-08:00

Lauren made some beer bread, which is SO SOFT TO EAT!
and Jenni made some cute and yummy gingerbread cookies.
Here is my poor photo.

Right Now at Ponytail Junction...

2007-11-14T18:08:00.001-08:00

Lauren and Rachel are cutting each other's hair while Maddie watches and Jenni drinks Jack Daniels and bakes gingerbread cookies in the kitchen.

Domesticity reigns.

Overheard in Greenpoint

2007-11-04T09:11:00.000-08:00

Twenty-something-year-old man on Nassau crossing McGuinness with two women:

"I used to beat the shit out of my bird, but now he has an egg and I love him."

Tonight in the Haunted Basement

2007-10-31T12:36:00.000-07:00

One of the first things we realized when we moved in to our house was that we had a set of classic rickety horror movie basement stairs. We spent significant amounts of time in June and July speculating about the future awesomeness of the haunted house we would create for our Halloween party. Needles to say, we did not create a haunted house because we are lazy. We are, however, hosting a Dream Bitches CD Release themed Halloween Party. And there will be delicious amounts of homemade beer.

"yum" - Jenni

Jennaayyy's Jamz

2007-10-25T10:50:00.000-07:00

Jenni's First Pie A Delicious Success!

Turns out the Whole Neighborhood is Haunted

2007-10-23T15:30:00.000-07:00

These last two really deserve their own post. The first time I saw the house I almost had to end a phone conversation from overwhelming amusement. There are cameras on top and the owner watches them always, maybe even when he isn't home. There is only one close-up because Jenni and I scrammed when Dracula wanted us to do something strange to him. Someone on the inside told me to go there on Halloween night, to be properly spooked. ALRIGHT!
(FYI Click on the photos to get a bigger image.)

Only in Dreams

2007-10-18T09:56:00.000-07:00

Last night, my sleeping brain proved to...um...itself/my waking brain that I am a good and moral person. In one of my dreams, I received a phone call from Melky Cabrera of the New York Yankees.

"Hi Jenni, this is Melky Cabrera," he said.
"Hi," I said.
"Do you maybe want to go out with me some time?"
"Well, I don't know. I'm not sure that that would be right."

You see, I remembered, even in my least-conscious state, that Melky Cabrera is RACHEL'S baseball boyfriend. And that's a bond I fully respect.

"Stand by your man...."

Anyway, the world knows I'd rather date Robinson Cano.

The Power of molasses, 'Cause she likes molasses

2007-10-12T19:42:00.000-07:00

We bake in our house, and often we bake well.

Thursday night I made a "fresh ginger cake" from The Joy of Cooking. I have a great relationship with The Joy of Cooking. The strangest (and most beautiful) thing I ever cooked from it was a grape pie, which can be credited to Matt Blake*. Matt Blake once cooked a banana pie.

The cake turned out deliciously. (Although I let it cool more than the recommended 10 min, and it still fell apart when flipped!)

The truth is that this cake is a molasses ginger cake. Lauren and I did some reading about molasses to understand it better. Look what I learned:

In 1919 there was a molasses FLOOD in Boston, because a tank holding molasses for alcohol exploded. !

People actually died because of a 35mph wave of molasses. "It was like any horrible disaster scene, with the addition that everything was covered in smelly sticky brown molasses."

On a better note, I have a 78 that I love with The Andrews Sisters singing a great 1950's song called "Molasses Molasses"

"I went to see my sweetie just the other day.
She had supper ready; wanted me to stay.
She didn't have no 'taters; didn't have no meat.
Just a big black jug of molasses was all she had to eat.
'Cause she likes molasses, good ol' country sorghum.
She eats 'em in the summer and the fall.
When they trickle down my chin, I let her lick 'em off again;
That's the way I like 'em best of all!

Molasses, Molasses, That icky sticky goo
Molasses, Molasses, It always sticks to you . . ."

*Matt Blake, where is your internet presence?

Finally, Someone Who Fully Appreciates Me

2007-10-05T16:32:00.001-07:00

The Fifth Roommate Resurfaces

2007-10-02T11:51:00.000-07:00

While I hate to sound like a broken record, everyone knows that October is paranormal prime time, and so, supernaturally (ha ha), I had another run-in with the ghost last night.

For those who haven't yet heard about my first encounter with the ghost, here is an illustration of what happened:

As you can see, it was a fairly simple affair. The ghost appeared, hovering above my bed. I said "Hello?" And then nothing happened. It wasn't THAT scary.

Last night, though, I woke up screaming! Granted, it was a pretty pathetic-sounding, I-just-woke-up-and-my-voice-is-still-stuck-in-my-throat-scream that Rachel may or may not have heard through our newly semi-insulated walls, but nevertheless, I was terrified. In my dreams, the ghost had wrestled me to the floor while I struggled to put my hands into its mouth. Unfortunately, its mouth kept multiplying until its whole face was full of mouths and those mouths were full of different kinds of travel-sized toiletries: one mouth full of mini-toothpastes, another full of mini-mouthwashes, another full of tiny packages of anti-bacterial hand wipes, etc. There was no way I could get my two hands inside of all of those mouths. I'm pretty sure that the ghost was about to eat me when I woke up.

As I gathered my senses, I became aware of a woman's voice speaking very loudly to an unheard second party. It sounded just like Lauren! But this was at 4 a.m., and I'm pretty sure that the phantom-woman was in the process of ordering a pizza.

So, to recap, this is what we now know about the ghost:
1. It has a man's face but a woman's voice.
2. It likes pizza.
3. It can shape-shift into a multi-mouthed toiletry-carrying nightmare creature.
4. It doesn't like me.

Additionally, here are a few things that may or may not be true:
1. I am possessed.
2. I am a pathological liar.
3. I am crazy.
4. No one else in my house has been bothered by the ghost because I, alone, have the special capacity to be serially haunted, perhaps because of some horrific crime I committed in a past-life. Or, you know, some other reason.

You can vote in the comments, if you'd like.

Happy Birthday, Lauren!

2007-10-01T10:30:00.001-07:00

more photos here.

Doves Versus Pigeons

2007-09-25T10:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a confusing day.
Lauren was sure she found a dead dove in the backyard, but I was certain I'd seen a pigeon.

It's funny, as I wrote the name of this post I realized it's the name of a song by my friend Melanie. She had a birthday this weekend (BIRTHDAYS!!!!!) and when I called she said she loves the blog but wants more photos. For example, she wanted to see a photo of the sick pigeon I had seen.

Luckily, I have a photo of the bird, which I forgot at home when I made the original entry.

From The American Dove Association website:
What’s the difference between a dove and a pigeon?
The term “dove” and “pigeon” are one and the same and are used interchangeably. The word pigeon usually denotes a larger bird and dove a smaller bird.

I'll be honest, I don't really get Melanie's song (though it's clearer now that I know a dove is a pigeon!). But she says some pretty (hazily) applicable things to the questions I've been asking. "Yes I would know you better if you could just let me get there". . ."it's a long way to go but its the secret that blows my mind." I always felt good about this bird, and I can see why. I'm glad that it was both a dove and a pigeon; it was beautiful either way.

Thank goodness for Lauren, who allowed me and my emotions to stay on the sideline while she did the burial.

R.I.P., friend.

All is Full of Love

2007-09-24T16:00:00.001-07:00

Maddie, you and I must be on the same wavelength. To counterbalance all of the creepy animal deaths and fierce-albeit-friendly book battles, here is a visual list of five things I think are really great:

5.

4.

3.

(Some photos courtesy of Philco.)

2.

1. Ponytail Junction!
[Photo TK, as to my knowledge, we've thus far only been snapshotted in trios.]

Namaste

2007-09-24T15:50:00.000-07:00

There may be a dead dove in the backyard but we remain a peace loving community. Even Rachel.

The animals are talking

2007-09-24T12:19:00.000-07:00

I have to start with a sidenote:
I love Maddie.
Rachel, that's MY copy of Tender is The Night you're reading, with MY awkward notes in the margins! You're stuck with the Last Tycoon. or even worse, the collected short stories. deal.
Don't mess with the VHS.

Now for the subject-relevant post.
Since my last update, I have had two more sightings! Yesterday while sitting outside at lunch with a friend, a totally crazy 4 inch leopard print slug crawled (crawled?) right up to our table and just kinda hung out, for a long time. Also a first-time encounter, and also way weird for the city.
Then, just now, as I was watering the garden I discovered a dead dove, underneath the white leaves that grow at the foot of our mysterious pod tree. I am going to have to cover it with more dirt, but it's clearly past the point to be moved. I wonder if my act of burying this one will put an end to my encounters?
I'm open to more signs.

maddie threatened to kick us all off the blog.

2007-09-22T21:48:00.000-07:00

perhaps you missed maddie's rather sassy, tardy comment below: "rachel, you stole the book that jenni and lauren picked out for me?! who do you think you are? ME??? and jenni, just because rachel read the book first that doesn't make it hers. you picked it for me so its mine. even if i never read it. ESPECIALLY if i never read it."
well, all IVE got to say in HER unflattering biking shorts is

and mads, p.s. i'm very much enjoy-ing tender is the night.

and your shorts.

Ponytail Junction Candid Camera

2007-09-22T20:02:00.001-07:00

an update on the things with wings phenomenon...

2007-09-21T17:06:00.000-07:00

As I was walking home today down our dear little Diamond Street, I encountered a third anomalous creature. This time, it was very much alive (though perfectly still), yet it's place in the series, it's symbolic relevance, and the perfect timing of the sighting have led me to believe that there must be something greater afoot. Also like the other times, I have never seen such a creature anywhere near here. There perched on the sidewalk was a large spotted grasshopper!
How could this be bad?

We Made Stickers

2007-09-20T19:33:00.000-07:00

even creepier than emo

2007-09-20T10:56:00.001-07:00

my dead-flying-stuff sightings are more bizarre than tearful.

One must consider the odds:
Firstly, the initial sighting was a BRIGHT GREEN HUMMINGBIRD. On 25th Street between 9th and 10th ave! I mean, bright green. Like, super rare and pretty green. It had a blue beak. I thought at first that it could have fallen out of an apartment window or something, but it was not in front of any residential buildings. I have never seen a hummingbird in my entire life. They do not live in Manhattan, or anywhere near.
The second sighting was a dead Monarch butterfly. A common breed, for sure, but I have never, ever seen a dead one before, and certainly not on a city street. Are flying things in New York cursed, you ask? Touche! I saw the butterfly in Philadelphia!
Clearly, these are Omens, and I am being followed by some spirit or guide something. I am willing to believe these are signs. But evil or encouraging? I am so confused.
To truly top off the creep effect, these encounters have coincided with another turn of the tide, and in my own life (which is surrounded by so much embellishment, so many pretty objects) butterflys, birds and things with wings in general but particularly those existing as remnants of the dead have emerged or become apparent as rather the dominant imagery of choice...
I have said too much. Someone/thing is listening...

I guess I am pretty emo.

If I'm So Emo...

2007-09-20T10:33:00.000-07:00

...Then why is Rachel the one befriending ghost-birds in our backyard and listening to "Sea Changes" in her pajamas?

Also, sometimes I hear her crying in her sleep. Because, you know, our rooms are connected.

More Emo than Emo Jenni

2007-09-19T13:02:00.000-07:00

Friends, let me begin by saying hello and thank you! I am so happy and honored to have become the second longest ponytail! I have here my first post, which may seem too ~~grim~~ emo, but I like to put these things out to the universe so that it knows I'm working on it, not ignoring it. I hope it doesn't get me kicked off the blog.

Lauren recently told Emo Jenni and I about all the dead things (mostly birds) she has seen in the last week. A dead hummingbird on 24th (?), a dead butterfly in the street, there were more. Emo Jenni added to the list, too.

Today as I washed some blinds in our backyard a pigeon fell (from the tree?) and it was so screwed up it already looked dead. A broken wing, all wet or greasy or oily (I'm so paranoid about the Greenpoint Oil Spill), lots of missing feathers, and you could see its spine when it bent over; I thought to myself, if I were a pigeon, I'd think death had come to get me. It hung out with me while I cleaned, drinking water at my feet and unphased by my movements/proximity. If I was moneyed I would have saved it, because it was the sweetest and cutest pigeon ever.

I forgot to mention to Lauren and Emo Jenni that my last week of college I saw one-to-many dead birds a day. The last one I saw was on the way to visit my very dear 92 year old friend for what I knew would be the last time, and I almost stepped on it. This left me standing in the street outside of her house sobbing.

The question is this: the dead birds obviously represented so many things for me then: the death of college, of relationships and memories, of security, of pubescent adulthood. But what's with the strange dead birds now? I feel like my friend today was hopeful in some way. Unless when I bring the blinds in tonight it's lying stone cold on the concrete.

new relations and revelations

2007-09-17T16:38:00.000-07:00

First, we are pleased to announce the latest addition to the Ponytail Junction sisterhood: Rachel, by way of Louisiana, Iowa, Washington, France, and then Louisiana again. I think she's tired.
The (con)Junction is complete - next we need super-power rings. If only each of us had a different element sign. oh well.

A unique trend has been observed by Jenni and I, and I feel that it is worth mentioning 1) because I need something to write about, 2) it's funny and 3) to pressure the other half of the Junction to follow suit. The two of us have sharing our obsessions with particular F. Scott Fitzgerald novels. She has read The Great Gatsby six times, once every summer for six years. I have the same deep affection for This Side of Paradise, which I have read five times, also as a summer tradition. I know the book so well that I get scenes or bits of dialogue stuck in my head, like a song. Last week I found myself compelled to pour over the dialogue between Amory and Rosalind. Jenni found me curled up in fetal position clutching the book, enraptured and starry eyed. We so totally bonded.
Now, lots of people really like certain books. okay. But mister F. Scott has had a particularly severe impact on our lives; Apparently, both of us made it a personal rule not to date anyone who didn't also obssess over these books. Really. Not kidding. One has to wonder just what effect that guideline has had on our boy judgement... whatever. I'm fine with it. And I will always, always, fall for the Amory Blaines of the world.
We're trying to get Maddie hooked on Tender is the Night.
There must be a theme party in the works here. I do love a good mint julep (which, by the way, only became one of my favorite drinks because that's all they drink in Gatsby... *sigh*).

I suppose

2007-09-05T20:31:00.000-07:00

So I suppose it's about time to add my two cents on all things regarding the house, our ponytails, and I guess that damn chair too.
I've had the last two weeks off and got to use that time to work on the house and get some projects off the ground. One of the things this house is supposed to allow us is some great studio space. This has been somewhat hindered over the past month when our basement has flooded at least three times, leaving it kinda gross and maybe mildly toxic. As a result, Maddie and I have had to forgo are plan to turn the basement into a little cave of creativity. I've instead opted to annex the mysterious first floor closet, one of three such secret rooms in the house. Disregarding all reasoned warnings, I've gone ahead and set up a screen-printing station in the basement - and it is so fun. I work in knee high rubber boots and wear a respirator mask. Here's the light version of the get-up, dust mask only; Solely for the pre-printing sweep.

I should burn some sage down there. That may also help to appease our ghost, which I have only seen in the kitchen. It does, in fact, inhabit our fridge, and creeps between the floor boards late at night. I swear I've sensed it nestling in the attic too, and only on that side of the house, although we are all too timid to go up there. Perhaps that's where we would discover some real evidence. Our mom (v h, no s) researched the house and learned that it was built around 1900, making it all the more likely that something/one could still be here.
I made some Tees in time for our housewarming party - which, by the way, was amazing!!!
Here's an early sketch of one Ponytail Junction logo:

And as far as the chair goes... we've all learned some real lessons. About ourselves, our friends, and the power of internet stalking.
We're keeping the chair.

A Small Update on Maddie's Post

2007-09-01T07:38:00.001-07:00

Here is the chair. I had second thoughts spreading evil chair-y simulacra across the internet where it might infect innocent computers and other mechanical bystanders, but then I thought about how it might be like giving Jamie e-herpes and I had to do it. Sorry.

Also, Maddie didn't mention (probably because I've never told her), that there is a screaming skull-face in one of the knots in the trunk of the catalpa tree in our backyard. I want to say that it stares directly into my bedroom window, because that would be dramatic, but it doesn't. Its eyes look slightly askance, at some fixed point in the sky above. Whenever Julie sleeps over, I show her and she says, "Ew, creepy!"

I'm a Believer

2007-08-31T09:12:00.000-07:00

Jenni was right, the house is totally haunted! Last night I tried to open the door to upstairs creepy closet #2 and somehow the door was mysteriously locked. There is no way to lock the door without a key, yet we don't have a key and the landloards don't have a key either. The landloards' son eventually had to come over and slam his hulking teenage body against the door until he shattered the glass window and broke the lock. Problem solved, at least temporarily. I did not ask him if he knew anything about a ghost.

One of the first nights that Jenni slept in the house she swears that she saw a ghost hovering above her bed, staring her down. That same week she held a séance and even made her own ouija board and chocolate chunk cookies for the occassion. I respectfully did not attend the séance, but from what i can gather, it seems not to have had the desired effect. Since then Jenni has had a black paper raven hanging in the hall outside her bedroom... I don't really know what that's about.

Here is the pro-ghost evidence so far:
1. An actual ghost sighting
2. Persistent flooding
3. Demonic refrigerator tried to set itself on fire
4. General nightmares about the house
5. Old lady neighbor yells like a witch
6. An excess of secret closets/rooms
7. Mix-matched faux wood paneling
8. Frankenstein-like vibrating chair in the living room
9. Rickety basement stairs (like in a horror movie)
10. Light switches are not in the same rooms as their corresponding fixtures

My friend Rachel is moving to New York from Louisiana next week. Apparently her family's house used to have its own ghost until her father had it professionally exorcized. She says that there are lots of ghosts in the south, so maybe she can help us out with this one.

Details of séance II forthcoming.

Housewarming Recap

2007-08-27T17:57:00.000-07:00

Gooey heaps of love to everyone who came to warm our house on Saturday. It got so hot the fridge almost exploded! (No, really!) Here are some early photos, courtesy of Julie Cirelli.

Thanks for the pineapple, Phil!

Maddie VHS, Jenni "I hate fun" Wu, Happy Julie

School Boys!

Acconci Studios closed out the party.

Ah, good morning.

On Sunday, the world was not kind. Japan lost the Little League World Series championship game and, as I mentioned, our fridge died. Nevermind. It was still a great weekend.

Smartytail Fashion

2007-08-25T14:35:00.000-07:00

Camera Lucida, 1

2007-08-22T09:17:00.001-07:00

Last night, as I was drifting towards sleep, I kept laughing myself awake at the thought of this photo.

The Chair is My Enemy

2007-08-21T12:40:00.000-07:00

Last week, Ponytail Junction received a very unwelcome addition to the house. It was not, as some of you must surely be thinking, a werewolf baby born out of wedlock, but rather a very large massage chair of a singularly sinister nature. It came in the middle of the night, with no note attached, and has remained in our living room ever since.

When I mentioned my anxiety over its arrival to my favorite mssr., he smirked slightly and said, "How can it be bad if it gives massages?" I tried hard to emulate his confidence, but the chair's horrific appearance and brooding, oppressive presence soon sunk my spirits anew.

Let me take a minute to describe this monstrosity. Its upholstery is stitched together, patchwork-style, out of jagged strips of a dark brown leatherish material. It has two button-like protrusions that resemble unblinking yet sightless eyes. Its midsection is comprised of a series of rollers that might adequately be compared to the abdominal musculation of a mummified bodybuilder.

Taken as a whole, it gives the living room an eerie "Silence of the Lambs" vibe. Also, Maddie claims that it smells (Lauren and I have yet to notice an odor). For fear of waking whatever demon lies dormant inside, I've taken to tiptoeing around the house. If you or someone you know is qualified to perform exorcisms on inanimate objects, please do not hesitate to contact us so that we may, as quickly as possible, restore a sense of normalcy to 22 Diamond.

catharsis

2007-08-19T12:46:00.000-07:00

The party's not over until you vacuum twice and mop thrice, which i finally got around to doing this morning. I made a pot of coffee and started off listening to NPR, which got boring pretty quickly. Mecca Normal at a high volume was a much better choice. I worked up a sweat mopping and scrubbing and singing along with Jean Smith all alone in my big house. While i wouldn't describe mopping up the party's mess as fun, it was very satisfying. Dirt is a sign of a show done right.

That feeling made me start thinking about the conversation i had last night with my friend Chris, who was trying to convince me that he should stop making music because he's never gonna make any money doing it, and he's never gonna get famous. I made the mistake of arguing that it's still worth doing if it's still fun, but I should have chosen my words more carefully because Chris gets hung up on semantics. He tried to explain that writing a good song is fun in the same way climbing Mt. Everest is fun: it's hard, and not really fun AT ALL, but worth it. It was a pretty terrible analogy but i guess that's kinda how I'm feeling about mopping right now.

But mostly I just can't wait to set up a Mecca Normal show here!!!!!!!!

Anyway, took some pictures of Wednesday's festivities...

Liz Isenberg and our warm living room

Deer Tick in the "Library"

Thanks to Alaina for working the door!!!

A Women's Wear Daily Photographer showed up! And ate cookies!

Thank you! Come again!

so fun!

2007-08-17T09:48:00.000-07:00

Thanks to everyone who came out to the show on Wednesday night. We had a blast, and we're pretty sure all of you did too.

We've got a good thing going...

We'll be posting photos of the night shortly. Stay tuned for upcoming events! tips! tricks! advice?? all guaranteed, all infused with love.

live tonight in our livingroom...

2007-08-15T10:39:00.001-07:00

Wednesday August 15th @ PONYTAIL JUNCTION

|| John McCauley as DEER TICK ----> Providence
|||| Sal Feathers and the Birdcage --> Bklyn via West Springfield, MA
|||||| Liz Isenberg ---------------------> Northampton, MA
|||||||| Diego Perez -------------------> Providence
|||||||||| more tba

[ PONYTAIL JUNCTION HOUSE ]
22 Diamond St @ Driggs Ave | Greenpoint, Brooklyn
G-Nassau, L-Graham | 8pm | all ages | $5 donation for touring bands

{ It's a real live house, so be good! }

[ curated & organized by Mike 3000 & Ponytail Junction ]

[ DEER TICK ]
"Deer Tick began as the songwriting project of John McCauley, a singer/songwriter based out of Providence, Rhode Island. Thanks to the help of Brendon "Viking Moses" Massei, McCauley has been ferociously zig-zagging across the United States, hitting all the sparsely attended basement shows, smoky bars, upscale joints, small to medium size festivals, and everything in between, since April of 2005. At 21 years of age, McCauley has worked very hard to get his homemade CD's in players across the country, and has no plans to stop any time soon." - Deer Tick HQ . Indiefolkdiypartycountryrockwhateverthefuck, Deer Tick will make you want to have yourself a drink, grab your closest friend or stranger and sing/dance/party the night away. This ultra-proud Rhode Islander (as if there was ever an ashamed one) is writing some of the raddest and most fun tunes in any scene today. New album out super-soon, but CD-Rs are usually available at shows, you won't stop listening to it.
-- SITE --> http://deertickmusic.com
-- MYSPACE / MP3s --> http://myspace.com/deertick

[ SAL FEATHERS & THE BIRDCAGE ]
Technically two separate musical endeavors, but increasingly becoming one band, Sal Feathers and The Birdcage is four BFFs/roommates/drinking partners/and inside joke sharers, and it all shows live. Musically and socially influenced by giants such as Bob Dylan, the White Stripes, The Beach Boys and The Beatles (the rock stuff, not the hippie shit), and more recently, traditional Blues acts, Hamden County Massachusians Ian, Pat, Tom and Julian carry a 1940s/50s/60s whatever classy vibe. It's the closest thing to Americana music you'll ever see live, especially outta four kids under 21, recently re-located, about 3 blocks from this very show, from the WMass burbs. Secretly, and probably publicly, they wish it was '67 and they had a two bedroom in The Village.
-- MYSPACE / MP3s --> http://myspace.com/salfeathers

[ LIZ ISENBERG ]
"Liz Isenberg's Seeport Seaport Seeport (newest, and first full length release) deserves more than the usual huzzahs you read around. It's a fantastic album, especially for anyone who wished folks like Elliott Smith and Cat Power stuck to the sound of their early records, to transporting room noise and close-in confessionals. I use names like that not just because they and Liz share an aesthetic sensibility; Liz's voice, songwriting and creative arrangements are textured and distinctive, and set off all sorts of future-star alarms." - Indiefolkforever . Liz's quiet and introspective tunes make you think of super-emo-shit, but in a really good way. Like the time you had all that drama with your bf/gf but then it got all better. She's way genuine and if her music doesn't make you feel good/smile, double check, you might not have a soul. Plus she has already been included in Fat Cat Records' (Sigur Ros, Animal Collective) Demo Archives - a list of artists that the label would be interested in signing - time and money permitting - so you know she's good.
-- LABEL SITE --> http://leisureclassrecords.com/
-- MYSPACE / MP3s --> http://myspace.com/lizisenberg

[ DIEGO PEREZ ]
Another forever Providencer, Diego usually sings and plucks his electric guitar alone. Jams like "country ass motherfucker" induce sing alongs from friends in the audience and new fans alike. Everyone and anyone will related to his tunes. Way straight forward and honest, Diego is a blast live and his tunes can leave one contemplating their existence, or just continuing the sing-alongs.
-- LABEL SITE --> http://leisureclassrecords.com/
-- MYSPACE / MP3s --> http://myspace.com/diegoperezmusic