March 29, 2007

It's been forever (well, a month) since I watched CNN in the a.m. What's up with my lady Soledad O'Brien? I haven't a clue, and I feel a tad guilty about that. The news, as usual, is a blur of police shootings in NYC, bombings in Iraq, Gonzales, Hill Clinty and Obama ... blah blah blah ...


Sorry, I'm just talking to myself.

It's been a *weird* week. I'm not the person I thought I was. But at the same time, I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be. Isn't that always the case when we discover things about ourselves?

So it seems the Vegas trip is out for now, but we'll be taking our girlie Annie to the beach instead. She's mighty cute, what with her soon-to-be-hitched status. Check her out (below) with me, on Bethany's birthday:

March 24, 2007

Lamb of God plays the kind of music that's worth going deaf for: Fast, furious, put-you-in-your-place drums; gravelly, grovelling vocals; and seriously severe and sick guitar.

It's true, my boyfriend dragged me by the hair to the show, but I loved it. (Just kidding about the hair dragging; but I was the one in tow this time!).

For your viewing pleasure, another glimpse into my life in Brooklyn.

March 20, 2007

Breaking up is hard to do.

Really, really hard, even when you know it's for the best and life will be better post-breakup.

Last night I said goodbye to a Brooklyn band I half-founded with my friend Amber, an amazingly powerful, prolific womyn songwriter, capoiera dancer, and friend. I was playing lead guitar (not amazingly, but well enough), and practicing with the quartet (which included a bassist and drummer), all girls.

But the more I practiced the more I wish I had time to focus my energies on my main projects, namely my solo work as MARISA MINI. But the ladies of my band wanted five hours a week.

As I said, it's for the best. But it's still upsetting.

Today the ulcer is in check (hooray, Nexium!) but today, Tuesday, I am surviving on Starbucks Iced Grande Sugarfree Vanilla Americanos and grilled chicken salads. Trying to figure out a tour for the fall (which was supposed to happen in the summer), what I'll end up doing in Paris, how the heck I'm going to carve out time to learn French, etc.

Thank God I'm seeing Clutch tonight, my Maryland boys. With my New York boy in tow. And the city warming up to the idea of warming up. Ah, Spring. I can feel it (almost) now!

March 14, 2007

Yes folks, she's out of her food coma ...

... and hungry for food. Sugar. Sugar. SUGAR!! (Okay, now, settle down, will you?)

(sorry, just talking to my alter ego). Let's move on:

Seems as if more than a couple of men are offended by some of the things I've said about tea drinking, a clearly non-masculine endeavor. Hmm.

In other news, a Full-blooded, 100-percent New York Man (who doesn't drink tea much) wrote back to the Brooklynette (see letter below). I have an excerpt:

Dear Brooklynette,

High cost of living is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the "Advanced Citizenship" that we offer. So, no, it's not always enough that you have to slave, day in and day out to just barely afford a cubby hole with a psycho.

"Why am I doing this?" Many have asked. As I said before: "Advanced Citizenship". You are a living, breathing indispensable cog at the heart of the capital of the universe. And, in exchange, we offer you nothing short of the world. It is here, at your fingertips, just waiting to be taken.

You cannot get the education, employment opportunities, recovery, art, sports, culture, food, diversity, politics or people anywhere else. We are the cream of the crop: from the craziest bum to the most polished millionaire. From the smarmiest hustler to the tear-worthy philanthropist. From the grizzled native, to the wide-eyed transplant: WE ARE THE BEST IN THE WORLD. Amen, brother. I LOVE NEW YORK! Over and out.

March 9, 2007


Yeah, and here's my wishlist:

  1. A makeout session with a certain special, New York-born hottie;
  2. A logo for my new solo project, specially designed by Ann;
  3. Ann will choose the bridesmaids dress that I like;
  4. Rebecca of the East will get good roommates;
  5. Rebecca of the Midwest will enjoy herself in New York;
  6. Al Gore will run for president;
  7. The Jackies will finally decide on a permanant name;
  8. Amber will get over her hangover (and April will, too!)
  9. I will get over the fact that I weigh no less than 118 pounds;
  10. The United States will pull the f*ck out of Iraq;
  11. My soccer team, the Bubblegum Barracudas, will WIN THE SPRING SEASON!
  12. Men will stop drinking tea and pretending to be straight;
  13. I will enjoy hanging out with my family when I visit D.C.;
  14. Rent will get paid;
  15. Freelance writing will flow;
  16. Every single kid in Park Slope will want me to teach them guitar;
  17. Life won't change too much -- because I have almost all of these things to be grateful for on the eve of my big day.

    Love, Marisa

    March 6, 2007

    Dear New York,

    About two years ago, I finally washed ashore, onto your socially saturated, smog-filled, and opportunity laden lands. It was tough going (oh yes!), starting with the first roommate (who didn't want her ceramic mugs in my microwave), but you still welcomed me regardless. Your open arms and huge reality check smacked my brain out of suburbia mode. Today, things like lawns and driveways scare me because they lack the soothing familiarity of your crowded, horn-and-siren streets.

    I left Chicago for you.

    You hear me, New York?

    I LEFT CHICAGO FOR YOU!!! And I could've returned to D.C., but I didn't. I chose YOU, New York.

    So why must you jerk me around and remind me of Chicago's worst characteristics?

    I implore you to bid farewell to this rediculously cold weather and bring on the global warming already. I am freezing constantly -- and my electric bill isn't looking so great (what with all the space heater lovin' I've had to seek out). Isn't it enough that I already have to slave day in and day out just to pay your absurdly high rents?

    I don't mean to sound harsh, New York. I love you/Brooklyn. Really, I do. More than any other city I've ever been in. But this cold weather is too much. Please remind me of why I transplanted here. I promise never to call myself a New Yorker again.

    Your transplant,

    Brooklynette Marisa.

    March 2, 2007

    Perhaps I do have an eye for fashion.

    My two favorite Oscar dresses -- the Zac Posen number worn by Gwynneth Paltrow and Reese Witherspoon's black strapless gown -- graced the first page of People magazine's "Best Oscar Dresses" spread.

    I also loved Nicole Kidman's red dress. J-Lo's Goddess-like flowy gown? Not so much.

    See, I'm getting into the whole "dress" spirit to prepare for bridesmaid duty: hunting for the perfect, flattering, matching frock to wear alongside my Annie B., who'll marry this August. (Yes, folks, this is Ann of the Applesauce 2001 Horoscope fame).

    Ah, the Oscars ... such a perfect mental escape from life's awful realities, like severed limbs of Marines returning from the Mideast, tax time anxiety, that chronic burning on my back ...

    (Note to self: stop bitching!) Oh yeah -- it's my birthday next Saturday. That's March 10. Make no mistake. I used to get all psyched about my birthday, but this year, I don't feel like doing anything. I can't even muster up the energy to organize some sort of birthday outing or dinner. What the hell's wrong with me? I only get this holiday once a year! Perhaps it's because my life is so good right now. I'm bitching, yes, but generally quite content. Until later ...