Newporthussy profile picture

Newporthussy

i meant this one. and fuck you and your eyebrows, natalie.

About Me

I'd like to consider myself at least a little bit creepy.I'm no neo-hipster or urban hippy, but I'm pretty sure I'm slam-banged fucked in the head enough to keep things interesting most of the time.Out creep the creeps and kick the squares in the balls and all that jive. Buy me a scotch and I will tell you your fortune. Seriously. No. Seriously. I just turned thirty. I think it may be my magic number. Actually, I'm planning on making it my magic number. I've been trying to find a job. Not because I need to make more money to be happy in this only slightly comfortable state I inhabit, no, because I want to buy people presents. I mean, I had a great time this past holiday season. I saw The Shams play (where I broke down and had a crying jag. I'm warning you, Chivas Regal sucks), helped some guy I didn't know use the ladie's restroom, and got chaperoned home by some guy I haven't seen since I was a tripping teenage delinquent. All on Christmas. It was great. A few days later my little sister, Emily, moved back to town. She hasn't lived here since we watched Michael Jordan's last season while drinking large jugs of wine. She moved into my house with her weirdo painter fiancee and all my loaned-out treasured trash I had left up in the Chicago bachellorette pad, ie.; my Weidmann signs, Johhny Bench's horse-hide suede leather couch (think of the bisexual seventies love that went on on that thing), my espresso machine I have never used, my Playboy vinyl bar stools (thanks Joell), and a gigantic white dog named Ziggy. Big as a Shetland pony. I can't help it. I'm a Capricorn. We dig material things, but they have to have stories. Everything has to have a story. So they moved in, new story. I turned thirty a few days later. I was at the Southgate House and it was karaoke night. I'm sorry, I really hate karaoke. You want to laugh when people take it too seriously, but then you might hurt their feelings. If the whole room is wasted and someone starts doing a Vanilla Ice song or something, then that's funny and you can laugh openly. But not some guy doing a very dramatic and flourishful rendition of a Bon Jovi song. He actually bowed afterwards as the crowd of serious karaoke singers cheered while thinking in their heads " I could do that better." That sucks. Emily and Jason were supposed to sing me "More than Words" with an interpretive dance that went along with it, but instead we played pool with an ex-boyfriend of Emily's. (I still have some of that guy's paintings he did years ago and they are quite good.) Emily and Jason are chicken-shit. I will make them sing that song someday. Or they'll sing the theme song from Greatest American Hero. We have that C.D. at home. So, yeah. I need a job to buy Christmas presents. I don't want a job. Not at all. The last "real" job I had was at Wild Oats, where I was a schizoid deli supervisor. That place is just a health-food version of a Thriftway. I swear to god. I had to go through both my marriage and my divorce at that joint, while my husband turning into ex-husband worked for me. I've never had so many people obsessed with my life. That place turned out to be the worst and best thing that ever happened to me. That place should be burned down. This time I am not going to feed people. Waitresses and whores are pretty much the same thing. They both provide you with very basic, primal, needed services; food and sex. If we could pay someone to shit for us, we most likely would. No. I really want to work in a pawn shop. Such sad, sad places. People having to give up prized possessions. I think that's alright, though. Giving up your prized possessions may make you a stronger person. I'm not sure why I think that. I just do. There's a pawn shop down the street from me where you can pawn your car. I asked the man inside the shop why someone would pawn their car. He said, " Mostly for bail money, I suppose." I didn't understand why someone would pawn their car until he told me that. I'd pawn my car to get out of jail, too. The last time I went to jail was about 6 or 7 years ago. I was driving my 1970 Dodge Dart swinger down 52 with my ex-husband, drinking a peppermint milkshake from U.D.F. The last time I had a peppermint milkshake I had my jaw broken in two places by a boy. I'm not sure why I must always fuck with fate, but I do. I have to see what happens,I guess. I was half-way down 52 when I was pulled over by a State Trooper. I had just come back from Antioch (hell on earth. don't let the hippies tell you otherwise) and hadn't gotten new tags. Every year I drive around with expired tags. I am right now. The Trooper was a bastard at first because some guy from Kentucky had outrun them earlier that night, so I think that they were fucking with anyone with Kentucky plates. I had to have Kentucky plates. The Trooper makes me get out of the car so he can search it. There was nothing in the car at that point. He noticed the handicap placard hanging from the rearview and asked who was handicapped. I was. I had on my pajamas and was limping around on an aluminum cane. I was in a car wreck, but that's another, much longer, story. The Trooper runs my license and finds a Capias warrant out for me. As a teen, I had the bad habit of driving very fast, all the time. The last speeding ticket I received when driving this five-speed Audi Quattro. How the fuck was I supposed to not get a speeding ticket in that monster? I thought I had paid the ticket with a money order. I guess I did not. By this point, the Trooper started to feel bad about pulling this crippled chick over. He tried unsuccessfully to get me out of it. I was too much of a criminal. My ex-husband drove the Dart on home while I was whisked downtown to the station. I was nervous. I was sweating. So, I started to chat the Trooper up. He told me about his family, showed me some tattoos on his back (wolves) and drove the squad car well over a hundred miles per hour to demonstrate the Corvette engine. We get downtown to the jail and he handcuffs me. I limped behind him into the jail with my hands cuffed together grasping the aluminum cane. A bunch of other troopers started razzing him about how hard I must have been to catch. What a bunch of fucking cocks. See, the thing I haven't told you yet is, I had a quarter of weed in my bra. It was my sea-foam green Miracle bra. If you know me, you know I do not need the extra padding, so I would take the pads out of the little pocket and stuff whatever illegal substance I had on me into the pocket. Worked great. I had sat in the back of the squad car as the Trooper asked my ex if he was alright to drive the Dart home and I rubbed and rubbed the baggie until it didn't make that plastic noise anymore. I was hoping if the cop saw me he would just think I was a freak and ignore the rubbing. I thought I was safe. Male cops can't order you to take off your bra or frisk you. I thought I was home-free. But, we walk into the jail and a chick cop walked up to me and said, " If your bra is underwire, you have to take it off." The Miracle bra is underwire. She took me to a little room with a stainless steel toilet in it and a two-way mirror and closed the door. I stood there for a moment, deciding whether or not to flush it. I knew the chick was watching me through that two-way mirror. I would rather her find it, make her work for it. I took off the sea-foam green Miracle bra and handed it to her outside the door. She folded it up and handed it to the lady who puts all your stuff into a brown envelope behind the counter. I was locked up with a bunch of hookers and bad check writers. No one spoke, except for the hookers and their claims of innocence. I was in there for about three hours, the whole time wanting to yell out, " The cops are holding my bag for me until I get out!" I didn't do it though. I just went home with my dad after he bailed me out and smoked a joint. See? That's why it's called a Miracle bra.

My Interests

i was telling my mom what i'd told jeremy about the computer last night. " i'm going to take it outside and fucking run over it with my car. that's worth fifty-bucks, right? " she just laughed and agreed that it was worth fifty-bucks. of course, jeremy says something like, " jesus christ, sarah, shut-up." which is funny. he insists that benny is going to upgrade all the 1991 software soon so i can actually hear the music on here. and post my blogs so that the title is actually a link on my page. he insisted heatedly the other day as i ranted on the yellow velvet chair in his hot-pink living room. promises aren't necessarily actions, though, so i said, " when? when is he going to fucking fix it?" the word "fucking" was used to give strength to the phrase, not really to convey anger. jeremy knows this, and he goes, " wow, ally mcbeal." and i guffawed out loud because, come on, "ally mcbeal"? i am anything but anorexic. when i'm dead maybe i'll look like her, but i'm pretty sure my skeleton would still be fatter. so, i said," what? " and he said, " i don't know. i was trying to think of some "power woman" and that's all i could come up with." and i said, " yeah. that's the fucking whole problem now, isn't it?" and he said, " shut-up, sarah." i did. because jeremy is my friend. i try not to traumatize him too badly. men seem to have a lower pain threshold. i finished "love in the time of cholera", again. i read it the first time when i was about ten and my father had gifted me a new york times book of the month club subscription. i was a ten-year old girl with half of my room full of breyer model horses and the other half of my room full of book shelves. i was ten when i read "lord of the flies", too. and "the catcher in the rye". are you getting any of this? at ten i wasn't well trained on the structure, the formation of literature formed by someone else formerly. i didn't give a fuck, innocently. i was destined to write poetry. lawlessly. but, of course, the feelings that the words formed in me were there. made by my mind and all the great words. not even god herself can teach a human to feel. you just do. or, you don't. i do. and i cried the first time, too, when i got to the end of the story. i still believe it. and i always will. now let's go pirate a riverboat.

I'd like to meet:

that one.

Music:

Dinosaur Jr.,Wynonie Harris,The Queers,Ricky Nye or Vicki Disalle,Big Mama Thornton,Sweet Alice Hoskins,Morphine,Sonic Youth,George Jones, Screaming J,Professor Longhair,The Shins,StrawBoss,The Shams,Johnny Cash,Willie Nelson,The Sonics,Noah Hunt in all his incarnations,Screeching Weasel,All,The Flaming Lips, I love you but I've chosen darkness,Howlin Wolf,Robert Johnson,Bob Dylan,Pink Floyd, Gram Parsons,Nas,Casual,Souls with Mischief,Busy Bee,Capgun Cowboys,Haymaker Jones,Buck Owens,Sleepy LaBeef,Elvis Presley,Glen Glenn,Eddie Cochran,My father,Pure Prairie League,Rip,Rock and Raunch,Big Joe Turner,Jerry Lee Lewis,Modest Mouse,The Kinks,Iggy Pop,G.G. Allin,Spoon,The Greenhornes,The Bachelors,Ritchie and the Students,Ray Charles,Hockey Night,Neva Dinova, Apollo Sunshine,Swearing at Motorists, Pansy Division,The Walkmen, Deerhoof,Tijuana Hercules,Numbers, The Highdials, the Highstrung,the Stills,Grand Buffet,the Flaming Lips,Bette Midler,Vincent Gallo,Bonnie Prince Billy,Jets to Brazil, Kelly Thomas and the Fabulous Pick-ups, the Soledad Brothers, the Hiders, Sohio, Thistle, Are We Lions?, Tugboat, Scouts Honor, Caterpillar Tracks, Thunderpants!, Moth, the Catalog Cowboys, the Christopher Carney band, NLFSD, Jason Dennie, Bay City Rollers, Cat Stevens, Phonograph, Of Montreal, the minni-thins, Radiohead, Leonard Cohen, 500 miles to Memphis, Lovedrug, the Capes, Virgil Shaw, Paleo, Maupa, the Redbirds, Voxtrot, the Redwalls, The Spinns,Tarbox Ramblers,William Elliot Whitmore,Wax Fang,the Professors, Elivis Perkins,Drakkar Sauna,Yakuza Heartattack,the Sundresses,Marking Twain,Balkan Beatbox,Wayne Hancock,the Giraffes,Mute Math, the Black Keys,Get Sweaty and of course, Amber Lee Rocks!!!

Movies:

Taxi Driver,Mean Streets,Henry and June,Switchblade Sisters,My Own Private Idaho,Crumb,Ghost World,The Grafenberg Spot,Deep Throat,Faster Pussycat,Kill,Kill,Blue Velvet,Some Like it Hot,Fargo,Decline of the Western Civilization,Legend of the Overfiend,any movie with Seka,Strip-O-Rama,Rosemarys Baby,Valley of the Dolls,Welcome to the Dollhouse,Donnie Darko,The Killer,Dune,The Deer Hunter,Debbie Does Dallas,Otaku No Video,The Devil in Miss Jones,Taboo,Last Tango in Paris,Wild at Heart,Car Wash

Television:

is bullshit.

Books:

Delta of Venus, Tropic of Capricorn,Binky Brown's Last Will and Testament,Geek Love, Ferdinand the Bull, Harry and the Purple Crayon, Jitterbug Perfume, Fear of Flying, Mutant Message from Down Under,The Bachman Books,The Giving Tree, Diary of a Drug Fiend, The Story of O, 100 Days of Sodom, The Hite Report on Male Sexuality,The Holy Bible,The Rum Diaries, Musical Legends,The Hellbound Heart, Cry to Heaven, Middlesex,Your'e a Pussy,Wine,Hashish and Women,The Yellow Wall Paper,Dominant Wives and other stories,The Rapture of Canaan, Bitterroot Landing,Behold a Pale Horse, The Montauk Project,The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, Stranger in a Strange Land, what matters most is how well you walk through the fire, Post Office................ Someone complained because I don't put the authors on here with their books and I am then denying them proper credit. I thought the orgasm they inspired with their words was tribute enough from me? If you want to know the names of the authors, look it up yourself. Am I supposed to do everything for you?

Heroes:

Justin Green Anais Ninn Henry Miller R.Crumb Ken Kesey Jane Russell Mae West Clara Bow Sylvia Plath Hunter S. Thompson Rimbaud Baudelaire Marlene Dietrich My Father My Mother My Sister My Brother my friends basically anyone that is truly honest about who they are, no matter the craziness that surrounds them and is part of them. Live fast,live long and still leave a good looking corpse.

My Blog

from newport to northside to granville to athens to newport to northside

just go with itprologue i'm not certain if you've ever plotted out themoment of your owndemise of innocencewhen it happenedand whybut, it's part of mylife's workpersonallyi can remember sittingin a cl...
Posted by Newporthussy on Tue, 29 Apr 2008 08:26:00 PST

he called me a witch

and suddenly, all the magic was gone   if i was totally absorbing everythinglike a fat-titted spongewhy would i have towrite it down?why the fuck would i have towrite it down?frustration is the r...
Posted by Newporthussy on Mon, 28 Apr 2008 08:37:00 PST

for, i am ignorant, i am blind

i need to knowthe architectureof your soulup closesince you'vealready shown methe blueprinti have the blueprint now give mesomethingpermanentnot just paperexpress the woundsexhume the corpsesexcise th...
Posted by Newporthussy on Thu, 24 Apr 2008 08:28:00 PST

legal pad number two

salisbury steakhe said," i have no idea, sarah, really i don't.i mean, come on, you have big titsand a pretty face. that's all guys need."and i just stared at himsemi-glassy-eyedslightly shit-facedin ...
Posted by Newporthussy on Fri, 18 Apr 2008 08:39:00 PST

notebook number four

seedsand you're not herebut you arestill hereeverywhereyou got it allmani got nothingmanand you're not herebut you'reeverywhereyou are stilleverywhereyou sat down next to meand your smellsurrounded me...
Posted by Newporthussy on Fri, 18 Apr 2008 08:23:00 PST

r.i.p. felix argueles mercado salada hunt

you can keep going and going with the names.i used to.felix the dog 1994-2008my dog died. one of the four dogs that are mine, but the only one i picked out. don't get me wrong, i love all the other do...
Posted by Newporthussy on Fri, 29 Feb 2008 06:29:00 PST

this is the one i entered

dedicated to ron jones  a.k.a " king of the road "one more day( or, i heard all the chicks threw their underpants into your open grave )she said, " what if he had waited one more day? "would he s...
Posted by Newporthussy on Sun, 24 Feb 2008 08:28:00 PST

i think lorca was color-blind

i think lorca was color-blindi have reverse insomniawhere my dreams areso violently beautifulthey wake me upover and overand disallow methe luxuryof falling backto sleepmaybe it's becausethey're all a...
Posted by Newporthussy on Sun, 17 Feb 2008 08:54:00 PST

later

alright, the birthday. my birthday is on january 3rd, which explains my predilection for doing things in threes. i pick three things too much. actually, maybe that can be explained by a slight obsessi...
Posted by Newporthussy on Thu, 14 Feb 2008 08:48:00 PST

ill finish the story later

i swear to christ this is just like playing russian roulette with anunloaded guna fever-pitcha fever-depththe heatthe screaming of the wet woodyou have heaped aroundmy feetas the hot tonguesof the fla...
Posted by Newporthussy on Thu, 07 Feb 2008 08:21:00 PST