Alexa says you can call me Al

If you'll be my bodyguard I can be your long lost pal. I can call you Betty. And Betty when you call me You can call me Al. ( Read more... )

[PWP: Nolan McCarthy]

I really really don't like school. I eat my lunch out in the hall everyday.

And I miss you.

So, first day of school. It's going to be great, right? Someone please tell me it is because otherwise I might just hide in the bathroom until it's over.

I suddenly feel about five again. Why did I think this was a good idea?

If I ever give up my dreams of being on Broadway, I think I will give the undervalued and unappreciated career of pizza delivery a try. I don't think that people give enough credit to the lowly pizza gal or girl, risking life and limb to deliver those wedges of gooey cheesy mouthwatering bliss.

[PWP: Nolan McCarthy]

Swimming? The heat is awful. And not in the river like those poor kids. My father might forgive me if I get arrested. I don't think he wants anything else to happen.

You can see the fireworks over the harbor and hear Alexa's voice talking to someone in the background for a second, the night sky is lit up, red, green, blue, and you can hear her teasing the person she's with to join her in singing. It's dark and a little difficult to see her.

"Fine then. I'll start." The camera jiggles and then is held out and you can see Alexa, with the fireworks in the background as she moves in front of it and holds it out.

"Oh say can you see, by the dawn's early light.
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming-"

She breaks off for a second and looks at someone beside her before tugging him in closer. After a moment the camera focuses in on both of them as she zooms out a bit. "Come on, Daddy."

He hesitates for a moment, looking embarrassed a little, before joining in as she sings the next line. About halfway through the song, Alexa's voice cracks just a little and by the second to last line she's crying and resting her head on her Dad's shoulder, her voice strengthening by the end.

"Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming.
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
O! say does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?"

She leans up and gives her Dad a kiss on the cheek and then waves to the camera. "Happy Fourth of July New York!"

So I now officially have two dogs I am walking during the week. I kind of really love it and it's easy and it gives me time on my own some dog time which I like. I'm thinking I want to keep the dog walking business because it's a great, easy job and somewhat flexible (and if anyone HAS dogs that need walking let me know.)

Dad and I are going to go up the regional high school later in the week and see if it's better to enroll for my senior year or to try for the GRE. I'm going back and forth about it, because honestly I'm not sure I really want to go back for an entire year, but maybe it would give me time to figure out exactly what I want to do after school. It's probably not a bad idea. I just hadn't thought I'd have to think about all of this and suddenly I do.

Not that I am complaining about that mind you. It's actually pretty amazing.

OH and Nolan and I went to see that Zombie Vampire movie and it was pretty amazing. I haven't been to see a scary movie in ages and I'd nearly forgotten how freaky they are when they're in 3-D. At least this one wasn't in smell-o-vision because yeah. Pretty much.

The camera is focused on Charlie, who is doing something in the kitchen. He's sort of in and out of the frame as he moves around, but you can hear Alexa talking in the background as the camera pulls out a bit.

So. I still can't quite believe it but that's my dad. And this is his place here in New York. We found each other again on Father's Day. It's completely ridic and crazy and all that sort of shit. Last time I saw him I was twelve. We're still getting used to each other again. I think him more than me because he's still my Dad even though I'm this girl who's five years older than his daughter last time he saw her. And I don't even know what to say only that I think I'm finally home.

The camera turns around in a quick blur and finally you see Alex, for the first time in all her V-logs, and she just smiles and turns it off without saying anything else..

Way to make a girl pout McCarthy.

So I sort of fell into this place to stay. This morning, on my way home from hanging out with my friend half the night, I stopped by this place I usually go to for something cheap to eat and it started to pour like it's been doing lately. And this guy that works there that I talk to offered to let me crash on his couch because I was practically falling asleep in the booth. So I'm going to be here for at least a few nights I think, if he doesn't mind, while I'm trying to sort out some other stuff. He's a student and he works, but it's cool because at least I know most of the kids my age are trustworthy, unlike, people like the creepy subway guy I ran into last night.

It's funny. I remember reading once about couch surfing and how it's this whole other side of homelessness because no one sees it or talks about it, and it's so true. Although I have to say a couch is way more comfortable than a bunch of blankets tucked up under the interstate.

I think if he doesn't mind I'm going to try out his kitchen and bake a cake. Sort of a thank you, plus I haven't had an occasion to bake one in ages it seems. I miss my mom's chocolate frosting. I remember thinking once if I could taste it again it would be like she wasn't really gone. But I can't ever get it right with the synthetic chocolate. I guess it's close enough.

Man, I love the music mixer on this I-Holo.

( Play File )

There were people lined up around the block to get into that Beyonce movie last night. It was crazy. I think there were even a few in costume. I mean, I hope they were in costume.

I'm pretty sure the theater sold out. Not sure, I mean I wasn't going myself but there had to be.

Today I was occupied stuffing two hundred envelopes and stamping them for some lady with her son's Bar Mitzvah invitations. Yes, that's right. I've put a notice on Craig's List for my new business idea and I had my first job. I also have a woman that wants me to walk her Jack Russell a couple afternoons a week so... yay me. Last night I met a friend. And tonight I had enough to pay for an actual bed at the New Horizons shelter on twenty-third street.

I think so far it has been a very good weekend.

So I was reading this other guy's entry, where he waxes all philosophical and stuff about selling your body. And I was thinking, you know, that I could totally do that. Not in a prostitution sort of way, because I'm sorry but my parents raised me better than that (no offense if that's what you do but it's not my thing).

But I was thinking I have time on my hands. The other day when I waited in line for my friend I enjoyed it. People are busy. They don't have time to wait in line, right? And I'd really like to be able to make money so I can find a roommate and stuff and maybe start to take dance classes again.

So. I was thinking. Wait On You. A business for the busy professional? Basically I would be sort of like a Personal Assistant for Hire on a daily or hourly basis or by the job. You know, standing in lines, picking up your dry cleaning, walking your dog. I guess the old school word for it is gopher, but I could totally do it.

So this support group, I wonder if it's for all ages and what exactly it consists of. Because I'm not sure how much I'd be helped by a large group of people sitting around in a circle and communing over the bean dip.

Maybe it's just me but I think I'd benefit far more from a punching bag or two or three.

The scene opens to a mass of people all grouped in front of the camera operator held in by barricades, then swings around to show the line stretching behind her as far as the whole block and then around a corner. As always, with Alex's Vlogs you only hear her voice, soft and ever so slightly southern accented. You never see her face, only her hands gesturing or her feet or her legs.

Hi there. It's me. And I'm here live from the Department of Blah Blah Official Something Governmental or other, standing in line for my friend while he goes and does some stuff. I've been here, oh, about two hours now. And it's just about noon and I'm thinking I'm going to make a day of it. Maybe get a little sun.

Her voice breaks off into a laugh and she turns, the camera on the person behind her, a man in his late twenties wearing a baseball cap and a t-shirt, somewhat oblivious to her interview as he is listening to his ear buds. He does nod, however, and wave abashedly at the camera.

This is my new friend Joel. Joel's from Battle Creek Michigan and he lost his NIC at a bar last week. Poor luck you. And the lady in front of me won't tell me her name but Joel and I have decided to call her Sugar.

The camera goes to a rather tired and bored looking older woman who has her nose firmly into a book, an umbrella tucked under her arm in case of rain.

This is Joel's second day here. Yesterday he ended up having to go to work, but today he has the day off, so we're going to settle in pretty soon with a movie on his I-Holo and I'm going to work on getting a tan. But first! Joel and I have already talked about music, how much we miss bananas, and the proper time to cook microwave popcorn, and as much as we are now bff's for life I could completely use some distraction. So tell me. What is your favorite thing you miss from Prebomb days? We're talking things, not people. Because most of us miss some of those and I don't want this to turn into an episode of Tyra.

Joel says Spring Break in Mexico.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say Hot Chocolate after being outside all day in the mountains. Man. I miss the mountains too.

So. Some random person comes up to you on the street and says hey, you should totally be in commercials. And then they hand you this really official looking business card that says they're an agent and they start talking to you about meeting with them about it at their "office".

Do you think:

a) serial killer
b) scam artist and/or pedo pervert
c) serial killer scam artist pervert
d) legitimate dude
e) lonely old fart who wants someone to water his plants and watch the weather channel with them.

Discuss.

And please note at the time you haven't had a decent shower in more than a week and you look like you just rolled out of bed, as it is.

So. If my card says Southwest on it. What parts of the city am I supposed to not be in? Just for curiosity's sake.

Because I really kind of don't want to go to jail if I can help it. First off, I don't look very good in orange. And also, I hear that it totally ruins your chances of being Prom Queen, and we all know how important that is.

Scene opens with a blanket spread on some grass in what appears to be Central Park in the middle of the day. The camera is held in the person's hands, facing away from them, to focus on what is around her, instead of her. You can see her shoes (dirty, white sneakers) and her legs, crossed in fading blue jeans as the camera zooms in and then out away from her. In the background is the lake, and there's some crumpled fast food bags on the blanket, empty, along with a plastic water bottle with a fading label half full, and a backpack.

Hey. Me again. I had the weirdest experience earlier, met some old lady by a newspaper stand and she handed me all sorts of pamphlets and started to just talk all about Jesus Christ and all this stuff, about how it's the end days and he's coming to save all of those who repent for our sins. It's such fucking bullshit. Seriously. Like, who the hell is she to say what God wants or did or is doing? I think it's pretty obvious that there is no God, not after everything that happened. Not in the way they think there is. If there is one, he's more like neutral, you know? Because it seems completely ridic to me for someone to say to pray to God for forgiveness, for all the sins of what we did, when I want to know what I fucking did that killed my entire family.

Her voice breaks off and there is silence for a moment save the drone of the noise in the park.

Anyway. She gave me this.

She tosses a bible on the blanket.

Not sure what I'm going to do with it yet. I've already read the entire thing more than once. In some of the places I used to live it was the only book in the house other than those old outdated phone directories. Anyway. Was looking at my stuff, thinking about what it's like to live out of a bag. So. Here's my tally.

She slowly unpacks the bag with one hand, the other still holding the camera and recording her movements as she arranges a very small array of clothing. Two ratty paperback books, one a copy of The Hobbit. A ziplock bag with some papers and some loose change in it. Another ziplock with a toothbrush and toothpaste. A hairbrush. A plastic grocery bag with what looks like an apple and some granola bars.

Three t-shirts. Some underwear and socks. A pair of shorts. I found this neat little store run by the Cancer Society where I can get used jeans for like a dollar, so I've started just wearing them until I can't anymore and replacing them. They take too long to dry. Don't know. Doesn't seem like a lot does it. Not much more than I brought with me when I left home. Four years later and everything still fits in one lousy bag. Fuck me. Don't talk to me about God.

Everything blurs and the camera shuts off abruptly.

The camera jerks up sharply, as if inexpertly handled, a blur of asphalt and wet pavement with street lights on it. It's dark and hard to see, but the camera is focused on a pair of vagrants fighting over a shopping cart emblazoned with the Kohl's Logo. There's a dog sitting in it, along with a styrofoam cooler, and sleeping bags and bulging reusable shopping bags are bungee corded to the sides.

"Does this thing work?" The voice is low, a trace of a Southern accent discernible, but not particularly heavy. "I just can't believe I'm seeing this. I'm not sure if it's the cart or the dog or the cooler, but these guys have been fighting over this thing for at least the last ten minutes. And people just keep walking by, like it's a completely ordinary thing. Maybe they do this all the time, I don't know." The camera jerks again and you hear a surprised sound from the girl, followed by an indecipherable gruff voice as someone has bumped into the person shooting the footage.

"Hey, I was just... What the hell?" Suddenly the camera is bouncing wildly and you see the pavement going by super fast, cars, trashcans, the street all blurring for at least a good minute as the sound of running footsteps echo. Suddenly there's a blare of light, a fire in a trash can ahead, and a couple of teenage guys look up, facing the camera, then one of them pulls out a gun and heads directly towards the camera, then moving past it, off screen.

"Leave her the fuck alone."

The camera has the scene in half focus as it turns, the teenager using the gun to wave off a creepy looking older man in a winter jacket and baseball cap.

As the man wanders back off, glaring at the camera over his shoulder, the teenager walks back, his hand going up to cover it, leaving the screen in darkness.

"Careful with that. People around here don't like to be seen, baby. Next time you just walk on by. You ain't in the suburbs now. This is New York."