my current inspiration -


sometimes at work, i have(get) to "crunch numbers". i like "crunching numbers" and just LOVE my fingers gliding over my big button calculator.
when i crunch numbers on the calculator, i pretend that my rocker boyfriend has hired me to work the books at his band's studio in portchester, because - "she's good with numbers."
instead of sitting corpo, wearing corpo clothes, i'm seated on a metal swivel chair with a pleather green cushion. i am wearing a black t-shirt, fedora, and jean shorts.
i've got smeared eyeliner, because well, we do it all the time.
as in most fantasies.
and we just finished doing it before he had to run out for some lunch with one of his buddies from back home, who just got a construction job working with the MTA, and on this particular day he is working on the new haven line, parked at portchester for lunch. the construction worker eats roast beef, my boyfriend - turkey.
i told him to bring me some coleslaw from the deli on his way back to the studio.
while he's out, i put my feet up on the desk, smoke a cigarette, and put lavender diamond on the record player.
its bright out - a sunny humid day- but i blare 'oh no' - which then moves me to get up and stomp around for a few seconds, before sitting again, to finish my smoke.
maybe i have a dog - no - i had a dog. i think about him. think about his obsession with tennis balls and me, and then my boyfriend returns with coleslaw, a surprise twinkie (cuz thats our thing) a plastic fork & the typical east coast pile of napkins to wipe the mouths of 5,000.

nus obmam

Beneath the bebop moon
I want to croon with you
Beneath the Mambo Sun
I got to be the one with you

My life's a shadowless horse
If I can't get across to you
In the alligator rain
My heart's all pain for you

Girl you're good
And I've got wild knees for you
On a mountain range
I'm Dr. Strange for you

Upon a savage lake
Make no mistake I love you
I got a powder-keg leg
And my wig's all pooped for you

With my heart in my hand
I'm a hungry man for you
I got stars in my beard
And I feel real weird for you

Beneath the bebop moon
I'm howling like a loon for you
Beneath the mumbo sun
I've got to be the one for you

dear old craig

my friend craig sends many to my door.
many filled with promises
and many who've filled a whore.

scarf laces

taliban scarf
florescent laces

more accessories than me.

dry grass
high heels

the hill was the places to be.

rocking this way
rocking that way

made it easy to fall.

drive to water

after my flight landed, i drove south to laguna beach.

way to crowded. i DID manage to park my car, and walk to the beach. i took off my sandals & ran to the water. after feeling how warm and inviting the pacific can ACTUALLY be... i decided to go to the nearest store, buy a towel & waterproof sunscreen, use the bathroom to change into my cute new swimsuit. once equipped, i simply drove down the coast and stopped at various beaches along the way.

sandy walking.
towel and bag shuffle.
drop drawers lift shirts
fear crash laugh smash.
running with waves
mesh with water
12 years old.
dry off sun
back in car

sunglasses & fucking hot ass jeans

i always always always forget how goodlooking LA really is. it really really really is is is all about wearing the sexiest jeans, and the hippest shiniest sunglasses.

thats all.

both in their sexiest of formats will run you upwards of 400 dollars. combined, so thats a relief.

of course i found the sexiest pair of jeans here, and bought them. spending like oh 200 on jeans in LA is like one text message to your friend of guilt. "how much should i spend on jeans?" "170" "these are 158" "thats a steal. plus you are meeting paul on sunday." "done"

and sunglasses? don't even get me started.

aside from sunglasses and jeans, everything else is pretty much thrown to the wind.

unless of course, you DON'T have the attitude(body) to back up the jeans and sunglasses.

if you don't have the body(attitude) to back it up?

don't live in LA.