30 to 20 to 10 to 0

was march not the longest month ever? geesh. and its not even over yet.

beginning my 30's has made me think more insightfully about my childhood. ??? i read these things we all write - we are all starting our 30's - we have enough knowledge at this point to know that its going to fly by. so we are all writing about what?

our childhoods. our formers. our pasts.

childhood contains 20's too. i mean, during my 20's i said things like "oh who cares. we are just kids." we were just kids. i said that mostly because the older influences in my life were calling me a kid. so it made sense. "oh. i AM a kid"

but i stopped saying that.

now. lets work this out. why are we all writing so profusely about our days past?

maybe because at this point the idea of "dreaming" has been slightly crushed. we are more realistic. we are grounded - in a mud we don't really love, but grounded none the less. so writing about a time in our life when anything was possible - is sort of like a soothsayer. a pot of good coffee. a trip to the grand canyon.

or maybe its because we finally have something to write about. finally. now that i am older, i sort of roll my eyes if i hear someone getting published before 30. i think "oh what a spoiled brat. who'd they get to fund? daddy?" the 20's now seem so flakey and tired and boring and electronic. but its no different than what a 30 year old would have said about me during my 20's.

so everything is right with the world.

art fair

in sf, they call these things (or at least alan calls them) "pay to play".

video of the art fairs in nyc right now.

this girl totally bugs me. i'm sure she's super annoying at parties in williamsburg, but i'm sure her hairdresser thinks she's mag.

can we start saying mag for magnificent?

its so mag. mag. or maybe pronounced with the same g from the word magic. mag. wow. thats stel. for stellar.

ok. thats going overboard. ovrbrd.

hey - don't you think michael musto is mag in that video? he makes me really hate art along side him. yah know? i sent him an email in the 90's once. and he wrote me back. i wonder if i still have that? dowt it.

hey - today i was stopped out in the open wild of the wild, and asked to put a leash on my dog. the woman said "your dog hasn't been on a leash since its been out here." i wanted so say "neither have you". but i didn't, and put the leash on the dog.

hey - i wanna keep art alive in twenty-five. met a guy named theron today at the farmers mkt. he was wearing flowers in his hair, so i stopped him for a picture. he gave me his business card which is a picture of him with flowers in his hair, with his phone number written on the back. so we are going to do a photo shoot of him with flowers in his hair. sure. why not.

hey - he's got those santa cruz eyes. well they all have those eyes when they are part animal.

hey - still flirting with the coffee boy. its stage 1 crush right now. it started when he flipped up his shades 2 ago, to check me and smile. so i thought "hm". and then it entered stage 1, when i thought about him while getting dressed this morning. and then all the way to his booth, and then while i asked for a small coffee. and then when he smiled. and then. and then. and then. i pushed moka java. got soy. he watched. i wonder what it means to him when a girl gets soy.

hey - one left without asking. one asked and then left. and now i'm back to making flyers.

i wanna shove this shopping cart down my throat.

i gotta go get the potatoes out of the ovn.

april screensaver

april's screensaver is going to be beautiful ryan mcginley. he is an inspiration to me, and he is gorgeous. he just had a baby that he named jade, with a girl named secret.
so basically while i'm waiting for programs to load, or files to send, i can channel the artist. and he's my age! doesn't he look so fresh? for 30? its cuz he's rad. his current show is here.

photo is by skullset of course. i mean seriously - i'll never be this cool to chill with ryan mc g.

words vs. life

i realize now, that there is a distinct difference between words vs. life that can actually be fatal in a human relationship.

here, the word life means a live human being vs. a written document from the person.

words are written - and then read.
read - and then stoned. like, they are in stone.
problems with words written arise only by the reader. the reader has its own voice. adding accents here. looking into things there.
the reader might possibly be the actual author.

in real life /
live actions are acted - and then received.
spoken - and then listened.
listened and then spoken.
and this is where it gets interesting - pushed and then shoved.
kissed and then hugged.
fingered and then inserted.
pulled and then sucked.
the couch gets messed up. the tv gets left on. the sheets get torn. the jam is still out on the counter. the bills don't get paid. the nailpolish chips. the hair needs brushing. the dog starts whining. the birds start chirping. the plants wilt.

all of these things are going on while two humans try to get out what they feel inside their physical bodies - whether it be good or bad. all of this is going on while they slap and hit and hug and kiss. cells are exchanged. skin is chaffed. you get the picture.

with words though - when all of it is WRITTEN - it seems so stone.
you said this.
i say this.
you say that.
because i said this.

it doesn't resolve anything until its physically present. presence, maybe is what i'm getting at. the PRESENCE of an issue. the PRESENCE of a person. the absence of a person. the absence of an issue.

lets see if the absence of words makes the heart grow fonder?
or the absence of words makes the heart forget.

they say it forgets.

maybe what i'm also getting at is time. maybe its all time that matters. like in all things. people saying "we'll see." or "can't wait" or "only time will tell".

presence physical time words written read stoned stone

but then again, all of THIS is written. i think the answer is all in the word PRESENCE.

first walk

the first time i flew out to new york from alaska, i had to go to michigan for a family vacation. i hadn't yet stepped foot in manhattan. but on our drive to michigan, big miles pointed it out over the tappan zee - or maybe it was the george washington. "we are actually in manhattan right now" or something like that. i pressed my face against the window! wow! but i can't see any skyscrapers! we must be at the top of the island - where the columbia university kids practice rowing.

i knew manhattan before i got there. in high school, the map from national geographic hung at the head of my bed - so i could study it before going to sleep.
broadway is the street that runs diagonal
st. vincents is here.
the village starts here.
tribeca is where jfk jr. lives.
park ave. is untouchable.
the met is in central park.

after getting back from michigan, i had to work a week. all week in rye, i planned my trip to the city. i woke up at the crack of dawn. i was SO EXCITED. big miles seemed so proud! he was shocked by how excited i was. he was like BE CAREFUL. BE CAREFUL. BE CAREFUL. and then he waited in the car they called "the jimmy", until i got on the train. i bought an outfit for the trip - i still remember what i wore! it was HUMID i had never experienced weather like that. i wore a simple loose fitting button down - paisley orange. i must have looked like a tourist. i didn't want to look like a tourist. i never want to look that way when i travel. that first trip was spent walking miles. i walked from 42 to the tip. from the tip to columbus circle. from columbus circle to grand central. my body ached. my mind was spent. it was so overwhelming, that i wasn't sure if i hated or loved manhattan. i bought all new city clothes on that trip. new city shoes. i think i might even have that map - the penciled lines of my first trip to manhattan.

i write about this, because it was 11 years ago. a decade has changed me DRASTICALLY. i've seen the country, i've seen parts of the world. i've met every kind of person out there. i remember seeing my first hassidic jew. and then i was with my little brother when he saw his first too. whats funny is that we both had the same reaction. we were like WHOAAAAAAAAAAAA! WHAT WAS THAT?

that first trip to manhattan was followed by every weekend spent in manhattan. i spent my money on broadway tickets. there was a time i could pick up billboard, and say i had seen over half the shows. i saw savion glover every fall. i rode the madison ave. bus on sundays. the met was my church. at the moma, i stood in front of john currin stunned. i copped a feel on a picasso. i just HAD to touch the same paint he touched. i learned the subways, i ate the food. i spent saturdays in the village. i remember when i discovered soho - i was AMAZED. brick streets! everyone is in black! galleries! (there were galleries there back then - not shops). i would come home at night and report my findings "why does everyone wear black? they call themselves artists, and yet they all wear the same thing?"

2 months later i went through a "black phase" i vowed to only buy black of everything. it made sense at that point. i wanted to look urban. and then i did. and then my change morphed into other things. the food - the expanding of the palette. i ate jewish food, pizza, italian food - sun dried tomatoes, olive oil, greek food - olive paste. dean & deluca kept me entertained for about 2 hours one time. the scene in that store on broadway & spring was incredible to me. i discovered things like woody allen and warhol. i spend the weeknights renting all woody allen videos. within 2 weeks i had watched every movie he made. a few times over. then, seeing my first woody allen movie in the theatre. it was the one with danny - broadway? no - something i can't remember the title. the theatre was only manhattanites. the village. older scene. the guy next too me knew the grip. the woman in the other isle clapped because her neighbor was in teh movie. the discussions after the movie! were just like standing in line during annie hall. they clapped after the movie. they laughed out loud!

that fall, after my summer of exploring manhattan, i had more knowledge of the island than most of my new friends at school. they would ask me(!) where such and such was. they would ask me what was going on, etc. i was stunned that they didn't know anything, most of them having lived there for their entire lives. i remember attending my first party - i was in an artists room, and he had a picture of basquiat. i jumped up adn down "you know basquiat!?" and all the kids kind of scoffed. they thought i was funny. during that time, i only wore keith haring t-shirts. on saturdays i would go down to the pop shop and buy the coolest one, and wear it that week. i had just finished reading his diary, and then warhols diary. i read warhols diary on a trip to nantucket. i read k.haring late nights.

that first fall also brought concerts. every band or singer i had ever dreamed of seeing, was having a show. they all seemed to be on a thursday at the bowery or the beacon. i bought tickets to everything. i wasn't paying rent - i was living with the rye family, so i had the money to go to all of these shows. seeing bjork, a rager kid walked up to me and told me he couldn't stop staring at me. i had never heard that before. the whole show i was stunned. seeing pj harvey for the first time- the crowd! the pj harvey crowd shocked me. i looked up - i felt so short? at these hip people. the men wore black rimmed glasses. the women were in all black. and then the music started. the room began to vibrate. going to these concerts set me apart from the college kids. they were attending their little garage band concerts - but i had catching up to do. i was seeing all the bigger names in teh city. until years later i had seen everyone i wanted, so i joined them at the garage shows.

i recently watched the movie 'peresopolis'. in that movie (which i highly recommend), the girl gets in touch with her inner rock star. she starts wearing rock t-shirts. her parents just smile. i related. during this time, my fashion evolved from black - as my staple - to k. haring t-shirts and rock t-shirts. i remember mona and i sitting at the ktichen table. i'm there wearing a black pj-harvey t-shirt with her half naked body splayed about "anise. what is that shirt? is that some kind of band?" and i remember (like a teenager) thinking "if people don't understand pj harvey, then they know nothing. i feel sorry for these people."

wow. in a way, writing about this has really put me in touch with my little brother. he must feel the same way about san francisco and the drug culture, and sex and vegans, and hippies, and anti war... as i felt about allen, warhol, haring, purchase, harvey.

i get it now. i'm going to give him a call.


i guess christy turlington's face simply never ages? its looked the exact same way since i was begging my mom to buy me glossy magazines as a teenager.

when i moved to nyc the first conversation i had with mona was about high fashion, celebrities, etc. she said "how do you know all of this stuff?" and i said "well for christmas, i asked for magazine subscriptions."

growing up in alaska, none of this existed. the glossy magazine world was one of myth. in the 90's they used to put phone numbers on the ads - or in the back as a reference. i rememeber i used to call those numbers, and just ask if they had any brochures to send me. any catalogues? and while i was on the phone with them, i was so fascinated that i was talking to someone in new york city.

i can't imagine what they must have thought! the gucci girl at bergdorf says to her co-worker "a child in alaska just called, asking me to send her a pamphlet of the new hosiery listed on page 75 of this month's vogue."

today show dream.

i had a dream last night that i was watching the today show. brooke sheilds was the guest, and they were interviewing her, and a transvestite actor - not a famous tranny - just an actor from a tv show from the 70's that had gone tran. they made no mention of the going tran, and then focused on brooke sheilds.
all of a sudden there was a gunshot - the tranny was shot in the arm.

you see ann curry and meredith duck for cover. brooke sheilds was just so shocked she just sat there on the couch. then the camera men went to the plaza - where you saw the shooter - just walking around with a gun.

then my point of view changed from tv show viewer, to plaza attendee. i was out in the plaza near the ice rink. i found a square tree pot to hide behind. the plaza was chaos. everyone running and screaming. and crouched there silent. and then he spotted me. so he slowly walked toward me. we played a game of shoot & duck, etc.

and then a sharp shooter from the top of rock center gunned him down. i saw smoke rise from his body.

my first year on myspace.

i'd like to recap my first year as a member of the most successful online social networking of my time, thus far.

i've seen people come and go. this is true. we bid farewell to m.toole, d.ewald, and some random bands like the castanets & the garter belts.

because of myspace i was able discover my old friends' band & tour schedule, so i could surprise him during his first trip to california.

i was also able to crush on some dude - and then find out he had an art opening the day after i found his profile. so i ran to the city and met him, etc. nothing happened, but it sure was exciting! turns out he's moving to boston now. i guess he liked that boston song.

its put me in touch with people from high school and college that i thought had either died or left the country. turns out they all simply got married.

music i discovered on myspace includes, but is not limited to:
santa dads
dan deacon
morning benders
be good tanyas
wooden wand
spring awakening
lovers and mountains

realized that i really can't stand z.braff, but i keep him as my friend anyway?

found out my cousin is a whore, and bi. go figure!

towards the end of my first year - my aunt georgia joined myspace. to my surprise of course. turns out - she found it to be a big hit too, and found herself a husband on myspace. they are now married living happily ever after.

see, myspace can change your wife.


there was a lot of chirping this morning! so loud.

so i stepped to the window to see what was the matter. what were all the birds so up in wings about?

and lo and behold, a bird had flown into the house! oh my! this little bird was chirp chirp chirping inside my living room.

desperate to escape, it kept flinging itself against the window. the more is flung, the more anxious i became. what if this bird broke its little neck? oh my.

so i opened the door and started whistling.

if only this were the solution to everything.

santa venetia

getting to know the people in my neighborhood. apparently the author of a scanner darkly lived here while hew as writing a book. he spent his time here, high on herion, writing a scanner darkly. and then left.
another 2002 bimmer owner stopped me on the street today. he pulled up behind me, and introduced himself. al zender. nice man. he owns a baby blue bimmer. we compared car problems and then went about our business. my car is falling behind on the repairs and fixings. its one of those things i've really got to focus on keeping up. or the car will simply rot. its a hobby. and a comraderie. or however you spell that.
then there are the meetings about floods. this hood was built in the 20's to resemble venice. canals were placed, houses built. then in the 50's affordable housing was built. our condo-landia (as dan calls it) was built in the 70's.
our unofficial mayor is ron. he lobbys for things like stop lights and street lights and dog parks.
its all very nice.


i love photo realism. roberttownsend is my new favorite - http://www.rtownsendwatercolors.com/gallery/index.php?i=08. i just wrote him a love note... i can't explain work like this - or why i like photo realism. hm. maybe it has something to do with photography. or maybe its like how the viola player is always jealous of the violin player........... or the violin player is always jealous of the piano player. or is that the other way around. maybe everyone is simply jealous of the 1st chair.

ok. ok. ok. so something else that moved me today was the schnabel movie "the diving bell and butterfly". i finally got my cafilm membership in teh mail, so i took my free pass and watched this wonderful film. wow. i borderline cried? to be french. to be beautiful. what a movie. it really helped me take a deep breath. keep the dream in check. capiche?

i'm sure you've heard about schnabels apt. in the village. i used to live around the corner from him. i feel like he's family - or a part of my history. i'm sure about 10,000 other people think the same thing. but wouldn't he make for a great uncle?
it will never cease to amaze me that my roommate can work a 10 hour corporate workday, and then come home and listen to heavy loud techno for 6 more hours.

this is sort of a wonder of the world, if you think about it.

i hold is paw while i drive or zen and the art of chocolate lab maintenence.

disclaimer: i love having a dog. sometimes i look at my dog and am so beside myself that i actually have him. i've always wanted my own dog. like something you dream about when you are a kid. "when i'm a grown up i'll get a dog." type thing. so this is an ongoing account of what its like to be around rowdy. i'll add to the list. feel free to skip over this. mainly its for my history, so i can look back, and remember rowdy. the best dog ever.

it was bath-time today. whenever i walk upstairs, he walks upstairs. this time however, he saw me go into the bathroom downstairs and grab the dog shampoo.
he looks up at me, and casually disappears as though nothing were wrong. and i walk upstairs.
what? not paws behind me? typically i trip over the large animal on my flight up the stairs.
'rowdy sweetheart.'
i hear a tail start wagging. but no paws hitting the stairs. he WANTS so desperately to walk upstairs and be with me, but he also wants so desperately to avoid the bath. the desperation for not wanting the bath wins.
i jangle keys (he likes that noise - it equals car ride!) i clap my hands (that means dancing, and he loves to wag his butt around while we all dance.) and i whistle. (who knows what that means.)
so i walk downstairs and get tough.
and he gets up and reluctantly stands outside while i hose him down, shampoo his fur, hose him down again, condition his top, hose him down. out to the porch he goes. standing there pissed for half an hour.
i go about my things. i need a dog break. i have some lunch, clean up our dog mess, send out some resumes. going about my thing. the whole time he stands at the window. nose pressed up against the glass - looking at me.
and then i let him in. he frolics. he jumps! he runs to my bed and flops on the clean covers. i yell.

today when i went to give him a bath, he caught on when i grabbed the shampoo and comb.
boom. darts downstairs.
i spend the next 10 minutes calling him. to no avail. telling him i have a ball for him, etc. nothing.
so i walk downstairs to drag him upstairs, and what do i see?
rowdy curled up on the couch, listening to joni mitchell.

the computer:
he doesn't like it. he will do anything to put his nose between my hands and the keyboard. when i clean my keyboard - its filled with one thing: dog hair.

if he is tired, he rests his head in my lap while i work. he's no lap dog - thats for sure, but he can definately find a way to get next to me, and rest his head on my lap.

i let rowdy's nails grow long. not out of fashions sake - but my own. we don't have hardwood floors (nails can be loud on hardwood) so what do i care? i was scared to cut them myself, because i don't want to hurt the poor guy. my aunt is a dog groomer, so while i was at her house, i made her make me cut his nails. with 4 adults supervising, and 20 nails to clip, by nail 7 i was in good form. oh wait - are they called claws? maybe thats only for birds? anyway. if you cut the nail too close, they start to bleed because you get something called a quick. the quick is the vein. of course through my nervousness, rowdy just lay there. he's a patient dog.

other dogs:
he doesn't care for them. doesn't really see teh point.
this weekend i was watching a friends pug. what an ugly dog? what a terrible situation for an animal? the tongue is longer than the mouth. the nose doesn't allow silent breathing. its just an unfortunate situation. the whole time this dog was chortling and licking and scoffing around, rowdy just sat by me silent.
if the dog approached us, he would growl. protecting me.
if we went into my room, he would jump on the bed saying "this is my house".
rowdy is not a growler, so the growling bit told me that he was really NOT HAPPY. the first night we all tried sleeping - the pug paced around the room, snorting and chorting. rowdy would raise his head every 5 minutes to stare me down. as though he were asking "what the hell. please remove that animal".
and then the pug was picked up, and we got on with our lives. rowdy approached me to say thank you, and nuzzled his nose against my knee. just like the fist time i met him.
i can't seem to find the lyrics to my new favorite song called "I can not have seen the light" by magnolia electric co. but the first part goes:

again you're swingin' low. and you hit me below the belt.
alright, since its a fair fight, its the best that i have felt
in a long long time.
in a long long time.

makes some kind of indie sense.

poor maggie on the biggest loser got depressed and started sneaking food. poor gillian got mad at the poor soap opera host and said the poor f-word. all these hugs with the poor black team made of fat women.
its possible, if your job is to lose weight, to lose 47 pounds in 11 weeks. thats nothing if you think about it.

i feel worse about maggie. sure, she's losing weight, but she's still sneaking food. they need to get mental counselors in there. or just lock her in a room. and let her cry it out.

today's ring is fun. its floral and white and round. it makes my hands look pretty.
today rowdy the dog was snooping around me. i've been giving him dog food - like a good girl - and he has been resistant. i've been saying "out of the kitchen" and he has been obeying. so i put some chicken burrito in his dog food. wow! how he pranced around after dinner! showing everyone that he could leap! that he could fetch! the burrito made him so happy.

going back to work will be the hardest on me when i think about rowdy. how we spend all day together! i can take "snuggle breaks" and go attack him with a thousand hugs and scratches. today he was keeping my feet warm on the couch while i wrote an essay in the third person. blech. i still haven't finished that. its as if the website person is all "here do my job. write a bio about yourself in the 3rd person." well it snot "as if" it "IS it."
anyway, whatever job i get, and it is a mystery right now! i will be standing or sitting there for 8 hours, wondering how rowdy is doing. if he is thinking about me. if he is barking. if he is whining.

it will fade of course - but i forsee that first week being a brutal one. but its kind of like how they say don't think about your dog dying. i'm not going to think about the inevitable fact that my freedom will soon die too.

Now playing: Magnolia Electric Co - I Can Not Have Seen The Light
via FoxyTunes
there are couples that combine accounts. bank or flickr or email. all accounts combined.

there are couples that work together. he manages the business file cabinets. she the inventory.

i write about couples a lot. because i think about couples a lot. i also think about that dress i saw at forever 21, but didn't buy. i think about the other dress at target. and i think about the high-waisted jeans at old navy. and the green metallic eyeliner at the mac counter.

men. microloans. new buzz word. microloans. some rich guy gives you money. sounds like a plan. will it happen for a kid that wants to go to college but doesn't qualify for grants or loans.

i think about back pain. guru's. yogi's. beers. sidewalks.

poor complexions. chipped chipping nails. bounced checks. bank fees.

cold stomachs. bridge tolls. parties, openings.


i do wish that straight men knew gay men in the way that a beautiful woman knows a gay man. gay men love beautiful women of course. and when they see one, they pick her up and take her out. within 1 hour you know 8 more sex secrets, and you reminded yet again that really, its all about ass.

"well my pictures are COMPOSITIONS"
"she's the best photographer I've ever seen."
"every photo is about 24 different photos in 1 photo"
"i took that during my year in LA"
yes. that looks very LA.
i like this one. in the kitchen.
her art is like gregory crewdson, minus the large animal growing in the living room.
"who's gregory crewdson?" asked the gallery owner.

snoozing. was what my brain was doing while the gallery owner was explaining that the gallery name "Aftermodern" mean art that was made after post modern. so why the post modern? i guess after is stronger than post, and post really mean in-between modern.

so then i met the shuffle board that i've been communicating with, and he shuffled this way about that and i nodded and said "send send send".

and then i went downstairs for a drink. dolphin started talking to me. i helped him with his pen. eqquis tapped me on teh shoulder. "you look like a movie star".
"i'm going to another gallery. wanna walk with me?"
dolphin bats his fins. eqquiss shoots his wine.
and off we go.
on the way to the l074 folsom, i look up and see another past. we catch eyes. i shoot mine down to the pavement as quick as possible.
i start having a heart attack. grab my heart. pound on my chest.
"thats someone from my past. he is making my heart hurt!"
eqquis grabs my hand. "keep walking"
dolphins off poaching magnolias from a wayward tree. runs up to us.
"girlfriend. you ok?"
"that was someone from my past. god my heart hurts"
"you know what she needs? lets take her to the hole"
"oh you'll be fine. we'll smoke pot, buy a pitcher of beer, and you can sit pretty and take pictures"
"but i didn't bring my flash".

sometimes its strange to see people on the streets whose hands have been inside you. its just kind of funny like that. i wonder if its the same thing seeing your surgeon about town.


for some reason, seeing an past person at the market today, put me in a bad mood. chilly reception is what i gave him after 3 minutes of cordial.
and then i was in a stupor. still doing my volunteer work wholeheartedly, but kind of in a stupor. i just sat there.
and then i was tapped on the shoulder by the present person. wow! what a relief. oh cool. i kept saying. cool! thanks!
just such a nice person.

when does nice start to get boring?

i wonder. i think i'm about to find out.