sfostuck

well. i’ve got one two three four hour to type. four hours to think about how fucking criminal things have gotten in terms of service.
oops - did i loose you?
don’t want to listen/read/write a rant.

loss of passion.

i sit in an aiport - SFO. my flight to new york has been delayed from 10pm to 2am. my initial reaction to this was rage. as any reaction would be. i had a feeling i should check my flight to see if it was delayed. but i didn’t.

i wonder if people would recognize me from high school, that i haven’t seen in 10 plus years.
i wonder if i should dye my hair bright yellow. not like garish, just a bright blonde.

airport culture. they stick us here to spend more money. so far,i’ve spent 8.14 on water and tea, 10.25 on nailpolish, and 2.78 on a bran/banan/blueberry muffin.

we are becoming computer. we are meshed with other things.

my spacebar isn’t working.
if iwas stuck in an airport in 1960, iwould be writing with pen and paper. now ican write and think without looking at the keys.

isit kittycorner to the bar. iwant to see airport culture ”go down”. i want to see how this place breaks-out after hours. or if it even does.

i live with a girl who is 24,and full of life - in this sense:
she sings really loudly. she laughs really loudy. she dances when she feels like it. she shows up to parties, lets herself hang out, and then she twirls her hair around and dances around. if you don’t like what she is doing, she’s says fuck you i can do what i want.

now we read this, and see this, and think “oh thats that”. but when you live with it - you start to get accustomed to that way of thinking.

i am going to take a break and paint my nails with a color named ‘canberra’t without you’

well that was fun. i’ve passed 15 minutes.

oh boy. itlooks like snagging this booth that i am in is turning out to be prime real estate. i feel like a person going to burning man in 1995. I feel like a kid living in williamsburg in 1999. i am a “booth dweller” to the overnight set at SFO. but there is no plug, so this will last as long as my battery, and then i go scavaging for a plug. electricity. mundacity.

the electric company where i live -PG&E puts out announcements telling us to turn things off. turn off standby. unplug things.

someday, we might have to do all things online. we might have to log-in to use a computer. programs like pages and photoshop, will all be monitored.

how much gas do you think was used in the campaigns.

ilike tight plaid shirts. ilike burritos. and ithink, ilike jobs.

ihave the hiccups. this is going to be a blast.

i’m wearing a big red belt. it gives me sass. its like 3 inches wide. with a 4 inch wide buckle. when iwear the belt around the house, my roommate sings a jingle that goes “i’m a girl, with a red belt on, oh yeah. hear me sing this song. i’m a girl, with a red belt on.”

john,
you say you think you are a fuckup. i guess maybe i'm missing something.

are you talking about minor things? like maybe you think fucking up is letting your teeth get 12 cavaties?

do tell. i’m layed over for 4 hours. airlines are criminal. sticking me here for 4 hours - so i will spend 18 dollars on a glass of water. i at least hope those rich kids drinking at the bar get drunk and obnoxious. it will in the least, be something to write home about.
anise.

well? i moved areas in the airport, and sat down to eat a peice of cheescake for 4 dollars and 99 cents. there is a typical typical jewish son and mother having some brick oven pizza, a few tables over. the mother, wearing her many disheveled layers, and the dutiful skinny son wearing his little jewish hat. the mother scolds him,and stuffs a paper napkin down the front of his shirt like a bib. no. the mother scolds him and places a bib over his shirt, in the form of a paper napkin. the son looks up - not dis-similar to a look of innocence that rowdy gives me from time to time as he’s trying to be the best dog... and chews his pizza with wide-eyed duty.

i really want another peice of that lemon cake.

nude colors never really sit even on my nails. seriously. i’ll never figure it out.

the jewish mother and son outfit are leaving. she’s got on a skirt, flowing flowers, with leggings, with bulky socks, with athletic shoes. with a neck brace, and gray wirey hair.

a lot of these traveling men are wearing wedding rings.

i’m going to go find a place to sleep now.

well, 3 hours later, its go time. not really. its 2:15am, and i am still at SFO.
2:15am.

i managed to get a couple naps. i got to really stretch out, cover my eyes and sleep. i am so glad i didn’t sit over here with all the people. someone has an annoying laugh, and its just noisey in general.

i talked on the phone with roommatesarah for a half hour. she is fretting over a guy named lenny.

and now we are boarding.

exploding feet

i just had this dream - aka nightmare? where there was a suicide bomber throwing a bomb on a school. the school was empty. he threw the bomb, and it landed in the trash can. the trash can blew up, and started a fire.
my parents and i watched. then my mom and dad ran, as the bomber moved his attention toward us. he then challenged me. i was sitting in an orange eames chair. he threw a couple of smaller bombs at my feet. i kept sitting there, casually crosslegged.
and then as they started smoking, i got up and ran.
after a few minutes, the entire nation caught on to what was going on. people started walking around with garden tools.
as for my family - all i wanted to do was lay down with my mom. but her bed was empty. her front room - where her bed was - had been turned into a station not unlike the one featured in E.T.
i then started to get concerned as to the whereabouts of my parents.
and then i woke up.

with a very STRONG allergy to dust mites - aka: they give me asthma. er, GAVE me asthma - apparently it never goes away... i now have to wash my ENTIRED bedding in hot bleach water once a week. i tried going two weeks, but it is leaving me weezing and stuffed nose. so i guess its going to have to be every 2 weeks.
washing them hot w/ bleach means i (obviously) can now only buy WHITE. it also kills all the mites.
then i spray a little bleach on my mattress. there is actual dust mite spray, i just simply have to special order it.

note by note

passionate. musical. queens, new york. 57th street. american.

go see this, if not only for the small performances by helene grimaud and marcus roberts.

recount

recount was a movie i sat through while babysitting. wow. zinger. really the entire movie leads you to the closing shot - of the storage hangar where all the ballots are kept. really, thats the moment of zen.

in other news, i had a dream i was watching a childbirth, and there were complications and only the leg of the baby was hanging out of the mother giving birth. the doctors knocked her out like cattle, left the room, and said they would be back. i was left there starting at 3 legs. it was rather disturbing.

humor

ous

early to bed, early to rise, makes you a loser.
lets party all night long. -steven colbert.

waterdream

it was a gorgeous spot. a water/bay/beach/rocky area. a secret part of a park. a grotto like on the almalfi coast. but here in the bay area.
him and i go night swimming. in reality he was upset last night that i didn't join him at the pool - maybe this is why i had this dream.
so we travel to minor places together. like the city, nearby lakes, attainable hikes.
we had 2 options of how to get to our destination - swim - or walk. of course we chose swim. so we swim in the black water. and make it. and have a wonderful time. pointing out rock formations. pointing out the blackness of the water. accidentally touching. fully enjoying each other. laughing. water. rocks. bay. beach.
so we go back. this time we bring annoying friends. they bring their annoyances in the forms of their voices. their equipment. we urge them to just swim. just jump in. ditch the boat. ditch the kayak. ditch the pontoon.
as i am talking to annoyance, getting her prepped - he leaves me. he says its a waste of time and that he will see me at the destination. upset, i tell the annoyance that i am leaving her. try to leave her and she follows in her boat.
her insecurity of being out in the night. on a boat. in black water. makes me insecure. so i get scared. start worrying about sharks. stop focusing on destination.
hear him calling for me. testing me.
get mad at convenient store situated in the middle of the swim. tell annoyance to go to hell.
jump in the water and furiously swim to be with him again.
and then we are together. cold. wet. tired. satisfied.
and the sky is still dark. the stars are still out. the water still that deep blue color. glistening. but dark. his hands wrap around my back. wet. and we stand there. stand there. stand there. breathing. looking. breathing.
dripping.

yah see, my problem is that mtv wasn't always this SHITTY.
does it even matter where the real world cast is filming anymore? what is teh real world?
what is this tia tequilla girl?
what is this dating show that is actually all about hooking up?
is it constantly spring break on mtv?

but more importantly - WHO is watching the MTV channel?

thats not only the MOST important question - its actually the most DISTURBING.

cloth

our house doesn't buy paper napkins anymore.

we all use this expensive silk/cotton cloth napkins.

bought a pack of 20.

wash 1 load of napkins a week.

and everyone seems fine with it?

so now we are a "cloth napkin" house.

its like wow. there's a lot of funny here, but not a lot of laughter.



i couldn't tell if these two mothers were talking about their dogs or the their children.

its the times when rowdy (the dog) will not leave me alone.
the times he just sits there looking at me. panting.
the times when he darts off into a prickly raspberries.
the times his tail gets so excited that he knocks stuff over and breaks it.
the times he barks at the neighbors dog through the fence.
the times he wakes me up at 4am because he can't sleep.
the times he slams himself into a wall while trying to catch a fly.
the times he is too excited that he forgets to eat or sleep or drink.

its these times i am reminded that he really is the lesser species.

this is it.

i, without a doubt, love this picture. i scanned it from the new book "Photo by Sammy Davis Jr.".

Sammy Davis Jr. took this picture. It is untitled, without description, in the section with this intro "Sammy loved photographing women and took thousands of photos of beautiful women all over the world."

ennui - on wi

love places that serve beverages and play music and have backrooms that maybe open onto something with fresh air and a little more space.

love savoring cigarettes, sipping beer, shaking my head in agreement. one patron had a corncob pipe. the other a fedora with an orange/white feather.

tonight - or - last night 3 of us similars were hanging out - stopped by that place in sausalito three names - some name - no name. and the jazz was boppin'. the jazz on friday is of note. i'll add it to the section.

"you seem like you have ennui" . "you seem like an observer"
"i am sorry. i don't have ennui. but thank you. i find that flattering. or - i like that you used that word. thank you. and yes. i'm an observer".

and a participator. but i do like a good observation if i do say so myself.

horizons in the sausa - little bit spendy. this makes me uneasy in tourist towns, so i'm giving it a 6. if the sausa weren't tourist, and the food weren't packaged, i'd give it a ten.

but if my stomach were smaller, my hair brighter, and my legs a different shape, i'd give myself a ten too.

2 guys. same name. formal version of name at that. kinda funny?

matthew mark luke john.
first and second samuel. first and second kings.
deuteronomy joshua judges ruth.
levitacus numbers.
peter paul mary

had a talk with monique about galacians. sp. promised her i'd check out a congregation on sunday. but i also promised leah i'd be at the farmers market, and i also promised hillary i'd meet her in golden gate park for bay to breakers. i also promised my mind that i'd take myself to forever 21 in serramonte to stock up on 3 dollar earrings. so i've got some promises to break. and some to keep.

the addition

since joining myspace, my birthdays have included one more thing:

waiting until the end of the day to see how many birthday wishes i received.

however....

to my demise, i noticed that i switched my account to "disable birthday notification".

i was actually upset about that.

i was actually, genuinely upset.

movie updates

as much as i wanted to watch fellini's satyricon so i could more fully understand that dweeb in annie hall............. i didn't last but 18 minutes, and had to read the wikipedia page instead............... i didn't last but 3 minutes and had to blog about the death of my latin battery instead.

i feel about satyricon as i feel about jellyfish as i feel about 29 palms. it is a sad day when i have 3 movies to report in an ill manner.

never have i walked out of a movie at the rafael (my favorite movie theatre in town, of which i am a member, of which only shows indie/art/historical films). seriously, every movie i have seen there was just incredible. and then i watched jellyfish. and then i walked out.

29 palms. geesh. within the first 4 minutes, i could tell the dude was a terrible actor, the chick sucked, and even the first sex scene was ridiculous. but i wanted to see the other sex scenes, so i watched the movie on x2.

masculin, feminin - required viewing. felt like i was in college sneaking into anna's film class with her, while thinking about how cute eric b. was. there were parts of teh movie everyone should memorize of course. and then it ended.

mama roma - what i saw of this - was INCREDIBLE. but then i never got around to finishing the movie. i was out of it last week.

a bunch of asian director movies from criterion collection - good, but am i listing them by name and giving you the details? NO.

and now i take out satyricon, and insert my life as a dog.

weak, mildly interesting men are............ just that.

having you call the shots? how mundane.

they hang out together. they are talking.
they are talking with undertones that you might show your face.
you need some popcorn for your movie.
reluctantly you go upstairs and pop your popcorn.
half orgasmic that you are having a cozy night with popcorn and movie.
touching yourself on the way there and back.
so anyway there they are. mundaning away.
staring at you. one stares a lot. one talks a lot.
telling you a story about the trees.
you going hm and ah. hm. ah.
in your silence they realize
oh. bummer.
and then your popcorn is popped, you retreat. giddy.
and they get quiet and go to their rooms to pout.

now what kind of men are these? who does this?

this is how you would hang around a mother.
this is how you would hang around an owner.

leave mommy without you tonight. she is watching a movie.
mama can't throw the ball. she is watching a movie.

get out! get out! get out!

if i could have a second skin

do you think she is listening to Dress Up In You while she is doing this to herself?

but the blues are still blue

bike route to the barn ->

32.8 miles bitches.

hey hey tonight is a big barn party. dan's puttin' rowdy in the car, and i'm puttin' myself on a bike, and then we are all meeting up at the barn.
whats the barn?
a place in petaloomer where you can stomp & dance & roll & camp. the beer is brewed right there. its where i rang in the new year, and so far its been a good new year, so i figure i should never miss another party.

yo yo belle & sebastian the life pursuit ain't to bad if yah ask me.

thenest

hm. have nests evolved? they've just always been this perfectly built circle, twig by twig, by grass blade, by grass blade. always making these circles for comfort. for mama birds hot ass, and baby birds shells. always this round circle. never has papa bird said "i'm going to build a cellar on this nest."



there are so many unanswered questions with the dad who locked his daughter in the cellar thing.

i liked how one tabloid - i mean newspaper - called it the "austrian syndrome" or something like that. apparently this has happened before in austria, and now all the austrians need to be assessed.

this was more than locking her in a basement. this was calculated fairytale shit. this was i'm building a cellar for my daughters 19th birthday stuff. this was when sleeping beauty turns 21, she will be kissed by a prince. aren't the bulk of fairytales from eastern europe?

so many pieces not quite put together. i hope it turns out that the grandmother - his wife - her mom - is senile. i hope she like, has some kind of mental disability. what woman knows not their house? what woman knows not their garden? where the one child was burned.

al roker is shrinking again. good for him. maybe he got another stomach surgery? is that legal?

i open the. fire door to 4 lips. none of which were mine, kissing.
tight my belt around my hips. where your hands were missing.
-a. difranco.

ralphlympics

i had a dream that i had to get my legs amputated below the knee, without anestetic. my brother was there. and then they decided against the surgery. very stressful dream.

and then monique and i went to a ralph lauren warehouse sale. i bought a few dresses, and then a plaid shirt for joshua. he liked the shirt so much, that he and i went back to the warehouse sale, and he purchased a bunch of fishing equipment, and some clothes. ralph lauren bought the rights to coleman fishing equipment.

well wipe the dust off of your wings,
and the sleep out of your eyes.
-t. van zandt

so yesterday was superstitious. i kept having blossoms fall on me from the sky. the 50s kept saying oh, that means you are fertile.
now this is strange talk for them. yesterday's lunch was highly focused on the fact that i am fertile, and them finding someone to make me un-fertile. again, they never talk about that. they are more interested in telling stories.

2 birds have set up shop in one of my hanging plants. have i mentioned this? not only 2 birds - 2 bird FAMILIES. i guess they were really close. the families. they were like "sure, lets go lay eggs, but can't we do it with johnny and claire? lets find a spot where we can all lay eggs together." so that very spot is my 12 dollar hanging plant from home depot.
one of the bird nests has 5 eggs.
again, did you know its good luck when a bird lays nest in your house? and what about 2 bird nests?
lucky son-of-a-gun.

so there are 5 eggs. did you know that bluejays eat sparrow eggs? they do. while mr. bird goes out foraging for food, mrs. bird sits by the nest, protecting it from bluejays. apparently the blue jay is a modern day teradactyl. i am goign to watch the whole thing first-hand of course. i'll keep you posted.

there is a photographer i found that takes pictures of animals in houses. like, wild animals.
this is my version on the theme

sublime.

well isn't this just.

plaid shirt

new grunge.



laptop guitar sun feet cords plaid shirt purplenailpolish

no but yes.

really its only for the first 30 seconds.


tonight at the zeitgeist was nothing like fred & ginger.
tonight at the pizza place was nothing like astair & rodgers.

although i loved the hostess' style. fedora, scarf, purple tight pants w/ black t.
didn't catch the shoes.

today on my bike ride through lucas valley,
i biked over blood.
the blood of a motor cycle driver
who died on sunday night.

its been one of those stories that i can't shake, simply because it hit close to home. i have to write it out.

i biked over it monday too. but on monday i simply thought "oh, there are flares in the road. must have been some construction last night."
on monday there were no flowers.
on thursday there was an RIP.
and a bag of flowers.

he was 22.

i biked over "R glove" spray-painted in orange about 20 feet away from the pavement blood.
as i realized what my tires just touched. played the scene through my head. wheels kept turning, etc. i crossed myself like a fool. head heart right left. and screamed out loud for him.

AHHHHHHHHH. SORRY! I AM SORRY!

i wasn't saying sorry for biking over his blood. i was saying sorry for any pain he might have felt. saying sorry for his mistake in crossing over the yellow line. saying sorry for being so young. just saying sorry in a general way. that i am alive, and he is not.

i dunno. its been interesting. these bike rides. when i bike in unpopulated placed - ie: backroads, country settings, remote hills - it is more dangerous than biking on the freeways, neighborhoods, bridges.
people let loose in the backroads. people drive faster. turn up the music. take the curves like a volkswagen commercial.
so i bike with one headphone in. the other out. the other ear on the road. what is behind me. what is below. what is ahead.

of note pt. 3

throughout the week i keep things i find here, in this 'of note' series. welcome, to the 3rd installment.

did that sound like npr or what?

ok. so this weekend is going to be fun-filled as sadie from milwaukee rang me yesterday saying she is in town w/ kyle, who will be running the big sur marathon. i love visitors, and sadie is always up for fun. and i'm sort of in awe that kyle has been preparing for a marathon, given the fact that milwaukee is cold as the middle of hell during winter.

whats the cool thing in big sur?
the henry miller library of course.
kyle's marathon

bay side:
caribou at the indi tonight.
poems in oakland
hot hot hot pete is playing tonight. he's so hot i just think i might not go to his show. in protest of his hotness.

internet side:

out of office auto reply
forget the 100 american movies to watch, plus we've already seen them. lets move on to the criterion list. how many have you seen?
film snob tote bags
red flower
cool fabric designer alexander henry.
modern cowboys
simply breakfast
becoming a foodie

soap soda

hey! wanna pretend like you still live at your parents house, and that by means of punishment for back-talking, they wash your mouth out with soap?

if the answer is: yes! I do! tell me more!! ,,,

then go buy some of this:



tastes just like soap in your mouth! and its only 1.99 at trader joes!

serranicasio

details of richard serra note.

i biked to nicasio today. really outdid myself.
admitted to myself that i am actually afraid of redwood trees.
went to jimbos, got the works.
met a few people.
checked out from the library: charles mingus, thelonius monk, beatles, fiona apple, belle and sebastian cds.
criterion collection dvds: 2 ko movies, band of outsiders, 2 russian movies. sex and lucia, the holiday (easy watching). oh and i got a harvey milk doc for the brain.

irinapalm

god if you can, see the movie irina palm, if nothing but to get you into marianne faithfull. what a beauty. and google imaging her has been nothing but a treat.

i mean WOW. just SKIMMING this is incredible.

irina palm is a movie about handjobs (essentially - don't try to tell me its about the kid she's trying to save. the audience could give two shits about the kid. he was hardly in the movie, and passed out the whole time.) however, looking at mariannes faithfull lips made me think maybe she should be giving other jobs.

what a movie. and look how this woman can look so different in all these black and whites.


with mick.


fyi, they covered this tattoo in the movie.



younger version.


how her body had changed.



her bangs are an inspiration.


hello? bangs and dog? how perfect is she.

making alone personal.

in an attempt to get more personal with everyone in general, instead of saying "alone", i'm going to start saying "without you".

i went to the concert alone.
i went to the concert without you.

last night people-watching alone was boring.
last night people-watching without you was boring.

i ride a bike alone.
i ride a bike without you.

imagine the looks you will receive just by substituting the word alone with without you. examples listed above, would get you tons of adoration.

these however, would get you another kind of reaction.

i'd like 1 ticket to go alone.
i'd like 1 ticket to go without you.

leave me alone.
leave me without you.

wishwashmishmash

pretty religiously, during the m-f workweek, while most everyone is toiling away at their desks - or not toiling away at their desks. paid for by someone else. toiling for another person's idea, etc. i get on my bike and ride it 13.5 miles to mill valley. the goal being sarah's new house. sarah is there, making jewelry in her new studio. her new house is cute. so is sarah. so is her toiling. so we gab for 10 minutes, and i am now accustomed to taking a swig of dixie peach drink. every sunday, i buy a gallon, and drive it over to sarah's house for monday's ride.

as with most activities, this ride gives me a way to listen to new music (sort of like a commute would), and it is also a chance to not check email or phones for about 3 hours. in today's world this can be incredibly DIFFICULT. right? it gives me a chance to be solitary, with my mind and my body for 2+ hours - minus the time with sarah. talking with her, drinking the peach is my goal on the way there. on the way home is sort of when i let loose and think like crazy.
recently "on the way there" i've been fighting demons!
"turn back"
"you can't do it"
"you are so slow"
incredible! right? it makes me think of this guy i met - his name is matt. he works in san rafael at the recyclery. the summer i biked daily as a commuter from mill valley to the city, matt would always speed by me on the golden gate. how did i know it was matt? because he only has one arm. so every day i would get my ass seriously kicked not only by matt, but by the fact that we both left work at the same time, and he had an extra 12 miles to go before catching me on the bridge.
so of course i needed to talk to him. i went over to the recyclery one day and said "you are always passing me on the bridge".
his response: "i am chasing a lot of demons."
and that is when i kind of fell in love with him? but i knew it would never be anything because well, he is chasing a lot of demons. but i loved his answer, and as much as i wanted to say "i wanna chase demons with you" i know i don't have that "i am chasing demons" look, so i just shut my mouth and smiled, and wondered if he has ever experienced true love. that is so girl of me. anyway.

that summer i biked over the bridge was a special one. all summers are. for my birthday, my parents gave me money for a roadbike. all i wanted to do was bike, dog, and knit. i managed a yarn shop, i didn't have internet, and i lived in hipsterville. i ate burritos from the scary part of the mission. i biked like a madman and when i got home i knitted. i knit like 89 hats that year. i look back and call it my year of knitting. whats interesting is that i have since heard of 2 other women in their late 20's who moved to san francisco and spent the first year knitting. one of them went to purchase with me.
i find this interesting why? is it san francisco? the weather in the city is so terrible in the summer. its like winter. why do we spend it all inside, listening to the radio? but i was content. so go figure.
thank god that year ended though. i have no desire to knit. i despise it. i don't think i would even be able to pick up knitting needles right now. i can sew, sure. but knit? it actually makes me physically sick.

so anyway, back to today. i started my 30mile bike ride today thinking about how FICKLE the election has become. i am officially back on the fence. i was off the fence a bit, and set up my tent at camp obama. but now i'm back on that stupid fence. this is a second by second election. well, maybe a minute by minute election. it really IS INDECISION 2008. i think i'm back in camp hillary. i tutored her godchild. i've met her. sure, shes all creepy and powerful. but she's been there. and clinton was so cool and sexy. so i'm back in camp hillary. i was in camp hillary the whole time, until i got side-tracked by this evangelist. maybe once he serves some time, we can put him in office. 8 years of hillary, then 8 years of obama. then america will be bloody perfect. and i will make more than 60bloodyK per year.

jeffwall

hi. got this jeff wall book today @ the libes.
i like jeff wall. more specifically i like this early photograph-
Picture for Women. 1979.

I could stare at this for a while, well i DID stare at this for a while. and now i'm going to immortalize it on this blog that i am sort of starting to take seriously.
it looks like since November 2007, according to my rate of postings, i've started a steady relationship with this blog. i have always thought of it as more of a trash bin. but i'm changing my tune.

of note pt. 2

subhankar banerjee's stuff is so sick i don't even know where to start. i've seen it before, but it strikes a chord with me now.

annika

slowly taking notes for the crucial nyc to-do list. which is a feat in-and-of itself, as i haven't felt this resourceful about sucking manhattan, since 1998. i'm not kidding you here. i'm really not.

sf doings on -
+yo yo yo hi-def cam live view city by bay.
+what up wit da photographers having funny names.
+in nyc i had a secret desire to be a quiet lounge singer, similar to the caliber of annie hall. the vision specifically: after work, go to your bar, put your breifcase down, stand in front of 8 men, sing "wouldn't it be nice", receive a few claps, and maybe someone would clear their throat. here in sf, that same vision exists - only the desire has switched to burlesque dancing. seems like a logical switch. it happened the day i moved, and has only increased since.
+2 of my fave movies on big screen this wknd: big l @ red vic & raging bull @ the castro. don't you just wanna see that blonde get mad and cry and croon on the big screen?
+elf power show friday w/ audrey.
+saturday is finally finally your chance to go try to get into one of cobrasnakes frames. he will be here with his poplovedj dim mak. 103 harriet.
+headlands on sunday open house. major cool because will oldham is now in residency.
+fashion: fedoras. it occured to me on sunday, that here in california, the baseball cap has been replaced by the fedora. few men can pull this off, but those who do - can simply rip out my heart, and sew it, still beating, to their tight bicep sleeves.

where the children play

today was "stripe tuesday".

i know i know. i didn't get the memo either.


in washington dc, the children play on the bronze einstein.
in new york they play on the welded jungle gym.
here in california, the children play on the gnarled tree.



conversation with emmett on the way to the pizza joint.
e: anise? what is the tallest tree in the world?
a: the redwood. and guess what?! they live here in california.
e: lets go see them!!
a: OK emmitt. i will point out the next redwood i see.

and then about 5 minutes later (we were in mill valley) i pointed out some redwoods to the kids. they stopped in their little tracks, took a minute, looked up, and exclaimed "wow".



its this type of stuff that actually makes me feel GUILTY for taking money at the end of the night.
its this kind of stuff that centers me, calms me down.
some people try yoga.
some people ring gongs.
some people listen to electronica while sipping on a pacifier while tripping on acid.
i've found that hanging out with these simple, pure minds, can be pretty nice.

annoying spider.

close my eyes close my eyes close my eyes close my eyes close my eyes close my eyes.

its still there.

shit.

otherside

who wants to admit they lay around snuggling with the dog while listening to townes van zandt live at the old quarter houston texas, on a beautiful sunny saturday afternoon?

the first song t.van zandt learned to fingerpick was "cocaine blues".

waiting until the sun god-damn sets.

those wild night owls.

hoot

hoot hoot hoot who.

those wild night owl friends of yours. you keep them on the back burner. they aren't people to share with other people. they always have a joint. they roll their own cigarettes. they always open the door for you.

they can be kind of loud. around them, you are the quiet one. cuz when you go through these fits where you need those wild night owl friends - for the most part, you've got nothing to say. they introduce you as "doesn't have much to say, but man she's golden."

and you just kind of just smile. and you just kind of get silently drunk. and just kind of stay drunk. and just kind of stay stoned.

thinking about how she mothers you. and he hardens you. and they spend too much. and the guy over there is being too obnoxious. oh who is that in the corner. maybe its another person who spent money on themselves to only go home and listen to townes van zandt. and there you both are. pretty post townes van zandt.

in his pocket is your next drink.

who wants to raise their lazy spent hands and claim.

lyrics

To be alone with you by sufjan stevens

I'd swim across Lake Michigan
I'd sell my shoes
I'd give my body to be back again
In the rest of the room
To be alone with you
To be alone with you
To be alone with you
To be alone with you

You gave your body to the lonely
They took your clothes
You gave up a wife and a family
You gave your ghost
To be alone with me
To be alone with me
To be alone with me
You went up on a tree

To be alone with me
You went up on a tree

I've never known a man who loved me

of note

nirvana
2nd balcony
on cv's
zachary
magic happens!
mantra
kites

1/2 way through.

as i read about experiences during unemployment, and hear their stories. the same underlying theme remains.
their eyes get wistful. their backs straightens. they look you in the eyes. or their blogs get direct. and they have the same message "live it up".
like a gym teacher talking to you after class, telling you high school will be the best time of your life.
like your mom telling you to take a ton of pictures while you are in new york.
like the mormons telling you to keep a journal for family history.

unemployment is a part of life that people look back on - relish. relishing the time. jealous. jealousing the time. doling out advice. not spending money. you have no wants when you have nothing. you appreciate libraries. you have the time for libraries. you appreciate coffee houses. you have the time for coffee houses. you appreciate walks. you take your time. you can go a few days with no shower. you can shower 4 times a day. you can go weeks without makeup. you can spend an afternoon at the MAC counter making friends with the make-up girls.

i'm halfway through my unemployment. and i am already starting to look back wistfully at the months gone by. i've set up a business, learned how to make sourdough bread, paid all my bills, stopped taking the happy drugs.

a reprogramming of the essence of life sets in. a reprogramming.
sure. i wonder while i ride the bike "what will i do when i cant spend 2 hours a day riding my bike?" but its this reprogramming that takes over and calms me - making me answer that question with "it will all work out."

hartfistory

there are a few things that i like fat.

babies
cats
motherwells.


i find it funny that for a woman who's entire career is based off of self portraits, she doesn't have a picture on wikipedia. ha.

the girls at my old office in nyc would have loved the fact that cindy sherman didn't leave her ny apt. for the first few months she lived there. why? she was scared of the cat-calling. the girls at my office used to come over to my desk and compare stories of the cat-calls they received on the way to work. i used to take certain routes in the morning just to avoid the calls. after moving to sf, i actually MISSED the calls. here, the calls only come from the animal immigrants. so i am back to hating them. in italy the cat-calling is so absolutely unbearable that anna and i used to spit at them and call them cockroaches. southern italy might as well be egypt, might as well be jerusalem, might as well be kabul. its all the same once you go south of rome.
cindy sherman, after her success, did a bunch of photos of grotesque images as a backlash. she simply said "i wanted to make art that no one would buy." in a way "how dare they think my art is cute enough to hang in their living rooms? i'd like to see them hang this huge bleeding cunt above the mantle". and of course someone bought it. i mean, its cindy sherman. of this, robert longo said "she seemed rather upset during this period. i find it to be her strongest sense of work."

instead of putting cindy's cunt up here, i'll put one of my favorite longo's. will the skinny tie ever not be hot?

wow. there is more computing power in your cell phones than what was in the first apollo mission to the moon. -60 minutes.

muxtape

if you want to spend a few hours listening to new music for free - check out muxtape.com.
my account (nothing is new or spectacular there yet) is hellodeer.muxtape.com of course.

check back from time to time in the event that i want to blow your ears off.

1st thursday.

god so many things happened today. i discovered a new pizza place at the thursday mkt that makes pizza just like napoli. thank god. but i wasn't hungry. thank god. so i got a strawberry lemonade - thank god. i've NEVER had a strawberry lemonade that amazing. it was like pounding 18 stawberries with a hint of lemon.

tonight was "first thursday of the month" which means that artbusiness.com needs all the feet he can get to cover the galleries. "he" is alan. there are a couple of pay-to-plays, but for the most part there were some pretty solid shows. my favorite one was photos of a guy taking pictures of kids who ride the trains. maybe i like it because of paranoid park last night. or maybe i just like it. and then i liked the crowd at the michael kenna show. but the art was hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

so 49 geary is a cool new thing i've discovered. i know i'm on to something cool if i am annoyed but enlightened by the painful beautiful hipsters and ugly artists and overstuffed adults and spectacle wearing men and sleek women. i saw 3 women today my age - just fuckign dressed to the 9.5's. i mean - we checked each other out - and i almost said "can we be friends".

oh yeah oh yeah - i saw that annoying hipster girl from flickr that i used to crush on. she was SO ANNOYING. with her new boyfriend and her hipster friend. it was so great to finally see her out in the open, and see the real deal. blaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

in the car on the way home, i thought about how i miss getting checked for lice. i want to see one of those long sticks with a cotton swab on the end. and for the school nurse to interrupt 4th period social studies, so she can quietly go around the room and lift up quarters of our hair with her cotton swab stick. and then put the used stick in the white paper bag she carries with her.
and then it finally dawned on me! i finally have a fetish! i've been wanting a fetish. i've been thinking about fetishes - but none of them really struck a chord. so i think i'm going to own the "check me for lice" fetish.
its either that, or cleaning ears. i like it when i get my ears cleaned with hydrogen peroxide. have you ever done that? its like pop! fizz! in your ear. its chilling and then it turns warm, etc. all teh while cleaning your ears. the only thing is, i don't really want to own that as a fetish because well, my mom was the only one who used to clean my ears. so i dunno, i see that as a maternal thing - i guess i'll stick with being checked for lice.



i can't wait to see the photos from tonight. i really got ballsy on some shots. but then i worry there was no film in my camera. its an ongoing worry - like the common worry of being naked in front of an audience.

i started my bike ride today crying. who knows why. its just one of those things. i mean, i know why i was crying. i'm just saying - who knows why it struck on the bike. i didnt' want to bike. i'm so tired of biking! but i have to bike. i have to do SOMETHING. so i biked to whole foods and got a shot of wheatgrass. talked to the guy cutting mangos. told him my current problem. he didn't really understand me. he hardly spoke english. but it felt good to tell someone. so he cut me a large slice of mango, and i got back on the bike.

today's highlight - actually it should have been the start of this very post - was that i registered my business with the county of marin. the state of california. the fictitious company name is registered. the business is official. i can now pay for things and say "its on the company" or say "i can write it off as a business expense" which is really cool to me.

speaking of gov. i guess barack obama is a phoney. i can see it in the art kids eyes too. all those little art kids have stopped talking about the election, and taken off their obama pins, and they just have that vacant look again. the "OH WELL" deal. and then on npr they were talking about bear sterns and then a depression and then terry gross asked "so where is all the money?" and dude didn't even answer the question. he answered the question saying people are at their desks making bets all day. i just don't get it. even i feel the "OH WELL" coming on. i promised myself i would vote though.

in a jar

i want to somehow - SOMEHOW - put the first 15 minutes of paranoid park in a jar and keep it on my desk so i can listen and watch it whenever i want.
what was up with that soundtrack? gosh. what it must be like to live in quiet portland, and work with g.van s. quiet, ugly portland. with brilliant, gay g. van sant. i just can't imagine what it must be like. just another pocket of america i guess.

the part at the hot-tub where the boy licks/kisses his knee. we've all done that. didn't that hit you in the gut? or maybe the nose? or maybe it made you stick your pinky finger in your ear and then smell the wax?

the whole thing was such a package. but the first captivating jaw-dropping 15 minutes really are what made me actually say the word "brilliant" in the theatre of 8 people.
and it was funny? it was like, laugh out loud funny? but yeah, the first 15 minutes were a deal-breaker for me.

the beach scene was so oregon - like hits your gut oregon. what a gorgeous state.

wow. the today show has this spunky woman on, talking about 7 ways to boost your marriage.

she just suggested getting an adrenaline rush with your spouse. ie: jumping out of an airplane. apparently it brings you together.

then another thing is ditch the sweats at home. pretend for one day a month that you are having an affair with your husband.

then another thing (and i find this interesting) is to go for a walk at least once a week. men tend to open up when they are not facing you. when they are walking around or driving around. it is apparently easier for them to tell you how they feel.
i've heard this before. and its interesting to me. i forgot about it though, so thought i should write it down.

i want to be an even, equal spouse. i want to be a rock. but one that is easily moved. not something like this:


anyway, about the driving. dan and i were driving for 4 hours one time. it was a nice quiet drive. we played steve miller band and talked about sailing. after the drive, we were at our destination, and just when i thought this person had enough of me, he proceeds to make us some dinner, and tell me that his mom has cancer. his dad is already dead of cancer, so this was kind of upsetting. all i could say was "wow. we just spent 4 hours in a car together and you never said anything".

what kind of response is that? women expect our minds to be read. women are just terrible sometimes. after realizing that my response was so lame and selfish, i sat down and asked him questions and then just shut up and listened.

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.

glossies

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
castanets
T.I.
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.

bird

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.

realism

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.

bath:
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.
silence.
'rowdy'
silence
'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.)
silence.
so i walk downstairs and get tough.
ROWDY HERE!
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.

nails:
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.

eqquis

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.

old&new

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.