+ kids! you gotta have patience. +

MTV Shows

a shout out to justin taines for this tornado.

+ borrowed from one to the next +

the 25th year on the 17th day,
gone.
a had a limitless abyss while planes stretched their wings over the seas of my living room window.
we'd stuff pussy willows into the
shelves of the floor;
hide candies that would
rot
until the hunt was complete.

we all had tempers.
terrible ones.
ones that singed the edges
of our blankets that were thrown away.

they were in hong kong
or egypt
or new york
or florence
or prague.
they were always somewhere
else.

we were expected to have
plans.
great ones.
ones that would make us shine like diamonds.
rare ones.

i forgive everyone for everything in every time and every day.
i have enough anger
for a well to spill
over.

i think i might
just
let some of it
go now.

+ it's MY day +

and all i want to do
is
listen to
LOW
LOW
LOW
LOW
LOW
LOW
LOW


SeeqPod - Playable Search

+ best film i didn't have a fucking clue about +

if you haven't seen this,
do it
immediatly.

+ Chapter XLII +

I met him in a hallway.
Sure that I had seen his rugged face before – solemn – paved with happiness and joy.
Months passed before I had the courage to dig my toes into the earth,
Stand in front of him,
And make some joke about death and fireworks and everything I hated about the world.

He smiled and listened and looked me straight in the eye.
I thought about all the mutants who never saw me for who I was. Never bothered to find out more than two details about me.
All the ones that thought they’d take over the world; their ideas flowing throughout the cosmos, ready to break and take hold. The waves. The wires. The everything-that-could-be.

Like children we were.
While the conversations in secret held more imagination and philosophical entropy than anything I had ever fathomed before.
Stars were bursting! Colliding!

He would
Never
Be mine.

I knew I didn’t want him to be.
If he were, it was bound to be ruined.
The utter romance of it all would have been washed away in the tide of changes and foul moods.
So, we kept things in fantasy.
Like castles on hills and ladies in distress.
We kept the primal nature of eroticism next to our stomachs, and we imagined our fingers running through one another’s insides.

Then one night,
There was thunder.
And there was lightning.
And Los Angeles was on fire.
Ablaze.

Destruction had come.

+ The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nation's Millennium General Assembly +

....a long title for a taste of something ultimately worthwhile....

i must give credit to miss jessica naomi for turning me onto my new obsession, LE LOUP.
for those of you not so linguistically inclined, this translates to "the wolf."

We spent our darkest days/
Howling at the moon/
Close enough to see our low condition/
And did you wish that we were one?/
Have you ever known your maker?/
Could you ever lead your song aloft the mountain tops?/
You could never swing that dagger./

Give your soul to us/
Give your heart to us/
Give your soul to us/
Give your heart to us/

besides the gift of sound that LE LOUP brings, and here's a taste:


SeeqPod - Playable Search

of note is the title of their album, which has now become the title of this post.
a william that i've mentioned before let me in on the secret i feel i should've known long ago.
instead of regurgitating the facts, here they are:

"The Throne parallels the Book of Revelation in other respects. John saw God on a throne of shining silver and gold surrounded by a multitude of angels, and Hampton obviously strove to capture that splendor. The birdlike wing forms, his dominant decorative motif, may have been his interpretation of the angels described by John. Whether or not Hampton actually expected his throne to be occupied at the Second Coming is not known."

Please read the entire essay HERE.

+ if panda means anything to you +

and i know it does to nick.
this is for him.

+ i just want something better +

when i was around 6 years old
i remember my parents
taking us girls to
"santa's village".

a town where
christmas existed
all through the night.
but i was so confused,
because my dad
had spent countless hours
hammering into
my head
that i was
a jew.

i daydreamed
while i was there
about going up to
each of the other kids
and escaping the fact
that santa wasn't real.
it was just a
fat, old man
in an ugly suit.

i wanted to believe in something better.
i wanted to have a child's mind
inside of a child's heart.
instead i got the soul
of a 63 year old woman,
cautious of her coin purse,
and taking no real risks.

what a shame.

+ thought of the day +

my friends are 100-fucking-percent out of their minds.



thank you.
have a pleasant morning.

+ alone with everybody +

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

+ + + + +

(again, Bukowski.
i can't get away.
he says and sees everything
i want to,
but can't seem to.)

listen --> TO THIS.

watch --> THIS.

+ qué?????? +

+ "nothing is ever behind us "

scouring cnn.com i came across THIS:

a man taken to be executed, but granted a stay at the last moment.
he writes a letter to his fellow inmates in an attempt to assuage their beating hearts and haunted minds.
some interesting reading if your stomach can handle it.

+ Free Blood -- "The Royal Family" +

this right here is in honor of my dear, dear friend moana casanova.
i may have taken her a few places where she felt better to run away from my insanity, but...i love her dearly and this is from her to me to you.

+ what a life +

little kids
shoot marbles
where branches break the sun
into graceful shafts of light.

i just want to be pure.

///////

and if i were a boy:

"I love it this way: my feet against the tar which is soft from the spring heat. A slight breeze that runs across your entire body, especially your crotch. You feel an incredible power being naked under a dome of stars while a giant city is dressed, dodging cars all around you five flights down. I don't think of anything while I'm doing the actual tugging, least of all the heavy sex fantasies I have to resort to indoors. Just my own naked self and the stars breathing down and its beautiful. Time sure flies where you're young and jerkin' off."

+ today in history +

Rainer Ptacek, good friend and incredible influence of Robert Plant, earned his notable following through his unique ways of playing guitar: all of "which incorporated slide, finger-picking, tape loops, and electronic manipulation."
In 1996 he was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and 2 years later, on this very day, November 12th, he died.

A tribute album, "The Innner Flame" was created and dedicated to him by several indefatigable artists including Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, Billy Gibbons, and PJ Harvey.

Watch this to see how truly unreal he is:

+ just listen to it +

and don't talk to me ever again.

+ she has brown hair and brown eyes +

i've come to the conclusion that my greatest hurdle in life is being true. to me.
acting the way i want to act.
saying the things i want to say.
smiling at who i want.
and cursing the others.

for years i let anyone say and do and think whatever they wanted about me.
i guess i was too scared to fight back in some way.
but, when i think about it more -- i was too scared to fight myself.

i saved myself with starvation.
i'll never forget the whisk of my hand:
these hips. they protrude like arrows.
as my belly, it rests a concave bowl. never being filled.

i prepared for death like it was my life.
and exiled all those around me.
i thought i was left with nothing.
i was wrong.
i finally had everything.
i had it all to scrape away and build anew.

there's debate over how long that was.
the slow suicide.
i know the facts.
and that's all that matters.

it isn't about being proud i went through all of it.
it isn't about knowing i can push the limits to where most can't.
it's about the other side.
it's seeing the same eyes look back.
with the same body.
and the same thoughts.
countered.

///////

+ change can happen +

i believe in the power of an individual.
i believe that youth means a way to something different.
something better.
i believe in sleeping sounder knowing that i have faith in my leader.
i believe in ACTUAL freedom, rather than something that is supposedly there.

who's more proud to call themselves an American today, right now?
ME.
and i'm sure, all of you.

+ we were born to sin +

almost a bit too pop like for my tasting, but...
eh, i've liked this song for awhile now.

We don't want to die/
Or apologize/
For our dirty god/
Our dirty bodies/

+ witch of words +

"Am I writing for the world? No. My language is unknown. What a joy it will be if I am overlooked; my treasures will then belong to me alone. When I die I will burn these pages and my thoughts scribbled here will live only in eternity with the one who expressed them."

///////

"For an hour you were me, that is the other half of yourself. What you broke, burnt, and tore is still in my hands. I am the keeper of fragile things and I have kept of you what is indissoluble."

///////

"December 29, 1927 - And yet whenever women find an emptiness in their lives they don’t seek the cause of it within themselves, in their spiritual and intellectual life; no; they seek a man, they turn destructively upon the husband as if he were to blame, upon the children. They turn to mere physical sensation, to base deception---I can’t understand. . . I realize that I am now doing nothing but fulfilling dreams, nothing but materializing images, using my will to make all my desires tangible. Of course, I never dreamed all that I am doing. When I was younger I imagined my dancing, my writing and marriage, though not quite like the real one, which surpasses the conceptions of a child. My imagination has been my lamp. I have only to desire wisely and intensely, and with my will, to fulfill. Is this an illusion, a conceit of my will’s power, so newly discovered that perhaps it has intoxicated me? It is so new for me to have an active will after years of merely imaginary activity. Even last year, walking down Montparnesse, I asked myself what could happen if suddenly I said and did exactly what I wanted to say and do. I foresaw cataclysms. Yet I tried it. And the result? Nobody hurt---a few scandalized; more, pleased and proud; even more, influenced and enlivened by my activity. Every day I feel surer of myself, my desires soar higher. I feel power in myself, conviction. If it is conceit, a vast empty bubble of vanity, an illusion as false as my old modesty was false; if I am deceived intellectually, by the fireworks of my life, if its ascension is the ascension of self-glory; if there is no spiritual value and philosophical significance to my life, then there is no truth and no sincerity in this world, because no woman ever looked down into herself with as much cold criticism, no woman ever analyzed her ideas and actions more carefully, none was ever more doubtful of herself, more self-deprecating, more fearful of hypocrisy, more terrified of lies, more eager for truth, than I. You, my Journal, alone, know that."

+ everything ends +

i made a vow to myself to complete the entire series of six feet under.
thanks to help from friends via actual suggestion or literal giving of dvd, this lovely/disturbing/haunted/invaluable period of my life is coming to an end.

i am devouring this series.
i wish it went on until i was 40.
i almost don't want to start the last season.

i'm sad.
it's almost over.

+ i just watch you slip away +

+ i like to steal +

I haven’t found an effective way to ease my pain.
With such “avant-garde” beginnings.
My &#!@ has this mechanism where you push it into remix, and it feeds the fuzz back into itself a thousand times.
A sonic volcano not recommended for small children.

This filmstrip winds around in my brain.
And it’s all I can see.
Floating around and haunting; all from my friend’s imagination.
And things start to fall in place.
It was a real struggle to try to include the more beautiful aspects of life.

Like a pointillist painting:
unhappy little stories—problems and turmoil
that everybody has—but the large picture they make says,

‘Don’t worry. We’re gonna be all right.’

+ you're welcome +

if you haven't already heard this band, it's about time to get it together and prick up your ears.
i enjoy a wordplay greatly, and when a band knows how to fit a mouth's worth full of letters into each and every one of their songs, i'm bound to give all of their tracks at least two times a go 'round.
"roscoe" is what sucked me in, but...everything they've created has substance that i can only find with my ears full of sounds and melodic sleep on my mind.

+ happy all hallows eve +

or whatever...

+ jesus and satan COMBINED! +

upon meeting a friend, this is the very first video he sent to me.
i considered three things:

1. he was not to be messed with.
2. he was hilarious.
3. he was the looniest toon in the bunch.

enjoy.

+ fuck you, wilderness! +

fuck you, wilderness -- for not passing through los angeles!

what do i have to do to get you here???????
i'll be a beautiful alarm for halloween, or, or, or....um...
i'll sign a treaty for the end of freedom.
ANYTHING!
just, PLEASE, come through L FUCKING A.

+ it just is +

i really wanted to post a stream of gravenhurst's "song from under the arches," but, unfortunately couldn't find one -- even in this burrowed over internet empire of waste.
shocking.

so...i'm going for a guilty pleasure of mine.
a song i listen to when i'm down.
and i'm down often.

i try to ignore that it comes from a band tagged with recent pop sensations and indie flickster-hipsters.
because the briefness of it, and the lyrics that are just perfect for me, hit it right every time.

+ hush, don't explain +

call me when you get better at your game/
you haven't beat me yet/

+ Edvard Munch +

"From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity."

+ to a decade of Latin learning +

Dies quod nos vereor ut nostrum permaneo est tamen natalis infinitio.

+ + + + + + + + + +

The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.


--Lucius Annaeus Seneca

+ blank +

disappointment.
i hold in
my clenching fists
like it would mean
something.

i don't have
whiskey
to pass the time;
nor do i
care.
about you.
or anything else,
for that matter.

it's a funny game
i can play.
i never could master
the art of
imagination
as a child.

but as an adult?
i couldn't have
succeeded in anything
better.

+ you have to...+

+ Washington, 1912. +

"Edward Beale McLean with Mrs. McLean." Edward (Ned) would become publisher of the Washington Post; his wife, the mining heiress Evalyn Walsh McLean, was the last private owner of the Hope Diamond. Their tempestuous union would be the fodder for countless headlines leading up to their divorce in 1929.

+ i'm just gonna pretend i'm her, and she's me +

+ "you were not to blame for" +

when "in rainbows" came out, i was slowly disintegrating into a angry thing yearning to escape in any way i could.
not to say that i am so much different in the way that i felt then, but -- something tells me that i am.
however, nothing changes when i hear this song again.
some innate something in it's lyrics, in york's voice, just SOMETHING about what it is, pulled at me in a way i didn't want it to.
in case you're not one of the million who have already stumbled on this creation, take a good look.

Radiohead - Reckoner - by Clement Picon

+ here's to copy & pasting! +

GOOGLE'S MAIL GOGGLES PREVENTS DRUNK EMAILING
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Google released a useful new Gmail feature yesterday in its labs, which could help prevent the intoxicated from sending embarrassing late-night emails they might regret in the morning.

When activated, the program will force a user to solve a series of math problems before allowing any message to be sent.

They are not terribly difficult, but do serve as an extra line of defense in what can be a very dangerous habit.

The service is set by default to kick in only on weekend nights, but you can change the settings to apply whenever.

As for drunk dialing and texting, you’re still on your own.


+ + + + + + +

considering the crazy people i know kick back their last drink at 5:45am on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, this MIGHT just come in handy.
although, i'm pretty certain they all are fairly decent at their times-tables.
oh well.
way to go again, google.

+ art meandering proves so fine +

+ i want to be surrounded +

for miles.
and miles.
until the end reaches even further.
land laying calm.
serpent souls infesting
soiled grounds.
and he
is next to me.
i never knew
i'd ever want to leave the city.
or that the woods
hold much more spectacle
than the LA nights
could even
aspire to.

+ "In my beginning is my end." +

T.S. Eliot also said, “Let's not be narrow, nasty, and negative.”
It is a sad, sorry time we live in.
Where every corner turns is someone weeping and wanting for the things that have no substance; that hold no great truth for who they are or who they once dreamed they could be.
How has such a life, so many lives, been wasted into the soils of such a grand place?
Or, what was once labeled as grandiose.
And even then, why is this such a negative term?
Were we not taught to have these overbearing, daunting, other-worldly ideas of the maxims our skins could stretch to?
What of the miracles that happened long ago?

“Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?”

Just because a man no longer is seen walking on the waters through pure belief…just because he cannot touch a leper and have his skin smoothe over to angel’s dust…
Blindness is an affectation that is frightening. But, isn’t it a gift as well?
Sometimes I wonder how things could be if only I didn’t have to look at them.
More than my body or a lover’s face, or the way dust blows smoothly across the concrete walls.
To FOCUS, and fill myself with the ways of life that I am ignoring.
That EVERYONE is ignoring.

We must collapse.
It is all that is left.
Neutral sunshine is embracing our pupils and wiping away the power to take any sort of action.

I’m not any more frightened to stare straight into the sun, than I am to swim in a frigid lake at 4 o’clock on a first snowfall morning.
Even though I haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing the latter; I would do it if I had brought myself there.

The end is here….scratching your backs and letting you all fall into the well.
And, oh! How satisfied they are…with their chiseled faces and golden fingers.
What fools.

“This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.”

+ a turning +

The moon stood still.
So still.
Her eyes gazing toward the bed frame.
Blackened bars transforming
Their wooden legs
Into jail cells.

She could see through them.
Inside of them.
Men walking over her soul
And her mind…
And her heart…

The small of her back
Ached.
She saw his hand grace over,
Resting on her porcelain thigh.

And at the very last moment,
He took his other palm,
And placed it there, too.

Give her not your love stories.
Your broken insides
Waiting to be filled.
Give her not your tales of family woe;
How your blessed ones will choose
By knife
By pistol
By rope
By fire.

Just give her the truth.
And a chance.

+ horror is beautiful +

i never understood others who couldn't handle the sight of blood or death or pain.
like watching a needle pierce the severed skin of an accident victim -- i never seemed to have a problem with it.
i wondered if they had issues looking at the mutating pieces of their souls.
almost like their own eyes were medusa's, and the slightest look inside would turn them to stone.

well...
i've turned to stone.
many times.
what they forgot to tell you,
is that stone can melt.
and metal gold burns its way to the surface.

+ + + + +

i can't take credit for finding out about artist damien hirst myself.
i suppose he entered my life in the manner most things do --
osmosis. naturally.

here's a taste of the horror he can provide so delicately.

"adam and eve under the table"


"sacred xvii"


"beautiful inside my head forever"


"the broken dream"

+ new beginnings +

but, sometimes even she will still haunt me.

+ it really makes me sick... +

...that i love them as much as i do.






Let me come over/
I can waste your time/
I'm bored/
Invite me to the war/

+ it's better if you shut those eyes +

minimal breaks
and
minimal tones
make
everything
worth it
.

+ yup +

i win.

+ i'm not even political +

and i'm doing my best to get out of america.
but...
when something strikes, it's undeniable.

watch.

+ my little lovers +

A lacrymal tincture washes
The cabbage-green skies:
Under the drooling tree with tender shoots,
Your raincoats

White with special moons
With round eyes
Knock together your kneecaps
My ugly ones!

We loved one another at that time,
Blue ugly one!
We ate soft boiled eggs
And chickweed!

One evening you consecrated me poet,
Blond ugly one:
Come down here, that I can whip you
On my lap;

I vomited your brilliantine,
Black ugly one;
You would cut off my mandolin
On the edge of my brow

Bah! my dried saliva,
Red-headed ugly one
Still infects the trenches
Of your round breast!

O my little lovers,
How I hate you!
Plaster with painful blisters
Your ugly tits!

Trample on my old pots
Of sentiment;
—Up now! be ballerinas for me
For one moment!…

Your shoulder blades are out of joint,
O my loves!
A star on your limping backs,
Turn with your turns!

And yet it is for these mutton shoulders
That I have made rhymes!
I would like to break your hips
For having loved!

Insipid pile of stars that have failed,
Fill the corners!
—You will collapse in God, saddled
With ignoble cares!

Under special moons
With round eyes,
Knock together your kneecaps,
My ugly ones!

+ c'est le soleil +

I wanna break you open and eat the tiny parts of you that are rotting in your mind.
You’re such a little monster.
Let me kidnap the daybreak and put its light in your eyes.
The sunshine will kill you, but your soul will haunt those who detest it.
Inescapable advances leave my toes dangling over the edge.
Yet,
I bring them back over.
I always manage to bring them back.

+ i'm a one woman show! +

lately i've been telling certain people that i am a one woman show.
i've always laughed at my own jokes -- i'm not gonna lie -- i think i can be pretty damn funny sometimes.
but, maybe i'm laughing because no one else is.
aww.

i also think mcsweeney's is awesome.
and wonderful.
and fantastic.

from time to time i go to their little website to check on the status of brian beatty's joke section.
after awhile, i started saving some that i enjoyed.

i figured i should maybe post them here.
just in case i want to look back in a year or so, and realize how amazingly cool i am for keeping them.
so i won't be the only one making myself chuckle.

here they are:

LIKE MAGIC.
Everything about every woman I've ever dated has been like magic: fake and boring.

YES MAN.
The worst job I ever had was answering phones on a suicide-prevention hotline. I found out right away that I'm not good at telling people no.

NOT BRIGHT.
My goal in life is to be like a ray of sunshine—so radioactive that I kill idiots who get too close.

UNCLASSIFIED.
Lots of couples meet through the personal ads. I think there should be impersonal ads for people who want to end existing relationships. The reading would be so much more interesting.

AIR CONDITIONING.
People who hang out in those New Age oxygen bars are called airheads for a reason. I snuck in a flask of hydrogen and sat there all night mixing shots of water.

ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS
ANONYMOUS.
I'm founding a 12-step program for people who drink until they forget their names.

MY METHOD.
Every job is an acting job if you're expected to act like you give a shit.


don't even try to tell me those weren't funny.

+ in tribute +

not to follow the waves and lemmings and other non-thinkers,
(and i don't necessarily think that this totally fits into that category)
BUT....
i can't believe that i haven't, in this lifetime, made it around to seeing RADIOHEAD live.
until this past weekend.
and again tonight.
so, i think i need to take a moment to gather some visuals for myself in preparation to be floored one more time:

2+2=5


you and whose army


karma police


no surprises

+ all my thoughts return +

your strange imagination.
you threw it all away.

+ hello, panda +

Finishing up my "scholarly" career at Loyola Marymount University, I came out with, count them, TWO people I actually cared to talk to. Let alone keep ties with.
One being, little miss Tara.
Because of her I basically got to live in the most amazing house in the hills of Beverly Hills. I can't tell you how many times I got laughed at when I had to give someone my address -- obviously ending in "Beverly Hills, CA 90210."
I didn't realize something like that was such a conversation starter.
Ohhh, but the looks on their faces when they found out it wasn't MY house.
HAHAHAHAH. Who got the last laugh now, huh?????

The second person I allowed into my life was, Nick Zacher.
Apparently his name is spelled Nicolaus.
You'd think after 4 years of friendship I would've stored that little nugget of information in the memory banks.
Guess not.
Nick for some reason or another nicknamed me Panda.

Now, I have had a whole mess of nicknames throughout my life.
Apple, Pineapple, Samanawater, Sammy Davis Jr., Jr. (yes, that's two jr's.), Sammy Joe, Sammy Sosa (whaddup boss lady!),Tree....
None of them really make sense.
But, Panda?
Panda stole my heart.

He sent a picture of me having some fun today.
Check it out.

+ oh, to be a pin-up! +

"You are so terribly nimble, so clever. I distrust your cleverness. You make a wonderful pattern, everything is in its place, it looks convincingly clear, too clear. And meanwhile, where are you? Not on the clear surface of your ideas, but you have already sunk deeper, into darker regions, so that one only thinks one has been given all your thoughts, one only imagines you have emptied yourself in that clarity. But there are layers and layers -- you're bottomless, unfathomable. Your clearness is deceptive. You are the thinker who arouses most confusion in me, most doubt, most disturbance."

August 1932 from Henry and June, Anais Nin

+ the best minute & 22 seconds of my day +

Heard you lost your wig in the sea
And you cut your own hair
And how you love California
You say
The weather suits you out there

And I know you got a new man
It don’t matter babe
Because he ain’t me
You do what you’ve got to do
In time we will see
If I’m over you
And you over me
Is our story through
Or just the chapters that we knew?

And after reading them again
Could there be a better ending?



///////

this one doesn't hurt either

+ the national :: about today +

i wish i were in this room.

let it build.
the power and the verve --
you won't be able to look away.
and then,
all will be at peace.

+ not much to say about that +

in honour of sir william evans.
anyone who has a butthole -- as an homage to bukowski -- tattooed on their elbow, is pretty A-OK in my book.

+ i hate everyone +

I’d imagine that everyone has seen those signs at several locations that state: WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR LOST OR STOLEN ITEMS. I attempted to find a picture of one such a sign, but failed.

Anyhow… The story is this:

I have had to take my car into the Jeep dealership to be fixed about SIX TIMES in the past MONTH. Not only is this ridiculous, but it’s a gigantic chunk of change that I don’t have. In my head, they should tell me everything that’s wrong with the car, then I can cough up the cash, and get it fixed in one fell swoop. Needless to say, Jeep does not believe in this same theory. Not to mention that I am already dying to get rid of this hunk of metal that guzzles gallon after gallon of gas, for an old Jag that is magically converted into biodiesel; but, alas – money stops me there, too. Something like this would work just fine. Whoever can work that out….lemme know.

Back to the story.

So, it’s the sixth time that my car is screeching at me to take it in to the dealership, and coolant is leaking everywhere I go. Even the parking attendants at my work are annoyed with me because “some green gooey liquid is spilling everywhere.” They already hate me because I am apparently the only person who leaves during the day to get the HELL out of the office, so – they have to help to get my (leaking) car out of the sardine packed garage.

I stray again.

Casey tells me that he will loan me his car. Probably more so that he will be able to drive his Monte Carlo and look like an American badass, but, at least he’s trying to help out.
After some downright amazing massages, I end up chilling with Jessica in Beverly Hills to have my car towed to the Jeep dealership. On a Sunday night. This is the first place where I didn’t have my best judgment.
I call AAA and put in a request to have my car towed. They tell me that the dude will arrive in about 45 – 55 minutes. Jessica decides to take a quick shower pre drive to the dealership, and then to Casey’s.
About two minutes in I get a call that the driver “has arrived.”
FUCK.

I run down the enormous driveway to tell the AAA dude that we were expecting him in an hour and my friend isn’t ready.
He gives me the worst look of disdain I have ever seen and tells me that I have 5 minutes, 10 MAX!!!
(Jesus, you’re a dick.)
I speed upstairs, pull Jess out of the shower, and tell her that the guy is downstairs already, and is telling me that we have to leave NOW.
Jessie gets it together, and as we are pulling her car down the driveway, we see that the dude hasn’t even finished loading my car onto the flatbed.
(You have to be fucking kidding me. I’m glad we rushed.)

I get out of the car, and tell him that I need to get my parking pass and a necklace out of my car that is hanging on my rearview mirror.
He says that he “cannot allow that.”
I can’t deal with him, anymore, so...I get back into Jess’s car, and we wait for him to finish loading the monster onto his truck.
THEN he proceeds to back down Tower Road with this HUMONGOUS flatbed truck WITH another SUV on TOP of it.
Tower Road is an extremely curvy, narrow street in the hills of Beverly Hills; this dude must be on crack. There’s no other explanation.

We arrive at La Brea Jeep and there is a car blocking the driveway to where I would have to leave my car.
I see that the AAA dude is lowering my car to leave it on the street.
I stop him and ask him what the hell he is doing – seeing as there is a sign on the street that says NO PARKING FROM 7AM TO 1OAM.
Does he think I’m gonna come back at 6:30 in the morning to move my car that is probably about to blow up? I don’t think so.
He then tells me, after yelling at me and calling someone, probably a hooker, on his cell phone, that he’ll have to take my car to their lot to store over night.
I say that that’s fine.
He says that it will cost me extra, and that I have to pay up front.
I say, “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”
(Meanwhile, by the way, Jessica is rocking out in her car to some new music phenomenon that she has discovered in the back of her old, beat up Eddie Bauer.)
AAA man finally says that it’s over 100 bucks, and that they only take cash or check.
Where I say: “Sir, I don’t carry that kind of cash on me all the time, and I certainly don’t carry checks. Welcome to 2008.”
He calls back whoever he was speaking to previously, comes over to me with some sort of a receipt and lectures me that I “BETTER call and pay in the morning.”
My response? “You picked me up in BEVERLY HILLS, ya jerk. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me paying you. It’ll happen.”
I sign, and leave the poisonous territory.

The next morning I call the towing company, where they try and charge me upwards of $300 for storing my car over night. I tell them that I am holding a receipt for $100, and that that is all I will be paying.
The dude on the phone says that’s fine, and will have my car towed immediately.
I don’t mention how rude the employee who picked me up was; I can be a nice person…I figure this is the last I’ll have to deal with them.

Moving forward….

After waiting hours to see if the dealership has received my car, I call them up to see if they know anything about anything.
(Also a naïve thought on my part.)
The woman helping me tells me that they did receive my car, and that they will get back to me when they have an estimate.
I tell her that there is no way in hell I am paying a single cent on them fixing what should already be fixed in my car.
She doesn’t really like that response, but agrees with me.
I get a call from her later that evening, informing me that they are still inspecting my car to assess all of the damage.
Great. Sure ya are. i.e., you haven’t really started looking into it.

The next day.
They will be replacing my radiator at no charge.
I don’t even know if that’s what it really needs, but at this point I am so fed up with everyone I have had to deal with in the last day or two, that I just tell them to go ahead.
My car is finally finished and ready to pick up.
BUT….
She wants to inform me that my water pump does need some fixing so I should look into that next time I drop my car off.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

a) I’m never bringing my car here again.
b) I told you to fix everything that needed fixing.
c) The insane people in your sales department actually attempted to SELL me another Jeep when they heard that mine had had so many repairs.

You people are all out of your god damn minds.

Annnnywayyy…..

My boss tells me that we will drive Casey’s car to the dealer, pick up my car, and then drive his car to Burbank to drop it off for him…after all, we’d get to miss a hell of a lot of “work” time, so….I’m down.
We pick my Jeep up, I am happy, and we cruise along.
I notice that there is something different about my car but I can’t place it.
I see that my parking pass which was previously on my rearview is now moved to the dashboard, and a bunch of other crap has been slid around the car.
I can’t place anything else at the time, so, I drive and forget about it.

Now, the thick of it:

Driving to work this morning, I remember to put the parking pass on my rearview and realize that MY MOTHERFUCKING NECKLACE IS GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh no, they did NOT steal my necklace.

I first look around my car to make sure it isn’t there.
Which, of course, it is not.
I get to work and put in a call to La Brea Jeep. They tell me they will look into it and get back to me.
Great. I know what that means.
I then call the towing company and inquire about it with them.
Now THIS dude is being a prick to me and tells me that that is a pretty outlandish threat that I am saying that one of their employees stole my necklace.
I say to him that I am not saying that they definitely stole it, but it’s quite curious that it is missing all of a sudden, and I can tell that other things have been moved around in my car. I’m not an idiot.
He keeps yelling at me, so then I tell him that I wasn't going to say anything, and didn’t at first, but his employee was an absolute CUNT to me, and was rude to me the entire time he was “helping” with my car.
This guy I am talking with then says, “Was it valuable?”
I say that that is not really here nor there, and that it has plenty of sentimental value and I won’t be able to find it anywhere else.
He then says, “I don’t know what anyone would want with a trinket that doesn’t even cost a lot of money.”
I said, “DO YOU KNOW WHAT SENTIMENTAL VALUE MEANS???????????”
Why are people so stupid?

I give up with him, and call the Jeep dealer to see if they have anything more to say.
The woman tells me that she asked everyone who was in contact with my car if they recall a necklace or anything hanging from the rearview mirror – which they, of course, say no to.
She then proceeds to say, “You know, I don’t know if you’ve ever dropped your car off here personally, “
(Umm, I’ve been coming to you guys for over 5 years, so I’d say, yeah, I’ve dropped it off myself.)
She goes on, “but, we have a sign here that states: We are not responsible for any lost or stolen items.”
I tell her how convenient that is for them, so that they can go into anyone’s vehicle and take whatever they’d like and just point to that sign.
That’s real nice.

Therefore, I’ve come to this conclusion:

I’m going to get one of those signs made, and then I’m going to go into some high end store, or CAR DEALERSHIP, steal some shit, run out, and when they come to arrest me, I’m just gonna hold up that sign and say:

“Sorry. I really can’t help you out. I have this sign here.”

Fucking motherfuckers.
Give me my necklace back.


////////

an unfortunate, but also, wonderful update:

Casey has just informed me that he saw the necklace underneath the passenger seat of my car.
Shit.
Guess i should try and reel in that anger from time to time.
HA.

+ Awakening +

During the Spanish-American war a group of artists, from all corners and crafts, gathered to become the “Generation of ‘98” reviving the Spanish’s consciousness and literary culture.
Of the most well known, perhaps, is Antonio Machado with his work: Campos de Castilla. An “intellectual rebel.” [niiiiiice.]
His influences, and greatest friends, included the likes of Paul Verlaine, Ruben Dario and Oscar Wilde.

I was in yoga this morning (finally) – I sometimes take class from this teacher right down the street from me, who devotes the whole class to playing unbelievable music. Today, he played this poem by Machado over synthesizers and American beats. It was incredible.

+ + + +

No, my soul is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
It neither sleeps nor dreams.
but watches,
its eyes wide open,
far-off things, and listens
at the shore of
the great silence.

+ ps, this is for my girls +

fucking sluts.

///////

and this.

+ bullet flowers. and what it is to be alone +

I haven’t taken a Friday night for myself in some time.
Months.
Many of them.
I sometimes forget how nice and calming it is to open my door, set my things down, lay on my bed, and soak into just sitting with myself.
For years, the only thing I ever really wanted to do was be on my own.
I lost touch with everyone, and wasn’t on a quest to get them back.
The things we do to ourselves – the critiques and the rants and the dumbing down of things; the perpetual vices and having-to-haves of being a human.
Original sin doesn’t have to be so bad.
It’s really ok; we don’t have to go on fighting ourselves.

I didn’t want to know anybody.
And I didn’t even want to be anybody.
I knew I yearned for better days, but was in a state of daily combat so intensely, that saying “I quit,” and losing my breath, was so much more appealing than actual survival.

And then I came through.

Things can’t ever be what we want them to be.
All the time, at least.
I’m trying to give myself the moments where they do...work. out.
Always unexpected.
And it doesn’t really matter if you don’t see the sun shine through just at first.
It could be that you just don’t want to see it – so you won’t.

Sometimes I hate admitting that the people I know in my life, are without a doubt, irrefutably molding me into these fingers and limbs, and other things.
But,
Everywhere I look, every single thing I see and have and touch reminds me of one person or another.
I guess that’s why I keep all of this shit around.

What I’m discovering is this:
I don’t need all these things.
I don’t need anyone around all the time.
I don’t need to wonder what someone else is thinking, about me or otherwise.
I don’t need to label myself a devil, when a time or two, the angel in me just won’t cease.
I need to lift this vessel I have.
Even if I despise it for some moment, every day;
And know that I’m not going to let myself out of it just now.
Just this yet.
This body.
My mind,
Too too too too too much thinking
All of the time.

But, it’s good.
For tonight.

+ this is for you +

and you know why.



endless nights
i lay awake
in cotton soft
warm embrace.

you wanted
to save
all
that i was.

let me
tell you...

you did.

it
you
this
was always enough.

you made me
love
the trees.
and you.

+ i like them +

+ break my body, hold my bones +

everything.

is nothing.

i don't want to have faith in anybody anymore.

i'll be on the water.
you can meet me where it breaks.