I Just Crush A Lot

Have I shown you this? My Punisher belt buckle. Without a doubt it's one of the best things that I own. It's pretty much the only belt I ever wear, anymore. Black tie affairs, job interviews, pool parties, weddings. It's aces.

I've been up since 4 thinking maybe I'd get back to sleep, but I got into this argument with my guy last night and he gave me keys to the street - so it's not exactly sweet dreams time for me.

That said, I'm off work til Monday and I have freedom and youth on my side, so I'm gonna roll it til the wheels fall off.

Fuck em if they can't take a joke.

I'm attempting to make bold moves lately. I have until next Wednesday to decide on my new place, so in the meantime I'm just hustling to get shit done. Change is required, no matter what.

First off, I hired a lady to help me go through all of the shit in my old place. I had no idea how much I owned. Seriously. I gave away bags and bags of stuff and threw away even more. We're only halfway done.

Secondly, I got some badass boots and started walking again. Oakland has that going for it in spades. I've walked all over this town, so it's no thing to just get up and start trekking without any concrete idea about where I want to end up. Saturday I hit the hill by the new crib and once I crested it I was in the Rose Garden - I'd forgotten it was there.

This picture does not do it justice, but try to imagine walking up a steep ass hill and kinda wanting to die from exhaustion and then reaching a park like this. It felt like a "thank you" from my spirit boots.

 

Like that. But more magical cause of the actual sunlight and warmth and panoramic roses and whatnot.

I clocked 5 miles strolling through the park then hitting up Grand and Lakeshore, trying to figure out how much of the Oakland I left 10 years ago is still intact.

It's hanging in there, but it's not looking good for Chocolate City. Every fourth person on the street is wearing an ironic tee shirt. There goes the fuckin neighborhood.

 

Speaking of irony. That up there is not a Cheat, but it is a selfie. This is what I look like when I've gotten some rest and feel a little flirty. And just *maybe* a bit tipsy.

I'm not always sporting baseball caps and a haggard expression, is what I'm getting at here.

Vanity: 1, Journalistic Integrity: 0.

And speaking of rest, I hadn't gotten more than 3 hours of sleep a night for the past 2 weeks until last weekend. On the night after my walk? I slept like a goddamn baby for 10 hours.

I'm convinced that walking 3-5 miles a day will cure all that ails me. Maybe even my indecision.

I'm getting used to the tiny pink room.

Did I mention that my new bed is about 3 feet off the ground? Yeah. I gotta jump into it. That's pretty cool.

And what am I gonna do in here besides sleep and pick out some of my outfits?

Lay in bed and write letters to you, that's what. I don't need 300 square feet to do that. Just my extra tall bed, my new tree friend and maybe some Xanax.

These things can be easily accessed.

So all in all, I suppose I'm ready for a brand new life. Just takes some getting used to.

Staccato Sunday

I only feel the need to type in fits and starts. This is mostly images. I'm mostly caught in camera flashes, or on smoke breaks. I throw the peace sign too often. I'm really not that peaceful.



I'm hanging out with my 13 year old niece a lot. She blows my mind, I have to think a mile a minute to keep up with her. Yesterday she showed me all of her myspace friends. Like 4 girls and 5 million boys.



I asked one hundred questions. I would have asked more, but there were old people in the room. I realized there's a lot I should probably be talking to her about. Stuff that I'm really the only one in a great position to address.





Main rule: Any question I ask her. Any question at all. She has the option of mirroring back at me before she answers it. I promise not to ask her anything I wouldn't be willing to tell her about myself. I want us both on even ground. I want her to have everything.




And we laugh a lot. Her little boyfriend's name is Jake. I call him Jake the Great, and tell her how I'm going to show up on one of their hangout sessions to talk about tampons and High School Musical.





And I don't have words for how pretty she is. I catch myself just staring at her. She has no idea. None at all. And I suppose this is the way it always goes. I remember my auntie looking at me the same way.





So there is that. And also this daily effort to get Better at life. I hate the idea of stagnating, refusing to improve. If there exists a ladder, and I'm going to bother to be on it, I'm finna climb it, reach the top, then find another ladder.

That's my style.




But still: lots to do that I'm not doing. So much sewing to do! So much writing, as well. I'm supposed to be making my Real Life in my spare time but instead I think I'm mingling and enjoying free cocktails and figuring out different ways to cross and uncross my legs.

But you know, every fucking thing a person does can be Art. If you don't agree you're just lazy.

Or uninspired.

Happy Sunday. I have to be to work at 7 AM tomorrow for this major thing that's happening, wish me luck okay?

Surplus

The sweet dreams paid off. Today went swell, nothing major just that I got everything done that I needed to.

I'm kicking this off with a ridiculously cute picture of a kitten, just because I can.



There. Satisfaction. His name is Lemon Drop.

From here on out I could say anything and this would still be worth your time.



I have an insane amount of pictures from my new camera. Not sure if it was an upgrade, really. But it's black and sleek, and fits in my back pocket.

So I take it everywhere. I have more pictures than I need.



Yesterday I spent 3 hours shopping with Liz. She has an event and we were picking out clothes to make her look fierce and on the way I was looking for something to wear to work. She settled on sexy riot boots and fishnets. I settled on a white shirt with a panda on the front.

I like to gloss under black lights. It makes me feel like a scene out of Belly.



Thursday night I went with Rachel and Robin to the Academy of Sciences to listen to DJs and look at exhibits. There was expensive food there, and I drank chardonnay and made funny faces at the fish.

I found a million little things of interest. These are just the CliffsNotes.



Not that it matters, but I couldn't possibly keep it all in mind. Everything I read. I appreciate the grandness of that place. The high ceilings and the sounds and the smells. At night it's even better, it was like a fantastic cocktail party with an albino alligator and an indoor rain forest.

There was even upside down jellyfish. Score.



See what had happened was we had someone take a picture of us standing in front of a moody blue fish tank, and Robin and I really loved it. But Rachel didn't. Luckily I'd been snapping photos of Rachel being fresh in front of the multicolored amazon fish so it was pretty easy to find a better picture.

I photoshopped cute Rachel on top of janky Rachel when I got home that night. Drunk.



Ta daaaaaaaaaa.

I went to the comic book store today. My head is filled with all kinds of impossible pictures. That should make dreaming pretty fun. I'll keep you posted.

Get Brand New

A new camera is like Christmas morning. Or birthday evening. Except that for 5 minutes I had it on some setting that made everything look like brush strokes instead of real life.

I'm rendering myself fuzzy.



Happy though. These pictures are all red and golden but trust that was the atmosphere and not the camera. I was taking pictures of everything even remotely interesting to look at.

I'm adding to my collection.



Hot as blazes in Frisco today. I went out for brunch pretty early then came home and draped myself over furniture trying to find a position that wasn't too steamy feeling. It was a sweaty dance. I gave up and hit the beach.

When it cooled down enough I went out to play pool.



Tonight I'm wishing more than ever that I lived in an Oakland high rise with a swimming pool on the roof. I'd be super brown and fit and well rested right now, instead of dreading another sweaty day.

All I can think of lately is an upgrade. I wonder if I'll ever stop wanting more? And if I did, would that just bore the hell out of me?



Probably.

Night.

The Maven of Funk Mutation

Working doors I am shocked almost every night by the number of people that I don't know. It's hard to explain. It's just this whole other world.

Everyone is so pretty and I'm so naive that I take them at face value.



-

And that makes you laugh, right? The idea of me as some babe in the woods? I'm so fucking grown!

But still, somehow - and maybe it's because I am so unsuccessful when it comes to fitting right in - somehow everything feels brand new to me every single time.





And while it sucks to stick out like a sore thumb I'll fucking *fight* to maintain that fresh perspective, that novelty status. I want to be as brand new to you as you are to me. Every time.

Drop everything you are up to so that I can tell you how awesome you are in like a million ways I haven't thought of until just now. And so that you can talk about my outfit or feed me exotic candies.

Thanks.





Otherwise what is there? A bunch of same old day in and out shit, nothing worth writing a poem or novel about. Nothing worth chiseling into marble.

And fuck that.

I like epic so much better.

Noise

I try to see The Big Picture but I end up focusing on specifics. I can't pull my attention away from whatever happens to catch my eye.

This happens in all situations. It is a gift and a curse.



Dancehall



Fuck You



I smile when I'm angry.
I FUCK YOU UP THE ASS REGARDLESS

*********

I spent Sunday afternoon watching a litter of kittens. That's a whole other story though, so more on that later. With pictures!

Tonight: I'm working at one of my favorite weeklies. I'm happy and ready to get brand new.

Laters.

Life On Earth

I went to brunch at the Cliff House today, for the novelty of it. But my stupid camera broke last night so I only have cameraphone pictures. They are barely worth sharing. For instance, there was a girl sitting on the rocks here, but you can't even see her.





I met Deb when I was producing photo shoots for my job. She's an artist's agent and I love to hang out with her because she's got great stories and a super relaxed attitude. Her spirit is young and she has a lot of freedom. It's charming.





She told me today that she once went on a cruise from New York to London, and David Bowie was on the boat. There were a lot of parties. Jeez.





I punked out today on the shooting range. Is that shocking? I'm kind of a nerd when it comes to things I've never done before, it's not the prettiest side of me. I won't ever be as free as Deb is with an attitude like that, I know. It's tricky, though.





Working on it. But last night I went kind of hard and tonight I am just preparing all of this stuff for Monday. Work is fun but it is no grand adventure. It is no transatlantic cruise with David Bowie, that's for sure.

I'll be free soon enough.

Her Hardest Hue to Hold

I'm running out of new fantastic configurations to put my hair into. And to let you know how my mind works: that makes me want to cut it all off, even though I *know* that would actually result in me having less options. Word.

Just once more. Five minutes. A fortnight. With a kicky little bob.





If you want to hear me squeal and laugh, and we're at some sort of sports event and everyone is drinking beer. Bring me a burgundy can of sparkling wine that comes with a matching straw. Yeah. Sofia Coppola, you're savvy.

$6 a can. What a smart fucking idea.

Selling it, not buying it. Ha.





My friend did an impression of the look on my face when Hatton got knocked out. I was distressed. I wanted that fight to end like, 2 minutes into round 1. I just kept drinking champagne through a little straw and occasionally covering my eyes, though.

It didn't end much later than that, in any case.





I've been reading Cheri before bed, it's giving me wild dreams.

Heaven Holds A Place For Those Who Pray

Hey hey hey.

I'm writing this with a hot cup of tea and an optimo. It's late.

Last night I had a work thing after work, and then we went out for a hundred Italian appetizers and wines I couldn't pronounce, and as I was heading home Lyssie texted me that she was going to Club Six.

That's where I ended up, and got to sleep at 3 or so? I had to be to work at 8:30.

All this to explain why I came home from work to take a 3 hour nap and wake up too late to call anyone, but too early to go straight to bed.

And all of that to explain why I am here.





I'm watching The Graduate, with the sound mostly off. There's this 5 or 10 minute music video, right in the middle of it, after he has sex with Mrs. Robinson for the first time. I turned the sound on for that.

Everything else up til then is just smokey glances and cigarettes and oh my gosh. Where did she ever get so many lovely bra and half-slip combos? Leopard and giraffe prints. Sparkling ones. Jeez.

In the beginning, most of the movie is that she's draping herself over furniture in those outfits, exhaling cigarette smoke really loudly with this awesome punk rock hairdo. She's insane and everything but it's pretty fucking fantastic to behold.





Like Scarface, I really only like this movie up to a certain point. Now they are laying in bed and arguing about whether or not he's going to date her daughter. All. Bad. From here on out I find it tedious and a little draining.

When that happens. And it is a movie. You can just turn the channel, flip the switch. Like I am doing right now.

When that happens. And it is real life. Whole other motherfucking story.

Well. It *should* be. Ha.





My girl told me today that she would make me a website if I'd take my creativity more seriously. She's top notch, and that is a super generous offer. So now I have to take one of the classes I've been telling myself I would take for the last year, but not taking.

I need to understand better how to make something from scratch.

I'll sleep on it.

Night.

Friday, I'm in Love

Now that I don't feel like I have to be profound or intimate here. Well. It's a whole different ballgame. I just want it to be pretty. That's enough, right?



It was enough for this elevator.

Highlights from this week include seeing Dave Chappelle on Thursday. I couldn't possibly tell you anything that happened that night without losing things in the transition from reality through my head and on to this page, so I'll leave it at that.



I took Friday off and walked around the lake with Alyssa. It was breezy and we didn't make it all the way around cause she had to go to work, but it was a total blast. I miss Oakland.



We were major concerned with the lack of railing here. Sketch, right?



Haha. I really miss Oakland.



I finished my hoodie today.

Last night I worked at Milk and it was awesome. It was an 80s party and I developed a whole new respect for The Cure after watching their videos on loop all night long. Jeez.

Robert Smith was wearing skinnies and massive sneakers long before it was some hipster shit. With lipstick!

Sigh. I do so love a trailblazer.



I was feeling lonely and motherless today, I felt like no one could possibly understand me. So I went to Green Apple Books on Clement to look for Colette. Her words are the closest I've ever felt to home.



Sales like this are awesome. Dollar books. But they intimidate me for some reason. I can't possibly look through all of them. I can't possibly read everything I want to buy.

I went inside to where everything was arranged in nice rows alphabetically and found Cheri. I'm very happy.



Afterwords I got dim sum and ate it in the street.

Tonight was semi-wild. Next week will be more so. I haven't slept more than 4 hours over the past 3 days, I'm gonna dream so deep tonight that I'll be feeling it for the rest of the week.

Night.

I want the sneakers he's wearing in this one.