Time Machine: Lost My Seat Again 3/19/09

[THIS WAS A VIDEO FOR A YEAH YEAH YEAHS SONG THAT DOESN'T EXIST ONLINE ANY LONGER. BOOO DRM.]

Love love love this song, for like, ever. Just recently though, I found the video. It's everything I hoped it would be. Ha.

Okay it takes me a very long time to get past things. I attribute this to the fact that I'm super sensitive, but also to the fact that it takes me so long to get into something in the first place.

There are all of these walls. I have to break them down one by one to even get excited about something.

Ironically, I'm usually only about halfway through that process before I have to start building them again. But it still takes a very long time.

Me and my bricks and my mortar. And my love songs. And jazzy outfits.

We'll be here building this wall again, thanks.

The good thing about how long it takes is that once it's done, it's done. I'm bullet proof again. That has its pros and cons, but overall I'm pleased to be able to be flippant about it.

Once the walls are back up I can start coming up with smartass responses and janky metaphors.

For instance: a few days ago my boy gave me shit about how quick my last relationship was. He squinted his eyes to make the whole thing seem smaller, but accidentally blinked and it turned into dust.

I corrected him. You see, he shouldn't have bothered to even narrow his eyes since it was dust to begin with. Flim-flam! Tomfoolery! Someone else's fucked up idea of high jinks.

Pretty funny when you see it that way, right? Let's call it a practical joke, like someone prank called my whole fucking life.

Hilarious.

*********

Tonight these people came from Facebook to my job. We spent an hour or so listening to them talk and that was cool, but better was the free drinks we got after. I sat at a table with the cool kids and got to' up.

Now I'm here. Instead of at the reggae club. This is just as well since I'm in the mood for trouble.

*********

Last night I dreamed I was hanging out with Snoop Dogg. We walked all around town arm in arm looking for his car. We were gonna drive to the top of a hill and watch the sunset, smoke some reefer.

We never got that far. But searching for it was pretty fuckin pleasing, in any case.

I hope tonight I dream about Method Man. And tomorrow: Benicio Del Toro.

Soon my waking life will be just as adventurous and romantic, yes? But I'm in no rush.

I'm busy here in my jazzy outfits, repainting the walls I just finished rebuilding. They'll be as gorgeous as ever, they will glimmer in the sunlight.

You've never seen walls as gorgeous as mine.

Ha.



I hope you've had a good night.

Good night.

Most Quiet Need

Best not to snap your neck trying to tell someone all of the different ways that you love them. Even if you are trying to be poetic, or save the moment, or get them to have sex with you. I'm telling you this because I know it. That sort of inventory never pays off because:

a) y'all two have totally different definitions of what love is, that is guaranteed
b) to top that you also both have totally different definitions of yourselves, which makes things even more complicated

So it's all wah wah wah wah like Charlie Brown's teachers. Realize now that true communication of what you are feeling isn't possible. It's just not. Not yet.

Some day though I'll be able to plug my brain into your brain, or vice versa. Some day we'll both get to feel the same things at the same exact time. That will end some of the alone-ness, but then we'll find that isolation takes place in other ways. Because that's being human and that trumps everything else.



All day lately I've been thinking about the Future. With a capital "F", as in everyone's. Not just what I'm going to wear tomorrow, or whether or not I'm going to order katsu from the sushi place when I get home from work.

The real future. What's that actually gonna be like?

For now I have a fishnet obsession, and my sneaker collection is growing. And did I tell you? That job I took that was just a contract turned full-time this week. Cause they like me. They really like me.

Do I like me?

Working on that.

In the meantime it is just hustle, and one foot in front of the other. And negotiations and predictions and educated guesses and calculated risks. And jazzy outfits.

xoxoxo.

Sleep Well.

There's Not a Problem My Squad Can't Fix

I dare you to make sense of this:

Last night I dreamed I was at a Busta Rhymes concert, in the very front row. He was totally giving me the eyeball, you know how that happens when you're in the front row at a rap show? Like, total vibing that feels completely on front street?

Dream me was all a-flutter. He kept winking and stuff, and giving me smiles.

Then Spliff Star announces that it's time for Busta to pick some girls to go up on stage with him. I get terrified, cause I know he's gonna pick me and I don't do that. I'm trying to duck out, but there's too many people around me.

Sure enough, he hops right off of the stage and comes up to me. I am ready to be mortified, expecting him to pull me up on the stage and start furiously grinding my ass or something. But he offers me his arm, boyfriend style. Swoon.

I take it and he walks me through the venue. I think we're going to pick out some more girls. Instead, he leads me up some stairs to a VIP area, sits down and then commands me to sit on his lap. Which I do. And we watch the rest of the concert from the balcony. It is deluxe.

End Scene.

*********

I am the consummate professional today. Checking things off of my list and wearing a power tie, even. Things are picking up, but not as quickly as I'd like. I'm still a little distracted, too.

*********



Colette of the solemn expression, the ghost writer. She says:

Rightly or wrongly, I need to respect, to be a little afraid of the man I love. I was a stranger to fear for as long as I was a stranger to love and I should have liked both to have come together.

And I fall back in my bed, swooning over how elegant she makes her obsessions sound. It is sweet instead of perverse, the way she puts it. I am charmed forever.

*********

I finished my black mini skirt last night, it's fuckin ADORABLE. Next up is a hot pink gauzy sweater, and maybe a jacket or something. I'll keep you posted. XO.

This House Just Aint No Home

How I know that I am in a state is that I got a sack earlier. Drove all the way across town to meet some boy in a parking lot in Hunter's Point. He was in my car for 5 minutes and we hugged before saying goodbye.

Then the whole drive home I was distracted by the smell of his cologne.

The last time I made out with a boy I wore my little dress to bed because it was scented like him. I dreamed him all night and woke up sprung.

Doesn't matter either way. I'm impressionable. So impress me, you know?

I guess that I am boy crazy. Now and always. I'm either crazy about a bunch of boys or crazy for one boy. Beyond reason. But not beyond self-preservation. Which is how I can stand here before you and speak on it.

Are you following? Or am I getting too flowery and rambling? I am trying to be poetic about a thing that is very base.

Fact is that I probably just need to get laid, then I will quit all of this fantasizing and acting like I'm deep. Then I will be back to business, as fresh as ever.

But the whole process of that. Finding someone to fuck, or even to play Scrabble with me on my couch. So treach! So trifling! So tiresome! I'd rather do my budgets and schedules.

And oh. I have so many of those. Advertising has seasons, and this is the busiest season of the year. I could work 12 hour days every day and still not get everything done. I do. And I don't. And that kind of turns me on, too.

So doing work makes sense. Even when I'm getting hung up on the smell of the herbsman's cologne. I'm thinking. Could be worse. Instead of doing spreadsheets and longing for a snuggle, I could be trying to make spiritual sense of some dude I met at a fucking nightclub. Ha.

As if.

None of that. I'll know when I'm ready. And it's not now. I can hold out a little while longer.

Laters. TGIF.

Brava

Con su permiso.

I think it's the sort of thing that needs to be shared. It's those little stories that make us immortal.

Standing in front of a club talking to the incredibly cute and incredibly broke and sexy boys I'd been working with all night. They were questioning my policies about who I date, what my priorities and dreams are. One of them asked me, after a night in a twenty-five thousand dollar suite, what I would have that was of any value.

"A golden, shining memory." Smile.

Isn't that all we ever have? Of anything?

When you lose someone or something, and you feel that loss dearly, you can choose to tend those places inside of you that still hold them. If that's your style, it can be a beautiful project. A garden in their honor with no boundaries, as you're sending little tendrils of it out into the world with your word and picture stories.

Sometimes they will come alive again with a flash of your eyes, you'll do something that so directly comes from that place that it will seem to possess you. That is a huge gift.

I'm working on my garden for my grandparents. Thank you for reminding me how important that is. I have to put it right up there with all of my other golden, shining memories.

I'm praying for NOLALouisianaall of us right now, I hope all of you are as well.

Yeah I Might Be Trippin But I Feel Terrific

So tonight after like 4 shots of Patron with my comrades. I'm thinking. Well. ANYONE is lovely if you catch them from the right angle. That's actually pretty common.

Shocking to find that I'm more interested in the true tests of romantic love these days. The idea of seeing someone beyond all of the veils. Beyond their Representative. Sick, or untrusting, or angry. Vicious. Seeing someone through a moment like that and right back into the bright circles that we maintain for the people we are really down for. Seeing someone through those unattractive moments and back into the golden glow again.

I think that is what love is.

Not that I would know. Not that I've ever seen anything like that.

But it's so easy to point out, from over here.

In other news:



Yeah I should not love Wayne. He's childish and self-destructive and prone to busting out vocoder stylings, which you know I hate.

But there is something very honest and articulate about him. So I am enamored.

Drunk as fuck Imma go to sleep now.

Night.

Both in the Club High Singing Off Key

And I wiiiiish I neeeeva met her at all

But Fuck that maudlin shit. But also, you'll have to forgive it. I've been really strict with myself lately about how I spend my time, last night I took a break from that and had a thimble full of white wine after work with my comrade. The rest is history.

Luckily in my older age I've learned that when I'm feeling particularly restless like that. Like any snuggle would do. That means it's time to go home and shake my tiny fist up to the heavens some more. This too shall pass. It's nothing major.

What IS major is that my head is flooded with pop music today. I love this:




I'm working tonight. And tomorrow night too. Some slick and stylish boy hired me for both of his parties.

And today? There was an envelope filled with cash on my keyboard, cause I gave Thais her jacket a couple days ago.

Plus it's hot as blazes.

I love this Friday.

Turned My Back And Then You Slipped Me a Mickey

In my head he is like. Ten feet tall.

Coming to realize tonight that I've got this one dude in my head that I want. And no matter who else or what else I encounter. Dreamy boys or career opportunities or boys who offer adventure. If it's not him, it does not register.

I feel numb. I feel like half a woman.

Love and fixation are different things though. I'm trying to understand the difference between the two and shake these blinders off.

Turns out the whole world is waiting on my arrival, as well.

A Cowboy's Work Is Never Done

It's a sad fact: the days of the tough guy with a heart of gold are over. I guess it's simply not fashionable, anymore.

I Said: A Queen Leads Them All

And I meant that.

Tonight I'm reminiscing, because I'm staying in Santa Monica next week during a shoot for work. It's kind of a big deal and I begged and pleaded and it's really a blessing that I get to go, but so crazy to be back there again. Three years later. When so much went down the last time I stayed there.

I didn't pick the hotel, mind you, the lady producing the photo shoot did. And it's near the studio and everything. But all of that white and green and that endless ocean...

The only thing different this time aside from the lack of boy is that I've got hot pink luggage. It's lo-budget but I've stenciled my monogram on it, so it's *frashe*.

Hot tonight. In San Francisco even. Right now. Warm like summertime somewhere landlocked. Just still and warm.

I went to Il Pirata earlier on a dutch-date/errand, and found myself explaining to a boy my whole philosophy on boys, if you could call it that. And halfway through it I realized maybe I don't believe any of that shit any more. Thinking maybe it does not pay to act like I believe in anything, when so much is up for grabs and so many things are proving to be false.

But then I finished my bottled water, copped a sack, and headed back home in time to grab a taco off a truck and pop some popcorn, plus roll a spliff. Before anything ridiculous and out of character could jump off. I know my limits.

And now. I'm going to bed.

I'm waiting for something truly magical to happen.

Aren't you too?

Scraps

My last boyfriend was an artist. Of the cement variety. I begged him for like a solid year to make something, anything, in my honor. Wifey shit, I guess. He wouldn't even draw my name on a piece of paper. Too much magic, maybe? Or I was not his wifey, after all.

I found myself collecting scraps he left around my house while working on other projects. Single letters he'd cut out with an x-acto knife and discarded, or left laying on my living room floor. I'd uncrumple them and put them on my walls.

All this to say: I am resourceful, if not inspirational. Today seems to be calling on that quality like, tenfold.

I slept so good last night I didn't even bother to dream, but I woke up with all of these thoughts, instead.

*********

On another hand:

I love Sirius because they'll randomly play this shit on a Friday morning

A SHOPPING BAG FULL OF LOVE

I halfway care and I halfway do not care that the world is a really fucked up place.

Sometimes I think I need a real life superhero to save the day.

I'LL GIVE YOU CANDY, GIVE YOU DIAMONDS, GIVE YOU PILLS

I'll give you anything you want, hundred dollar bills

I'm hella ambitious. To the point almost of distraction, where nothing else matters as long as I'm getting further. This is surely a flaw, but I don't care to fix it at the moment. Instead I'm working on doing more sit ups every day and eating my vegetables.

A woman needs to have priorities. "Perfect" can't really be one of them.

But that doesn't keep me from trying. I'm all about blowing everyone's mind.

And I'm getting the same ambitious vibe from homeboy. My date, or whatever. He's sitting next to me at this shitty bar where everything is covered in dust. I invited him here because it's safe and no one knows either of us. And that's requisite for hanging out with dudes I don't know well. Neutral territory. Some shit we can both write off if we have to, pretend we never hung out there.

And anyway, it doesn't matter where we are cause I'm busy falling into this joker's crystal blues and mostly just listening. He's all swagger and balling, and that's just the way I like them. So he talks and talks and I nod and nod, picturing all of this freaky stuff I want to do with him. Thinking I could spend like an hour counting the freckles on his right arm.

The ambition, the crystal blues, that gangster vibe. All of it puts me in a bit of a trance, really.

Then he does this move I haven't seen in years. Some drunk kids are a few feet away from us mugging it up for the cameras. They switch positions you know, so we're all of a sudden the background of the last picture they take, in their picture whether we want to be or not. Slick as anything, I notice homeboy put his hand up to his face right before the flash goes off like. No pictures, please. Super casual so you wouldn't know what he was doing unless you're savvy to that kind of shit.

I am. I fell instantly in love.

And I haven't fell out since, which is a little absurd if you want to know the truth.

But I told you. Ambitious. To the point of distraction. About everything, I guess.

*********

Tonight I'm drinking margaritas at Chevy's, then going home to work out like a good girl.

Friday night there's a Junior High Dance Party and everyone knows I need only the smallest excuse to bust out a side ponytail and minidress, so it's finna be on.

Saturday night I'm working the door at Booty Bassment. Holler at me if you want insies. XOXOXOXOXOXOXO.