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.

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.

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.

Golden

It is a sure thing: Count backwards from 10 and bunny is back to normal. Today I got like a million things to do at work and I'm back in familiar territory: sitting in me living room watching trashy television and making project plans while I decide whether or not I should go to Milk for reggae night.

These are some of the things I excel at: gawking, planning and being wishful.





Also awesome at: random adventures, if they are timed correctly. When Lydia called me on Saturday afternoon I was still in my PJs, watching cartoons and planning my outfits for the week. I sprung into action like a superhero, and was ready to go in a couple hours.

Do not call me when a building is burning. But if there is a last minute party, and I can be fashionably late, I'm your go-to girl.





Everything was golden colored, that day. Our aim was to see the sunset but there were errands on the way. And we tried to get our palms read but the lady, she was not there. False advertising. We thought the whole thing was a bust until we got out to the ocean and saw the giant camera and the sunset and that group of girl scouts who ran over just before the sun dipped out for the rest of the day yelling "we're missing the picture of a lifetime!"

And they were. And we got classy grownup cocktails at the Cliffhouse, afterwards. No, not the girl scouts, silly. Just me and Lyds.




Happy second week of 2009, y'all.

Volcaniclastic

I did not have time to buy sneakers. I sat in an hour long meeting about a budget or a deadline or creativity or some combination of those three things. I did that and by the time I walked out of the office I had like 30 minutes to get ready for the show.

Luckily I had a semi-fresh pair that kinda matched my t-shirt and when I met up with Stef she was looking cute as ever and her little sneakers were inspired, too.

The rest is history, I guess. What a fucking show. I had a lot of fun, I realized that I need to go see live music more often. It takes me past the point where time spent standing in one place doesn't even matter, you know? I'd have stood for 3 hours if he would have just kept on with the classics and the new shit all mixed together. WC was there, and they did some westside Connection stuff and also some very corny song set-ups but I was really just very happy that I went.

I'm pretty sure I will always love Ice Cube. He's like. My 20 year crush. And counting.

So hungover though, off the Goose and cranberry cocktails I was sipping all night. I left leaning and grabbed a cab home like 20 seconds after I got onto the sidewalk. I wrote the dumbest wish list ever here and fell asleep marveling at the uber-softness of these new sheets I got. I slept like a drunken baby. That's deep sleep.

This morning I woke up paying for it and had to rush out of the house to make it to work on time for this departmental powwow thing, except that it was canceled at the last minute. So those extra 30 minutes of sleep were all, "how ya like me now?"

I would have liked them very much. Another argument for a time machine. I'm keeping track of them.

I got normal again at around 1. I don't think I've stopped working since.

Until now. Cause I just missed you so much, boo.

Good night.

Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

Last night my dreams were an extension of real life. I went on a date after work and it ended pretty early, but he stayed with me for most of the night anyways, and that's not so bad. See also: how that is way easier than REALLY spending the night with someone and getting hella sprung on them.

Ha. I could dream my whole life actually, everything would be easier.

I dreamed work stuff too, and woke up ready for adventure.



Today was the company picnic. We crossed the Golden Gate Bridge on tour buses. Me and Cera played Nintendo and then played Mad Libs when the batteries ran out.



It started out grey then got spectacularly blue and clear. And clearer still. We splashed in the water a little. I want to live in a house on the Bay in Tiburon. I want the horizon right there, always.







I want to live in that house on stilts next to the ocean, or one up on the hillside with wraparound windows.

I want a lot.

Which means I have a lot to do. So I guess I'll get cracking on that. Later.

Fever

My cab driver last night was from Sudan. He told me about the Burj Al Arab hotel, which is rated 8 fucking stars and has a massive aquarium restaurant that you travel to in a fake submarine like you're going underwater. I looked it up just now and it's in Dubai and I can't go there and fuck on the beach but how much would I love to go there and take 2-hour baths? Very much.

My Goodness. Could I possibly ever experience everything that I want?

The cabbie asked me if I was good at saving money. I laughed. He said that was okay though, that I should just live it up. He assured me, everything's going to be alright.

I worked last night, and it was pretty awesome. All of these sexy people showed up, and I was dressed like Dorothy Dandridge. I got randomly cheek kissed more than I have a right to and by the end of the night, seriously, I just wanted a culmination to all of the teasing.

Counting money gets me all worked up.



The fever broke eventually, and I passed out fully clothed in my little black riding hood, fishnets and ruby slippers. This morning I woke up with the biggest hangover in recent memory. I drank water until my hands ached from holding the cold glass and passed back out. I had an epic post-fever dream.

My apartment was my apartment now except there was an extra room in it. These dudes were painting it without my permission but when I checked it out I loved what they had done. I started entertaining solely in that room, which featured a massive stuffed gorilla (the plushy kind, not the dead animal kind) that hung out on this awesome chaise lounge big enough for 3 people and fantastic lighting settings. A bunch of colors linked to a dial on the wall that played on the new artwork my uninvited friends had created plus shadows from the sunlight dancing outside.

During my hostessing I had to run a bunch of errands. There happened to be this really awesome store nearby that sold all kinds of prepared food plus toys PLUS clothes PLUS fantastic pastries. I went there many times with my male escort, and I have no idea who he was except that he insisted on answering my door for me and almost turned away this one dude who'd come by just to share champagne with us.

I corrected my bodyguard and let homeboy in.

The end.



And this afternoon I have post-party loathing from drinking too much, I need to solve that with Mexican food and a trip to the fabric store, stat.

Happy Saturday. Believe your eyes AND your dreams.

Pretty Vacant

One man grabbed me and kissed my forehead after I stamped his hand. It soothed me, rather than making me want to deck him. I glowed. Maybe he was my spirit guide.



The only thing about being collectible is every wishful transaction. There's a lot of energy exchanged, I have to drink a bunch to let that much vibe slide off of me.

I drank champagne cocktails end to end last night and taxied home and ate food I don't remember eating and played DS and wrote you a love note and passed out. And this morning. Oh my head.

There were about a hundred little adventures. Quantity over quality. I wore these Dorothy slippers. Ruby Red Mary Janes. I pranced rather than walked, like a pony. And when the world wore on me I just clicked my heels and came home.

Today I'm either going into the office or working at home on some stuff for tomorrow. About the only thing I can make sense of anymore is numbers, so that's fine with me. Ha.

Happy Sunday.



Some people thought she slaughtered this song when her cover came out. I think it's cool that she even performed it. Fuck em.

The Vagabond

Be happy. It's one way of being wise. - Colette

I can be a little destructive. Like a kid when the Legos are about to be taken away. It manifests mostly in my personal life, and is the cause of most of my sleepless nights.

Having said something like that, in good conscience, can I just keep moving forward like it's business as usual?

Then again: do I have a choice?

Faced with times like these. Reckoning times. I either crawl into a shell and meditate or I keep pushing. Frankly, I cannot afford to shell myself up. That's a luxury. So I can only hope I'm getting more graceful, even as I'm making my mistakes. Even as I am having a blast.

I'm in retrograde.




Is there anything more dispiriting than a going out of business sale? Maybe when it's your favorite bookstore, and you walked there from your house all jazzed to shop for new books in this huge and labyrinthine place, you know. And you show up, and there's just one beautiful emo kid working there anymore. There's not even a proper checkout area. There is just this sad folding table and a scale, where they are weighing the books you pick out and charging you 99 cents a pound. There is only one room left of books, in your favorite bookstore.

Yes, that's a little more dispiriting. I found myself standing there in a store that'd shrunken by like two thirds, this shell of a store. And shopped like I always did. I went to the general area I was looking for and then looked at every book on the shelf, one by one. I was looking for Colette, and indeed found a scrapbook filled with pictures and stories of her life. A find. 99 cents. I got a book called "Bitches Ride Alone" simply for the title of it. 99 cents. I got "Molly Dear" which is written from the point of view of a female android who suddenly finds herself able to think about who she is. 2 bucks, because it's thick.

And so on. I was sad I'd walked, but glad as well. I could only get so much. I bought 5 books and carried them home under my arm self-consciously, and by the time I got to my apartment both my wrists ached.




Today I went riding with John and we had lunch at Beach Chalet and realized like halfway through it that the restaurant kinda sucks. The food isn't good, it's not very clean and the service is just so-so. All of this time we've been going there, entranced by the twenty dollar sandwiches into thinking it was a classy experience. It takes the 2 of us there at once to figure out that no, it's not all of that at all.

But the view is lovely. And they serve triple-layer cocktails, too.





Now I'm reading again, avoiding sports on television and preparing for work tomorrow. I swear there is not one area of my life right now where I am not being called to task. Not to be all like, oh my life is so hard. But to illustrate, somewhat at least, my state of mind lately. I feel like all of a sudden I have a lot of decisions to make.

And that makes me really nervous, but really excited too. I think this is where we separate the women from the girls.

Almost everything changes over time. Situations and people and alliances and standards and resources. But there is always a constant viewpoint. Right behind that seems to be the only sure thing, the only thing you can lay any sort of claim to.

If you have faith in that you can make your boldest choices fearlessly.

And if you're really good at it you can be happy, as well.

At least that's how I feel about it today. I'll keep you posted.

Good Day

In the mood for recounting all of my wrongs and mis-steps, today. That makes no sense, but it's cyclical and I feel this way every few weeks since I was a wee girl. My horoscope says I've spent the past 14 years preparing for right now, and I wish I'd known that 14 years ago. Ha.

I'm shaking this with a ride out to the far East for a softball game, plus late lunch with a truly wholesome dread. I'm at a loss, maybe God knows what to do.

Last night rocked so hard. There's one couple I should have let in for half off that I didn't, plus one truly nasty and scrumptious hot dog from a street vendor but other than that it was so well-behaved I was just all around pleased. I ended the night with a great limited edition drunk blog post with all the juicy details that look so harsh in the light of day. I do my best writing with one eye open, ready to pass out.

Maybe that's my problem. I'm not creative when I'm not tortured, or hard-pressed in some way. And if I'm not creative, what the fuck will I turn out to be? Self-centered and egotistical is not a good look. Self-centered, egotistical and fucking genius is at least better than tolerable.

See what I mean? I'm down on me. Blah.

We'll see how today pans out. I'm turning to the heavens for advice now, so you know that means it's serious business.

Good day.

Cause My Freedom Got An AK

Because last night I got the kind of drunk that made me want to write personalized apology notes to everyone I talked to. Well. Tonight I kept it at a level. I had a Grey Goose red Bull to start, then nursed bottles of water for the rest of the night. Grooved in my chair and flirted and did my fuckin job. I asked collected money and chair danced with strangers.

I actually had a blast, that party is deluxe. So many beats and so many hipsters! Little slim boys and thick girls with fresh haircuts. All 12 years my junior in Gucci sweatshirts, gold chains and tight pants. They are growing on me.

And before I left for the club I watched a show on the history channel about bank robbers. Clyde Barrow, for instance, was incredibly hot. So was John Dillinger. And there's a video interview with one of Dillinger's victims in which a woman talks about how well he treated her during a robbery. A little old lady, he put a blanket over her shoulders while he was taking all of the bank's dough.

Bless these little things about us that make us bigger than the sum of our parts. Bless them.

After watching that I went to work and wound up at the Knockout lookin at this:



I want a real life Dillinger. Or a real life Angelina so dope she doesn't need him.

Gnight.

Pushed

Last night started cool but ended weeeeeeeeeak. I met with an artist's rep at like 4 for a glass of wine and to talk about a photo shoot that's coming up, so my night started at 4:30 in the afternoon and I shoulda KNOWN that was a bad sign for things to come.

But I didn't.

Everything felt very rushed and I was sort of in a shitty mood. I shoulda just stayed home and watched television. Instead I went to the Junior High Dance Party and that was actually hella fun and someone even spiked the punch! But then I smoked weed in the bathroom and this man working the venue copped an attitude and pushed me, and it was on from there.

I don't do pushing well. I don't do getting pushed by dudes well. I don't really do that at all, actually.

I was so mad y'all. I think I called him a bitch like 15 times.

Oh. My aching head.

So yeah. I got kicked out of the Junior High Dance Party for smoking weed in the bathroom. Somehow, that is poetic and exactly the correct ending for a night like that.

Dunno if I'll be invited to the next one, though. Ha!

I came home in a cab and my cabbie was nice enough to get good and angry right along with me. We yelled and hollered about how unfair the whole world is, in that way that only a drunk and a cabbie can do together. How dare that man push me! How dare they eject me! How dare all of my friends not side with me!

Oh, it was kind of beautiful.

But oh. My aching head.

Today I'm getting my ride washed, taking off the top and going to the East Bay to play pool, I think.

Tonight I'm working a door. There is like zero chance I'll pop off at security and get into a fight tonight, I like those odds.

But first things first I need food. Like grits and biscuits and bacon and eggs and a gallon and a half of sweet iced tea. I'd like to fly to NOLA for that but I'm gonna have to settle for Eddie's, today. Wish me luck.

Happy Saturday!

I'D LIKE TO SEE WHAT'S GOOD

In honor of this new space, I've got mostly images tonight. I have so much to do before I go to bed, you'll pardon me for not being too poetic right now, yah?


Lacking extra dough, I spent the weekend outdoors. Crazy hot even out by the water, this weekend. I worked on my tan and read bell hooks. Yesterday I went to the beach.







We lightweight got sprung on this Japanese chick. She looked like she came out of a drawing or something. Just very. Untouched and a little snotty. John tried to holler and got shot down. Still though. She was a peach.







Friday night there was this thing after work. I ended up at butter drinking bootleg rum and eating crepes. Plus getting free shit. I'm not sure how that happened, but I didn't pay for anything. I was really cute though, my boots matched the venue.







Today we went to Pacifica. This lounge called Nick's is about 10 feet from where the waves break. You can drink appletinis there on a Sunday, and spend as much time as you like doing whatever comes to mind in a place like that. We got stoned and played cards.















I decided today: I'd rather date a rough boy who's scared to go nice places than a nice boy who's scared to go rough places.






But the best case scenario is that no one's scared to go anywhere, you know?

Here's my new favorite video. Thanks Stef!


Ugh. Real life kicks back in tomorrow, hardcore. So wish me luck. xoxoxo.