Tuesday, October 7, 2008

The toothpaste lands in the sink when you spit. You turn off the water and move to walk away. Then you remember. You walk back to the sink and, with one lonely finger under the tap, you wipe away the dot left behind. You stare at the spot that might never have been real. You shake your head. You wonder why it matters anyway. 

You walk into the bedroom where you have traded one set of keys for another. You think back to the spot. You never deserved that first set of keys anyway. The little blue dot. You walk back into the bathroom. You half wish it was still there. It's easier to wipe something clean when you can still see it clearly. You consider brushing again, maybe try to recreate the spot. You shake your head again. You tell yourself to let it go. It's just a spot. it's just a tiny, little spot. Easily removed, easily replaced. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

You go to sleep, in the morning there will be new brushes and teeth and spots to wipe clean.

Friday, October 3, 2008

LIke jesus, only better

The hallway was dark, illuminated only slightly by the red light coming off of a near by neon sign. I was itching to leave. The bugs that crawl under my skin had come alive with a vengeance. I had to leave. It wasn't until I was halfway down the hallway that I saw them. I could feel the cold sweat settling in on their hot upper lips, the red light making the wet beads look like splatters of blood. Before I could cover my ears the grinding of their teeth obliterated my eardrums. These are the kind of people you want to run away from as much as you want to help. I needed to leave.

"Leaving so soon?"

The bugs were really dancing then. I knew I had to answer or he'd keep pushing.

"Yes. Right now."

I grabbed my girl and made a forward motion that can only be called walking if one is feeling particularly generous. It looked more like a fumbling false start in an olympic race. He took advantage of my stumble and blocked our way. When was the last time he had a shower?

"It's so good to see you."

"Do I know you?" was what I wanted to say but I happen to be a fan of propriety.

"Um... yeah. You too."

He looked familiar, but only in a vague, blurry sort of way. Out of nowhere "Somebody That I Used to Know" started playing on a loop inside my brain. The bugs always loved Elliott Smith. He started rubbing his nose and snapping his fingers. This, I could tell, was a problem. Clearly, it meant that he was having a wonderful time and no one was going anywhere. His girlfriend was shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She was so busy trying to pretend that she too was having a wonderful time that she didn't notice the little bit of white powder left on her right nostril. Yes, darling, you are clearly having a wonderful time.

A crowd had gathered in the hallway, a minor traffic pile up. The bugs had spread. Everyone was tired. The night was over. Chattering had given way to yawns and the signing of credit card slips. The angry mob behind us was growing larger. He didn't notice. To him it was a captive audience. He used his considerable girth to block the way out. He smiled his best mayoral smile and started shaking hands. He smelled faintly of baby laxative.

"Where's your boyfriend?" He leered at me.

"I don't have one, but this is my girlfriend."

"I see, no man could compare to me, eh?"

I assumed the elbows he jabbed into my sides were an attempt at camaraderie.

"You know, you're a classic, strong woman. You belong in a different era."


The only person he made sense to was himself. He failed to notice that he had sprouted four heads, which was surprising given that he seemed to be checking out his hair in our pupils. The bugs are uncomfortable with multi-headed persons and as such I feared they would burst out of my skin, which is never pleasant, what with the bits of epidermis, pus and blood that tend to get everywhere.

The crowd from the back had had enough. They were pushing to get out, lest their skin burst as well.

The force was enough to push us past him and into the street where it was safe. I saw a blur of moving lips as I rushed by. It wasn't until we had burst into the open and the dull roar had died to a sharp hum that I  heard him talking to his lady.

"You know I'm a teacher. Like Jesus, only better."

I looked back for her reaction, but he wasn't talking to his lady. There was no lady. There was only him. Alone, talking to a brick wall. I wondered how long he would stand there. I wondered if he would die there. I recognized him then. I started to go back in after him, as I had so many times before, but this time it was too late. My only option was to save myself. I turned my back and walked away.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

a little update and a warning....

I know I said cremories, but that wasn't true. Posting will commence again tomorrow. new and not so new format and stuff. Stay tuned and check back tomorrow. and a big xo to anyone who still checks this thing.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Oh fuck it

It is what it is... and I just can't stay away.

I have a new musical obsession. 

I think this is their most recognizable song, but you don't really get the full power of their live performance on this video. You get the idea.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

I'm done for a little while

I am taking a break and getting this back to what it was originally supposed to be. Thanks for reading and I hope to see you soonishly.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

here's a little story for ya....
One day, in a far away land, a little girl was skipping stones with her little frog friend, holding a lollipop and singing to herself. The frog suggested they go swimming. "But I don't know how," said the girl. "Don't worry, just jump and as soon as you hit the water I will grab your hand and we will swim together." She was afraid but she trusted her friend. She closed her eyes and jumped. As she sputtered and struggled and did her best to keep afloat she reached around for the frog. He wasn't there. She popped herself up and wiped her eyes just enough to see his back as he walked away. "Hey! I thought we were in this together!" He called back over his shoulder, "Sorry kid, I knew you wouldn't jump if i told you I was leaving. You'll have to do this one on your own. I hope you don't drown." And with that, he was gone.
She panicked for a minute. She saw her life flash before her eyes. She sucked in enough water to drown the titanic. Then she stretched out fully, waiting to die, and found that her toes could touch the bottom. She was really only a few feet deep. She splashed a little closer to shore, where she stood up and felt rather silly. She slopped out of the water. She picked her lollipop up from the bank where she had dropped it and skipped away. 

* Sometimes, when you're sure you're drowning and alone, you just have to reach out a little further than you think you can to find that you can stand on your own two feet just fine.

Monday, September 1, 2008

helloooo september!

You came not soon enough! August was a tough one, suffering seemed to be the rule rather than the exception for most people I know. The last couple of days though have taken a turn upward and I have a really good feeling about september. Grab a surfboard and run on in when the waves come, they won't knock you down so easily then.  Here's to the lifting of the clouds!

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Remember how I was wondering how things ended up where they did? Well, I had a thought this morning regarding the shoes by the side of the road. I was walking through an alley and I saw a sock and shoe and I heard an ex-boyfriend's words in my head, "Baby, please be careful or you're going to lose a shoe one of these days." That was his way of telling me not to get hit by a car, since it seems that, most of the time, when a body gets hit my a car with enough force, they always lose a shoe. See, I have this bad habit of marching across the street like a polar bear crossing penguins, thinking, fuck them if they don't stop. So far I've been okay, but the people close to me are always a bit nervous about my little habit. Assuming all of that is true then that would explain the shoes by the side of the road. People getting hit by cars. It's not nearly as interesting anymore.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

have you ever been knocked down by a wave and then, when you've barely crawled up to your knees, another one comes along and wipes you out? Well, i have a friend who this keeps happening to and given the current emotional climate for a lot of folks I thought I would like to put it out there for anyone else. Hold tight, stand strong as best you can and remember to breathe.

Friday, August 29, 2008

I hope it's not contagious...

My coffee maker is sick. It threw up grinds and half brewed coffee all over the stove. I forced it to show up for work though, by pouring it through a second filter into my cup. I don't recommend it.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Who loves tacos?

So here in L.A. there was an ordinance passed a while back that forbid our beloved taco trucks from staying in one place for more than an hour. Said ordinance has been over turned. The L.A. Times, our joke of a local paper, has the article here.
It cites business owners who said that their customers are being driven away and that they are on the "brink of bankruptcy". Maybe someone should tell them that, if they are losing business to a roach coach, the problem might just be their crummy food and not the little people just trying to make a living.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

What is it with lesbians and kelly clarkson? More specifically, what is it with lesbians and "Since U Been Gone"? It seems like everytime there is a large congregation of lezzies and that song comes on they go ape shit and jump up and down and scream along. I downloaded the song for research and I just don't get it. I even put it on in my living room and jumped up and down and did my best to go ape shit but really was just kind of, "eh". Maybe there is something I'm missing. I put it on to the car and sang along, yes the words have been burned into my brain. A girl at the office where I used to work loved it and would play it on repeat through out the day. I wanted to stab myself in the face and secretly hoped that every cd, album and ipod containing that song would simultaneously get hit by a bus. Again, I don't get it. yes, its catchy and angsty and poppy and, though I no longer want to stab myself in the face when I hear it, (secretly I even enjoy it from time to time) it does not drive me to scream and dance. Please explain.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

 I wonder how things end up where they do. I mean, what is the logic behind when, why and where someone decides to throw a random object?  For example, I was behind a bush the other day and I looked down to see a pair of child's pink sandals and a back pack and canvas bag. I would assume that these things took their trip beyond the bush together, but one can never be sure. Of course, the way my head works, I immediately thought that some poor child had probably been kidnapped and the perpetrator stashed the evidence behind the bush. Maybe I should lay off the late night law and order...
Then there are the shoes that live on the side of the road. We've all seen them. They are there, sad and lifeless, wondering what happened. You can almost see their little eyelets turning around, thinking, "Hey, what happened to my foot?" Is there a matching person out there going, "Hey, what happened to my shoe?" Or did they make a conscious decision that it would be a super idea to take off their shoe and throw it out the car window? Something along the lines of, "you know, I'm kind of over this left shoe, I think I will drop it on the road, maybe someone else will want it"? 
Then there was the time I found one gold painted sneaker and one gold sandal on the mailbox. I'm thinking this was a case of someone attempting art, though I never could figure out the statement.  Any ideas?

Monday, August 25, 2008

and so he did. Click here to read capt. pink pants' post.
I want to post an awesome story about sunset junction, but since it happened to Capt. Pink Pants I guess I should let him tell it. Nudge Nudge...

Sunday, August 24, 2008

part 2


His hand never falls asleep before midnight and Caliope was eating popcorn. It started with his middle finger and spread, like a disease, through the tendons, flesh and bone. He offered her a bite. They had been waiting hours for it to finally fall asleep. A more romantic meal was never shared. They tore into it. She remarked that the texture was not unlike chicken wings. Never having eaten a human being before she figured it was customary to make a comment on the unique flavor but couldn't find one, so she went with the old stand by. She took to it easily enough as he had been prepping her for weeks.

He then checked the state of his forearms, as they were now picking and sucking at only bone. The carcass of his hand now gleaming white. He asked her for a rubber band to speed up the process, which, she reminded him, causes the meat to toughen. "Didn't you tell me that we shouldn't rush the process when it's for company. We had an appetizer, so relax!"

He wondered aloud what would happen when their guests arrived. How would she take it? Would she panic? Would she understand? He hoped she would.


Saturday, August 23, 2008

What is going on?

I don't know anything about planets or alignment or eclipses or whatever, but something is definitely up. I feel like every other conversation I have is with someone who has some serious shit going down. This past week has been stressful and relationships of all kinds have been out of whack. I have one friends who went to the e.r., one who had her tongue accidentally sliced open at the dentist and one who had a full blown anxiety attack out of nowhere. That is not to mention the other people who have just had super doosies emotionally. Again I ask, what the hell is going on?

Thursday, August 21, 2008

part 1

"Was it the midget, or the woman that slapped you in the face?" She says this in all seriousness as she fishes a barely dusty peanut out of her pocket and begins to eat it, momentarily distracting him from having been caught having done something warranting a black eye from either a midget or a woman. 

"Well?" She stares at him, bringing him back to the events of the night before.

"I don't remember, but I know it wasn't a fucking horse that bit your inner thigh." His response breaks her surface with a smile. She laughs, they are even.


They met months ago, better or worse timing could not have been planned. She had a boyfriend, but he treated her badly. She was taken immediately. He didn't even remember her face. Later, friends would let her down gently, "Um, sweetie, he's not really sure who you are...and I think maybe you should take that as a sign." She took the sign in hand and walked through the door.

They met again weeks later in a smoky bathroom where neither could meet the other's eye. She was on a date. He had to leave early to catch a plane to see his mother. She flew up into the hills for interpretive dance and to watch a man urinate on himself. She thought of him...and his barbecue sauce. When he offered to cover her in it and throw her on the grill she thought briefly of fava beans and hannibal lecter. 

She took pepper spray on their first date. She takes pepper spray on all her first dates. Not that she is in the habit of dating murderers and rapists, but one can never be too careful. They ate pizza and salad with their hands. She thinks they watched a movie, but can't really be sure. The conversation was stilted and peppered with nervous giggles. She noticed that he seemed to be sweating a lot and commenting on his bad circulation. 

As the days turned into weeks they settled into that level of comfortability which comes from familiarity. She got to know his dog. He grew to love her cat.


Monday, August 18, 2008

There is something about 7 am on a foggy morning that makes me homesick. I think it's that, as a child, we always took the first flight out. Or maybe it's the quiet stillness of a house just waking up that gets me. Either way, it's an odd feeling to be standing in the middle of your very own living room and want to go home. Especially when you don't have any other home. 

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Who's a friendship genius now, bitches????

Well, at least he tried and it might not make you laugh but it me smile. If you can make it to the eeyore moment at the end it might make it worth it, but then, if know neither matthew nor I it might not.

Thursday, July 24, 2008


I spent $3.50 today. For my colossal expenditure I got a hard cover Norton Anthology of English Literature Volume 2, barely cracked. It's the exact one that died when I accidentally left it out in the rain. I also got The House of Myrth by Edith Wharton, something I've wanted to read since it was a clue in a riddle I never understood, and A Wrinkle in Time, because I lost the last one somewhere, somehow. Go Goodwill!!! They had some other amazing things but I would have been greedy had I marched out of there with a shopping cart full of stuff. 

** I promise my posts will get better. Gratefully busy at the moment.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Penny Wise and Book Foolish - Vincent Starrett
Fried Green Tomatoes - Fannie Flagg
The TIme Machine - H.G. Wells

One week's worth of books. Two are old stand bys that I love and one is a new to me classic. Sometimes it's easy to forget about those little volumes that sit, for years, on your shelf that you once loved and kind of forgot about. It's made me want to go back through and see what else I've been missing. I think next will  be Farenheit 451, it lives in the glove box of my car, just in case. 

Friday, July 18, 2008

While I am loathe to admit it, I feel I must. I am writing from a mobile phone.also, since it is technically after midnight I missed the deadline. Since I've blown it already I might as well meander a bit into where my mind had been, if you hadn't guessed already. Deep deep in the depths of that little book I told you about yesterday. I love it. It is one of those treasured pieces that feels like it was written just for me.maybe it's this particular copy, but it has amazing vibes. I deperately want to seek out a copy for myself but who knows what I will end up with. What if its more than the writing (simple) or binding (sewn, not glued) but something altogether unique to this one book? I wonder about the person or people who owned it and those who ckecked it out before me. What were they like? Did they love it? I know someone made pencil marks, but I don't know how long ago or why. I suppose I don't need to know. I just hope that somewhere in those pages my love has gotten stuck and pops out to the next reader.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Pass the Fadiman, Please

Ex-Libris is porn for book lovers. If you've ever lost your breath simply holding a fifty year old first edition or fallen in love with a long dead author, you need to read this book. In my infatuated state, I just assumed that everyone who felt that way had already read it. Imagine my surprise when a librarian told me he had never heard of it. As he wrote down the name I tried to cover my surprise. How could a lover of books not be a lover of this book? I find solace in his interest at least. 

I was not checking out Ex Libris, but "Penny Wise and Book Foolish" as referenced in the former.I found this book to be so inspiring that i want to work my way through every single volume, essay and poem that she mentions. 

This one is a lovely little volume on book collecting and collectors. Fadiman references it in her book. The crazy thing is that this book was listed as reference only in the online library database yet still had a card insert. When I brought it to the desk the librarian said that it had apparently forgotten because it was indeed in circulation but was not in the database, it had never been updated since no one had checked it out since the late nineties. How can this little gem have been overlooked for so long? It breaks my heart that it has gone unloved and unwanted for years. A part of me was tempted to shove it in my bag and run as a true book obsessive would do, but I have high hopes that one day someone else might want it and be unable to pay the $50 it goes for these days. 

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

What kind of towels do you use? Are they skinny or fat towels? And I'm not talking about the width of the towel. If you don't know the difference, move on, you won't get it. If you've never been an overnight guest and been offered something to cover yourself with that barely fits around your wrist, you won't get it.

For those who do get it, you feel my pain. You know the debate, Do you risk tits or ass in your mad dash from the bathroom to the guest room? Neither choice is particularly appropriate but when confronted with this situation one must choose. Myself, I go for the ass. When the ass is covered it's much easier to keep the tits in check while sprinting. I know what you're thinking, why not just take your clothes into the bathroom and dry off and change in there? Well Smartypants, I have done when necessary but it still takes more than a kleenex to clean up an elephant sneeze. Get my drift?

Monday, July 14, 2008

You leave yesterday behind, not entirely by accident on purpose. You take a good last look around and run as fast as you can toward tomorrow, looking back once or twice to make sure you aren't being followed. You take sharp, blind corners that go nowhere.  You hide from ghosts and run into brick walls that are everywhere. You laugh when you should be crying and fall where you are expected to stand. You can't breathe. You have to run. She is waiting for you. You push her down and keep going. You wait for air. You find yourself lost, on a pink couch, counting on a freezer. 

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

thirty in thirty creates desperate searches for things to write about

I'm thinking about birth control. I have been watching television more lately than I normally do and they keep showing these ads for new kinds of pills. The latest one gives you three or four periods a year. I see how that could be a good thing but on the other hand, isn't the sloughing off of the uterine lining kind of important? I mean, doesn't the body do this for a reason? Like urination, but not as often.  I guess it's fine but it just seems a little weird. I want to let my body do what it's supposed to. Sometimes I kind of like having a period. I kind of like that little reminder that this is what most separates me from men and that I will someday have children. Maybe it's me that's just a little weird.

Monday, July 7, 2008

particularly appropriate...

I was web reading when I should have been weblogging, but I came across something I wanted to share. It was said so perfectly I won't expound on it, read it for yourself. Some guy called tony pierce, by way of a link on blogging.la.

ive noticed theres an awful lot of not writing going on lately

as if their words dont matter. as if we have forever on this toilet earth. as if we'll get around to our brilliant thoughts tomorrow. as if tomorrow we're not gonna have different stories to tell or new reasons not to write.

as if a demon doesnt get his wings every time you dont post.

your blog is there for you to tell us everything. you have nothing to lose. we have everything to learn from you. so why dontcha. 

think about the tv yr watching or blogs yr reading or books you just put down or movies you just saw, and liked. what if that person listened to the devil in their head that day and bought into the bullshit that it doesnt matter? what if bukowski said f it im old im fugly im fat, what on earth do i have to share with the world? i aint twain. i aint hem. i aint shakespeare. 

al gore invented this thing for us to rock. every day. not just once in a blue moon. not just when everythings perfect. but in thick n thin. when yr tired and when youre strong, when yr sad and when yr thrilled. the universe deserves every color in the crayola box, so bust. 

you know who writes when you dont? all the people you hate. 

its because the foolish and evil and f'ed up and wicked dont have the devil telling them a million reasons why they should take a nap instead. because the devil wants them to write. and get on the radio. and infest comments. and whisper in your dreams.

write for the angels. tell'em what theyre missing. explain why harps and clouds and hymns and flying around is for the birds, and how summer is here and the beer tastes better.

tell em how your heart is broken. tell em that yr dreams are blossoming. 

tell em everything and then more and then more and

then watch what you learn 

because noone can read what you havent typed up. 

not even u

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Comparison shopping?

The original...

And now, the famous...

I won't say which is my favorite, though I will say it might surprise you.

The original... (doesn't sound or look as good as it should, but it's all I could find and If someone can tell me how to put up a song on a post I will make this a weekly game.

The famous...

Saturday, July 5, 2008

In a youtube kind of mood

The last time I saw Rufus Thomas was at the Beale street music festival, a part of Memphis in May. He walked up on stage with the help of a 
handler and a cane. Rickety as all get out and seemingly feeble. He was helped to the microphone and when the handler made sure he was 
steady and walked away he wobbled a little bit on his cane. He had on a big coat, very diferent than his trade mark pink shorts pants suit. 
It was sad in a way. There was a collective tension in the crowd at seeing this great, vibrant man looking so old. I think many people were still 
standing there out of respect alone. And then it happened. The band started playing. He dropped the cane. He started to bend but couldn't
reach it. He looked out at us, shrugged and then stood right up, threw off his coat to reveal the aforementioned pink suit and big white boots
and went straight into Walking the Dog, with full dance routines and bouncing around. Followed by the famous Funky Chicken and Land of 1000
Dancers and on and on and on. For an hour at least. He never stopped to rest. It was unbelievable. The joke was on us. He wasn't feeble at all, old,
yes, but not feeble. He was every bit the showman he was known to be. He died of heart failure six months later.

The video below is from Wattstax, which you should google. He's wearing the outfit, though is decidedly younger than the he was on the night
above. I picked the funky chicken because it's what he's most known for. Enjoy.

Maybe I should not ever go see old people play music, they tend to die right after. This is the only video I could find of Mose Vinson, He's a bit more
lively than when I saw him, but here you go... Sid Selvidge is playing with him. There's a video of Sid below.

Sid is a family friend. He is emensely talented and has such a beautiful voice. Also, the man can yodel like nobody's business. This was my favorite
song of his when I was a child...

Friday, July 4, 2008

Think sober white chicks can't dance? Watch me....

I like to dance, I might even love it, if I'm in the mood and the music is right. I have no rhythm, even less balance and two left feet. Still, I dance. One thing I've heard a lot is, how do you do that sober? ARen't you embarrased? Or someone will be sitting alone and I'll go over to thema nd invite them to join us and the response is, "Oh, I'll need a few more drinks for that to happen." Why? If it's something you enjoy, why do you need a few more drinks? WHy does it really matter whether you are drunk or sober? Truth? I may think I'm, flashdance when I'm drunk, but I;m still me, in all my shining, disastrous glory. So I figure, why not just shake what your mama gave you and have fun anyway? I am  the dirty ballerina after all. 

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

I was walking the pup last night and it was weirdly quiet, especially since the mae shi was playing at spaceland. It sounds ridiculous but I think it was the absence of Michelangelo. They aren't gone, just moved into the old Flor Moreno space, but for me, that seems miles away. What is happening to this neighborhood? One of my favorite things about living here in general and some of the reasons I moved in particular was the family feel. Walking to backdoor bakery in the mornings for coffee and seeing my neighbors and their kids and dogs. Walking by at night and saying hello and being welcomed by friendly faces of one of the brothers. The lively atmosphere of the outdoor cafe, people eating and milling about on the sidewalk. Those things are gone now. All because these greedy landlords want to up the rent and try to attract some posh business to come in, or open their own restaurants now that people with buckets of money live here. The other disheartening thing is that the backdoor space is still vacant. Nothing there. Is the landlord really making more money on an empty space? I don't think so. It makes me sad. It also makes me want to move. Thank god for tropical, the last bastion of neighborhood still in walking distance. I keep thinking it may be time to move to echo park, at least they still have chicken corner, but I'm afraid that it just may be too late there too.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

people amaze me...

Recently the story of the aztec death whistle has been floating around. If you haven't heard about it, google it. I would quote it but that isn't the point of this post. Basically, some folks found an old whistle buried with one of the Aztecs... it sat around for a long time and then some guy blew it and it is supposedly the sound of death. What I want to know is, who does that? Who wakes up and thinks, "hmm, I think I will put my mouth on an old whistle, covered in dead guy dust and blow"? Seriously. That is disgusting and it certainly can't be hygenic. 

A few hours after I saw that, I saw this. I mean, god love him and no, i don't have asthma or crippling allergies, but, infecting yourself with hookworm? he should go hang out with the whistle blower.

Monday, June 30, 2008

addendum to previous post.

5. Fresh strawberries, bananas and almonds in vanana, yes Vanana, youghurt makes it all worth it.

more notes..

1. note to self, only right bike to trader joe's in the middle of the day when absolutely necesary, i.e. roads closed due to sudden appearence of gaping whole in the middle of sunset blvd. or similiar, so as not to cook lettuce. 

2. Douchebags in big trucks for  no reason... don't block the bike lane and then make kissy kissy noises at girls riding by and then proceed to check out their cleavage in your side mirror. We can see you!!! Contrary to what you might think, it is not an invisibility mirror.

3. Avoid eating clementines when nails are cut too short. It burns! It burns!!(I guess eating them is fine, just have someone else peel them for you.

4. One final note to self... avoid riding bike with ill placed hole in jeans... It burns! It burns!
I'm at work. Translation: I'm being paid to blog while watching the phone and waiting for it to ring. I am also alternating 2 glasses of water and 1 cup peppermint tea to pass the time. I feel pretty clean. I think I may have accidentally, wirtually given up diet coke.

You want the truth? I'm not actually blogging right now. There is a time delay of a few hours on this one, I started to blog for real but then, when I saw it pop up on the giant screen for all the world to see, I chickened out. For some reason though, I have no shame about ichatting with my friend about running into the ex of soeone I used to date in the office. I'm completely digressing right now. The point of this was to share something I enjoy because you know how much I love sharing.

Metblogs is exactly what the name implies. According the the website it is "the world's largest network of city focused blogs, covering local issues in over 50 cities around the world." Obviously Los Angeles has one and on it is a little recurring piece called "Archiving Angeles". It's brilliantly simple. Just an upload of an old L.A. photo with a caption, but it gets me every time. Sometimes it's 50 years old and sometime as recent as the late 70's but either way, i urge you to have a look. 

Sunday, June 29, 2008

As capt. Pink Pants has pointed out, i have been sorely lacking in the blogging department. As such tomorrow you will get buckets of backlogged stuff I just haven't had time to post. stay tuned. Oh, and a challenge, involving a pinky swear, has been raised. Never one to turn down a challenge, starting july 1, the thirty in thirty is on!

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

thank me for not posting a picture...

It's dead baby bird season on my street. This is no joke. They litter the sidewalk. Little bumps of pale pink with white bulbs for eyes. I was walking my dog the other day when he picked one up and then spit it out. I should have picked it up and put it in the trash but I couldn't bare it. Later, on another walk, I noticed that someone had stepped on it and squished it. Why does this happen? Do they fall out of the tree? Get nocked out by predators? Any ideas? It's really sad and really gross. That is all.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Monday, June 16, 2008

I broke the law...

Today I did something illegal. I "dumped". That's right, I am officially an illegal dumper. It's my first crime and I have to tell you it's not all it's cracked up to be. I felt especially bad when I came home and saw this. The problem is, there are really no other options. 
I cleaned out ten years worth of crap from my storage unit and was left with a mountain of trash and about 100 cardboard boxes. I tried to do the right thing. I spent an hour googling how to get rid of massive amounts of trash but came up empty. Yes, I know about "bulky item pick up", problem was, it was a lot of stuff and no where near my house. The only other option I could think of was to take my crap and put it in dumpsters. Lots of dumpsters. I drove around and deposited a box here, a bag there, until it was all gone. You want to stalk me? Find out intimate details of my life? Go dumpster diving, you will score. My eco conscience wouldn't let me trash the cardboard though. my solution? I placed them gently in an alley. Perfectly useable if anyone nearby is moving. So, that's how I became an illegal dumper... see article link above.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

When I was a child and there was some kind of trail mix thing that involved chocolate it always seemed like there was never enough, chocolate, not mix. Now that I am an adult there seems to be an over abundance of chocolate. I was just wondering, is it because they are actually putting in more chocolate, or is it because I no longer go through and pick out the chocolate bits first off?

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Free books!

I am a hippy. It's official... Not only have I been using a bicycle as my primary means of transportation, but I took said bike to the library where I checked out books. How did I forget about this? There is an institution that gives away my favorite things for free, every day! (Except thursdays.) Now, I know I don't get to keep them, but it is still a much better method than I had been using, which was to go to a bookstore, usually independent or used, and spend a pile of money on a stack of books that I don't know if I will even like. These books typically come to rest on the shelf, never to be cracked. If I do happen to crack them and don't like them they end up back on the shelf for eternity. So, at the moment my life is full of books I don't like, need or want. I have slowly been going through and selling or chucking the most obvious candidates, while, with others, I hold desperately to the hope that I will want to read them. Yes, it's true, I am a book whore. Now, with my new found love, I can check out books and read them and if I feel they really truly belong in my life, or I have the insatiable urge to highlight, underline, or otherwise deface them, only then will I go and buy myself a copy. I know that we should all support writers and I'll be damned if I ever write a book and tell people to check it out of the library, but hey, these are tough times man. Time to reduce, reuse and recycle, right?

Friday, June 6, 2008

Sunset Junction?

Ok, I'm piggy backing on this post  by Capt. Pink Pants.
Sunset Junction is dead.

The street fair held at the end of August on Sunset Blvd. has been pretty lame for the last few years, anyway.
I have been attending this event for 10 years. Back when it was still actually an event for the local community.
The last few years pretty much sucked. 
What used to be a $3 donation is now a mandatory $15. 
$15 to walk down a street in my own neighborhood? Fuck off!
I mean, really? The organizers have gone on record saying that they need to charge so much to pay the "bigger bands". I thought the point of the festival was to bring the community together. I guess that costs money these days...
For Melissa and I it would cost $60 to feel like a part of the community for 2 days!

Anyway, they have released the line up for this years "Community street Fair". 
If you check the line up you will see that one of the acts on the first night is Isaac Hayes. Since when does Isaac Hayes live in Silver Lake? Since when is he a part of this community? I for one have never bumped into him while getting my morning coffee. 
On top of that, what happened to proving that you live in the area and getting in for free? This has nothing to do with the community, it has to do with the almighty dollar. i have half a mind to make signs and go out there and protest at the gates. This is just wrong. 

Monday, June 2, 2008

I'm dating them too...

A note in reference to personal questions in comments

First, let me thank those who stood up for me before I had a chance to get to a computer to respond.
Second let me say that if you do not like what I post here, don't read it. No one forces you to push the play button on any videos, ever. On the right side of the page you will find the FAQs. The first answer to the first question should tell you everything you need to know. I post things I like. From my friends. Because I support them. 
I started this blog to put my work out there and to share the things and people that I enjoy and respect. Most of them are my nearest and dearest. So, just to get this out of the way...

Yes, I am dating.....
Meghan Toohey, Barbara Gruska, Rachael Cantu, Sam Carson, The Weepies and everyone who contributed to their record, The Wiggle Room, Farmhouse Magazine's website, Faith Soloway, Imnotarobotgirl, Capt Pink Pants, The cast of sordid lives, Magnetic fields, ariel gore, anne fadiman, kimya dawson and whoever else I happen to post about, mention or link to in the future. 
Does that answer your question?

Seriously, If you are only here to look for clues about my love life you are in the wrong place, you won't find any. You may see heartbreak but you will never know who, you may see happiness, but you will never know why, or sadness. So, If that is what you are looking for , you are in the wrong place. I would say if it's gossip you are looking for waltz your little self over to perez hilton... Oh wait, maybe I'm dating him too.

they did it again!!

Saturday, May 10, 2008

In honor of sam's birthday...

This is a spot he did for time warner cable and i think it's funny, so there. I was going to put up a short he did that is amazing but can be disturbing. It's called Jim in the Box, if you want to search it.

More good stuff...

Evidently my little assignment has gone by the wayside but, at least I'm back. Here are some thing I like that you should check out, you know, if you want to. No pressure.

Faith Soloway is brilliant, totally, retarded brilliant. She has some videos up on youtube that are so worth your time. Sometimes, when I'm sad, I watch them and I feel better... (peek around you may just find our little Meghan Toohey floating around in there somewhere.) Here is the link.

Imnotarobotgirl is funny and smart and will soon, hopefully, have some recipes up.

Capt. Pink Pants sort of goes hand in hand with Imnotarobotgirl. Judging from the comments, I think they are a couple. This one is kind of about nothing, but it had me laughing outloud this morning.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Total awesomeness

I cannot wait!!!!
Sordid Lives Series Trailer - Full Length

For real this time... with words

The sky was vomiting buckets of rain over the streets of Los Angeles. The asphalt had the slickness of bile that comes from an empty stomach. I crouched beneath the windows of my miniscule apartment and slurped on my dinner- noodles, carried out from the Pho place up the street. The place that at all hours of the night is filled with only the well dressed and in the know. An orange soda sweated rings into the wood floor next to me. I just had to make it one more night and then he would be home.

The phone rang.

"You coming tonight?"

"Ummmm, actually..."

"Bullshit, you grew up here, you aren't scared to drive in the rain!" He hung up on me. 

He was right. if anyone should suck it up and show up it should be me. I set my noodles aside and crabwalked the length of the wall to a little corner where I could safely stand out of view of too many windows. I yanked off my pajamas and threw on a pair of jeans that only just passed the sniff test followed by a pair of chucks that were caked in something crusty.

I got in the car. While I was getting changed the sky had taken a healthy dose of Ipecac syrup. The vomiting had turned into violent retching. I got on the freeway. I shouldn't have gotten on the freeway. Visibility was at a point below zero and there was no airport control tower around to guide me to a safe exit. 

I called him back.

"NO! No, you are not doing this to me tonight. i swear, everybody has canceled and it's for fucking charity. Get here."

"Seriously man, this is really bad, I can't even see."

"If you've made it to the car you can make it here."

Jesus Christ. Again, he was right. I had already crossed the halfway mark. Going back would mean an even longer drive in the rain. It was safer to continue on to the bar. It was deep in the valley, no bigger than the smallest living room.

I parked the car. I congratulated myself on finding a spot so near to the door. I stepped out of the car. My foot was wet. My leg was wet. I looked down. I had accidentally parked in the middle of the L.A. River.

I squished across the street. The bar was warmed by a wood burning stove in the center of the room. Smiles swirled around me in the orange glow. Someone peeled off my socks and shoes and set them to roast on the stove. I was swallowed deep into a velvet booth. Down home country music warmed my face and in the time it took to spit from L.A. to China it was over. So was the rain. The wind took little bites out of my cheeks and the stars peeked out to survey the damage from the storm. They watched me turn down an obligatory invitation to an inevitable after party. They watched me drive to a gas station, stop and then drive off. I wasn't going to risk standing out in the open on a cold lonely night just to buy cigarettes. I'm no fool.

I stopped at another gas station but did not get out there either. They had been held up the week before. With guns. No way neighbor. i went straight home. ALmost.

The phone rang. I went to pick it up and the battery died. My mother always told me to have a car charger in case of emergencies. I had one but it was at home. it could wait. 

I pulled the car around the lake near my house. I drove past the club that was sixty seconds, on foot, from my house. It looked less like the usual swarming beehive of activity and more like a discarded empty wasp's nest on a dried up lawn. The parking lot of the convenience store was as desolate. I pulled in. I parked.

I reached in my bag and pulled out one pack of cigarettes worth of dollars. When my bag tipped over my wallet made a harrowing leap to the floor. Being a responsible person in general, I left it on the mat. I opened the car door. 

He opened the convenience store door. He was wearing a black hooded sweat shirt. He looked at me. I looked at him. Mexican stand off. "No sudden movements" rang through my brain. Not his.

We stared long enough for me to have time to decide not to close my door and not to drive away. He walked over to my car door. I held tight to my cigarette money. 

"You got any money?"

Ever street savvy, I looked him in the eye and, like the genius that I am, said, "Duh" and waggled my dollars in front of him. 

He looked at me like I was speaking japanese. He snatched the money with the hand not holding the gun. No "domo arigato", no nothing. Oh, did I mention there was a gun? There was a gun, no bigger than a chihuahua.

"Give me your purse." He was awfully gracious and put me at ease with his car side manner.

I told him that it was very expensive and that it only had a pair of headphones, a tampon and some change in it anyway and could I please keep it. While he considered my request I took the opportunity to swing open the car door directly into his baby makers and send him sailing face first into a pool of anti-freeze, which held him occupied until the police came.

Okay, no, not really. he took my purse and walked away. Just like that. Just like this. As calm as the day, it was over. that is not at all what I thought it would be like to be robbed. But, it was and it is. A little anti-clamactic, isn't it?

Monday, May 5, 2008

somebody tell Ellen...

that I want to smush my face around in a mesh bowl of fake pizza for a free trip to chicago.  
yep, I'm back. Yep, I'm blogging. Nope, I don't have anything more interesting to say. Jet lag is a lovely thing for brain function...

Friday, April 25, 2008

I know I am not to blog about blogging...

So I apologize for this one. I am unexpectedly far from a computer and even farther from time to get to one. THe thirty in thirty experiment is officially on hold for one week. See you all soon!

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Pure Magnetism...

If you have never heard of The Magnetic Fields I urge to go out or online right now and listen to "i". It's been one repeat in my ear for a long time now. I can't even begin to express the brilliance. Just do it!

Tuesday, April 22, 2008


People are dying. I don't say this to be hilarious, it's just a fact. A human brain parasite can alter fear. It can create symptoms of schizophrenia. It can't kill you by itself, but it can make you kill yourself, if that doesn't get you, the medication for chronic hepatitis c that should save you might give you a stroke. 
A fourteen year old son can lose his mother because no one believed her. 
A woman can watch love dwindle to the loss of life.
A young old man can get multiple myeloma and die.

Go watch Harold and Maude. I've got nothing for today.

Rest in peace P.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Who doesn't want to start at least one story with a dark and stormy night?

Sometimes, when am I afraid of something or someone it helps to write a piece from their point of view. ...

It was a dark and stormy night in los angeles. The moon shone through the apartment like a flood light someone had forgotten to turn off. The street was as cold and silent as death and the windows were bare. It was easy to see her. I watched her move through every room. Wandering, jumpy. A dog barked and she looked like she might jump out the window. She had no idea I was there but I know she could feel my eyes by the way she kept looking out into the night. I reminded myself how lucky it was that she had a circular apartment with so many windows. So many chances to see her. 

She seemed so nervous that night. She had been alone for two days. I knew I had only one more day to make my move. I half hoped that she would spot me and invite me in for tea, that would make it so much easier. I always hope that and they never do. If only she knew how easy she could make it on herself if she would just come to me. If she could just admit how she feels about me, instead of leaving me shivering, cowering with the hydrangeas. How could she do this to someone she so clearly loves? I wrote her a letter once. It was beautiful. I used all the best words and phrases. She cried when she read it. She showed it to her boyfriend. I could only imagine her showing him the letter and telling him that she had found her one true love and that it was over between them. He put his arm around her, comforting her, then he took off in his van, leaving her life wide open for me. But how could she still leave me out in the cold? 

If only she would have given in then the police would have stopped bothering me and we could live happily ever after. Oh how I loved a hard headed dame like this one. I was sure her insides were as beautiful as her outsides. I couldn't wait to split her open. I wondered silently if the noodles she had for dinner would come spilling languorously out along with her intestines like little worms. 

Sadly, I never got the chance to find out. I didn't know it, but when the dog barked, she got suspicious and called the police. I heard it before I felt it. The sickening thud when the officer hit me on the back of the head with his club. There is no echo when a blunt object makes contact with your head. There is no bouncing back. Just THUD. 

As I sit here in my cell I can still feel the knot from where he hit me. I drew a picture of it and sent it to her but she hasn't responded yet. I'm sure she is too distraught to even read. I saw her crying when they were dragging me away. I know the scraping of my heels along the asphalt was too much for her to bare because she ran inside and slammed the door. I think of her every night. Only a few more months until we can be together again and everything will be alright.

*I no longer live in that apartment...

checking out

You have one ball. Now you have three balls. You are doing pretty well with the three that you have. then someone throws in twelve more balls and an elephant. How's that for juggling?

Sunday, April 20, 2008

this is it.

Fasting makes you dumb. Well, maybe it doesn't make you dumb, but it makes me dumb.

Saturday, April 19, 2008


You wake up but you don't get up. What's the point? It's just today again. It's been today for the last three hundred and sixty five days. You can't remember anymore your last yesterday. You can't imagine your next tomorrow. It's dark outside. The dark is so bright it burns your retinas. You put the sheets over your head to block it out. You can't see for the brightness. It's so airy that you have to suck and struggle for breath. You don't want to die under here in such bright darkness, even more than that you don't want to live under here. You get up. It's been days. You woke up this second. You woke up today. The second today of the week that does not exist. You are not alone. There are others who are stuck on today. Some celebrate it, some try to out run it, some question it. They look at the calendars as they burn them and scream, "Why meee?!!" The calendars look back and smirk.

"Why not you?"

There's really not point to it all. There is no point to any of it. Today, tomorrow, yesterday, it's all in what you call it. It's all the same thing. Last year, next year, semantics and a few more wrinkles. You perch on the edge of the vast pink couch like a hippopotamus in a tutu. You look in a mirror, you contemplate today's wrinkles. They are deeper than today's. Today's will be deeper than today.

A wee part of your brain triggers and a thought runs through and it's gone. you caught a flit of it. it looked like letters. You think you recognized a "y". An extra "y". A "y" in front? It's too much. You make toast. You make a note to buy more bread today. You wonder how on earth you are going to choose which pre-made pre-frozen, labeled dinner to eat when they all say today. Who made these frozen treats? You might remember her today, you might not. She is from those past yesterdays.What are yesterday's? Now you've gone and confused yourself. You find an old picture from today. There is a woman smiling at you. She's holding a puppy. Today you are alone. You open up the calendar to today. The page says it's tomorrow. You wonder how it can already be tomorrow. You turn to the next page. It too says tomorrow. 

She's coming home tomorrow. You remember. Tomorrow she gets home. Or maybe she leaves yesterday. Either way it is finally tomorrow. you shake your head and move into action. You better hurry up, you don't want to fall behind. The future's already happening, whether you want it to or not.

Friday, April 18, 2008

I've been asked...

about my process and revisions and drafts. While I won't give everything away because that is no fun I will say that what ends up here is, for the most part, completely rough and unedited. As for fact or fiction. look to your right. see that column right there? read it. 
Most of what I write is based very loosely on something that actually happened if not to me then to a friend of mine... or inspired by something I heard or read. I recently wrote a story, that isn't here, that came out of listening to a certain record over and over again and while it's extremely personal, it never happened to me. 


You wonder who put salt under your eyelids when you weren't looking. You think they may have slipped some pepper in there too. You walk into the living room that might be yours and you notice that something is missing. The dog is accounted for, no kids to worry about. You wander around the tiny apartment. You check the freezer. There, as always, she has left you enough complete, frozen homemade meals to last you through the two weeks that she will be gone. She has been doing this for years. You don't even talk about it anymore. They are just there, like her.

This might be the day you shake hands and tell her your name. It might be the day you renew yours vows. Either way, time is relative. As you think about time you settle yourself deep into the shallow pink sofa like a deep sea fish comfy in a tide pool. You think that maybe time has gotten confused. She will walk in the door at any minute and announce that she had a wonderful trip. She's not even on the plane yet. She's been gone for a year. 

You put your head in your hands and imagine that if you sit that way long enough it will come to you. What will come to you? You have no idea. You just wait. You have six more cups of coffee. It's been six years. She's not coming back. It's been six minutes, your children have disappeared. 

It made sense yesterday. It will make sense tomorrow. It will never make sense today. You wonder how you keep missing today. You circle it on your calendar, you make lists titled, "Things to do Today" but, still, you always miss it. You tell yourself that when today comes, you won't miss her anymore. You wait for today. You realize, suddenly, that it's tomorrow. You missed it again. You start to think that,maybe, without her, there is no today.

She isn't gone yet. She isn't going anywhere today. Tomorrow, yes. Yesterday she left. You open the calendar to tomorrow. The page says it's today. All the pages say it's today. You were so sure you missed it, but now it's all there is. 

Thursday, April 17, 2008

How to get around the rules again

Ever felt like your tip was tapped, your well gone dry or your brain just plain fell out of your head? Well, that's me. My brain just plain fell out of my head. I was walking along yesterday, singing a little song, when all of a sudden I felt so much lighter. Eerily lighter and with a slight, but noticeable headache. I thought nothing of it, actually I thought nothing at all, which is really unusual for me. i thought that maybe I should retrace my steps and see if I could figure out what happened and where things went wrong. As soon as I turned around I saw it. Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, on top of Elizabeth Montgomery's star it sat. My brain. I couldn't help but notice that it actually IS grey, well, more like dirty off white, but when referring to the most important muscle in the body next to the heart, scientists don't sound very cool saying, "dirty off white matter". Not having a brain anymore I just stared at it, confused and not sure what to do with it. Luckily a kindly tourist saw my conundrum and helped me out. He squished it back in through my ear. We shook hands and went our separate ways. I never did get his name. I guess I'll just call him the "dirty off white matter angel".

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

While I'm waiting for todays post to upload...

New episode of "and so we vlog" and the world premiere video of Meg Toohey and Rachael Cantu's new song!!!! You can find it here and here or watch it down here...

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

A tribute to dorothy parker

I am waiting by the phone. I have called twice already, now it's his turn. I'm so excited I'm blowing up inside. I can't wait to tell him that I made a mistake and that I love him, no matter what, despite and because of who and what he is. Oh god! I love him so much. I can't stop thinking of the last time I saw him.

It was four days ago. We met for dinner at a local mexican restaurant. The mariachis played us a song, my favorite. Volver Volver, so appropriate and I didn't even know it at the time. 

Where is he? I told him on the phone from the office that I had something important to tell him. I know he has rehearsal, that can run late. I wonder if he's telling the guys that I called. I bet he is. I bet he knows. I bet he's celebrating. I bet he's just dying to finish so he can rush over here and hear the news. The suspense is terrible.

I know! He's waiting until he knows I will be asleep and he will use his key and slip in and whisper that he loves me too and he's so happy to be home. Tomorrow morning I will wake up and make us breakfast and coffee, just like nothing ever happened. We will spend the day running errands together and holding hands in the park. Wait, no, I hate the park. We will go to the record store and he will dig around and pick out Doc at the Radar Station on vinyl. he knows I've been searching and searching for it.

I can't stand it. Maybe I should try to sleep. Then at least I wouldn't be thinking about it. Yes, if I do that, before I know it he will be home, wrapped around me. I've brushed my teeth. My phone is charged, my ringer is set loud, right by the bed, just in case he lost his key and needs me to let him in.

I can't sleep, this is like waiting for santa claus. I must sleep. I will count sheep. 1...2...3...4...5............................

Oh wow, it's 4:30. I must have fallen asleep. He's not here. Drat! I bet he called and I was in such a deep sleep I didn't hear it. Oh no! I bet he thinks I blew him off. I would never do that, never! I feel terrible. Where's my phone? Crap, i knocked it off the night stand.

Weird. No missed calls. I hope he's okay. Sometimes he over does it with the booze and gets behind the wheel. Please let him be okay. Please don't let something have happened to him. I can't bear to think that he never knew how much I love him and how sorry I am. Maybe he just went out with the boys and lost track of time. I'm calling him.

Oh god. He's in a ditch somewhere, my worst nightmare has come true. But, maybe he's sleeping and didn't hear the phone. Maybe he passed out on the couch in the rehearsal space. He does that. Maybe I should go over there. Maybe I should call again. No, I can't call again, that would make me look crazy. I will give him ten minutes to call me back. But if he was sleeping then he may have been slightly roused by the ringing, enough that if I call again right away it will fully wake him up. He won't think I'm crazy. Four years together is enough that it is absolutely reasonable that I call again. Yes. Yes, I will call again.

It's ringing. and ringing. Come on! Wake up! Wake up! Wake... 

"I'm sorry if I woke you."

Is he at a party?

"I was just worried that you didn't come home and you never called."

Who is that in the background?

"Are you at jimmy's?"

"No? Where are you?"

Silence. Why is he so quiet all of a sudden?


"Why aren't you here? Why didn't you call?"

More silence. No. oh no oh no oh no. Please don't say it.

"I'm sorry, I've..." No no no no no stop!

"...met someone else."

I can't breathe. I should say something here. I'm supposed to say something, anything. All I can hear is no no no no no. Oh my god. That's me. I am saying something. I have to stop. I have to have dignity. Stop crying. Stop it now.

Hang up the phone. I can't hang up the phone. This has to be a joke. A sick joke. Get it together and get off the phone! But I can't, if I get off the phone he will go back to her. He will never come home.

"You know. Earlier today when I called. I wanted to tell you that I made a mistake. I'm sorry, and I love you. You can come home now, it's okay."

"I know why you called. I could hear it in your voice. I'm so sorry. It's better this way. Go back to sleep I will call you tomorrow."

 Better this way? Better for who?! I feel sick. I can't breathe. I'm going to vomit. Hang up. Hang up.

Now what? He has to come over here. He has to come back. I should call back. I should keep calling until he agrees to come over here and talk to me. This is insane. I have to let him call me. He will call. I know he will.

Come on phone, ring. Ring damn it! It's ok, he's just giving me time to calm down. He will call in a minute and say he was drunk or high and he didn't know what he was saying. Wait, drunk or high? I don't want someone like that. Let her have him. I don't need him I'm better than that. I will be strong, I will show him what he's lost.

WHY AREN"T YOU RINGING???? Stupid phone. Maybe it's broken. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown it across the room. Maybe I should call him to see if he called and it didn't come through. 

No answer.

I should not call back. I should not. If you love something set it free and all that jazz. He's still not answering. I'm sure he will come to his senses tomorrow. I'm sure of it. Maybe he's breaking it off with her right now. Maybe I should call and apologize for yelling and acting crazy. Maybe he wants to come over but he's afraid I won't let him in. 

Yes, I'm sure that's it. I'm just going to call one more time so he knows it's okay. Just once more, I promise and then I will go to bed. Maybe I should give myself the option of two more times in case he doesn't hear his phone ring. Yes two more, just two more and then I will go to bed. Or maybe I shouldn't set limits on myself. This is love after all, right? Maybe just three more times....

Monday, April 14, 2008

Cheesy yes, but it had to be said...

Many of you have started your own blogs and posted videos and have opened your minds to writer's and writing styles you may not have been familiar with. I just want to say how happy that makes me. I have a friend who reads my blogs and from our conversation this morning she looks forward to your comments more than what I've actually written. Not only am I not mad at that, I'm stoked! (Yes, I said stoked and used an exclamation point, what?) I was thinking I should save this for the end of my thirty days, but what for? You should know that someone out there is reading and enjoying what you write, right now! (yes, another exclamation point, look for an explanation in the future.) Change happens when you open yourself up and march forward fearlessly. Let your voice be heard!!! (yep, there they are again.)