Sunday, March 28, 2004


i am beginning to think that when they invented the wheel they had no idea girls such as myself would be making use of them on a daily basis. as a teenager i was a notoriously BAD driver. both feared & revered for my ability to change the tape, snort a line of coke & light a cigarette while entering an 8 lane highway at 90 on a clover leaf in what was already a fairly dangerous mitsubishi jungle jeep.

when i lived in new york i was designated 'moving driver' because i was the only one with the balls to drive a moving truck through midtown traffic at any hour of the day or night & in any kind of weather (remember the blizzard of 96'?)
once while acting out an elaborate dialog for my passenger i dragged the steel hitch of the 14' truck i was driving the entire length of a semi being unloaded by some burly teamsters down on the bowery... & then while hanging my head out the window as i drove, trying to figure out what that ghastly noise was i 'sort of' rear ended another one of their trucks. we were stopped only long enough to go through the 17 different shift patterns to get it into reverse. the horde of angry men running towards us brought to mind visions of brave-heart before i managed to once again stick my head out the window with a look of complete & utter disgust and yell 'what the fuck assholes?!" as we peeled out & sped down the narrow street. my friend bonje, unclenched his nails from his thighs laughing as he looked back at the befuddled group of men standing in the middle of road & said 'i think they're so confused they might actually apologize to you!?'

aside from the occasional move- i didn't drive much in nyc. i had a killer custom mercedes that had belonged to the deceased father of a friend but it was usually too much of a pain in the ass unless you were driving OUT of the city. nobody drives there, you get driven or you walk or take the train. it's a different world... nothing like it is here where people drive places that are so close it would take less time to walk. in nyc, if i needed wheels i rode my skateboard or a motorcycle. (and generally rode both with the same attitude of 'if i can fit- i'm going')

somewhere along the line, i felt i had become a better driver. when visiting my family they no longer held each other in terror when i took the wheel. it never occurred to me that the family unit had simply deteriorated to such a state that they no longer cared for their or anyone else's life, i thought they were just enjoying the ride. nor did i take into account that the fact that i hadn't been in many bang ups or 'close ones' in awhile was most likely due to the fact that i no longer drove, not that i had miraculously improved in skill. whatever morsel of my conscience that was left still believing i was a terrible menace on the road quickly became overpowered by my inability to focus... and i simply no longer noticed when cars veered off the road or honked their horns as i flew past.

i won't even go into my 2500 mile trek across the country when i moved to california... except to say that all my tires went flat in wyoming -in the rain- at a truck stop where 15 behemoth men stood in a circle around me while i stubbornly crawled on all fours fixing them myself. i was given a rather high honor by jim- the most cynical of the group, who all felt that a young girl had no business traveling alone across the country with only her two cats as company (little did they know that this was my lot in life.) as i left, i handed him his pressure gauge with a 'thanks' & turned to walk away. he called after me... 'you know missy, when you pulled up here i thought 'whaaaat theeeee hellllll?' but i gotta tell ya, you've got spunk there girly, you're gonna do al'right! .........keep on truckin & don't let nobody stop you!'
i climbed into my truck, soaked, dirty & smelling of oil, but beaming. i lit a camel & gave the boys a final wave of the rock-n-roll devil horns as i pulled out of town with 2 hours of hank sr on the radio as my reward.
the rest of the trip was of little consequence... until i pulled into sacramento & ran over a 3' cut off telephone poll that was hiding where it had no business sticking out of the ground. let's just leave it at that.

the only reason i even bring up this diatribe, is that since being in california i have only ridden a bike. you would think this would be a rather safe mode of transport for someone such as myself. at first i just winged it- figuring 'its a bike.... they don't have laws for this shit!'..... after the first week of having everyone stare at me as though i was riding down the street with an ak47 strapped to my back i realized maybe i had better tone it down a bit & at least pause at red lights & not zig zag through traffic. i thought i was sort of getting the hang of things- yeah, i was nearly hit on average of once a week... and considered carrying a note on my person at all times explaining that should i die in an accident, it was most likely of my own doing & therefore all other parties should exempt themselves from any feelings of guilt or responsibility for my death. nobody seemed to think that was a very good idea & considering i usually can't remember to take my grocery list to the market.... the chances of it actually happening were slim. it just seemed like the polite thing to do.

well, i actually have been hit (twice now that i think about it,) and it kind of sucks- but you, know these things happen. and considering that since my accident about a month ago i have managed to fall over, wipe out, tumble & crash into every assortment of solid object (i even ran over my own foot once, while stopped)..... i am beginning to believe this is only the beginning....

this evening, after a hellacious day at work, as i rode home in a torrential downpour i almost completely bit it once again.
i didn't hit another car, or a pot hole (they don't exist here), a fallen tree or even a stray dog.....
i ran over a pine cone.
a little pine cone.
the tiniest pine cone i have ever seen in my life.
it's miniscule stature made a mockery of my ability to stay upright on ANYTHING with wheels attached.
it was a 1" ball of wooden fury beneath my would have thought a big blue airplane meteor had fallen from the heavens & landed in my path.
by the time i regained my composure (as if i had any to begin with) it may as well have been the entire plane.

i was a block from my house & couldn't stop laughing the entire way. the fact that it stopped raining & the sun came out in full blinding force as i pulled into my drive way was the perfect slap in the face to a monumentally shitty day.

Saturday, March 27, 2004

my jackson

again tonight i walked through the darkened streets,

in search of the solace i know i most likely will never find.
i wish i could convey to you what it is that my existence embodies-
but that is something you were never meant to understand.

to make you look into these glassy eyes
which are mine (& make you see what is really there)
to make you understand one thing:
that the blood that scourges through my veins is of a different entity,
than that which flows through yours.

that is a power i was not given,
a secret bestowed upon myself, by someone
thankfully, you will never meet.
a secret i am insufferably bound to keep as mine alone, forever

i do not know exactly why it is that i am the way i am.
why he chose to make me into what i have become.
how i fell into that grasp of his has eluded memory,
a fraction of time simply gone. erased.
for good reason i am sure.

therefore, i do not ponder the questions of how & why
he must still play the game after all this time...
what purpose does it serve?
for that too he has given me no answer.

and so my moments are spent in this darkness he has created for me.
searching always for my escape.
and if not that, a comrade to comfort me in my eternal stay.

but there is no such comrade.
that i know all too well.
i walk alone through the evil & drudgery of that city, where he has locked me so tight
begging to be saved from another daybreak.

i am less capable of ending it myself
than i am of making you see & feel in the same manner
with which i have been cursed

man does not appreciate the act to claim responsibility for his own life
until that ability is no longer his prerogative.
without that choice, to take my own life...
my existence revolves around giving it to others.

each night i invite death to my doorstep,
making but one request.
night after night, it has refused to walk through my threshold,
and deliver my only desire.

'is that so much to ask?' i say to him, before i sleep.
he only smiles, slightly.
touches my cold, wet cheek, with his colder hand
and says nothing.

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

martha i am not

ugh... what started out as a simple foray into the wonderful world of gastronomic tid bits has turned into a chocolate ganache & peanut butter pain in my ass. yesterday, after a rather late start at the grocery store i decided to go ahead & whip up some chocolate cupcakes- thinking.... these are cupcakes...3rd graders eat cumbersome can it be? i make intricate, time consuming desserts all the time & foolishly had visions of myself sitting in my tub an hour later scarfing down food stylist quality mini works of culinary art.

...and then i realized my cake flour had taken on tenants. rather than wait until i could get some more i used reg flour... an hour later (while also making a lemon pound cake and an excellent pasta and shrimp dish for dinner) i opened my stove to find 23 rather FLAT looking little chocolate cakes. at this point it was nearing midnight, i was tired, sore & had lost that doris day i held off on steps 2 & 3 until today. got home from work- my finger completely wrapped in gauze because i sliced a healthy (or unhealthy) hunk of it off first thing this morning while mocking up a magazine at work. there was a meeting in the conf room 2 doors down & it was all i could do to keep the sailor inside me contained. i ran to the bathroom where i promptly passed out sitting on the floor because it hurt so bad. the rest of the day was just one thrill after another from then on.

so anyway, get home... and i am immediately confronted with my cupcakes (i'm growing to hate that entirely TOO cutesy word!) 'fuck' is all i can mutter & i futz around my apartment until i can hold off no more. there is peanut butter to be whipped & squirted inside these little 'dung huts' (that's my word!!!), chocolate to be melted & cream to be scalded. i think i started around is 11:15 now & i am so thoroughly sick of chocolate & peanut butter i don't even have the stomach to try one. usually, a bit of a tight ass when it comes to presentation... i knew the cupcakes were a lost cause when i grew tired of dipping them individually & repeatedly into the pot of chocolate ganache & simply started pouring it over them on the cooling racks. i've never had a problem with bugs, but i am sure by tomorrow all of sacramento will be bug free, as they will have all taken up residence on my kitchen counters. i half heartedly put the noxious looking sweets into storage containers & will leave clean up for tomorrow. by the end of it all i will have spent close to 10 hours on something i will most likely not even eat.

who says i don't know how to manage my time well?

Sunday, March 14, 2004

nice tits

so i finally dragged my lazy ass to the grocery store...was almost out the door & suddenly found myself scrubbing the bathroom & sorting laundry... 4 hours later i actually exited my apartment.... it's a wonder i don't hurt myself more often i'm so bad at FOCUSING.

so anyway, i'm strolling through the aisles, basically enjoying myself, because i'm a loser & like grocery shopping plus i have no life so to speak & this constitutes 'getting out of the house,' i'm in the dairy aisle & these two 20ish boys are ahead of me- i'm sort of listening because usually such boys are good for some idiotic banter & it wasn't like the cottage cheese was more interesting... my ears prick when i h

for a minute, i forget i'm a girl, and my eyes dart all around...looking for these spectacular tits- you would know it. i'm sort of confused... because, aside from myself & the 2 monkeys, there is but one other person... and she..... well, she had tits, that's for sure....but she had a lot of everything else too. and i was like 'wha??? come ooooonnnnn' (almost audibly, i might add.)

so, what is it with guys & their inability to discriminate between TITS.....and excess belly & armpit flab that simply had nowhere else to go??? i mean, shit, I could have big boobs too....if i put on enough weight to legally register as a pack mule. and another thing.... low waisted jeans should not be worn by girls who have NO waist.

i love going to the grocery store.

Friday, March 12, 2004

lunch time drivel...

i woke up this morning determined to have a baby. not sure how

to go about it considering there isn't a man in the world who loves me much less wants to create monsters with me... but that is really just a superfluous detail at this point. the world is full of sperm. i'm sure if i try i can get my hands (& other parts) on some. the fact that it will involve large amounts of money or breaking & entering into the local sperm bank is probably a surer bet than scoring at the neighborhood bar. i'm not really one of those girls guys try to pick up... so random one night weener probably isn't going to happen.
and considering how finicky i am about how the cans are lined up in my cupboards.... i think it is safe to say that any old guy just isn't going to do anyway. my biggest fear in life has always been that in a moment of weakness & uncertainty about the future i would succumb to the marital desires of someone completely unsuitable for me....
today at lunch i sat out on the sun balcony surrounding the 3rd floor of the meridia
n building with some of the gals from the office. we talked about 'the perfect guy.' i discovered that what is considered to be the 'going thing' should make it easier for me to get a date.... because my 'perfect guy' seems to be another animal all together. what i want to know now is... 'so who's got my guy?'
if i were a little better at chemistry & black magic...i would just make him myself....
we took turns describing what 'he' would entail.
the first thing i that there is a bizarre importance placed on the car he drives??? like it REALLY DOES constitute part of his genetic makeup & there fore should be a detail that weighs heavy when considering his worth as a suitable match. i mean, i have heard of this..but i really thought it was just a joke... a sort of 'john hughes 80's teen movie stereotype'.. .not something women really considered.
what surprised me even more, once i realized the automobile was to play an integral part of this conver
sation.. was the sort of car that can get a guy laid... and a wife. it made me wonder what rock i had been hiding under all these years that i could have missed so much that was apparently so important (and made me thankful i had such a rock under which to ignorantly hide)
beamers ranked in at number one. i've never looked twice at a bmw. i'm a mercedes girl myself. and nothing newer than say 85 or so.. when they started looking like toyota camrys. just not interested. everything that made a mercedes look unmistakably like a mercedes has been bastardized into middle america oblivion. you could give me a brand new top of the line mercedes & i would sell it & buy like 4 or 5 old cars- including an old mercedes & probably an old tractor from the 30's.
the second one came as a huge surprise...especially since this was the second instance that i had heard of someone wanting a man 'that drove an escalade'... though i think the first one was just an exaggeration made
by the friend that told me- i don't think it holds any merit...but these girls today were fucking DEAD serious & rather eerily enthusiastic. i sat there with a bemused yet dazed look on my face wondering if i had maybe somehow been transplanted into a game of bridge taking place somewhere in upstate new york... i really don't get it. i mean... the beamers... as uninteresting as i find them... they are a bona fide yuppie status symbol (though i still say, beamers are for up & coming lawyers & corporate bankers, mercedes are for people who have never ridden in anything else & don't necessarily have to drive themselves) but the escalade???
escalades are driven by guys in their mid 30's with thinning hair who are counting the days until they can retire & spend the day golfing with their buddies in new era sports ensembles from prada & gucci at the 'not so selective anymore' country club while drinking overpriced martinis made with mid-level liquor because the 'con
sumer' doesn't know the difference between honest to god quality & workmanship ... & a fucking label.
since when did mediocrity become something to strive for? who dropped the bar for entrance into the upper echelon & started selling it in chi-chi malls with valet parking? but more importantly, why is this THAT what matters? am i really that old fashioned & fuddy duddy that fantasies about my perfect 'one'... have never found me seductively strutting my stuff in the local cadillac showroom???
i say... let them have their urbanist porches where the only individuality allowed by 'community code' is the color choice on the trim of their plastic made to look like wood houses.
i want jackson pollack, i want a man that reads & thinks, a man that is probably overlooked & misunderstood by most of the population. wit & intelligence ... not gated communities & a new car every year. show me passion for creating something not passion for the ability to buy.
i want someone who is going to be excited about babies & raising kids... because it's an opportunity to experience everything again (or maybe that we ourselves missed) & a chance to stop thinking about ourselves FINALLY. not someone who has them because they just 'happened' or because it was expected of them.

the girls mentioned the usual 'doctors & lawyers' but stressed that 'business men' these days make considerably more money... and take more vacations. i did not know this. i tried to remember the last time i took a vacation. i think most of the kennedy's were still alive & i was in the early stages of my 20's. i think i am too antsy for vacations.

looks were not to be overlooked either... this one i had at least been expecting...
blah, blah, blah... more of the same... i couldn't even picture what they were talking about it was so completely void of everything that differentiates one human from another. ken with a big dick seemed to be popular. and butts?!!?!? do
women REALLY want a guy with a rock hard ass??? aren't they aware of the fact that those guys go on dates with people named 'rob' & 'jim'... not 'liz' & 'kelly'...? as far as i am concerned...i never want to flop down naked on the bed with my guy & be the only one that has a little jiggle here & there. ..
looks have usually been an after thought for me. that's not to say that if benecio del toro showed up at my bedroom door... i would turn him away (or let him leave for that matter) but it doesn't even boil down to his looks in the end. he's cool. he paints, he writes, he makes movies, he's a little anti-social. he usually looks like he needs a bath & a good meal.... the fact that he's hot as fuck... well, that's just nice.
ok- this is boring even me now. i just didn't feel like working this afternoon and i found our lunchtime banter... funny... but very much BANTER.

Sunday, March 07, 2004

Alone & Foresaken

it's as if the gay gods have looked down upon me.... and giggling to themselves... decided to add a dramatically cheesy soundtrack to my thoughts (& i snicker a bit myself to write this, mind you)... judy garland just started booming one of her more 'heart-wrenching-too much demerol-voice wobbling' renditions of 'by myself.' ....i just took a i know physically, it isn't true...but i swear.... there is a gay man trapped inside of me!

but anyway..........

i often think, 'god, i'd give anything to be a housewife.... to cook & clean all day- have a laundry room... shop in the afternoon, lunching on cucumber sandwiches & a nice light afternoon tea when my energy begins to wain.... this is what i was made for...WHY do i deny it???'

then, at the end of the day, when i look around i realize, well maybe jack nicholson was right- maybe this is as good as it gets. it starts to sink in... apparently my 'good as it gets' wasn't good enough for anyone else and i'm left with the question: is it possible to be my OWN housewife? if the hand towels in an apartment occupied by one fall to the they make any noise?

being the optimistic pessimist that i am .... i guess i figured that eventually, some man would come along. one who found my sarcasm, negativity, snobbish attitude towards the ignorant masses who take up space in MY world, erratic mood swings, incredibly high, bizarre & demanding set of standards and my tendency to talk incessantly to inanimate objects...well, i hoped he'd find it all charming, endearing & exactly what he had been searching for all his life. much to my surprise, i find myself sitting here at the age of 32 wondering if maybe for the first time in my life i've been a little too optimistic about the eventual outcome of things.
that i have ever managed to find someone to my liking is a miracle in itself...for- as i mentioned, my standards are as obscure as they are rigorous & iron clad. and generally only provoke a deep feeling of unsettled confusion to the average person when given a quick rundown of what it is i look for in a man, or any other human for that matter. that i should be silly enough to think that they would feel the same about me... well that was my own girlish folly i suppose- because it hasn't shown itself in any facet of reality to date.

i remember once sitting in a job interview, my future employer & her partner asked me to tell them a bit about myself, what people found intriguing about me, etc. i sat for a second, thinking about how i didn't like the pants i was wearing & then said 'i talk to the television. i don't like lazy people. i hate being interrupted while working. and i prefer to not eat anything with my fingers....... people always want to know everything about me when we first meet, and once they do, inevitably, they don't want to know anything else. whatever intrigues them in the beginning, scares them in the end.'
...i started work 3 days later. and my little offhanded speech was to become the trade mark of my personality from that point on around the office.

apparently, overbearing, opinionated girls that bare no resemblance to swimsuit models really are not in high demand.... anywhere. i used to attribute this to being an east coast thing.... you see, back east, everyone is neurotic & always holding out for someone better,,, someone more like in the end... nobody ever finds love or happiness- just fashionable misery. they find someone who understands the need to buy an $11 head of lettuce & looks great in dental floss & 5" heels drunk & it's a match made in heaven... but it's not about love or even mutual admiration- just the need to have a good looking accessory.... 'i heard relationships are SO IN this season- it's the NEW black!'..........
having just moved west- i find that what california lacks in refinement & good taste,,, it makes up for in the prestige placed upon the superficial & inane. it wasn't long before i realized that i am almost from head to toe, inside & out, mentally & physically the antithesis of what people here find an attractive, interesting person.
that i am very intelligent, not entirely ugly, have a good, though maybe odd, sense of humor & am generally speaking a caring & compassionate person seems to be of little relevance as soon as a nice pair of tits enter the room. i've disappeared so many times in the 9 months since moving here that sometimes i forget i am in fact amongst other people- it's just too easy to slip into my own little world where the people actually listen & i'm not some repugnant creature that says strange things & has stranger habits. the more time i spend away from everyone the more i realize some people are just better suited to a life of solitude- stepping out once in awhile to kick up a little shit & annoy those close at hand.... and then sliding quietly back into obscurity... watching the rest of the world make fools of themselves as they play out their life of contradictions & lies one after another. if nothing else, it seems easier than constantly having to justify myself for being the sort of person one might meet in a library.
i suppose, in the end, this is what i deserve. for i admit, i am a plethora of faults & inconsistencies- the fact that i in no way resemble a swim suit model is the least of my inadequacies as a human being who should be allowed to interact with others. i have been foolish to think that eventually someone would come along who could accept that in me. especially since often i accept so little in others.