Friday, December 28, 2007

never again

will i drive across the country. it's a drag. at least it's a drag when you can't stop & look at all the oddities on the way.
it took me two days to get to keyenta. i spent the night half way in barstow. it is a fucking cess pool. father goose - i may never forgive you for not joining me there for a sleep over.
the rest of the ride was pretty much a drag. long days of sitting in the car staring out the window at one horrific car accident after another with a cat on my lap the entire time. i can't sit through a half hour tv show - so this was sheer agony for me.
being at home has been...... ehhh. if it weren't for nman being here as well i would go crazy. it rules that my favorite person in california also happens to be my favorite person in warren... so when we come home for xmas we can at least hang out together and hold on to some semblance of what our real lives are like.... because warren, pa is like an alternate universe. basically the only thing to do here is eat and go out at night & drink. i've drank more in the last few days than i have in the last 6 months collectively... including the rather debauched dice party.
i don't even smoke any more and i almost never drink.. but i've been smoking like a fiend & sucking back bass like crazy. it's killing me. i feel like shit.

on the brighter side - i scored some rad books at the antique/book shop i love. i got this russian military handbook on air/land maneuvers from the cold war that is full of attack ops & bomb schematics. also scored a surrender flag and a bunch of magazine 'baggies' from the vietnam shin-dig. i have no idea what they are for or what i will do with them... but couldn't resist 50 little zip lock baggies with bullets & a bunch of vietnam writing on them. i might use them to pack lunches. also got some books on submarines, the luft-waffle, gore vidal essays & a smattering of embroidery & needle craft books from the 60's. just random weird shit.... which is basically my genre.

i'm freezing to death. must go to a lower altitude (the second floor of my parents house) & defrost my fingers. steve just called, i think i'm going to head to the local diner & eat many slabs of pie. i love how we travel 3000 miles to eat pastries. it's all i talk about for months before we come home. PIE!!!!
i'm out. late.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

eastward bound

i just left work. i won't be back there until the 7th of jan. i have NEVER taken such a long vacation. not even when i had a minor melt down & rented a house in martha's vineyard to chill for a bit with the preppies. i'm a little freaked but excited.

tomorrow i head east... a 5 day journey into the depths of pennsylvania. i'm not really looking forward to the drive. it sounded like a fun idea for about 2 seconds & then i was like 'what the fuck am i thinking of?' but we'll see how it goes.
i'm heading to keyenta, AZ first to meet my sister who is going to join me for the rest of the ride. she's a history teacher on the navajo reservation there & this will be my first time seeing her place, meeting everyone she works with & her students — who i guess just love her — which doesn't surprise me at all. on thurs night a bunch of the teachers she is friends with are having an 'end of semester' drunk fest. apparently i am the guest of honor & the invite read: 'there's another one of them & she's coming to town'. i'm going to do my best to not disappoint them as the sister that is even nuttier than kri.

then we are off to the woods. i can't wait to see my niece & nephew. i bought only toys that make a ton of NOISE for my nephew — including some motorcycle bars that make all sorts of revving noises. i played with it for at least 10 minutes in the store. i bought addi an entire wardrobe of little dresses & outfits. buying little baby girl clothing is WAY, WAY more fun than i ever imagined. i went a little nuts... and it made me want one very, very badly.

i will be soliciting for sperm when i get back.

god, and when i get back... oh i have so much to do. i still need to find a job & an apartment — but the very good news is that i got my bonus today & it will cover my needs quite nicely, provided i don't somehow blow it in fucking warren, pa on random stuffed taxidermy bits & weird machinery parts... home is a strange place — but it's a treasure trove of machine age crapola. i've brought the weirdest shit onto the plane with me on my return trip home... & the idea of driving back & not being limited to what i can sneak on the plane... it has had me salivating for months. those steam calipers and turn of the century tele-type machines will be MINE!

ok, tons of stuff to do. must prep the quail & the cat for our trip, empty the trash & hide any incriminating/embarassing 'things' i don't want my roommate to find when he has the house to himself.

Monday, December 17, 2007

today is one of those days

i wish i would have stayed in bed.
stayed in bed, had some sweet person bring me cake, rub my belly and tell me everything is going to be okay.
i couldn't even tell you what is wrong exactly but nothing feels especially right. my ovaries are doing all my thinking today and it's not pretty.

completely unrelated to my ovarian despair but certainly more pretty...

i found these hair pins last night and i think they are adorable. i'm in love with that fat little bird. it reminds me of my quail, miette. i'm probably a bit old for them. i think they are meant for cute little japanese girls & children — of which i am neither, but i like them none-the-less. it's hardly my fault that i am old, american and completely lack the 'cute' gene.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

life is so unfair

when you bite into a chocolate wafer cookie & it tastes a little like fish.

i guess my lesson here would be: don't buy cookies that have been sitting next to barrels of dried fish in the japanese grocery store. silly me.

i'm still eating them mind you.... but i'm not enjoying them as much as i had hoped.

heaven hath no glory like an hour in my tub

i was a water baby. i could swim before i could walk and from that point on — getting me out of the water has been a monumental task. some would say i take it a bit too far; bordering on obsessive compulsive. to that i say — the bath has done more for me than any shrink, religion or relationship — all of which have their own cache of ritualistic behavior. maybe, i should have become the proprietress of a bath house. ritualistic hygiene is what i do best.

i love the idea of bathing as a social activity as well as a time to sit in silence & just inhale — something i have a great difficulty doing during most of my waking hours. years ago i lived in a loft way downtown in nyc. it had once been an old sweat shop and there was a section that had obviously been a communal bath for the ladies after a hard days work. it was all tile, had a wall of showers and a huge sunken tub beneath a skylight. swank it was not, but it proved to be an awful lot of fun.

as a rule, my obsession with the bath takes people a bit off guard at first. when i suggested having a bath party my otherwise very open minded, game for just about anything, room mates looked at me as though i had suggested we invited in the homeless for a game of bloodletting.

it's amazing how coy & prudish people become when you suggest they take off their clothes for anything other than a quick shag. someone, please explain to me why it's okay to fuck a complete stranger but WEIRD to relax in a steam room or tub with friends sans clothing? i pity the mind who only feels nakedness must lead to sex. the two really don't have to be synonymous... sometimes one thing leads to another, but it doesn't always have to be that way.

i am pleased to say, my roommates, although hesitant, agreed to try it out. at our debut of 'bacchanal on the bowery' everyone had the option of wearing some sort of cover up if they felt the need... which — lasted maybe a half hour before everyone was paddling around the huge tub bare ass naked eating dim sum in the buff like it was an every night affair.
which would be over kill — we made it a weekly event.

so i suppose in a sense i WAS the proprietress of a bath house. i never made any money off it and if sexual trysts took place — which of course they did, it was never the primary focus and certainly wasn't on display for all to watch. this was an old warehouse in lower manhattan, not the castro. but make no mistake, i was the bianca jagger of the lower east side and my bath house parties were the stuff of new york legends. you'd be amazed at who i managed to lure into my little den of cleanliness.

things have calmed considerably. for starters. i no longer have 400 square feet devoted to bathing.
on top of that, nobody i have met in california seems as open to the idea. they have no problem nailing some random whore, but they get all squeamish at the thought of even being in the next room while you shower much less anything more revealing.

so these days i bathe alone. which is fine as i have a rather lengthy regime that i prefer to do on my own without the distraction of others. from beginning to end it takes hours. i grind my own azuki beans and mix them with soy milk powder, water, honey and a few drops of ylang ylang to make a paste. i sit on a small stool in my darkened bathroom with the steam on and by the light of one small candle and my 1950's puma lamp scrub from head to toe with the paste. it smells amazing and it's completely natural — so you can eat it, but the beans really aren't that tasty, they just smell nice. fully exfoliated and covered in bean paste, i soak in an extremely warm bath with dead sea salts, sweet orange oil, hinoki (japanese cypress) oil & seaweed powder. again, the smell is unbelievable and the oils soothe my skin as i wipe away the azuki and massage my muscles (this is where having a house boy would really come in handy). after my soak i let the water drain & turn on the steam shower to rinse, usually while kneeling with my wrists under cool water to keep from keeling over because of the heat, if i'm not planning on going straight to bed i pour cold water through my hair and the back of my neck — it's a pleasant little shock to the system. once fully rinsed i wrap up in my heavy turkish cotton robe to stay toasty, lay down on the chaise in my dressing room & massage in jojoba oil mixed with sweet orange essences to one extremity at a time.

to say i go to bed smooth & smelling divine would be a vulgar understatement.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

i'm not fat — it's baby weight.

when i moved here i expected the california winters to be all 'high heels & bikinis'. instead i work with a space heater 6" from my person at all times, haven't felt my fingers since 2003 and look like a chubby WWII sailor in my 'life vest'.

bella the agency dog & i are in complete agreement that winter sucks, but we've found a reasonably pleasant solution: she loves to engage in a little nuzzle action with my boobs and spends most of the work day stuffed into my jacket, sweater or curled around my neck. it's win/win. she stays cozy nestled against my lovely breasties and i get to claim all fluctuations of weight and skin irritations are 'baby weight' or induced by the stress of caring for a needy child AND working 40+ hours a week.
i am such a modern woman.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

demon showed up at my door tonight

i fucking despise that man more than anything.
i can't even type. i think i might throw up.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

i have run the calculations and the numbers don't look good.

as of 6:13 p.m. today i have officially been hit by cars more often than i have had sex*.
*since moving to california — not in my entire life . i did after all, work in film and fashion for years — where everyone gets laid.

i'm not divulging actual digits other than to say one number is ridiculously high & the other — while i don't fancy being some two bit whore — is depressingly low. and were i to consider the number of times the sex was actually good — i may as well be a virgin. never a good sign when being struck by an automobile actually proves to be a more stimulating experience.

at any rate, while walking home from the grocery store this evening some punk ass teenager in his grandma's acura — that he covered in stickers which i'm sure added a serious boost in horsepower to his engine — totally clipped my left knee. the left is always the one to get it.
then to make matters worse, because i was cold, annoyed and not entirely in control of my external emotions at the moment, i hit his hood with my fist in a 'what the fuck is your problem asshole?' sort of way. it proved more painful than getting my knee cap almost torn off by a slow moving speed machine. and even worse than the pain: i am sure it was not at all flattering, intimidating or scarily impressive in any way.

i'm such a loser.

to the california department of corrections

i can see you.

Monday, December 10, 2007

i eat baby mice for breakfast

at least 3 years ago i told the daughter of our old IT guy (dearly beloved and missed 'tom-ass, the magical beast') that i only enjoyed eating donut holes that were made from baby mice and that the ones she would bring me from time to time where chock-full-o mice bits because they were easily the best i had ever tasted.

because jane is the coolest kid i have ever met — instead of getting all freaked out & whiny she loved the thought of eating baby mice as part of a healthy, well rounded breakfast.

today jane & her dad stopped by for a visit and she brought me a present... even better than my usual baggie of fresh donuts labeled 'mouse bits' with a mouse hacked in pieces scrawled across the front.

she actually MADE me a mouse out of donuts. god i love that kid.

unfortunately, i ate the head & two legs before i thought to take a photo of it. i'm a pig.


Sunday, December 09, 2007

cecil beaton will have to take a back seat for the moment

i have a serious thing for matrimonial accoutrements. if i considered marriage every time i found a dress i loved, elizabeth taylor would have been eating my dust 20 years ago.

since before i was out of my smocked pinafores and maryjanes i have coveted the dress designed by cecil beaton and worn by leslie caron in gigi. it never fails to fascinate me.


but today i found a website that sells vintage kimono and sighed audibly more than once as i looked through the different sections of formal & town wear. normally i lean toward the abstract mum, plum and crane motifs in subdued yet brilliant color ways — however, this one struck me in particular because it was so simple.


hand sewn silk hanayome shiromuku set from the 1920's.



i will most likely never marry, and i am perfectly fine with that (most hours of the day) but i still like the pretty pretties. and right now this is my favorite.

just because i will never be a cute, petite japanese woman (or a french war bride for that matter) doesn't mean i can't own a japanese wedding dress.
in fact, i think i would be the very vision of domestic perfection mopping the kitchen floor in it.

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

"luke, i am your brother... and we're super gay."

i'm too lazy to get stitches on my toe, but i did make a compromise and bought these spiffy new 3M surgical tape do-dads that are truly a phenomenon of sci-fi proportions.

tonight, as i languished in my tub chattering away to myself like a complete freak, i drifted off into heather-land and me thinks i may need to start seeing my head shrinker again.

either that or i just really, really need to have sex.
within minutes my mind went from 'wow these bandages are wonderful' to...

'i feel like luke skywalker after daddy darth chopped off his arm and he's getting outfitted with his new fakey that has creepy real/artificial skin. i've been cleaned up and am recuperating after a long day of battling the dark side (advertising's not too far off) and like luke, while i didn't really come out ahead — i'm not dead — so the story's not over. plus now i've got this great fake toe.

... and then my mind drifted a wee bit further (because it has to, it just doesn't know how to stop) and i thought...

'and what if instead of princess leia... boba fett came strutting into my room & not only laid a whopper of a kiss on me but then was like:

"luke, i am your brother... and we're gay. super gay."

what's wrong with me?!

dingo ate my big toe

this morning as i'm getting out of the shower i trip over the shower door thingy and almost wiped out and hit my head. rad. that's all i need is to be found dead and naked sprawled on my bathroom floor. i haven't shaved in days. there's just no way that is going to look pretty.

as i finished drying off i noticed my right foot was in a rapidly spreading puddle of garnet goo. i'm a tad OCD... my first thought was 'oh my god... my bath rug will never come clean again' (stains are thine darkest enemy) and then i focused on the sea of blood and became embarrassingly queasy. i'm not so hot with gore these days. i don't know what happened but somewhere along the way i lost that hardcore 'i can stitch that eye up for you, i have an upholstery needle in my wallet' side of me and now i am a complete puss — especially when it's my own blood and guts.

in and out of semi-consciousness i ascertained (as i like to believe willoughby from sense & sensibility would have) that nothing was actually broken but i did have a ginormous crescent shaped gouge/slice on my big toe. it could easily accommodate a dime. my mind wandered and i envisioned myself as a pay phone on a nyc street corner circa 1944 where you slip a dime into my toe & then whisper into my ear. and then i snapped back into 'your' world and focused once again on my gushing toe. apparently toes have arteries and my blood pressure was good this morning because that baby was spurting with every heart beat. god it was horrible. i'm getting all hazy feeling just thinking of it.

so anyway... bandaged it up, hobbling around... blah blah blah. whatever. i'm at work now and i noticed my foot was starting to feel a bit squishy so i looked... my new chucks look like i've been tap dancing in a slaughter house.. which is fine.. new, clean chucks are gay, but this is seriously sick. i poured blood out of my shoe and the 'hero' partner to my 'anti-hero' socks has doubled in weight. thank god they are so spongy and absorbent.
once again,,, i cleaned things up and left my foot unwrapped for a few minutes hoping it might dry closed or something. the office dog, bella, was under my desk checking things out and as i talked to her i forgot about my foot... until i felt her nibbling.

doggy ate a bit of my toe.

that's so, so wrong.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

my inner girl yearns to have been a 1950's dior model

getting to play dress up is the ONLY fun part of modeling. the rest is pure bullshit.

that said, i would endure all the nonsense again if i could flounce around in a few of these for mark shaw (famous fashion photographer of the day) for an afternoon.

when i lived in ny i loved going to isaac's atelier and playing in the couture. he called me his little 'renegade muse': one part grace kelly, one part johnny thunders and a dash of christopher walken wrapped up in a $20,000 dress.... ranting like a maniacal lunatic about some gallery show and swearing like a sailor over the fact they didn't have watercress sandwiches at tea. (everyone knows i love mother fucking watercress sandwiches god damnit!!!)









Monday, December 03, 2007

it's like vietnam without all the fun shooting.


i woke before the sun today. and despite the booming voice in my head that kept screaming 'don't get out of the bed! don't get out of the bed!' i did & found myself slinking through the darkness & rain like a night ambush in the boonies just inland of nha trang beach. the perimeter, usually patrolled by a cavalry of local cats, was desolate.... my comrades still at their posts in the killing fields- systematically wiping out entire generations of educated vermin. 13 klicks from base camp, i found myself alone- feeling my way through the minefield without a light. instinct, not phuoc long got me to my destination. 100,000 slugs reinforced with a battalion of heavily armored snails & 50 cal. earthworms came at me from every direction. unable to hold the line on my own i had to break bush & take cover in the sanctuary of the street: 38º 35' lat, 121º 30' long.

gut feeling, girl u want

i had my ipod in one pocket & my phone in the other. i was wearing my too-small army shirt named "frates" for going on week two of 104 degree weather & as i perused the various spools of electrical wire at home depot it occurred to me i have had that feeling before. it was reminiscent of the time a friend & i strapped 12 sticks of dynamite to my chest to see what it would feel like. had i planned to wear them for any period of time they would have had to have 3" cut off to fit comfortably around my torso. naturally, like all women of distinction: i prefer even my t-n-t to be couture.

in bath fixtures i stared into a vanity mirror pretending i was reading the manufacturers sticker, but really, i was listening to devo & thinking 'if i had become a stripper i would probably dance to devo a LOT. that could be my thing: the girl that dances to devo & hank williams exclusively... maybe a little judy garland when i am feeling blue & overly emotional.'

i stared at my face & had one of those strange, brief moments where i realize i really have no idea what i look like. i don't really look like a stripper, especially in frates, my burgundy & white hawaiian print skirt & ratty low top converse i can't bear to throw away even though they are dangerously close to becoming flip flops & hurt my feet. i don't think i would like looking like a stripper. i don't like looking cheap & stripper shoes are an embarrassment to humanity. i looked away from the mirror & moved on to nuts, bolts, nails & screws- deciding i was better off in my low tops. i could make listening to hank & devo during home improvement projects my thing. that's more honest.

i often have to remind myself that it's better to die alone & foresaken waiting for the one who believes completely i'm the girl they want, rather than having to pretend for the rest of my life i am something i am not just because i have a better chance sharing dinner with someone i can't stand when i am 75.

in paint, i had to focus - i was reading the fine print. i needed a respirator. none of the ones they had were for automotive paint & it was too late to make it to the auto paint shop. i had been hoping to call my sister later & leave her a sexy darth vadar message while i painted. nothing is ever simple.

on my way home i kicked all the stones i could find & thought about how my life hasn't had many real accomplishments, but... it has had fewer regrets: never being able to wear short shorts, mixing grape cool-aid & chicken noodle soup when i was 6 & then jumping up & down for 15 minutes straight for no reason other than i was a hyper active freak, only learning how to play black sabbath songs on the bass guitar.... it could have been much worse.

as i walked through the manicured lawns of the 'fab 40's' i took refuge in 'frates.' something about smelling like i just crawled out of the 'nam bush' & the constricting tug of my overstuffed pockets that felt like dynamite strapped to my chest blurred the rest of the world.
got a gut feeling.
something about the way you taste, makes me want to clear my throat.




Saturday, December 01, 2007

obsession of the day

i can't stop thinking about this kitchen designed by thomas o'brien (who i ADORE).






i would swap out the double viking stove for a la cornue or lacanche behemouth — just because i think they are so beautiful and the craftsmanship would make you teary eyed it's so unbelievable. plus, i cannot lie — i am a total size-queen when it comes to stoves. they simply don't come big enough and you can never have too many ovens. NEVER.
just look at this gorgeous beast:



god i get tingly just thinking about it. i would probably go for stainless though. i like the colors but i'm too fickle to apply them to appliances that weigh 2500 lbs and cost tens of thousands of dollars. walls can be painted to fit my whim.... stoves cannot.

must go check on the thai red curry which is stewing in my current ramshackle crack den of a kitchen.