Thursday, January 31, 2008

scrap bar

dear mister davide,

i'm bored.

would you please log on and send me links to 'high on fire' videos?
i could do it myself but it's more fun when you send them 20 at a time rapid fire-style.

you can make fun of my stuffed cat and i'll tell you funny stories about setting myself on fire (we've only scratched the surface).

miss heather

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

is it too much to ask to be left the fuck alone for 20 minutes?

i'm not a morning person. i'm a 3 a.m. person. and no matter what time of day i NEVER like to be interrupted while i'm working. if i am sitting in front of my computer, painting, welding, tearing something apart, pretending i'm putting something together, writing, staring at the wall... whatever.... if the music is loud and i have a look on my face that says 'you don't exist' — YOU DON'T. and it's for a reason.

so it never ceases to amaze and enrage me when people insist on hovering over my shoulder to chit chat — even as i continue to ignore them.

... heather's busy... i guess i'll go stand by her desk, let the office dog out so she can jump on heather's lap for 15 minutes before settling down & make completely one-sided small talk in a revoltingly cutesy voice about things heather has absolutely NO interest in. who cares if she stares at me as though she might bite one of my organs out of my torso with her bare teeth. i'm a completely clueless, inconsiderate, stupid fuckwad. my greatest accomplishment in life is making it through the day without hurting myself...

it has been a rough morning. i hit my head on the bathroom sink this morning, i drank my coffee out of a beaker that i think had chemical residue in it and now my mouth burns a little and my hair looks like i combed it with an egg beater. i'm a fucking mess.

i don't need nonstop inane banter interrupting me every 5 minutes. what is wrong with people? was the entire population of california raised in a barn?

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

not even the rain, has such small hands.

and apparently, neither do i.

this morning i was dubbed the 'little death-ray of sunshine' and this evening a friend told me that i most resemble 'frederick' from the film hannah and her sisters.
i think i am having a bad day.

D: "the reason you never know which sister is most like you is because you're frederick, not hannah — or her sisters.'

H: "na-uh, i've had a crush on max von sydow ever since i saw him wearing that priest get up in the exorcist. and besides, i want to marry a man like frederick, not be like him."

D: "hate to break it to you, but watching him on screen is like watching you when you are sorting laundry or just walking around your house talking... but, you're frederick in a good way, sort of.... i don't know. sorry. that wasn't meant to sound as bad as it did."

H: "oh whatever, fine, i want to find a man who's just like me then. does that make me egotistical? it's less complicated that way, at least i know what to expect."

2 seconds later he emailed me this:

Frederick: You missed a very dull TV show on Auschwitz. More gruesome film clips, and more puzzled intellectuals declaring their mystification over the systematic murder of millions. The reason they can never answer the question "How could it possibly happen?" is that it's the wrong question. Given what people are, the question is "Why doesn't it happen more often?"

--- yep that's you.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

the last goodbye

post hilly, post cbgb's. post life as we knew it.

thanks marcus.

Hi Jen

this post is just for you.


Monday, January 21, 2008

don't hate me for being a dirtbag, love me for not giving a fuck

thank you dustin for always capturing me at my finest.
"nice hat loser, are we re-enacting 'oliver' this morning?"

Sunday, January 20, 2008

a whiter shade of shit

i'm painting my motley assortment of bedroom furniture today in an attempt to unify it and make the room look more like a woman's bedroom instead of an office furniture warehouse. i'm don't think i'm going to pull it off. i've a sneaking suspicion i am going to end up with a motley assortment of high gloss white bedroom furniture. polishing shit only gives you shiny shit, not new furniture. and to make matters worse, i'm too lazy to do it properly so it's all pretty sloppy and giving me repeated anxiety attacks with every brush stroke. i wish the shop wasn't fucked up & full of crap right now because then i could at least shoot everything instead of using a brush. painting with a brush sucks unless it is on canvas. i forgot how tedious & messy it is. my poor furniture is not taking to it well at all. it will be an improvement, most definitely, but far from what i had (delusionally) hoped would transpire with a couple coats of paint. to be honest, i was actually picturing different furniture entirely- so it's my own fault when i am disappointed over the fact that a $35 gallon of high gloss paint didn't miraculously transform my mish-mash of UN-important antiques into a glamorously girly 1940's hollywood regency suite straight out of some pre-war paris flat. that would be SOME paint. (and if i had such paint i would probably eat it.)

anyway, i'm freezing and i need to go get some food & then i'm putting myself down for a nap while i wait to put on the next coat. my brain is spinning and i've got horrible cramps. i hate being a girl. wieners look like so much more fun. at any rate, i need a couple hours nestled deep in my bed where i can think. maybe about being wiener-less (on so many levels), maybe not. i'm not sure what kind of mood i'm in right now. empty is the only thing that currently comes to mind.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

i drank two tonight.

to the california department of corrections

i'm sorry, do i bore you?

if you really must check my blog every day — you could at least have the decency to read it... every whiney, droning word — instead of bolting after 0 seconds.

you know, i can't (won't) post photos of my boobs every day and you aren't going to discover some covert operation for world domination i've got in the works.... because i don't plan covert operations and then post them on the internet. hell, i don't even comb my hair every day. mass destruction for me would be tripping as i walk through the living room & landing on the huge bowl of 2 year old quail eggs i've got on the coffee table. THAT would be apocalyptic.

but i'll be sure to let you know if ANY of this changes.
consider it my cry for help. which you can blatantly ignore and then when all hell breaks loose and it is discovered in the aftermath that i had actually let my evil intentions (or boobs, which ever the case may be) be known BUT you ignored me, the world can unite, ever-so briefly, and ponder the always popular question of the media, government and those who don't actually think for themselves:

'how could this happen? why didn't someone do something before it was too late? it was all there... in plain sight.... how did she slip through the cracks?'

and then, my friend steve can turn it into a movie for lifetime or maybe spike, i can spend the rest of my days scuttling about in recognizable obscurity while wearing dramatic ensembles of turbans and sweaters-worn-as leg-warmers a la edith bouvier beale, and maybe, JUST MAYBE britney will get her kids back.. but she's gotta stop smokin the rock.

but you've got to do your part.

we're a team, it's you and me darlin'..... the california department of corrections and me.

today is not a good day for the men inside my head & the hatred is about to spilleth over.

to begin with, today marks the 10 year anniversary of the night G decided to decapitate himself with a gun while standing at the end of my bed. well, technically it was his bed but that is an irrelevant detail at this juncture. the fact that i found a piece of his skull in my shirt pocket a week later is a slightly more relevant detail that still languishes in the back of my own skull to this day.

needless to say: i'm not a fan of january 17th for that reason. it plagues me. it has cost me untold thousands of dollars in therapy, sucked years of my life into a dark, memory-less void and affected every relationship i have ever had with another human since. and fair or unfair, men have felt the brunt of that night more than anyone else. i try to be judicious, but sometimes crazy takes over.

that said, most men in my life haven't been poor, blameless victims of my sharp tongue & untrusting demeanor — i have made a pathetic habit of filling my life with a worthless lot of liars, cheats and losers; who in almost all cases have gotten exactly what they deserved when it came to their dealings with me. which generally amounts to nothing more than excommunication and an honest though maybe harsh assessment of their failings as a human being with regards to myself. poor diddums... if you don't like being called a dick... don't behave like one. we're not talking deep, convoluted philosophies on human relationships here.

so, i am in a cantankerous, foul, devastatingly depressed mood as it is. if you have a penis, a gun, you lie or you are in general an ignorant piece of shit... you would do best to keep your distance this week because it is all i can do right now to not let the blackness that is festering inside of me manifest itself in a never ending display of physical and verbal annihilation. as a result i've been doing a lot of rocking back & forth reminding myself that i am more evolved than that. and nothing, most certainly not violence, will change how i feel. 'i am NOT an animal' i keep telling myself, 'i am not an animal' despite living in a world inhabited almost exclusively by animals.

so imagine my delight when my "friend" and roommate of several years chose this week to not only piss around with the rent, but lie repeatedly about it. this is nothing new of course. we have this monthly song and dance in which he's a little late, i lay on a little lecture & guilt, he apologizes profusely and means none of it and then when i yell at him and threaten to sell the contents of the garage out back, he makes the deposit. annoying... yes. it's terribly antagonistic and time consuming, but we have an understanding "don't fuck me or i will absolutely RUIN you" and as a rule i don't let it get to me. he knows better than to really screw with me, but can't resist doing what comes most natural to him. from time to time i let him think he's fooling me — all of course while keeping meticulous mental notes of every discrepancy uttered forth from his silly little mouth. i love him to death, don't get me wrong. he is like my much larger, little brother who has completely fallen off his path & needs his hand held.... but he drives me fucking nuts and he's about to get his hand SMACKED.

there's a saying 'don't bullshit a bullshitter' — which i find incredibly annoying because it bristles with the idiotic mentality that one should take pride in being so full of shit that they can spot it in others. (and it's always THE MOST annoying, ignorant fuck wads that toss it around like a badge of honor). i prefer the 'concept' of not trying to manipulate and lie to someone who is infinitely smarter, saner and more coherent than you are. you will always loose.

this months barrage of bullshit was no different than any other — but the timing couldn't have been worse and i'm sick of it. i hate liars. i hate weakness and most of all i loathe cowardice. i have given him every opportunity in the fucking world to do the right thing. i have stood by his side when everyone else in this world has finally thrown in the towel and walked away. yet he persists in dealing with me as though i was one of his retarded, two bit sacramento whores who accepts any ludicrous tale simply because i'm so pathetically desperate to swing from the balls of "GERM" that i am incapable of rational thought, deduction or the ability to put two and two together. he seems to forget that i study particle physics as a FUCKING HOBBY.... checking the date/time stamp on the bank deposit slip & comparing it to the day he told me he made the deposit (for the 8th time) isn't exactly beyond my mental comprehension.

that is what i find most infuriatingly offensive. not the lies and irresponsibility itself — that's just tedious and annoying — but it's this notion and delusion that he's fooling me and that i am ignorant enough to actually believe the pure bullshit that comes out of his messed up head.

we're going to have a little chat this weekend, face to face — something i have YET to meet a man capable of handling. he is one of the few people who has seen me scream bloody terror in person — it's not my style and it doesn't happen often, but he has driven me beyond eloquent tact on several occasions.

he isn't going to be that lucky this time. screaming is for stupid, irrational girls who don't have anything to say so they fill the air with noise. i am not a stupid, irrational girl.
i am going to deal with him calmly, coldly, quietly and with nothing more than irrefutable truth.
and, i am going to ruin his soul.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

my subconscious clock is ticking

every year towards the end of december i start to feel this melancholy nagging. it doesn't manifest itself wholeheartedly, it just sneaks into the back of my brain & pecks away slowly and quietly. just enough to bug me, not enough to make me pause for a second and wonder why. and then a few days before G day it hits me what has been fermenting in the back of my throat all these weeks.

sunday january 17th, 1988. the worst day of my existence.

i've noticed that odd fluttering in my chest for a month.

so here's your annual hello, griffen. it has been so many years i don't know if i love you or hate you. most times i'm not sure i know the difference between the two emotions. you, and you alone, can pat yourself on the shoulder for that one.

my guess is you are to blame for the hives as well.


i feel like crap today

i'm not sure what's wrong with me but i'm queezy, have a slight fever and the best part.... hives. luckily they are only on my legs, belly & arms — so it's not as though i look like a leper or anything, but it's unpleasant none-the-less. i have no idea what brought it about.. i think maybe stress.

Monday, January 14, 2008

heather's first ax

nice dirty feet.

'focus' (it pains me)

i was sitting in bed & thought 'i think i want a glass of milk.
i went to the kitchen took the milk out of the fridge, set it on the counter.
turned away from said milk, grabbed the cat food & went out back to feed the
estranged whore cat, sophie, who is still residing beneath the house.

while trying to entice her onto the back porch with 'here chubby, chubby'
i noticed the smell of burning wood & was immediately taken back to 1975 in my playroom on 2nd street. book of the day: 'see no evil, hear no evil, SMELL NO EVIL'... my first ever scratch & sniff book featuring the crew from sesame street as they try to mask the stench of fresh paint in their new clubhouse. those crazy muppets bring an assortment of things in to clear the air: pine, lemon, roses, oscar even tosses around a tin of sardines... towards the end of the book, the amazing mumford comes in to work his magic (literally) & with a poof, all the intrusive odors disappear.... leaving the room filled with smoke... which as a 4 year old i found very annoying because it smelled absolutely NOTHING like smoke... until now.

i wrinkled my nose, turned and came inside and headed straight for my bookcase of children's books. there it was, tattered, pages torn from the spine from a 1000 stealthy attempts to get any unsuspecting bystander to inhale the skunk sticker. i flipped to that vexing page filled with smoke & inhaled. sure enough, my nose forgets even less than my spooky little brain. fake smoke smell.

i squatted in front of the bookcase in my jammies (very attractive i'm sure) & read it smelling every sticker. i still like the paint & sardine ones best.

and then i stood up (it took some work to get upright to be honest) & thought 'i think i want a glass of milk'
i went to the kitchen, looked in the fridge and then remembered i had started this process a half hour earlier and found a half filled glass of milk on the counter.

it's like i travel through worm holes but get nowhere.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

domestic duty

yesterday i was a bit lazy. i did laundry & cleaned out the inside of my car.. but aside from that i didn't get much done. i spent a good portion of the afternoon and evening nestled in my bed with monty reading cooking magazines. not once thinking (or feeling guilty) about the fact that my entire house needs cleaning and i have about 4 side projects that desperately need my attention.

sometimes i need a day in bed to myself. yesterday was one of those days and i thoroughly enjoyed myself.
today, i must take care of all that needs taken care of. i'm off to a slow start. so far all i've done is make a batch of buttermilk biscuits, drink some coffee & poke around on ebay for the perfect vintage sofa. a completely FUTILE act since i'm not about to pay someone to ship a sofa unless i am certain of what i am getting — and i am notoriously picky. i have been without a proper sofa for like 5 years as proof. the ever elusive sofa. someday... someday i will have you.

so on my agenda today is the following list of mundane tasks:
clean the kitchen and bathroom, including mopping the floors
vacuum bedroom, dressing room, living room & office (& then mop wood floor)
fold & iron laundry which i neglected yesterday so undoubtedly everything will need to be ironed. (yay! I LOVE IRONING!!!!!)
clean out bird cage
empty trash & recycling which has taken over one corner of the kitchen & a section in the laundry room
clean the crap out of my sneakers (wince)

and then i can do the stuff i want to do:
bake the chocolate pudding & creme fraiche pie in last months bon appetite
make roasted butternut squash ravioli with browned butter and sage for dinner. i've been craving them ever since lunch in pasadena.
order more marie belle hot chocolate
go to the asian market & regular grocery store
sketch drapery ideas for dressing room shelves (to hide them because they are hideous)
write the last copy for my portfolio/website & tweak layout & specs so i can build it in flash tomorrow while at work (stickin it to the man as always)

and then climb into bed & try not to think about the fact that tomorrow i must get up and go to a creatively life-sucking job.

oh the titillating life i lead

Friday, January 11, 2008

desperately clinging to my last notch

i just woke up (yes, i fell asleep a little early tonight, i'm lame) and had absolutely no idea where i was or WHO i was. it took several minutes to figure it out. this has happened about 4 times since i got home. i'm starting to wonder if something is not quite right. (quiet, no snickering)

i wonder if it's wishful thinking on behalf of my subconscious and it has started erasing my current life or if i've just 'lost it' one more notch.

running low on notches.

i like options

when shopping for pork rind products.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

e.t. as seen through the eyes of matthead

i was digging through a box of crap i brought back from home.
i found this, along with a collection of tiny, dismembered doll arms, in a 1950's watch box i had stashed in my closet.
i think my little brother did it.

i am my own hero

as well as my own dragon. and i must save myself
from myself everyday.

i think sylvia plath has invaded my body.

it's the melodramatic princess in me and i'm trying very hard to suppress her, but it's cold, rainy, i'm in complete hormonal breakdown-mode and basically i'm tired of everything.

so i'm going to whine.

i don't even know what to whine about. i'm sick of listening to myself drone on about the same old shit, day after day.
new job, new house, want a boyfriend, want to move... blah blah blah. shut the fuck up, already. none of those seem like so much to ask for — until you factor in that this is me we're talking about and then things get all screwy.

what i need to be doing is locking myself up in my house and getting stuff done instead of jumping ahead to step 18 & picking out paint colors for an apartment that doesn't even exist in my reality. i've got 400 pages of book crap to edit, a web-site that needs some design tweaks & about 20% of the copy that still needs to be written, i need to sit down & figure out my finances — which are completely fucked from my cross-country jaunt from hell. that lovely yearly bonus that i waited around at my current job to get & was supposed to get me an apartment: GONE. i don't even know on what... military books & surrender flags i guess.

that flag may come in handy, because i am sinking fast... or at least holding steady very low beneath the surface. the temptation to pull one of my disappearing acts haunts me hourly — but i can't bring myself to do it this time. it always ends up being more of a hassle than it's worth & that whole 'i thought you were dead' conversation gets old really fast when i finally resurface. but god i would give anything to pack up, slip away & disappear from everything and everyone.

if 'semi-shy, reclusive loner' was as cool as the whole 'look at me, i'm desperately cool' thing that is so coveted around here i would fucking rule this place.

ugh, i think it needs to stop raining. it's psychologically damaging for me.

wah, wah, wah. some one please duct tape my mouth shut & cut my fingers off. consider it your good deed for the new year.


i don't have much work to do today so i think i am going to be lazy & do nothing but read blogs all day & make shopping lists & menus. i suppose i should write that copy for my website as well.. but it's soooooo boring. i would rather house/apt shop.

Monday, January 07, 2008


favorite thing in my parents house: 1916 art nouveau bronze incense burner. someday it will be mine.

monty will sleep anywhere

auntie heather & the sleeping baby

addison: post enormous pooh... & yet still lady-like

xmas morning with a sick boy = not much fun


skate park on navajo indian reservation in keyenta, az.

i'm not one of those people that looks good right out of bed

men who drive with their loads improperly secured should not talk on cell phones.

i missed the 400 other trucks he had

st. louis water towers

arizona has big rocks

and free wood??

fake animals in fake indian city

rednecks are everywhere.

sweet littleman


home at last

after 3 weeks of living out of a suitcase (well 4, i'm not a light packer) i finally got home saturday night. aside from the 6 days either way driving it wasn't that bad... but the drive sucks & i will never, under any circumstances do it again.

high point of the trip:
puking my guts out the night before i left PA... in my down duvet, in my parents living room. my parents have a big house with many rooms, none of which are dedicated to sleeping these days. i went out to meet steve per our nightly routine. he was a no-show for a couple hours though so i entertained myself by sending father goose photos of my boobs from the bathroom. (a later look at my phone messages revealed that i was probably a bit more tipsy than i thought. i look like a little sausage wrapped in a dice mag tshirt.... so unattractive.

bailed at about midnight because i felt like crap. got home, crashed on mummy's rather pricey sofa & woke up about 20 minutes later with only one thought: 'i'm gonna ralph & i will never make it to the second floor'. i scanned the dark living room.... expensive sofa, expensive rug, surrounded by antiques everywhere i looked. i looked at my beautiful virginal white duvet wrapped around me & realized it was my only hope. we both fell to the floor & i filled my poor baby with gallons of vomitous muck.

pretty image you say? oh, it was so much better than one can even imagine. i was prostrate on the floor (managed to make it to the hardwood at least) lying in a pool of my own puke - up to my elbows, long hair a sopping mess. it was like a horror flick. and as i lay there praying for death all i could think was 'mom is going to fucking KILL me'

i wish i had a photo of that.

the ride home was uneventful albeit long & pretty much shitty. my knees were not made for 4 days in a subaru. to entertain myself i took pictures through the window. i like nature just as much as the next person but last night when i unloaded my camera onto my computer i thought it was somewhat telling that of the 1500 photos i took while driving through some of the most beautiful parts of the country; at least 3/4 of them were of old junk yards, dilapidated factories and power plants and america's waste land. if you've seen one grand canyon you've seen them all.... but it's not every day you run across a FIELD of 1940's pickup trucks. had i been alone in the car i never would have made it to pennsylvania because i would have been stopping every 4 miles trying to con some old backwoods (desert?) farmer out of his treasure trove of old metal delights. i don't think i have ever let out so many audible squeaks of disbelief/joy/amazement in my life. i asked my sister about 20 times if we could stop. i got 20 "no's".
the temptation to puke in her car as retribution was almost too much to resist. but alas, i had already reached my quota for rolling around in my own puke on this vacation.

by the time we got to AZ our spirits had improved considerably. we were both glad to be 'getting home' & the tensions that plagued us during the ride to PA had mostly been set aside. at that point all i cared about was getting into my own car & heading homeward. i made a pit stop in LA to hang out with steve & deliver his darth vadar helmet — which i wore from time to time in heavy traffic while making the cross country trek. being a retard with no shame has its advantages sometimes because it entertained us for miles.

nman wearing his 'warren dragons' sweatshirt because he's super gay.

while in LA i looked at a few places in long beach. they were a bit depressing — so i am no closer to moving than i was a month ago. i'll figure something out — but my sojourn into unknown territory was futile aside from discovering that the area called 'traffic circle' in no way lived up to the clover leaf civil engineering nightmare i had envisioned. it was like 4 streets that intersected. whoo-hoo. i've been in more confusing subway tunnels.

after that i got to visit fathergoose which pretty much threw a wrench into his weekend — and i'm profusely sorry for that but i totally loved playing with lil'man, so the selfish side of me has no regrets whatsoever. besides, i love the goose factory and a stressed, soaking wet goose is still more fun than sitting at home alone. however, i STILL have the transformers theme going through my head. if it becomes a permanent fixture on my internal soundtrack i'm going to need to have a little talk with little man. i must confess though, he was utterly refreshing... most of the time when i meet people's kids i'm like 'oh your child is so fun and cute'... while they are gnawing at my knees & i'm privately thinking 'you are the shittiest parent i have ever met, your kid is like an wild animal and i hope to god i am dead & gone before my future is dictated by this generation of creatures.'
but i am pleased to report that i felt no such animosity with crazy-eyes lorenzo. he was exactly what a child should be: sweet, endearingly precocious, polite, affectionate and contagiously excitable. i've never tried so hard to lose a game of 'go fish' in my life, but i was more than happy to for that little guy. he was just pure adorable sweetness. my faith in humanity is somewhat restored.

and now i am home and back to work. it's weird. it's a little depressing and feels good at the same time. i am not a fan of my house, my job or my general day to day bullshit at the moment... but at least it's territory i am familiar with. my bath last night was pure ecstasy.