I'm writing a book.
I tell myself this.
It's a strange concept, to begin with just a small seed that you must nourish into a tree. God that's cliche. I'm too lazy to think of something clever.
I have a basil plant. It is small and hopefully I can use it for cooking. I've always wanted an herb garden. I have 2 children now. My basil plant Hank and my silly car Weatherford. I'm hoping I don't kill the plant. I don't know how to care for it. You wouldn't think it would be complicated. But look at a goldfish. It's the simplest animal in the world. You just feed it once or twice a day and clean the bowl, right? Well, I've killed plenty in my day, so I guess that's not right. The bigger animals I'm better with...
I'm going to Colorado this weekend. Here's hoping I don't die a terrible death on the plane. As habit predicts, I must remember to bring some Tolle and some Dyer with me, so if I panic, I can get a little peace and soothing. Also, I'll use the secret my aunt taught me, and the one my father taught me, because I am superstitious. My aunt told me to wave your hand in a rainbow in front of you, calling for your guardian angels to help. And my dad, well he's just funny, as a little girl, he told me to lift my feet as the plane took off, and to dig my heels into the ground when we landed. You know, just to give the pilot a little extra aid. All grown-up and I have to do it still.
There is loudness all around. Yelling outside, a door slamming, music beating out of a parked car.
I'm excited for Boulder. For trees and green and Coloradans and a different way of living--I won't have time to do that different way, but I'll observe it, as is my nature.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Wild West
Wild West
I was smothered
But I didn’t know until the plastic was on my face
My mouth sucking and sucking, the plastic taut
And translucent, a window into my mouth
A flailing tongue and straight, white teeth
Bleached and once braced.
There’s something about suburbia they don’t tell you
That it lives elsewhere
Breathes into apartments with the breeze
Lights up condos
That the myth will follow you, even if you don’t chase it.
The wild west, a myth they said in those school days,
I’ve got a bigger one the teacher giggled
Her desk ornate with children’s photos,
I don’t know if they were hers,
Only that there was
A husband absent.
A woman once said to me,
my mother, but a human being first,
“How strange to think who you would be, if he’d chosen to be with me.”
But he did not choose her.
Not after all that.
Still there is the supposition
And the suspicion,
Goodbye house she will say soon
And further south she will retire, with my little old father,
who did nothing but try to be good
Sometimes, when the afternoon light dims
Tranquilized by the evening breeze
My throat tightens, and I want to cry
My apartment windows are barred and blinded
They remind me of my teeth once, as a child, an adult-becoming,
I try to cry, in that soft light coming through
The blinds tilted at such an angle that I can not see out.
But I can’t cry, and don’t change the blinds to see,
And don’t open the window,
I let the air stifle and still, warm and
Wait for a distraction.
I was smothered
But I didn’t know until the plastic was on my face
My mouth sucking and sucking, the plastic taut
And translucent, a window into my mouth
A flailing tongue and straight, white teeth
Bleached and once braced.
There’s something about suburbia they don’t tell you
That it lives elsewhere
Breathes into apartments with the breeze
Lights up condos
That the myth will follow you, even if you don’t chase it.
The wild west, a myth they said in those school days,
I’ve got a bigger one the teacher giggled
Her desk ornate with children’s photos,
I don’t know if they were hers,
Only that there was
A husband absent.
A woman once said to me,
my mother, but a human being first,
“How strange to think who you would be, if he’d chosen to be with me.”
But he did not choose her.
Not after all that.
Still there is the supposition
And the suspicion,
Goodbye house she will say soon
And further south she will retire, with my little old father,
who did nothing but try to be good
Sometimes, when the afternoon light dims
Tranquilized by the evening breeze
My throat tightens, and I want to cry
My apartment windows are barred and blinded
They remind me of my teeth once, as a child, an adult-becoming,
I try to cry, in that soft light coming through
The blinds tilted at such an angle that I can not see out.
But I can’t cry, and don’t change the blinds to see,
And don’t open the window,
I let the air stifle and still, warm and
Wait for a distraction.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
The Yoga-nator
Yoga last night was fantastic torture. It's 90 minutes of dripping sweat and pain, but I love it. The class was jam packed and although the room is not heated, it feels like sauna because of all the body heat. I actually stepped in a puddle of someone else's sweat in my barefeet on the way out, but was too exhausted to care. Thinking about it now though gives me the shivers.
It's simply cleansing, in every sense. I walk out feeling lighter and freer, like I definitley left a lot of crap in that room on my mat. Clean energy, clean body. I've been yoga-ing for a year now. And I'm addicted. This was only my second time at this studio. One of the neatest parts about it is that every class is donation based. I'm utterly shocked that I'm not sore. Just a little tired, everything a little worn.
It's also good for my neuroses because you're packed in like sardines. I could feel the guy next to me breathing on me (and yoga's all about the breathing). It helps me work through it, just be comfortable, people are people are people.
Holy cow, though. Right before the class started, this black guy in a suit, stumbled in, walked on everyone's mats and lied down in the corner, on someone's yoga mat. It took the teacher and a few students like ten minutes to get him up and out. And on the way out, the teacher told him it was a yoga class he was trying to sleep in, and a goofy grin lit up his face and he said, "Yoga?!" It sounded as if he had an African accent. And then in the early moments of the class, I could hear a brief cop siren, I'm guessing they came to remove his sleeping body from the sidewalk.
He wasn't homeless, you could tell by the way he was dressed. Just drunk and confused. Unsettling.
It's simply cleansing, in every sense. I walk out feeling lighter and freer, like I definitley left a lot of crap in that room on my mat. Clean energy, clean body. I've been yoga-ing for a year now. And I'm addicted. This was only my second time at this studio. One of the neatest parts about it is that every class is donation based. I'm utterly shocked that I'm not sore. Just a little tired, everything a little worn.
It's also good for my neuroses because you're packed in like sardines. I could feel the guy next to me breathing on me (and yoga's all about the breathing). It helps me work through it, just be comfortable, people are people are people.
Holy cow, though. Right before the class started, this black guy in a suit, stumbled in, walked on everyone's mats and lied down in the corner, on someone's yoga mat. It took the teacher and a few students like ten minutes to get him up and out. And on the way out, the teacher told him it was a yoga class he was trying to sleep in, and a goofy grin lit up his face and he said, "Yoga?!" It sounded as if he had an African accent. And then in the early moments of the class, I could hear a brief cop siren, I'm guessing they came to remove his sleeping body from the sidewalk.
He wasn't homeless, you could tell by the way he was dressed. Just drunk and confused. Unsettling.
Monday, May 5, 2008
in images
Alex, what a joy to see you the other night. As always, you were hysterical and tickled me. Beef Nate too. He's got some great one liners. About the beer spilling,"Now the floor's going to be sticky" and dave quoting. It's no wonder I based some writing on you guys. Whenever we hang out, I remember the night in images. The sticky floor, rubbing our shoes on the wall, the perv and the short guy's near calamity, the couple's "tender" making out, Alaska, I LOVE HANGING OUT, and then all the strangeness happening off camera. The perv pissing himself, and somehow believing pouring cologne on himself would remedy the situation, the missing furby...I don't know. I just remember these things, and my memory is poor. And that's why they find their way into my work. Because I remember, you make me remember, how is it I remember???
I'm making a cameo in your film this weekend. Write me in. I fly in Thursday, so maybe thurs night or fri night. Are you still an all night kid? I'm up for some midnight street wandering. like we used to. unzip that sweatshirt a little. it's been a while.
And thank you for your instant wisdom. The first thing that came out of your mouth about it. It wasn't the first time I had listened to it, but it was the first time I really heard it: You don't need to go to grad school to validate yourself as a writer. You don't need another degree to write.
After visiting Palm Desert that day, it was the perfect timing to receive it.
The script is coming together. Great feedback yesterday. I think we've got something.
I bought potatoes, tangerines, and cheesy bread things at the farmer's market. i love that place. listened to the band, watched people, ate samples, perused the tables of food and color.
Highlights of Palm Desert and Palm Springs: Driving through the windmills, which looked like monstrous, white flowers. The Mexican food restaurant with refreshing margaritas. Facing that stifling mountain of dirt and rock that loomed above us. Sand overwhelming the boundaries of the streets. The heat waves rising above the street like a whisper.
I'm making a cameo in your film this weekend. Write me in. I fly in Thursday, so maybe thurs night or fri night. Are you still an all night kid? I'm up for some midnight street wandering. like we used to. unzip that sweatshirt a little. it's been a while.
And thank you for your instant wisdom. The first thing that came out of your mouth about it. It wasn't the first time I had listened to it, but it was the first time I really heard it: You don't need to go to grad school to validate yourself as a writer. You don't need another degree to write.
After visiting Palm Desert that day, it was the perfect timing to receive it.
The script is coming together. Great feedback yesterday. I think we've got something.
I bought potatoes, tangerines, and cheesy bread things at the farmer's market. i love that place. listened to the band, watched people, ate samples, perused the tables of food and color.
Highlights of Palm Desert and Palm Springs: Driving through the windmills, which looked like monstrous, white flowers. The Mexican food restaurant with refreshing margaritas. Facing that stifling mountain of dirt and rock that loomed above us. Sand overwhelming the boundaries of the streets. The heat waves rising above the street like a whisper.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
HOT
Miserable hot. I went to the UCLA book fair today, primarily to see a friend who was working there, but also to scout out all the books. I had no idea what I was in for. First off, it was a hundred degrees. Second off, it's completely overwhelming, masses of people and masses of tents. So I just zeroed in on finding my friend, which wasn't so easy in itself.
On my way journey, I was stopped by a 50-something year old man who decided that insulting me would be the best way to start a conversation.
"You know you have to read to be able to enjoy a book fair."
Who does that? Well, I was dumbstruck and unfortunately instead of walking away, I explained that I did read and I was a writer. So he goes off on a spiel about how he's a producer, gave me his card, explaining he does book deals too and that he's looking for the next hit. Then he told me I was very pretty which made me marketable because television shows would want to book me for interviews. And then he told me to call him so we could get drinks and discuss the project. Who the heck is this guy?! It was all very depressing and I got on my way asap. I'm pretty so that means that my work is marketable, I just...Oooo...I can't even begin to rant about that. I hope it's not true, I hope it was just a line to get me to get drinks with him. I hope that's not the way the world works. Maybe in Hollywood, but literature?
I found Jenn who, being the trooper that she is, had been there all day in the sun yesterday, and was back for day 2. I could barely take the hour or so I hung out with her. I didn't even see the books because the heat was so bad. But it was worth it just to catch up with her a bit!
Yesterday I was at the beach all day so I'm pretty damn done with the heat. But now how to spend my day?
Perhaps, it's time to write.
On my way journey, I was stopped by a 50-something year old man who decided that insulting me would be the best way to start a conversation.
"You know you have to read to be able to enjoy a book fair."
Who does that? Well, I was dumbstruck and unfortunately instead of walking away, I explained that I did read and I was a writer. So he goes off on a spiel about how he's a producer, gave me his card, explaining he does book deals too and that he's looking for the next hit. Then he told me I was very pretty which made me marketable because television shows would want to book me for interviews. And then he told me to call him so we could get drinks and discuss the project. Who the heck is this guy?! It was all very depressing and I got on my way asap. I'm pretty so that means that my work is marketable, I just...Oooo...I can't even begin to rant about that. I hope it's not true, I hope it was just a line to get me to get drinks with him. I hope that's not the way the world works. Maybe in Hollywood, but literature?
I found Jenn who, being the trooper that she is, had been there all day in the sun yesterday, and was back for day 2. I could barely take the hour or so I hung out with her. I didn't even see the books because the heat was so bad. But it was worth it just to catch up with her a bit!
Yesterday I was at the beach all day so I'm pretty damn done with the heat. But now how to spend my day?
Perhaps, it's time to write.
Friday, April 25, 2008
The Plan
since I keep forgetting that I have made yet another Plan, I'm putting it here so I can stop stressing every 10 minutes
Okay here it goes:
Stay in LA at least through August. June, there's Colorado for a long weekend. August is back home for a week for my cousin's wedding. September is France for 2 weeks. October may be NYC for a week or so. I still need to go to Vegas, that might be in May...So maybe through the fall, stay in LA and try to make a go of a new life here.
So it's almost May. Within the next month, I should get a new job.
Find a month to month place to live, since I don't want to be married to any location. i'm done with commitments for a while.
And then try to exhaust everything to see and do in LA, build a relationship with LA, make friends, shake hands, hug. It's been tumultuous, but I think we can work things out for a while.
If not, over and out, I'm moving come fall.
Possibilities:
SF
because i know people there and it's always had a soft spot in my heart.
but it's too close to home, too safe, too much like a return to my past.
NYC
because i know people there and it's an overwhelming city, that like LA, I think you learn alot in and sink or swim.
but it's a little too overwhelming, jam packed, expensive, and what would i do there.
OAHU
Gorgeous, gorgeous, bohemian, islander living, where I can swim in the ocean every day.
but i'd have to get a lame job serving tourists and i don't know a single person.
SOUTH AMERICA
Des will be there, a big plus, and it'd def be an adventure
but what the heck am I going to do there? My high school Spanish def won't fly.
and who wants to third wheel it with her and the boyfriend
PALM DESERT
I can get my MFA at that picnic table they have set up in the middle of the desert.
but, it's full of geriatrics, i'm skeptical about how comfortable that picnic table is going to be, and that's alot of $.
This list may be added to. As things arise. I'm waiting for the sign universe. tell me. my biggest problem is, yeah i'd live just about anywhere, but what am i going to do there and damn it, i don't want to go live somewhere alone that i have nothing to do in. oh poop.
Okay here it goes:
Stay in LA at least through August. June, there's Colorado for a long weekend. August is back home for a week for my cousin's wedding. September is France for 2 weeks. October may be NYC for a week or so. I still need to go to Vegas, that might be in May...So maybe through the fall, stay in LA and try to make a go of a new life here.
So it's almost May. Within the next month, I should get a new job.
Find a month to month place to live, since I don't want to be married to any location. i'm done with commitments for a while.
And then try to exhaust everything to see and do in LA, build a relationship with LA, make friends, shake hands, hug. It's been tumultuous, but I think we can work things out for a while.
If not, over and out, I'm moving come fall.
Possibilities:
SF
because i know people there and it's always had a soft spot in my heart.
but it's too close to home, too safe, too much like a return to my past.
NYC
because i know people there and it's an overwhelming city, that like LA, I think you learn alot in and sink or swim.
but it's a little too overwhelming, jam packed, expensive, and what would i do there.
OAHU
Gorgeous, gorgeous, bohemian, islander living, where I can swim in the ocean every day.
but i'd have to get a lame job serving tourists and i don't know a single person.
SOUTH AMERICA
Des will be there, a big plus, and it'd def be an adventure
but what the heck am I going to do there? My high school Spanish def won't fly.
and who wants to third wheel it with her and the boyfriend
PALM DESERT
I can get my MFA at that picnic table they have set up in the middle of the desert.
but, it's full of geriatrics, i'm skeptical about how comfortable that picnic table is going to be, and that's alot of $.
This list may be added to. As things arise. I'm waiting for the sign universe. tell me. my biggest problem is, yeah i'd live just about anywhere, but what am i going to do there and damn it, i don't want to go live somewhere alone that i have nothing to do in. oh poop.
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