March 2nd, 2008

Sunday, once again. It is a beautiful day, the windows in the apartment are open and a playful spring breeze is stirring the cat up and blowing some winter residue into mini twisters that tease us into believing that this cold season is over.  I am ready to go to the beach and shove my new earth boots into the closet and break out the maryjanes and short skirts. Back from being out and about this morning I am cleaning, wiping down some smoke laden dust that makes me never want to smoke inside again. We were supposed to have a shoot at some point today, but no, with lost connections and lack of information it was postponed, a pisser as I was super stoked and excited about the project. I look forward to a rain check.
As for the evening I plan on walking down to a friends apartment as we have a date to stay up all night and giggle, our elaborate chatter taking us into the sweet morning dew. Its so rare to find someone with whom you can just connect, no matter how different the strands of fine web separate in the interconnectedness of life. Sort of like the internet of cilium that continues underground, wiring fungi and the like to create these stunning mushrooms that carry more existence than we humans can even conceive.

March 5th, 2008

Another day where the sun shone and it sparked lighthearted conversation and the first outside luncheon of the season. Oh how I miss and crave the outside….
The TV is on, I hate commercials…and newscasters… and pretty much any show in the legal field. And on that note, pretty much our whole criminal justice system…Just to share… it is my blog after all… talk about free speech! Although I guess nothing is really free…
Just a ramblin’ gamblin’ girl…

March 6th, 2008

It is was one of those days that made me crave for something new, my routine seeming dull… the people that I see every day appearing old and covered in a dusty film. Obviously there are people who I never tire of seeing, I would hate for David to be reading this and thinking that I am sick of  him, for that’s not true. No, I was sick of the people I don’t even know. The random strangers on the bus, who have suddenly seemed not so random. It was walking through the make-up isle and thinking, I have all of this, even though my collection is thin. Everything just seems duplicated, every bra, every shoe and every meal, it all seems the same. Suddenly I feel like the world is grey. I need some color. I feel like everyone around me doesn’t seem to notice, maybe I am the only living thing and everyone else is already dead. Floated up like dead fish on a littered beach after an oil spill…
Actually, something simple that has made my week is a CD put together by one of my best girls, songs I hadn’t heard before, lyrics that make me laugh, melodies that create a palate of colors I can taste in my aching head….
Eat a skittle taste the rainbow; eat a mushroom and taste the world....

March 9, 2008

Yea so we had thought about going down to the Southside St. patty’s day parade, but alas, that didn’t happen. The idea of a 9 am pub-crawl with new friends sounded fantastic, but here we are at 10 to noon and David’s still sleeping.  Last night we ordered in some food and I crashed early, the long week caught up with me I guess. Friday night we met some friends (the same with whom the parade would have re-joined) at our favorite bar/restaurant and talked, laughed and tipped big.  Some of the best nights just happen, with a random text or an impromptu meeting. And there they go, snowballing until it’s late, with new friendships being formed and similar interests solidifying the very core of companionship. I look outside and see snow falling, its cold and going outside seems unappealing.  I think we may take our liberal Sunday and go see Juno, if its still playing nearby, maybe go to get some tacos at the cool Mexican joint down the street.

Our living room (and we really do, live in this room!) is finally in some sort of order, with new bookshelves and a clean setup for our printer; it now appears that we thrive on organization. We don’t, and I am sure the period will be short lived. But it looks hella stellar now! There is this massive stack of AVN's going back to 2005 and our cat Klaomi has now decided that they are her perch. So there she sits, licking herself down on a pile of pornos...

I hope David wakes up soon so we can fuck… I would go wake him up but that often makes him more surly than horny… best to wait and let him get the sandman off his face. That sounds dirty…. I better go wash mine too….

March 10th, 2008

We did make it to Juno yesterday; it was the sweetest movie, raw and beautiful. Poignant and perfect… a little sappy, and I can’t lie, it did make me tear up. Just a little.
 I spent this morning at the Dentist, a sadistical way to spend ones day off… as satisfying as throwing money down the shitter… my mother always told me that if I ever dated a dentist then she would be extremely concerned, for really, if your profession is to stare into peoples mouths all day and have them bound and tied up in an volunerable postion, then what would turn you on sexually. I can imagine all sorts of extremely illegal fantasys that I assume the dentist has going through his head while drilling away. Maybe not, maybe that’s just me, being perverse and inappropriate once again. While I sat in the waiting room for my punishment I read Anais Nins Dairy (volume one 1931-1934). I love her so much… every passage, every word that I read, I imagine her writing… her person exposed on every page. No embellishment, no hiding under pretty metaphors it is all so fucking raw… I am in love with her, with Henry Miller… I want to hold her hands and feel the strength that emitted these glorious words. Here are some things that I highlighted while reading, (yes I am a complete nerd).   “I cannot sustain the role, the pretense that I am at one with others, synchronized. Where was the exit? Flight. The imperative need of flight. Was it the failure to remove the obstacles, the walls, the barriers, the effort?”(pg.107) And, “ I live on two levels, the human and the poetic.”(pg.130)  And a paragraph that I hold quite dear, “ …choose friends who arouse my energy, who make enormous demands on me, who are capable of enriching me with experience, pain, people who not doubt my courage, or my toughness, people like Henry and June who do not believe me naïve or innocent, but who challenge my keenest wisdom, who have the courage to treat me like a woman in spite of the fact that they are aware of my vulnerability.” (pg.132)

March 13, 2008

I wrote this at work, standing over the counter with my breasts resting on the dirtied tabletop. The store was empty and the music was loud, I enjoyed the emptiness as my mind wandered and my fingers picked up a pen. I write poetry on little slips of paper and then stick them in odd places, randomly finding them again and re-encountering my erratic mind.

The spring lips arise from the frozen ground, baring colorful gifts and signs of love. Grow, the earth whispered to the little hands as they reached for the sun. This death is our home; we are welcome here, the bulbs cried with despair. Afraid of the unknown but ready for stardom the blossoms let the sun warm their icy roots and onward they went. The journey won’t be easy murmured the wind, her spring breezes chilling yet lit an idyllic tone. The lips continued to thrive, drinking in the day’s lingering light. As their mouths began to open and the first breath of summer entered their lungs a young child bent down on her walk home and plucked the stalk on which this single life existed. She took it in a petite hand and watched in horror as it fell apart in her inexperienced hand.

Today was gorgeous, finally I was able to walk home in a singsong manner and let the sun dance with me as my iPod played the soundtrack to my steps.  My apartment is filled with the scent of lilies and I am letting the breeze enter through the long forgotten screens… welcome spring…

March 16, 2008

Dude check it out, I got the sweetest tattoo last night!! I have wanted this for fucking ever! It is exactly what I wanted; the guy did a great job. It was the most comfortable shop, I felt like I was just kickin’ it with friends, it was so chill. I got it on my left wrist, and damn it hurt, not in a bad way, but in a way where the pain just takes you on another level, where sound and space disappear, and you just feel every move the needle makes, where you stop breathing from your lungs, and start breathing from the sensation, I have to admit I love going to that place… in a way it is the same theory in enlightenment, when you can take your pain and embrace it, let it disappear on the local realm where it conquers your body, but love it, and move past, so that you become above it, and move beyond the physical sense of simple pain.  Anyway, check out some pics-

Yeah... the boob I just threw in for fun! Yay Titties!

March 24th, 2008

Easter Sunday was yesterday… it was just sooooooo fucking nice. A day spent with family and food, made that much more bearable by the wine.   That’s all I can really delve into on that subject. Glad to be home, wishing it was cleaner…

David stayed home from work today; we went to lunch stopping by the local fish store on the way home, only to find it closed. His mother gave us this little aquarium, which at the moment holds only this tiny frog, named Dean. It sits upon our bar bubbling in a ray of light, illuminating the rocks on the bottom of the tank and shining in glory next to the half empty bottles. 

My tattoo is peeling, the snakes shedding their skin to reveal fresh colors and a new sense of identity. It itches; I want to scratch them away… I want to taste their image and spit blues and greens onto the world. They taste like free champagne toasting a new beginning; eager in idealism and hope, free champagne that screams false security and lies. I sigh for none of that is true, my snakes are real, they are permanent and I love them.

Just like I love ketchup and pickles… not combined, but certainly on the same plate. That sweet crunch of salty flesh, pickled in its own juices not unlike tiny fetuses kept by morticians and scientists for study and perverse fascination. And ketchup… the tomato body disguised by sugar and salt, sure the French fry is satisfactory, but nothing can come between the ketchup’s identities, its red color bleeding over all other items in its presence. That’s why people eat ketchup, or it could just be the taste.

March 30, 2008

Sitting in front of the computer, with a belly full of breakfast… David naps on the couch and This American Life reverberates from the back of little apple. This weekend has –

Ok, an hour later…. Before that sentence was finished I turned around and crawled over the couch to rest upon David’s sturdy frame…. which led to sex of course…. It’s nearly impossible to get any work done with him around…

Friday night we went to see Boxing at the Aragon Theatre, that place is so awesome, I could go there to watch paint dry, it’s a castle of magic! I am not someone who pays attention to boxing or wrestling, sports in general are not my forte, but it’s entertaining to watch them fight. Man on man, in the ring, the observer has no choice but to shout and cheer from the nearby seats.  The evening was as a whole, extremely voyeuristic and engaging. After the match we went to Crew, a gay bar just down the block. We met two of our friends there, both of whom are females in the sex industry, as women it is occasionally nice to go to an establishment like that and for the most part, enjoy a night with no straight men.They handed out raffle tickets and I actually had one of the winning numbers, which just meant I won a gift bag with extremley random shit in it. I never win anything, and more importantly, never get a prize handed to me by a drag queen! David, of course is 100% into chicks, but he still partook in the jock strap contest that he got third place in. While he was parading around, strutting his impressive package, I flirted with our bartender, who was also incredibly straight, so I guess I can retract my statement about enjoying gay bars because of the lack of sexual chemistry.