Friday

I Miss My Daddy

My 3 year old roommate says while drawing:

"I miss my daddy."
draw draw draw...

"He's in Cal-ah-for-nah."
draw draw draw...

"He broke his yoke."
draw draw draw...

I don't think a little boy has said, "broke his yoke" for at least 50 years. Where did he get that? Hanging out with hillbillies?

Wednesday

Summer's Best Longhand Photo Winner!

Oh, huh...What's that? Oh, just the shot of the Summer: Me and Rich Fulcher aka Bob Fossil.

And the glorious follow up dance:

Sunday

Trainspotting

I took a train from Portland to Mount Vernon, WA. It's about 260 miles of some really beautious scenery. I've got the industrial trainhopping view:
video
And the pastoral:
video

They played "Some Like it Hot" with Jack Lemon, Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe on the train. That movie's fucking brilliant. But the real capper was overhearing the married-since-Jesus-was born couple talking about their sex life! I fer-serious always wanted to know if old married people still had sex. Mystery solved:

This scene comes on where Marilyn is throwing herself at Tony Curtis, practically eating his face. He's playing hard-to-get.


Then this lady:

Says, "She's kind of like me. I mean that's kind of like us."

And this dude:

Says complete dead-pan, "Huh, Whaddya talkin' about, Marion?"

And then she's all, "You know like me and you. I must have learned from her."
He's like, "Yeah, you must have."

WOAH!!

P.S. The man with the hipster plaid shirt on was 3-sheets trying to pick up on the wife.

Overheard Hipster Plaid Man say to the husband: "I left Belllingham when I was 18, so I don't know any Garys. I think all the Garys I know had a stroke. That was a long time ago. Guess I better get a drink. It's been a long dry day."

And the husband is all body-languaged out saying, "dude, shut the fuck up and stop trying to mack on my woman".

Old people pick up lines include:

1. Where you went to school/and or grew up
2. Who owned the properties in said surrounding areas and the development in those areas.
3. Family name and other people you know with the same last name.
4. Possible cousins you might have in common.

Dem's fightin' words, pal!

Plogging

My friend Jules and I were talking about blogging about poop. I'd sorta documented my poop online prior hoping I'd produce a "poop tube". I'd ingested an insane amount of fiber, supplements, and juice fasted all in efforts to cleanse my colon. When it got around to day 12 and there was no sign of anal plaque exiting--I'd basically abandoned the whole poop log--or "plog".

I read this article about these two guys that went to poop spa in Thailand and ended up producing a buttload of gunk with descriptions like, "10 yards of licorice-like stands" and "a marble I'd swallowed as a child". Ew, right? Well, I totals want to see if there's anything like that inside my nethers. I can't really afford to go to a resort so I decided to do it myself.

This led me to a 14 day cleanse--of which you can read the exciting conclusion here. The Dr. who supervised my cleanse had glowing comments about her preferred colon hydrotherapists, "All is Well that Ends Well". Based on the name alone, I called to schedule an appointment.

Before you knew it I was plugged into a butt-flush chair she had a pet name for, I want to say it was "Linus" or something but it looked like this:
The coolest selling point about this particular colonic chair was the viewing tube. If you sorta looked down on the floor to the left a mirror displayed all the crap coming down 3 inch diameter clear acrylic tube. All I remember thinking was, "I should chew more."

For a couple days I tried to think of how to describe what it's like to take 30 watery shits in a new age medical office with a CD of beach sounds playing. I couldn't. Paddy, the colon-lady said, "Want me to put on music? Maybe something like pooping on the beach?" It sounded silly so I agreed.

In the end, all I can conclude is there might still be some hidden strands of stubborn poop nuggets just waiting to find their way to freedom. I'll keep you posted in the next installment of my plog.

Found Magazine: Cassette from My Ex

Here is the story I wrote about a cassette from my ex on foundmagazine.com. With audio!

Tuesday

This Is Rad


This would be a good song.

Summer Fashion Inspiration

There's so much going on here

overdone innocence
wild child
adult party/kiddie pool
tiger eyes/baby peeps
hell on hot wheels
hot mess on cute overload
command control/sans learners permit
natural artifice
so female on the feminine spectrum it came back around and became kiddie drag--like jean bonet with better taste in clothes.

Friday

Remember these guys?

I've been listening to all my old mixes. Holy time warp, NOU rules!


Also:

Thursday

Cyber Crush

Who are these girls? They are rad. I have a crush on the feather-titted one.
Woah!
My new fashion icon.

Wednesday

Mix-tape

So, this is about a mix-tape from my first boyfriend. Found Magazine is doing a special about mix tapes from first loves. Here's what I wrote:

This mix-tape sounds like falling in love. Before I fell in love, particularly my early twenties, the world was harsh and prickly. Who the fuck was I, and what the fuck was I doing? I didn’t know who liked me, let alone anyone who loved me. I wasn’t comfortable with myself. I didn’t have a soft spot to land. The experience of my first love was the first time I felt whole, loved and unselfconscious. This tape sounds like head-over-heels feels like.

Falling in love is never the same after the first time. You don’t know what it’s like to loose someone you love. You don’t know how bad the first heartbreak hurts, so you don’t hold anything back. Your heart is completely vulnerable and ready to be smashed into a thousand pieces. This mix-tape sounds like not knowing what heartbreak feels like.

All the songs on the tape are soft (except LL Cool J.’s “I Need a Beat”—I have no idea where that came from) and sound womb-like with bongos, chorus voices, minor chords, delay, acoustic strums, and tender synthesizers. I love how the eighties era stuff like, Billy Idol’s “Catch my Fall” and Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature” transform the hollow pop genre into soulful tear-jerking love songs. Follow those gems up with the Carpenters “Close to You” and you have a panty-dropping combo.

These songs tell a leap-without-looking love story. This tape is phenomenal because the boy who made the tape was a goofy drummer guy who worked in my community college bookstore stocking shelves. He wasn’t emo at all. He was rough, buff, smoked weed, drank beer and had lots of bad homemade tattoos on his arms. It was 1998 in Olympia, Washington and I was a little Oly girl with dyed black bubble bob and mod gear head to toe. We were an odd pair for sure, but we loved each other. He followed me to New York from Olympia. In fact, I think he made the tape right before I moved to NY to solidify our relationship, which is why he included “Coney Island Steeplechase” by the Velvet Underground. If there’s one lyric on the whole tape that represented our relationship it’s from that song, “Like sister and brother who cling to each other when they find out their parents are mad.” In other words, we were terribly codependent. We spent a hellish year together in NY being each other’s baby blanket. Eventually it all caught up with us and culminating with me getting committed to the loony bin.

We both moved back to Washington in 2000 and stayed together on and off prolonging the inevitable break up. Two years later our epic relationship ended horribly. In 2003 he ran off to Georgia with an 18 year old VW bus drivin’ hippy college student. I never saw him again.

I hope he sees this and remembers what it felt like to be young and in love. I hope he remembers all the good times and all the rad music we shared—and what it meant to us.






SIDE 1:
Lay Lady Lay—Bob Dylan
This is the first Bob Dylan song I really loved. I like how he sounds like Kermit singing into a wishing well. I never really felt like I was the beautiful woman in the song until heard “I long to see you in the morning light. I long to reach for you in the night.”

Look at Me—John Lennon
I was already a massive Yoko/Lennon fan. I thought he wrote the most amazing love songs for her. They are so raw and naked as they were on the album cover. We both didn’t really know who we were. So the question “Who am I? Who are we, my love?” We really wanted to find out together.

My Mummy’s Dead—John Lennon
My first boyfriend’s mom gave him up for adoption. He was crushed about it. He found in me a trustworthy sounding board to tell his darkest and deepest sadness.

Never My Love—The Association
You know how you forget how mental you were past in relationships? Well, I’m sure I was saying shit like, “How do I know if you really love me? How do I know you won’t abandon me?” This was his reassurance to me.

Never Going Back Again—Fleetwood Mac
“She broke down and let me in, made me see where I’ve been”. I wasn’t very nice to him in the beginning. In fact, was a raging bitch. This is what I wrote about him in my journal: “What a moron. I just dumped him and he’s too drunk to get it. What a waste of breath. OGRE. MUTANT.” I was a hard nut to crack. I let him into my world despite being terribly jaded. Being jaded and cynical was very popular in the nineties.

Catch My Fall—Billy Idol
The thing about “falling in love” is you think the other person can catch you. “If I should stumble, catch my fall” was a romantic thought that we could rescue each other. This was before I learned, in relationships, one should really tow their own line instead of expecting someone else to save them from themselves.

Human Nature—Michael Jackson
I was basically a robot before I met my first boyfriend. I was cold, unaffectionate and analytical. I was also a twenty-one year old virgin. I was just beginning to understand animal attraction.

Pretty Young Thing PYT—Michael Jackson
I fucking love this song. One day I’ll look back and think, “Yeah, I was a PYT”.

Close to You—Carpenters
Karen Carpenter was awesome. I don’t give a crap if these songs were used in sandwich bag commercials in the seventies. For some reason the transition from “PYT” to “Close to You” solidifies the whole mix-tape for me. It has nothing to do with lyrics but the sound, the groove, the feel of being dreamy/other worldly.

Let Me Roll it to You—Paul McCartney
Good song for being a John rip-off. I mean, John was the one doing the primal scream stuff, the simple distorted guitar riffs, chorus and organ.

Over the Hills—Led Zeppelin
My ex-boyfriend was a huge Led Zep fan. I wasn’t so much. It’s like all drummers automatically have to love Zep because of John Bonham.

Heaven—Psychedelic Furs
I fell in love with Psychedelic Furs like every red blooded American girl, from the Pretty in Pink Soundtrack—duh. I don’t think I’d know anything about bands I love today if it wasn’t for them. This song rivals the Cure’s “Just Like Heaven”.

Ashes to Ashes—David Bowie
If you lived in Olympia in the nineties you couldn’t make a mix-tape without Bowie on it. It would be, like, impossible. In fact, I put David Bowie's Scary Monsters on to loose my virginity to.

SIDE 2:

Union City Blues--Blondie
Everybody knows Chris Stein and Debbie Harry wrote amazing love songs to each other. But whats really weird about this song is that it was more of a dreamy love between my best friend, Sophia and I shared. We had a whole other mix-tape language we had together and this was an important song.

Accidents Never Happen--Blondie
In retrospect, my first boyfriend was perfect for me. We were clumsy and silly. I don't think it's an accident we met and fell in love. It was one of the most important experiences of my life.

Finger Print File--The Rolling Stones
The thing about the Rolling Stones is they are a staple. You know how the USDA feeds beef and cheese to the masses? The Stones are basically a sophisticated aphrodisiac to young hipsters and peripheral kin.

Tuesday

Red Jellyfish and Strong Men


I'm on day 15 of a cleanse. Last night I felt like I was on Ecstasy riding a pegasus through the clouds. I was so freakin' delirious and out of my head like I was having an acid flashback. I also had a dream I ate an entire plate of McDonald's cheesburgers covered in nacho cheese.

Plus

=
Acid flashback

I shit you not. And it's not because my body's a temple and I'm hanging out with God in it. I've taken enough acid and put enough crap into my body to poison a baby manatee, which is very sad but true. My liver is having a primal scream session inside me and spewing out all the old junk back into my blood stream. I haven't eaten anything for about 2 days. Instead I'm drinking 64 ounces of Juiceman Juice. That's how those buff dudes like Jack Lalanne and Jay Kordich live to be a hundred and five. They drink juice, tow trains with their teeth and invent new ways to do push ups.

I think they also live long because they have names like "Jack" and "Jay".

So, what does your poop look like when you've been eating only vegetable matter for 2 weeks and juice for the last two days? Answer:


The natropath who's supervising the five of us ass clowns taking part in the cleanse tells me the euphoric feeling is natural. Basically, it's the body going into panic/conservation mode. Instead of feeling like your starving (which I did feel really hungry) the body will release pleasure endorphins to counteract the hungry feeling.

I've restrained myself from coming to a conclusion about cleansing. My mind's been pretty open to the outcome. I read testimonials saying "I feel great!", Oh! I have such clarity!" "I feel rejuvinated." lalala. Fuck yeah, I want to feel all those things. But, honestly--the whole experience was way harsh. Not on my bod but my nog. It was a total mind fuck. Cleansing for me was like a rollercoaster ride of emotions, anger being the mainstay, then sadness, irritation, and frustration. A few times I felt really good, then I just felt completely insane. The doc says it's good to feel all those feelings. It means it's working.

My main motivation for doing this is to get my shit together before I go to Japan next month. I'm looking forward to polluting my body with shochu, sake, ribs, ramen, and whatever else I feel like. Food's my heartthrob. So is booze.

I love wine and all other fermented beverages alcoholic or not. The cleanse taught me I actually do have self control. I can do a bunch of stuff without drinking. Even when it's a sunny day and I'm at the beach. I don't have to give into my impulse and chug Sparks. Or I don't have to drink when I do yard work, clean the house, go out to eat, see a show, go to a bar, or unwind. The past 15 days have been amazing for teaching myself about self control.

Monday

Nailed it!

Saw Kids in the Hall last night. They, KILLED IT! I have the biggest bone for Bruce, always have, always will. I think it's his dance moves. He's a tiny dancer. And I love him. I love the way he wears a high-waisted, pegged legged pant in a 90's kind of way with a sensible black belt. He accents his ensemble with a red unbuttoned overshirt wafting in the gust of his dance. Oh, Bruce. I adore you.

Plus, it's his birthday today. Can you dig it?

Sunday

blog: only a blog

It's only a blog, man.

I got this nutty idea to start a regular ol' blog after journaling every single boring detail of a 'cleanse'. Nobody will ever read it, I hope. Who gives a crap about my BMs, ya know. In short the blog turned out to be a chronicle of poop, food and anxiety.

Then I read "Dear Diary" and lurked around and found Lesley Arfin's blog. I guess, I figure she's a lady of some reasonable amount of thought and creativity with an edge of integrity. There's no shame in blogging. It's silly and fun. Besides, I'm looking to fill up more of my time with writing in any form. I'm reaching out to find some other method to communicate. I'm looking for other ways to spend my time besides indulging in my second puberty. Pube-Two is basically learning how to be a functioning adult instead of hovering around like an overgrown angst ridden teenager working at a late twenties depress-o-thon. But hey! I am 100% for teen angst, don't get me wrong. I just don't think it's a place to unpack and build house. Forward moves.

I've been pretty adamant my whole freakin' life about paper and pen--journals, jottings, drawings, writing, pictures being tangible. I was an English major in school and a journaler from way back. I'll say this once and only once--there is something missing from this format, soul. That being what it is, fuggetabouttit it. Blogging is DIY and it's self publishing so, fuck it. Different is better sometimes.

So it begins.

Tonight I'm mega pumped about going to see Kids in the Hall!