iAmBaronVonTito

eloped

2011-03-10T19:32:00.000-08:00

i thought i would be more heart broken when i found out that _____ was emailing you-know-who the whole time behind my back, failing to mention me even once in passing. it is a fearful anxiety that blankets your lungs, making it hard to breathe and even harder to think, when you realize that love, or what you thought was love, didn't really exist. the person you thought you could never live without...it turns out you've survived this long without them, like breathing underwater.

interestingly enough, it doesn't hurt that you ignore those feelings, muttering, 'fuck you' every once in a while, and consistently surprising yourself on a daily basis with how happy you are living without the things that once made you happy- so you thought.

here's to rob, my husband: i know you well; i haven't known you long.

Encores

2011-01-14T22:42:00.001-08:00

Guided by Voices.

I feel much better now.

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in my life

2011-01-14T10:20:00.001-08:00

I'm having a hard time not phoning this one in, guys, but it's for a good reason.

I am very smitten.

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haircut

2011-01-06T12:59:00.001-08:00

The worst part about a bad haircut is that WAITING is how you fix it.

Ugh. Almost there.

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orion

2011-01-01T21:30:00.001-08:00

Seriously.

No, seriously.

In all seriousness...

...I think I'm falling in love. <3

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for me

2010-12-17T07:57:00.001-08:00

I went xmas shopping for myself yesterday. I bought a pair of sandals, a pair of gloves, and a few books.

Everyone else will have to settle for my charming company this year.

Merry almost Christmas.

PS- tomorrow I'll post about those assholes who staged a "live" nativity scene a few days ago.

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okcupid

2010-11-23T20:40:00.001-08:00

going to see my brothers for thanksgiving.
heading way out west for christmas.
considered NOLA for my birthday.

a friend needs me to drive their car to SF- may do that instead. see the president of the bottomshelf (RIP), the kid, and the bridge.

got a letter from a guy in jail. he saw me visiting with my sister-in-law. i always wondered what it would be like to have a jailhouse penpal.

happy thanksgiving.

haircuts

2010-10-12T09:17:00.001-07:00

Neck
No neck

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Gonerfest

2010-09-22T20:39:00.001-07:00

Rock'n'Roll!!!!!!!!!!!!

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The Real Moby Dick

2010-09-17T12:18:00.001-07:00

Took Grandpa to the park and saw this whale on a picnic table. At least it wasn't a giant dick, which is my personal favorite.

You know, because I'm a slut.

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plea from a cat named virtue

2010-07-14T15:56:00.000-07:00

i went to community college three times, dropping out every time. sure, i admit that i am lazy and i am a terrible procrastinator. yes, to the point where i received a ticket for expired tags six months after the fact because i could not bring myself to make the time to go to the county clerk's office downtown because it would mean having to get change for the parking meter- twice. this would also explain my lack of thought concerning the wedding that is expected of me or my supposed future children. recently, my sister's dog had puppies and she gave me one as a "gift"; while he is still with her, i have two more weeks to get anxious about it before i can officially freak out when he is staring at me, both of us studying each other, wondering what we have gotten ourselves into. i give the little guy a month before he tries to run away- good riddance!

the first time i enrolled (or was it the second?), i tested into all honors classes only to opt for the basic course. the adviser did a double take, "...but you tested into all honors." she shuffled her papers, searching for my results. "yes," she says, "yes, you did. you're in all honors courses." she smiles at me, but it comes off more as pity than any kind of endearing demeanor. she thinks i am confused, as though it were opposite day in my head.

"i understand, but i don't want all that homework."

she continues to explain that it would look better for my GPA,etc. if i took the honors classes before i cut her off, "i know all of this. i'm here for film...an honors english class is just going to make my life harder. so will that calculus class, just put me in college algebra, i know that." it is a tug of war, but eventually she sees things my way and i look for my cigarettes as i walk across campus to the registrar's office to explain that i don't have the money to pay for any of it.

on the first day of class i have english. the teacher, or the professor, or the doctor, since she had a PhD, had a weird face, as though surgery had been performed, but i could not tell if it made her face look better or worse than its previous condition. i begin mixing her attributes, guessing what could have possibly been done. she wears sunglasses even though there are no windows in the room we are in, and her jaw pops when she speaks. she is the oddest woman i have ever met and i love her. everything weird and strange about this woman tells me that we are going to get along just fine; because while she confuses me, she also emits an air of sophistication and i imagine her living in an enormous house with a handsome husband in his fifties. they never run out of fresh, ripe fruit, they own a well-trained pure bred dog, and they have sex at least once a week but never exhibit any public display of affection. i imagine that she would buy me a cup of coffee if i was caught at the register without enough money to pay, but only the difference.

as the weeks continued, i was four homework assignments ahead of everyone in my math class. my film class turned out to be a training course on apple media software taught by a young, blonde woman fresh out of her internship, a class full of goons, and nobody liked me except the lesbian who sat up front. we talked about the british version of the office (the only version that existed at the time) and took our smoke breaks together. on wednesdays and fridays i had photography, which would have been fun if people didn't take themselves too seriously when you handed them a roll of black and white film. while i admired william eggleston for his simplicity and style that mirrored my own even before i discovered his work, these kids were taking photos of their shoes in the freezer. one woman displayed a photo of her pill bottles, each label of each anti-depressant sharp and sober, lined up on her kitchen table. i had no opinion at the time, but in hindsight it was creepy and mediocre. i took another film class on mondays, studying its genres, each class cloaked in a dark, small theatre. we watched movies and pieces of movies, my elbow rubbing with the young cat next to me. i fantasized him reaching for my hand, softly, then holding it while we watched Double Indemnity, wide-eyed and unaware of the mese en scene played out with shadows. despite how romantic my fantasy seemed in my head, i didn't know this kid's name, even by the end of the semester, sixteen weeks later.

the english class was on tuesdays and thursdays. the doctor loved my papers, always insisting to read them out loud, but never letting the class know it was me she was showcasing. i had no friends in any of my classes. i was quiet and comfortable with my silence. i turned in my homework (when i did it), watching all the young energy flirting, knowingly wasting their parent's money, their own time, and who are we kidding, you are going to live with your parents until you are twenty-four, at least. and let us not kid ourselves even further, you won't even have a job in the meantime. as far as i was concerned, she could tell them it was my paper she was reading; i didn't need any more friends. eventually, she decided to spice up class a little bit, allowing us to bring in music. we could bring in one track, play it for the class, ask them questions about the song, explain our own thoughts and feelings, leaving everyone a bit more enlightened by the end of the entire facade. one guy brought in Bad Company, another Garth Brooks, a young girl played Ben Folds ("Brick", of course). per usual, i stayed quiet, never letting anyone know what i thought. it really didn't matter, i was too occupied with picking the perfect track for when the time came. while we all sat in silence, the person selected to play their track would awkwardly fidget at the front of the class; they knew they were being judged- harshly. it was the silence that killed them, making it the longest three minutes, forty-two seconds of their life. meanwhile, they hated us for judging them. the beauty of music is that even though they were the only person in the room who gave a shit, the music backed them up, giving them strength and peace. i envied that while i sat sourly in my chair, counting the days until it was my turn. i was going to open all their eyes, you wait.

when the day arrived, i picked a song that sat on the fence. it wasn't popular, giving me an edge, but the lyrics would appeal to the masses, unoffensive. if i dealt an obscure band from the seventies or the nineties, i would come off as snobbish and unidentifiable, losing any empathy i could possibly gain from the experience. i decided to choose The Weakerthans' "A Plea From A Cat Name Virtue",

Why don't you ever want to play?
I'm tired of this piece of string.
You sleep as much as I do now, and you don't eat much of anything.

I don't know who you're talking to
I made a search through every room,
but all I found was dust that moved
in shadows of the afternoon.

And listen,
about those bitter songs you sing?
They're not helping anything.
They won't make you strong.

So, we should open up the house.
Invite the tabby two doors down.
You could ask your sister, if
she doesn't bring her Basset Hound.
Ask of things you shouldn't miss:
tape-hiss and the Modern Man,
The Cold War and Card Catalogues,
to come and join us if they can,

for girly drinks and parlor games.
We'll pass around the easy lie
of absolutely no regrets,
and later maybe you could try
to let your losses dangle off
the sharp edge of a century,
and talk about the weather, or
how the weather used to be.

And I'll cater
with all the birds that I can kill.
Let their tiny feathers fill
disappointment.

Lie down;
lick the sorrow from your skin.
Scratch the terror and begin
to believe you're strong.

All you ever want to do is drink and watch TV,
and frankly that thing doesn't really interest me.
I swear I'm going to bite you hard and taste your tinny blood
if you don't stop the self-defeating lies you've been repeating
since the day you brought me home.
I know you're strong.

i dressed a little nicer. it was nothing anyone would notice, but it made me feel confident about my choice. i remember walking out of my room and going straight to my car, no breakfast, no second thoughts, otherwise i would be there all day. i was too nervous to eat; i bought a cup of coffee, then another. i am not fearful of crowds, or talking to them, it was knowing that this was going to fail...i could already tell. regardless, i talked myself out of it, "who gives a shit what these people think?! you don't even talk to any of them and the guy next to you likes to skydive! god knows, he doesn't care. go in there, show them you don't give a shit, you're here to make films, not show off your record collection. look at that dog, he looks starving, maybe we should buy him a hot dog. who the fuck do those people think they are? do i have enough money? i mean, Ben Folds, come on. you couldn't pick a better song?? i only have dollar. fuck it, this is going to rock their socks off, even though it's mildly depressing. is it too depressing? i hope my cd doesn't skip, jesus, that would be embarrasing. i think i have to poop."

when i found myself in front of the class, i waited for them to settle down. we had a paper due that day, but we were going to listen to my track first. i needed absolute silence, why was everybody talking? maybe we weren't ready yet. the doctor told me to go ahead, start my song. but everyone was still talking, bookbags rustling, notebooks being slapped on desktops, zippers unzipped while lonely hands searched for pencils and pens. you don't understand, i thought, this song is going to change your life, you have to hear it from the first second. i stalled until the doctor repeated, "go ahead, turn it on...we've got a lot of things to go over today." i felt like i was losing control, none of this was playing out the way i had directed it in my head. where was the undivided attention i had given everyone before me? where was the deserved silence, ominous and solemn like a church service. i felt rushed, brushed off, as though this was merely an inconvenience. unwillingly, i pressed play and watched for the enlightened expressions of my audience. it never came.

in fact, halfway through my song, the doctor drew her shoulders up, making a faux hunchback, and crept between the desks, collecting papers that were due. as it turned out, no one paid attention to the song. when the song ended, it was tradition to ask questions to the class, opening the floor to its interpretations. even though i was broke, i pressed on, attempting to ask questions, but was cut short by the good doctor, who thanked me for my song, removed my cd, and bullied me away from her desk, jumping right into her lesson plan. i sulked for the rest of the class, stewing, contemplating if i should dramatically storm out in a display of contempt. on my way out i would let the door slam, cracking in its frame the same moment i yelled out, "fuck you!" but i recognized right away that i wasn't Bender and this wasn't saturday detention.

in the last three weeks i have had guys asking me, "why are you single?" they play the guessing game, pressing to see if i am crazy, hoping my psychotic tendencies will show up before they lose twenty dollars on dinner. even more puzzling is they have spent the money, expended the effort, and invested the time in wining and dining, trying to crowbar magic in our meeting, as though that kind of chemistry were a microwave dinner, ready for consumption after three hours of stop and go conversation and delta drinks. once they realize what i knew from the first moment- we have nothing in common socially, want different things in life, and have conflicting expectations of how we think this nite is going to end- they hug me, try to kiss me (a last ditch effort), and never call again. albeit, i have not experienced a lot of these dates, but enough to wonder. before i turned twenty-five, before i turned twenty-three, i use to see myself as this vessel meant to enlighten and teach and provoke and stimulate, that was my job. as such, i needed to ensure that you were open and ready and willing to accept what i was giving you- the deep, dark music that always made sense, the reluctant movies that documented how you will see the world differently, the sharp books best read into a microphone, the delightful insight that could change your life, the penny for your thoughts since mine were worth a million dollars- i was going to set you free. instead, unlike my former teenage self, or the twenty-year old version of me standing in front of a classroom attempting to move people with a nonsensical song from an unknown band they could really give a shit about, i understand that if they think a pita filled with hummus, a couple beers, and a jukebox will get me to fuck them, or grease the wheels for a second date, they are missing out, not the other way around.

it has been a long time since i felt the way i did in that classroom, on display. i was younger, under the impression everything i did was passionate and righteous, to not only be consumed but engorged, and if they did not want it i was going to force feed it until their submission. once the class had ended and i gathered my things quickly, intent on never coming back, a petite girl who sat in the back came up to me, "i really liked your song...i know what you are trying to say." it would be years before i appreciated that, mending my bitter heart.

i never did return to that class and i never return the phone calls of those poor, naive men. i do not know why i am single any more than i know why a solid group of people (save one), ignored me entirely. the same could be said of the male population that could be said of an english class in 2003: they don't want to buy what i am selling. in a world where we are over-stimulated in all aspects of our life, it is hard to pinpoint what we want or what we are looking for. i am waiting for someone to pay attention, give me a penny for my thoughts because that is what they are worth, make me silent while we listen to the needle on the record, and sit me still like a hummingbird until i learn to start over. if anything, i will settle for a guy who cares enough to remind me that i need to renew my car tags.

one chance, if we're lucky

2010-07-12T19:12:00.000-07:00

since the summer season arrived, i have spent less time outside on my balcony. during the autumn, and even winter, months, i would survey the busy corner where my apartment building rests. the passers-by would never glance up to see who was watching them as they ran by, their chests slick with sweat, breath hot and heavy, with exhausted breasts while their arms began to melt and limp; meanwhile, the cars, the passengers especially, seemed to make a point to peer upward, curious about the stranger mesmerized by them stopping and going- not even rhythmically.

this particular day i was waiting for a stranger. i had met Professor Thom the nite before. well, technically, the morning before. openly, he admitted he was smoking and drinking coffee while i was logging minutes and hours in an office; Professor Thom was on break...he had all the time in the world. we exchanged numbers and i lost track of the rest of the day. although,not before i realized i wasn't quite sure if i should wait for him to call me, like sitting under an apple tree on my knees, or play the waiting game where i would guess how long before i called him- three days? a week? it seemed silly, the rule of playing the waiting+guessing game. if you called that nite, you were desperate, but wait too long and it was like you didn't care. nothing made me more exhausted to think about and by lunch i had forgotten all about Professor Thom, a stranger, drinking his coffee, smoking, and googling my phone number to make sure i really existed.

actually, i was waiting on the other end of the line.

the sun was setting, which put it right in my line of sight. it was difficult to see the cars and with the trees fully blossomed, small in stature but top heavy with foliage, i waited for Professor Thom to surprise me. the smoke from my cigarette made my lungs burn (yes, even after years of the disgusting habit, leaving a small hope that perhaps there is still some pink left in these soft, spongy lungs) and my cell phone rested inside my sweaty palm grasping it to compensate for my fear that it will topple over the edge of the balcony, crashing to the concrete sidewalk below. not long after i finished my cigarette, Professor Thom pulled into the back parking lot. i led him up the back stairs, steep and challenging, and he inspected my small space.

while he walked around, running his eyes over every shelf, rounding the corners, his shoes hitting the hardwood floors, you could hear his soles moving the dust from room to room. suddenly everything became inadequate, where otherwise, my apartment, albeit empty, didn't bother me from day to day. suddenly the walls seemed bare (which they are), when this morning they felt full with the ten photos i had managed to hang three weeks ago. i still had ten more photos to hang but they collected dust on top of my records and books bordering the walls while sitting on the floor. i had no bookshelves to house my collection of music and literature- a collection i've started and stopped numerous, yet unaccountable, times for years. my clothes were hung neatly in the closet. they remained swinging corpses more often than not since i wore dresses to work lately, so far not a mistake in my life. my television sat on an empty rubbermaid tub in the corner and my bed was made, exposed by the thin skin of sheets. i hate blankets during the summer heat.

Professor Thom nodded his head in approval, putting my mind at ease. he asked for a hug, which i obliged- sincerely- since he was kinda attractive. for the next three, four, five hours time didn't seem to let us go. we took turns sharing music, talking, agreeing, every once in a while stopping to get another beer, light another cigarette, change the albums, simultaneously standing and sitting, the whole time letting the hum of the window unit keep us cool and never letting the silence settle in. for the most part, i let him passionately pontificate while i admired his zeal. everything he spoke was peppered with body language as though the odds were against us that would put most people in a corner, smothered by intimidation; instead, i found myself smiling, completely enamored and fascinated- i couldn't get close enough. suddenly, i had become the figurative moth to the flame, a position i rarely ever find myself in when it comes to human beings.

still unaware of the time, we head out to the lamplighter, "for a change of scenery," Professor Thom says. my mouth holds a slight taste of mint, but i could go for another beer. he opens the weak screen door and we both walk through. the lamplighter holds maybe twenty people inside of it, even with the relatively enormous pool table. the jukebox sits in the corner, dark and hidden unless you look for it, and the couch to the left has my first memories of memphis laid into its fabric. there is a certain romance to the lamplighter and Professor Thom feels it right away. instantly he turns to say, "this is good...this place, this is good." i pass a kid sketching and try not to be nosy while he saunters up to the bar to order drinks and i pick a table. once we've settled, we're not talking long before Professor Thom takes over the Lamplighter. i smile, completely unsure of what to do with all his energy. the old men sitting at the bar glare back at the table to see who the loudmouth is and i smile at them as well. it's a smile that says, "hi, how are you? enjoying your beverage?" while also making it very clear that if they want to make any problems with my new friend here, i'll stick it out. regardless, i know Thom could have handled the situation on his own, undoubtedly ending things amicably and probably buying them a drink. one of them makes eye contact, never acknowledging my sweet gesture, and turns his attention back to the televisions. suddenly, i don't hear Professor Thom talking about Lebron James or Toledo; i begin imagining the life of the petite, familiar-looking man at the bar and wonder where his wife must be, where his kids have moved to, and who he voted for. i start to think about his life and what happened where he found himself in Midtown, at a bar, watching television that showcases log cutting, and i am sitting behind him, remembering that the last time i saw him we were both at an AA meeting.

suddenly my attention is brought back to Thom, still at the bar, and i steal glances at the kid behind me, still sketching, still silent. we waste more time at the Lamplighter, Thom and i, before the kid behind us, John Nazi, gets brave and decides he wants to hear what the Professor has to say. before long, he pulls out his notebook on Thom's command and we're looking at surreal sketches of dogs and self-portraits. eventually, i get the signal that it's time to leave and make our exit- Lamplighter, you have been conquered.

the next morning, Professor Thom leaves early. as we part ways at our respective cars, he tells me to call him. no, text him. no, call him. from the back parking lot, i turn left to go to work; he turns right to head back to the university, resuming his school break, his coffee break, his cigarette break, and i go back to work, stuck in a place where no cars go.

it's been three days, or four days, and i still haven't called. at least he was kinda attractive.

possible radiator/possible fan/possible belt/possible brake overheating problems

2010-07-12T16:48:00.000-07:00

my car was fine at lunch today when i drove to the park for some alone time. when i left work, driving to olive branch to see my new dog, i noticed one of my gauges near the red zone...like it was overheating.

ew brother.

i was in orange mound at the time and slowly made my way back home. i don't mind walking to work- i walk everywhere else- but if paul parker was still around, i'd be able to ask someone what's wrong with my car. now i've got to pay some bum to look at it and charge me tons of money for something i could probably do myself. when it cools down, i'm going back out to check the air filter- it's all i can do for now.

sigh. i'm not as bummed about it as i thought i would be; i'm actually more upset that it's happening out of nowhere, like a surprise. like a shitty, rainy surprise.

bathroom

2010-07-09T12:10:00.000-07:00

we drank for the party,
we drank all the nite,
we drank for a rescue,
we drank to good-byes,
we drank for an uncertain future,
we drank for a slippery past,
we drank as though each swallow were the last

HUGE

2010-07-06T10:42:00.001-07:00

i admit, i have not watched one second of the show Huge, nor do i plan to, but from what i can gather during commercial breaks from any of the FIFTY channels Disney owns, it's a show about chubby girls at a fat camp crushing on hot, young studs who constantly have their shirts off and wanting so badly to be loved by them...which they do! or in any case, they get a nice, slow, passionate television kiss out of it.

oh, ladies....

this proves that even the lowest of self-esteems can remain vain and shallow. i mean, let's face it, you're at a fat camp; surely, there are some tubby dudes walking around the woods, canoeing, or in the mess hall, waiting for you to fawn over them, right? oh, are you telling me you don't get weak in the knees when you see a jiggly belly? you mean a double chin doesn't put butterflies in your stomach? wait, let me get this straight, are you saying that the sound of his thighs rubbing together doesn't make you swoon? you must be kidding.

hm, i guess you're not. well, i assume it is only fair then that you feel depressed and biased against the fact that guys only like hot, skinny girls. i just wish they weren't so shallow about it.

one more time!

2010-06-27T13:39:00.000-07:00

We Shave, with Brendan "The Strangler" Spengler on funmachine and Lyndsey "The White Lady" Chastain on drums.

and if you're in WaWa, check out:

over a barrel

2010-06-24T16:56:00.000-07:00

i was talking with my friend, mike schey, not too long ago; we discussed old times, like our tendency to call each other right after the other one has had sex. this time was an exception.

he discovered an archive of old emails that i had written, unread in an email account he abandoned.

listen up, people, if you don't read your emails on an account you never touch, delete the damn thing. otherwise, i'm going to keep sending emails to it- every day. or on your birthday. or until you call me to tell me you found a treasure filled with leahmails.

space base

2010-06-22T21:40:00.000-07:00

this is going to be fun.

that same noble spirit

2010-06-19T17:19:00.000-07:00

i decided last nite i'm not moving. i'm sticking around.

come find me.

being out of reach

2010-06-18T23:19:00.000-07:00

i do not have a degree- in anything- and i barely graduated high school. it was not for lack of intelligence but rather, lack of trying. i am lazy. luckily, the internet is my personal jesus and i no longer worry about ending up stupid coupled with the will to die.

while i take my time stepping out of the shower, letting the drops gather and pool around the soles of my feet, my hair drips like a leaky faucet. i wrap my hair into a towel while being careful not to slip on the slick tile. i turn up my ipod; The Get Up Kids seem to be the only thing that gets me. Or is it Daniel Johnston? right now, it does not matter. tonite i am shaving my legs, putting on a new dress, and going out. my favorite flats are hidden under my bed and there is no need to blow dry my hair. i would worry about the clock tick-tick-ticking, but there is no make up to apply or 'do to spray and shape and mold. i rub the deodorant stick under my arms right before i pick out what necklace goes with this purse or which ring best suits my mood; i decide on the long, lazy turquoise chain with the dark bamboo bracelet. i take one last look in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom.

on top of the television sits my cell phone waiting patiently with text messages. my laptop sits on the unkempt bed, playing ac/dc. i ignore the text messages, wandering into the kitchen. immediately i open the refrigerator, unsure of what i am looking for, but looking nonetheless. i grab the IPA in the door, examine the label, and decide against it. i am in the mood to walk the streets of midtown tonite while i enjoy the midnite air. i grab the 120 minute dogfish, attempting to pop the top on the closest drawer handle but to no avail. i dig for the bottle opener. i take a long sip and listen for the next ac/dc track. it really is a radiohead kind of evening; i am in an amnesiac mood. regardless, "You Shook Me All Night Long" begins- you know how it starts....

suddenly, the beer tastes better and i take another drink. and another. i walk back into the room where my laptop sits, the beer remains clutched in my hand. i can hear the click-clack echo of my flats while i walk. i begin to stomp my heel slightly, matching my own beat. while Bon Scott begins his figurative description of the woman- his woman- i imagine where i fit into it.

i let the song finish before i start it over again, finishing my beer. meanwhile, i quit smoking. i have nothing to do with my hands while i step around, pacing, watching the bottle in my hand empty on its own. this song does not just make me want to fuck; it makes me want to fuck Bon Scott. i am dressed and i am ready. the wind blows in through my window while i catch a glimpse of my neighbors walking their dog.

time to step out under the memphis moon.

the bitch went nuts

2010-06-17T19:58:00.000-07:00

i can't play the piano the way Ben Folds can turn a song about abortion or crazy cunts into blissful pop melodies, but i can fuck up a Daniel Johnston lo-fi recorder fuzz track very well. it's unbelievable, i know, but i was worried my neighbors would complain about the noise, banging on the wall, or even worse, my door. i was in my underwear and it was too damn hot to put on pants merely to deal with that kind of bullshit. get your dogs under control and i'll think about putting some headphones on.

i've been blamed all my life for things i had no control over. we could get into it this late but you need to buy me a drink first.

JDRhea

2010-06-16T18:00:00.000-07:00

some days, i wonder what my husband would think if he saw me today.

dear diary

2010-06-08T14:53:00.000-07:00

how to cheer me up:

("Give Him A Great Big Kiss, originally performed by The Shangri-Las)

(in honor of my pal, Brendan, the commie hippie long hair...in the background)
(RIP FUN MACHINE)

and of course, the trifecta:

...and the mother of all things to cheer me up.

this is worse than last time

2010-06-06T19:48:00.000-07:00

anger replaced apathy which has now been replaced by betrayal. i am hurt. lately, i can't figure out what morose postsecret one-liner best fits twitter. yes, i have been struggling to keep my emotions to 140 characters- and then not posting them online.

i was made to look like a monster, which hurts, because i am not prone to enemies or drama. i did everything i could to keep my nose clean. perhaps i should take this time to write an open letter:

[deleted]

i'll wait until someone calls to apologize for calling me terrible, undeserving names. :(

sometimes it can be very sad

2010-06-03T19:45:00.000-07:00

i was angry yesterday- justifiably so- when i was not before. now, starting today, i am restless; for the first time in a week i am noticing every pick up truck that looks like ______.

i am sleepy. per usual, that celluloid ghost won't leave my brain. i am not accomplished at forgetting what i want to forget as well as i am at things i need to remember. i paid my rent today, hung up photos from a friend, and bought a wall decal from Target only to find that merely half of it was in the case. come on, i trudged through the pissing rain to get the damn thing home- no joke. not to mention, it has become so hot in this apartment that even sleeping naked is miserable, keeping me awake all last nite and the nite before. sure, i could account it to other things (on my mind), but why give credit when there is no one there to receive it. i thought pounding nails into the walls would direct my negative energy through the cracks, settling, then maybe leaving the building haunted when they find my body, sweating from exhaustion, dead from the heat, primarily suffocated from the evening humidity that never lets up (even in the early morning hours). come to find out, i suck at hammering, so it only left me frustrated.

these paper thin walls remind me of the time my neighbor was having sex. i listened until my phone rang, then i laughed, admitting i was listening in, and reminisced. the apartment on madison was the same way- paper thin walls- but the moans massaging the other side of the wall were strangers to me. i never figured out who was fucking on the other side.

tonite, the warm light from the lamp brendan gave me before he moved back to iowa city stays in the corner. i am exhausted. i am the lone official making the calls; it's bedtime.

PS ...and if the jackass next door doesn't learn how to shut his door quietly (since day one, this guy), i'm going to impale him on the colgate clock (jersey city, nj).

calling to apologize

2010-06-01T20:46:00.000-07:00

the problem with people is their assumptions get them into trouble. specifically, the assumptions women make get them into trouble. my experience with male friends (which always outnumbered females) and growing up with two younger brothers has taught me that guys do not give a shit about what if, or maybe, or possibly, or the concept that their girlfriend, or friend, is lying. sorry, ladies, but guys do not give a shit.

let me explain.

generally speaking, a guy will outright ask, "are you lying?" and if the answer is "no" then it's dropped. any sneaking suspicions they might have are not kept festering; they are brought out in the open. "are you sure?...because i caught you doing blah blah blah." if the answer remains no, one of two things happens: 1) it's never brought up again and/or 2) you're called on the carpet, dumped, and life goes on. this is, of course, assuming he isn't a pussy. any guy who is too coward to admit a lie or call his best pal or his girl out on bullshit is a pussy and not worth anyone's time. not to mention, they usually like to play baiting games, which is also BULLSHIT. more than likely, they'll throw you under the bus to save their own ass- true story.

keep in mind, people, i'm speaking from personal experience. i've had an enormous amount of guy friends in my short lifetime, making all of them young, ignorant, cocky, self-righteous, goons. don't take this as gospel. also, i'm very full of shit.

what's very interesting about this is currently in my life i have three friends, male, who fit this description of being a bonafide, bullshit, pussy coward. additionally, and possibly ironically, it hasn't escaped me that every one of them has, in the last week, exited my life. we know to keep in touch, they all know where to find me, and i'm never angry enough to ignore a familiar phone call. yet, it's not surprising to me that when i introduce these characters to each other through stories of make ups and break ups, they don't find each other appealing.

i guess what i'm trying to say is that i should have told them to fuck off and eat dial tone.

razor blades

2010-05-26T19:37:00.000-07:00

it was suggested to me that my perfect date would be going to the mall because i enjoy people watching, which highlights my insight; yet, i am outgoing, which allows me to pull off the movie montage of trying on wacky outfits for the fun of it. you know, for fun!

sir, you clearly do not know me. i did not enjoy the mall in my youth, let alone in the years since then. however, i did make an exception for the halloweens we spent walking the mall to guarantee safe candy consumption.

thanksgiving dinner with a bad haircut

2010-05-13T18:02:00.001-07:00

i know a lot of people who hated high school. as an adult, even as an adolescent, i didn't hate high school, or find it burdensome for that matter. the only drawback was waking up early. how can you hate spending an entire day with your friends? i never saw the point in skipping school since i'd be spending it alone at home playing video games and eating microwave burritos. since i did that after school anyway, before my mother got home from work, i decided that goofing off and learning- my two favorite things to do- were better spent at school. not to mention, i had an after school job so i was paying for the damn place whether i was there or not.

my best memories were freshman and sophomore year at clark high school. prior to the building of a new facility (which i also attended and later graduated), clark was the richest school in the district. kids from rich families living in "The Dominion" went to clark high school. kids from rich families in whatever-that-neighborhood-was went to clark. everyone was rich except the kids from my neighborhood, the neighborhood across the street, and the neighborhood behind our 'hood. nonetheless, i had the best friends at clark, and when i talk about people i knew in high school, i talk about the kids at clark.

long story short, we were all inseparable: calling each other on three-way, making home videos, coaxing julie's mom to fix us pot roast and mashed potatoes at the drop of a hat in the middle of the week because we felt like it, watching old vhs tapes of tom green reruns, the state, kids in the hall, conan o'brien, getting julie's dad to bring us to the store so we could buy poster board+markers+glitter for our "Anti-Red-Hdead Dyke League" propoganda, putting tacos in mailboxes, and making fun of the kid from The Big Green.

as an adult, replace all of that goofy shit with some guy doing coke in the bathroom, a refrigerator full of booze, cigarette smoke hanging like a halo in the air, my neighbor stopping by to sell pills, and a random asshole no one knows playing with the laptop that is playing DJ to the party. you can't go back, you don't wish you could, but you wish things were the same- and then you don't.

rare photos of the evasive butt cut:

interestingly enough, no one seemed to notice at the time.

the fabled thanksgiving dinner at the self house:

(Julie, front right)

JULIE SELF AND SARAH LAWS, I MISS YOU.

oh, that's cooool

2010-05-12T20:29:00.000-07:00

random thoughts:

the world is not even close to ready right now, but i can't wait for Dave Chapelle to return.

also, i love the sample in the vitamin water commercials.

dirty number nine

2010-05-11T16:51:00.000-07:00

things i've realized today:

1. i haven't made a list in a while.
2. i'm weak- time to toughen up.
3. working at empire records would be my dream job.
3b. shopping at empire records would be a nitemare.
3c. working+shopping at championship vinyl would be my ultimate dream job.
4. maybe if i take benadryl before bed i won't be so miserable in the morning.
5. my towels were making me itch.
6. memphis didn't make me racist, it merely brought out my hatred for trashballs to an all-time high.
7. i'm losing weight somehow.
8. i don't like to cry, but i do like to watching movies that make me cry.
8b. i have theories as to why that may be the case.
10. Jimmy Eat World's Static Prevails is such a great album, even in 2010.
11. i should get tested for diabetes.
12. learning to play the drums needs to happen NOW.
13. it is truly impossible for me to write without music.
14. the achey feeling for you i keep hoping will go away, won't; time to let it ride.
15. i miss my birthday.
16. i would like to go to new orleans.
17. i wish i had my old ringtone, Peter, Bjorn, and John, "Young Folks" (whistle)
18. i have $3 to my name.
19. in the last four days i've felt very lonely.
20. i need to read more.
21. my record player is getting dusty.
21b. i haven't bought a record in a long time.
22. someone told me once, "i couldn't torture myself by watching you 'from afar'", which was endearing and sweet.
23. living in austin would be cool.
24. i don't care how annoying colin meloy's voice is, i like the decemberists.
25. i wonder if i should dye my hair.
26. i forgot the groceries in my trunk...again.
27. i was supposed to get a couch yesterday- for free.
28. i miss you so much it hurts.
29. this was a great article.
30. rickenbacker and hawaiian instruments are related.

this is a long drive for someone with nothing to think about

2010-05-09T19:28:00.000-07:00

tonite, i found the movie "nick and norah's infinite playlist" on television. the interesting thing about this movie, short of the fact that a group of teenage adults roams new york city in cabs- the cheapest way to get around new york city, we all know this- is that nick and norah fall in love in one nite. i hate movie time lines.

not to mention, norah's dad is a famous record producer and nick is george michael from arrested development in disguise. they both like the shins, arcade fire, and mixtapes. they also make sure we hear norah have her first orgasm...the fuck? and it's recorded in her dad's studio! not only am i confused by this movie, but i think i'm just damn too old for it.

cable, you get me every time.

shores of california

2010-05-09T07:27:00.000-07:00

despite all our faults, i miss you very much.

mexican whiskey

2010-05-02T21:32:00.000-07:00

yesterday, my brother explained in detail the time he took a fat chic home, slept with her, then dropped her off first thing in the morning, as though he had done her a favor. it's funny because that's exactly how he described it.

my father's side of the family lives in a small town in kansas. if you're not surprised that mexicans immigrated beyond texas, passed oklahoma, and found themselves in the midwest, then maybe i should explain that this small town in kansas (we'll call it "Wellington") consists almost ENTIRELY of my family. they have no shame, in which case, neither do i when i think about the sewer they crawled out of. when my brother got married, jason was sick; i showed up to jay's reception alone. since the town is small, the best place to hold the reception (and every reception i've ever been to in Wellington) is at the VFW hall. i found my father, found out what he was drinking, and settled in for the nitemare. my great-grandmother was seated, slumping and tiny, at the middle table. she didn't remember me; she hasn't remembered me since i was seventeen. per usual, she had a bottle of mexican whiskey in front of her, next to the glass of mexican whiskey she was drinking. on the other side was a beer, i'm still unsure if it belonged to her.

i had met my brother's fiancee before and didn't like her. she had the seriousness of a woman waiting for the sky to fall. she had no sense of humor which was strange since my brother is one of the funniest people i know. she had a mousy posture with a rat face that wore glasses, dyed her hair pink and red, and went nuts tattooing fairies playing guitars on her soft arm, back, and shoulders. admittedly, i found her soft like a slug or chicken fat, lacking the soft comfort of a pillow or a hug from a gentle bouncer. i wasn't looking forward to seeing her again, especially since she wasn't of drinking age. without the lubrication alcohol brings to all awkward situations, i would tip the scales with my apathetic attitude while she studied my face and drank dr. pepper. luckily, i found my brother first and we embraced, two long lost friends. surprisingly, he asked me where jason was before diving into the introduction to his now-wife. once we got everything out of the way, i turned to find the rest of my family, avoiding any rumors that i was being a snob with the wallflower tendencies i am prone to, in order to get back to my grandfather's house and go to bed. i missed jason.

i found three of my four aunts, two cousins, and a woman i didn't recognize but she knew me from years before i could speak and run off. she was grinding her teeth, shifting in her chair, and her gums were dark in stead of the soft pink i was familiar with. needless to say, i still chose to sit next to her. i watched as my family chuckled and giggled at vulgarity that made my stomach turn. i began my third beer. eventually my cousin turned his attention to me, asking generic questions you throw at strangers when you don't give a shit. he pulled out a thick roll of cash, bragging about the drugs he sold, the money he made, and where that put me on the food chain. i scoffed, of course, and sneered in disgust. he pointed to the woman i was sitting next to, "look at her, you see that?" we watched her stare at the teenagers while the disco lights played off her back. she was still grinding her teeth. i looked back at my cousin.

"i did that," he said.

there it is- my family. it shouldn't have come as a surprise when those words came out of my brother's mouth: i did her a favor. the way he described it, between him and our cousins, the cute girls were already taken. this left the odd one out...the fat chic. my brother, who feels honesty replaces tact, came forward, "listen, i'm going home. if you want to come along, you'll probably get laid." he stopped to think for a moment, "no, you're going to get laid. you can come along or not but either way, i'm leaving now." my brother, who never leaves out any details with me, went on to tell me exactly how fat this girl was.

"i woke up in a heavy sweat. at first, i thought it was her body heat. like, she was so fat she acted as an incubator, you know?"

"okay."

"so i wake up because i'm so damn hot, i figure i need to turn the fan up. apparently, she had already done it. the fan was up all the way. i was fucked, it was so damn hot in there. god, she was fat."

"wow, you're an asshole."

"whatever, she was fat. so anyway, i get back in bed and i realize...i laid down and it was hot. i sat back up and it was cool. i laid back down. she was so damn fat she blocked the fan!"

"why didn't you sleep on the side closest to the fan?"

"because that was the outside. i've got my bed pressed against the wall. if i slept on the outside she would've made me fall off the bed."

"wait, why did you fuck this girl?"

"i did her a favor."

"you're an asshole."

"yeah, i get it."

my brother doesn't like hearing me call him an asshole.

"anyway," he said, "i've got this terrible headache. she thinks we're going to spend the day together but i told her, 'listen, we're not spending the day together, i've got stuff to do.'"

"what did you have to do?"

"get her out of my bed."

i sat there, taking in what my brother was saying. the conversation started with the drama he continues to have with the mothers of his two children. he's a good father, my brother, but a walking dick- literally and figuratively speaking.

he started again, "i got up because it was too damn hot to sleep, smoked a cigarette, and told her i was leaving. i got dressed, grabbed my keys, and waited for her. god, why does it take girls so long to get ready?"

"did she take a shower?"

"no, but i'm standing there and when she walks out the door she has one shoe on and is still trying to get her coat zipped up."

i cut my brother off. i couldn't hear anymore his side of the story, the advantage he took of this girl, and how, in his words, she became clingy. it reminded me of selfish cousins who sold drugs to our aunts and uncles with filthy arms, no teeth, and a pill popping problem. it made me think of my aunt and cousin, in jail, for writing bogus prescriptions and pharmacy shopping. it made me think of my cousin jake who tried to commit suicide, twice. it made me think of my brother's wedding reception and how they all looked at me with the same disgust i see them.

"you think you're better than us, coming into town, talking down to us, using your big words. you see this? this is more money than you'll ever make. you'll never be better than me, or any of us."

i looked over at my great-grandmother. she was nursing the bottle of mexican whiskey, reminding me of someone i used to know, while a cigarette traveled from her flat lips to her fingers resting on her lap. her tired feet barely reached the floor. i didn't finish my beer. i did everyone a favor and left.

you were looking to stick your neck out

2010-05-02T16:16:00.000-07:00

it seems...if someone doesn't want you, someone else will take you.

isn't that right?

when it would end abruptly

2010-04-29T17:03:00.000-07:00

as much as i hate to admit that i enjoy quentin tarantino films, i will never deny my love for the music he lays over it. for me, very much like chuck klosterman, i have a love+hate relationship with the exposure(s) to quentin tarantino. i get goosebumps when i see him; what a creep. i don't know him, and i 'll never know him, which is the fuel that burns while i write this. who doesn't enjoy acting out on an emotion that carries no consequences.

vivica a. fox looks like shit. that...i do hate to say.

"come on, bitch."

i can appreciate the anger this woman has. we part ways on the hatred; i don't believe i have the guts for hate. i'll always have the turbo for calling people 'fucking assholes' and 'you, lunatic', but regardless of what i say, the feeling disappears with time. although, it goes without saying that i have said things i regret. i have told someone, once, that i hated them. it hurts me when i think about it, a hurt i get to carry around with me without the waiters and doctors seeing me til the day i die never knowing any better. it's not a phrase i want to escape so i lock it up- like the goonies. you know what i mean.

anger is a fleeting emotion i'm familiar with. it keeps me awake, especially when i'm dreaming, but it never stays long. summer seasons last longer than the crown of contempt that shows up. the key is never letting them know how vulnerable you are. that welcomes a parade of dumb harassments; i don't have the patience for breaking that habit (in people). however, i am flattered.

the question remains, how do you break the one you want? the anger seems unending, logically, it seems justifiable, but love, even platonic, tingles like a forgotten arm. conversely, love, equally worth fighting for as much as anger, is not always cradled with the compliments that come from songs. love and marriage are not an equation; neither is love and sex. love brings regret with forgiveness, it brings irrationality when all i wants is wisdom, and it means i would take a bullet for you. love does not mean "i'm in love" and it doesn't always mean i'm happier. it means i'm willing to suffer a lot of things but not to convince you of anything short of making you happier while i go on. and while i think i'll be better off if you go on, something tells me i won't be different.

i spent my birthday alone; i spent sunday alone. if you left, every day would be like sunday, the way morissey used to say. i want to be angry, it's what i should be, but honestly, all my anger is without a face. trust me it's much easier to be angrier at a shadow.

broken hearts really smart

2010-04-26T15:44:00.000-07:00

when the internet explains how i feel:

slumber party

2010-04-26T10:54:00.000-07:00

i don't know what i was thinking last nite but there it is.

weird.

spirit world rising

2010-04-25T18:16:00.000-07:00

in two weeks, it will be three years. i miss you.

albeit, there are things i don't miss, but as a human being there is plenty i miss terribly:

*when i would cry, if it wasn't your fault, you would settle me on your lap while i hugged your neck and i could hear you cooing, "oh, baby doll..."

*if it was your fault, you would attempt to make up for it. although, you weren't always successful. it should be noted, if it was my fault...neither was i.

*listening to Big Star for hours at a time while we read side by side on the couch.

*the silent understanding of Stevie Wonder's "I Believe (When I Fall In Love) while we laid on the living room rug, my head on your shoulder, staring at the ceiling.

*cooking you breakfast tacos for dinner, eating out on the balcony, and smoking cigarettes until we got tired of watching the cars go by.

*solving our arguments by dictionary.

*watching you sit in front of the computer, headphones suffocating your ears, the glow of the screen making a halo around your silhouette, while i tried to fall asleep.

*stealing free vintage turntables from porches.

*going to the mississippi river.

*watching wheat the cat suffocate roaches in the summer.

*your mick jagger impression.

*the times you told me i was blushing.

*taking photos of you.

*the devil and daniel johnston.

*your smell.

*watching aqua teen hunger force and woody allen movies.

*your memphis history lessons when we would drive around town.

*"wait...i've got you in one ear and rock'n'roll in the other"

*going to home depot to buy seeds.

*gonerfest.

*your insane stories (you were always a better writer).

*surprising you with used records, a used pair of slacks, or a new pair of chuck taylors.

*never having to explain what i mean.

*coming home, after work.

*bringing my lunch to work every day- the lunch that you would make me the nite before while i slept. every day i had a brand new love letter inside, even though we were hiding love letters all over the apartment.

*being tucked in.

*your tolerance of my nerdy/geeky nature.

*your idea to bring me to memphis. "midtown was made for you," you said.

i love you, jason rhea but now that you're gone, i have to mend my heart. i miss you, terribly, but wishing you were here makes me sad. in the next days after your death, i was told to chin up, think positive, that you wouldn't want me to be sad. it's become one year, two years...and it's been hinted that you would want me to move on. unfortunately, i know you better than that. you didn't want to be buried, you didn't want to bury your grandfather, and you didn't want anyone else with your girl.

...but you're not here. the problem with making those plans when you're alive is, more than likely, someone will fuck it up. this is best illustrated by the fact that your mother buried you in memphis memorial gardens instead of the muddy mississippi. you're still there.

it might also be best illustrated by me except i don't know what the fuck i'm doing or what i'm talking about.

(cry)

(old photos found)

(sob)

(unopened birthday present, a box)
(butterflies in my stomach)

(feeling a little better)

(boo hoo)

to be continued....

just to hear your voice three times today

2010-04-23T21:52:00.000-07:00

i'm confused and anxious again. to help me feel better, i'm watching freaknik the musical- the animation, music, and dialogue are making me smile. luckily, i came home to brendan "the strangler" spengler to distract me with his air mattress set up. he was a good distraction; we made fun of the news, commercials, and the travel channel. we went for a drive and his special lady friend stopped by which i know made him happy. he's a good distraction, even when i all i want to do is talk about how miserable i am.

Brendan and Lyndsay, i love you.
freaknik, i love you.
voicemail, i love you.

mother make me golden

2010-04-23T12:34:00.000-07:00

somehow, i've been netted into this crazy triangle i didn't ask to be in. one minute, i'm smitten, next, i'm a ghost, then i'm bullied out. at some point, i came to terms with those circumstances and to the victor went the spoils. who needs that kind of mess.

while that all happened over the course of weeks turned into months, in a matter of hours, i've been tossed back into the triangle. it started with an apology (thanks to voicemail), then a text message throwing the trophy back into my yard, then a bizarre twist wanting to know, "have you talked to ____? i can't find him." i don't know if i should feel concerned or conned. nonetheless, i hope this person is found safe and unharmed. on the other hand, if that was a ploy, it proved nothing except to illustrate how much of an accessory i am to a situation that i was blatantly pushed out of. not to mention, knowing that my emotions have yet to be taken into any consideration does nothing short of make me sick to my stomach with disgust through their selfish actions- bunch of animals.

meanwhile, i still hope that you're safe and alive.

totally

2010-04-22T12:34:00.000-07:00

get out of my brain, Paul Parker!
get out of my brain, Paul Parker!
get out of my brain, Paul Parker!
get out of my brain, Paul Parker!
get out of my brain, Paul Parker!
get out of my brain, Paul Parker!
get out of my brain, Paul Parker!

we have a whiteboard at work that hangs in front of my desk. for the longest time i wondered what it was used for. it was a virgin white, unstained with the ghost marks of old water messages. i imagined it being the billboard for pizza parties or impromptu meetings called at the last second, maybe even birthday annoucements for that month; it was a relic reminiscent of the office before i arrived, hustle and bustle.

however, i have discovered in the last two weeks that the board is merely used for counting down the days til friday. or sometimes payday. while everything is marked with exclamation points to illustrate the enthusiasm we collectively feel that there are only FOUR-MORE-DAYS til "Friday Eve", i hang my head, trudging back to my plain, grey cubicle. my life- and everything in it- is pathetic. the good news is, tomorrow is payday.

i'm only gone as long as you want me gone

2010-04-20T16:04:00.000-07:00

some days, i am angry.
some days, i am sad.

right now, i am sad.

when it feels like two seconds

2010-04-20T07:36:00.000-07:00

i'm on break- a work break. we're alloted fifteen minutes, but it feels like two seconds. i went online to see when my tape recorder was arriving and sent Brendan "The Strangler" Spengler a text message. it's time to go back to work, where five minutes feels like an hour.

i can't stop thinking about jason. and when i'm not thinking about jason, i'm thinking about paul. in fact, i'm thinking about paul more than anything.

it's been two weeks.

nothing happening

2010-04-15T19:20:00.000-07:00

i don't miss arizona necessarily. the summer nites are miserable, there's no grass, everyone owns a stucco house or lives in a stucco apartment building, and i could care less for the culture.

one nite, maybe for the hell of it, or an occasion, in which case, i don't recall the reason for the season, but we all got together at amber's house for cards, grilling, beer, swimming, sending blake to bed, then skinny dipping and crashing throughout the house, similar to a battlefield. we never needed a reason to do it, we did it- plain and simple. the other nite, when i turned twenty-seven, mike schey and i reminisced about all the friends we used to have. we missed the bottomshelf, complete with topless thursdays and gangster rap fridays; nothing has been the same since kris moved to LA, the shelf was torn down post-halloween, and none of us thought twice about things never being the same. we were what young twenty-somethings are prone to do which is move on while still assuming things would stay the same. people got married, people had kids, none of it surprising, yet none of it alarming. it didn't occur to either of us that while we still knew our friends and saw them infrequently, laughing at the jukebox in the corner, and the reunions of our former selves. people faded into the background while the rest of us forgot what we were living for. the same bar, every nite, talking about the same shit became our routine. we tried karaoke, different bars, different nites, but the lack of familiarity began to annoy us rather than make us fearful of what we were losing. youth is still our ally, but who knows what we're chasing.

nonetheless, here are a few hours of my life in arizona:

worst song ever: walking in memphis

2010-01-22T10:39:00.000-08:00

FOT Secret Santa

2010-01-16T06:00:00.001-08:00

Thanks, KickTheBobo. You're my hero.

FOT Secret Santa

2010-01-15T10:49:00.001-08:00

every year on the friends of tom board, we exchange secret santas. here's an appetizer:

great, right??

more to come. you'll love it.

carlosmoore.com

2009-12-28T06:39:00.001-08:00

merry christmas

2009-12-28T06:31:00.001-08:00

i missed you this year, JDRhea.

you showed up this morning. i wish you would tell me what you want me to do because i'm ready.

i lurve you.

to hell with it

2009-12-10T11:36:00.000-08:00

i havent updated in a while, i apologize. life has handed me lemons- nice, frosty lemons. i cant make lemonade, but the smell is sweet nonetheless. im in memphis, enjoying my life and the opportunity to go to the river any time i want. im taking fotos, crocheting scarves, writing, and enjoying my new cat.

i miss phoenix friends, but i dont miss phoenix. wise up and get out of the desert, you fiends. oh yeah, and did i mention im making music?

at least my car is still parked out front

2009-09-20T07:52:00.000-07:00

this HoJo is not bad. comparatively, the outside looks questionable, but upon entering, the bed is enormous, there is a desk, three lamps, and the television has a decent amount of channels- good channels, even. when i walked into the lobby, the desk clerk was watching the MTV version of The Beach (yes, with that leonardo dicaprio). i fell asleep to [adult swim], per my usual routine, and woke up an hour before my alarm was supposed to go off. half awake, i showered in hot, soft water* and attempted to locate a taco cabana. my results: NO LOCATIONS FOUND WITHIN 25 MILES. this morning is not starting out as well as i thought it would.

at any rate, had breakfast with mom yesterday- she cried. spent time with tyler yesterday- he thought i was crying. i was not! i drove out of arizona, i drove out of new mexico, and i drove until i couldnt drive anymore to amarillo, tx- the gem of the panhandle.

i hope this town has a decent selection of orange juice and breakfast tacos somewhere. i miss my friends. in fact, if shane knew i slept in the HoJo bed naked, i am sure he would let me know what the yuppies think of that behavior.

*i dont think i even need lotion. eat that, AZ.

how many times to hear a song

2009-05-22T11:00:00.000-07:00

two months ago, i challenged myself to find a boyfriend online. in the short time between now and its inauguration, i have been proposed for sex daily! not to mention, ive been on a few dates, all of which were train wrecks, and the expectation that i was going to bring the condoms. im in the fucking twilight zone.

starting with the daily propositions, i was offered $100 to drive a couple blocks west and find a _____ waiting for me. im not a prostitute. i was offered $100 to just use my hands. im not in high school. i was offered $200 to drive the same two blocks. hm, you know what i could with $200?! i finally declined; i ran out of excuses.

last nite, i was proposed by a different guy, back for a second time. apparently, i could come over right away but i would have to bring the _______. not only do i have to shell out the cash for these things, but i have to play the guessing game.

**FAIL**

ive got stories, but theyre served better with drinks and old friends. kris is coming into town and made plans for going to the lake on sunday. im excited to see kris, thus, i go.

A.M.F.R.

2009-02-26T14:33:00.000-08:00

im making a zine from scratch.

2009-02-25T12:38:00.000-08:00

it's another list, people. get your helmets on and strap in.

iAmBaronVonTito...went to LA again.
iAmBaronVonTito...spent another chunk of change at amoeba (still under $100).
iAmBaronVonTito...is making plans for the ol' birthday.
iAmBaronVonTito...wants the ultimate Tears for Fears collection.
iAmBaronVonTito...keeps filling up the amazon.com wish list but no takers.
iAmBaronVonTito...called cancer mom at the baseball game.*
iAmBaronVonTito...believes "another one bites the dust" doesnt belong on the blondie or the syd barrett station- what station then?? oh, pandora.
iAmBaronVonTito...wants to know where these andrew earles haters are coming from?**
iAmBaronVonTito...can't wait to be in austin/san antonio.***
iAmBaronVonTito...is going to mail so much stuff this weekend, its sick.
iAmBaronVonTito...thinks its bogus my ReadyMade magazine has yet to arrive.(1)
iAmBaronVonTito...had coke zero for the first time at lunch.(2)
iAmBaronVonTito...made an eye appointment: laser eye surgery anyone?
iAmBaronVonTito...stole a magazine while sorting the office mail.
iAmBaronVonTito...is going to the gym after work=meat market.
iAmBaronVonTito...doesnt know the first thing about zines.
iAmBaronVonTito...has nothing but good things to say about _____ _______.
iAmBaronVonTito...is sick of The Cars already, fuck.
iAmBaronVonTito...would love to know what JDRhea would think of my twittering.
iAmBaronVonTito...took a shower last nite. it might be the new thing.
iAmBaronVonTito...found two angels sleeping on the couch this morning.(3)
iAmBaronVonTito...had a weak veggie sandwich for lunch. cost: $8
iAmBaronVonTito...doesnt want to work for the next 2.5 hours.
iAmBaronVonTito...still doesnt get the animal collective hype.
iAmBaronVonTito...still doesnt get why the eddy current & nobunny hype is only getting started.
iAmBaronVonTito...remains unimpressed with the lack of enthusiasm for Relay for Life.
iAmBaronVonTito...will get over that, im sure.
iAmBaronVonTito...wants to see someone get punched with brass knuckles.(a)
iAmBaronVonTito...has panic attacks thinking about summer in AZ.
iAmBaronVonTito...still wants to see this My Bloody Valentine in 3D.

*she's having a great time!
**what up wit dat?!
***march dates TBA (24-28?)
(1) i know it says feb/mar issue, but wtf?
(2) Eh.
(3) two angels=two strangers
(a) i know i'll regret this when/if it happens.

CalifornIHateYou (part deux)

2009-02-05T08:20:00.000-08:00

Anna Ives Auction

2009-01-27T11:20:00.000-08:00

give to this and post it EVERYWHERE, you assholes.

http://www.goner-records.com/AnnaIvesAuctions/

three and a half years (only)

2009-01-27T08:57:00.001-08:00

ive been looking for these photos for YEARS. i found out this past christmas/new year that dana has had them the entire time; the poor quality is due to the film enduring endless summers in the garage. welcome to arizona.

edit: theyre too big to post and ive spent too much time editing to care anymore. check out the myspace.

count it: seven times

2009-01-26T12:00:00.000-08:00

the weekend in LA was insane. im still not in memphis, im back in the desert. cancer mom remains bored in the hospital (so i called her and complained about my life) and she listened. what an awesome lady (i know, she's lucky to have me).

i did my usual escapades: gardenburger or BLT @ astroburger, slept on kris' couch, saw a show @ UCB theatre, went LA sightseeing (this weekend it was the getty center), and spent $75 @ amoeba. i had a great time seeing, smelling, touching, standing in unspeakable things- only in LA. i love memphis, but i love LA. maybe ill live there long enough to get sick of it. its a good place and i dont know how people could hate it. my philosophy: just dont die there.

pictures to come.

buy my book!

2009-01-22T07:45:00.000-08:00

A First Attempt:

a how-to in making...

By L.S. Abasolo

Book Preview

how to: bringing it all together

2009-01-21T09:37:00.000-08:00

i am very confused about what i am going to do this summer but it is going to be big. more to follow.

A First Attempt:

a how-to in making...

By L.S. Abasolo

Book Preview

i've had that nitemare

2009-01-20T08:13:00.001-08:00

what did i do wrong that could possibly explain why i owe the government $1,000 when ive made every effort to have them pull the maximum amount from each paycheck while i live broke all year long so i can cash in at the end of the race...?

everybody should listen to this album

2009-01-13T13:41:00.000-08:00

observations of the day:

my desk is filthy.
i should really shave my legs.
this is really funny.
my fingers hurt.
this burns.
girls are strange creatures.
this sweater is too short.
this necklace was a great choice.
HA!
i should write when i get home today.
i wonder what im going to do tonite.
no work tomorrow.
if $120 comes out today, then i'll only have...
i feel fat.
cut your fingernails.
did he pay for that?
that sweater is old.
my head hurts.
im not THAT big.
i should walk from the laundromat on belvedere.
jason never understood why i thought that was a weird street name.
i dont feel elite with an ipod.*
that sounded wet.
i cant tell the difference between these guys.
what a putz; he probably doesnt have teeth.
what is this awful taste in my mouth?
so it's $39 or $40...ish.
perfect impression
i need to have some fun.**
what if i just get the month?
this post is unabashedly phoned in.

*it was a birthday gift. from ten people, accumulatively. hardly elite.
**NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION #6

who else is getting married already

2009-01-09T14:33:00.000-08:00

after reading FAILED PILOT this morning, i was reminded of 120 Minutes, the show that raised me in my early years.

when i say i was raised by MTV, most people assume i mean it in the same way everyone means it. im not talking about YO! MTV Raps. im not talking about Total Request Live. im talking about: The Grind, Remote Control (remember the two-headed monster aka "Anthony Fleadis"?), Headbanger's Ball (never saw the Kurt in a ballgown episode) The State (still one of my favorite shows), the first two seasons of The Real World, Just Say Julie (with your host, Julie Brown 'not to be confused with "Downtown Julie Brown"'), Aeon Flux, Sifl and Olly (in high school, but still, ask anyone who remembers that show and you'll get a blank stare), The Ben Stiller Show, throw in a few Young Ones episodes, Lip Service (hosted by Jay Mohr!) Alternative Nation, and of course, 120 Minutes.

i taped 120 Minutes and The State religously, watching it in an endless loop until the tape wore thin and i had to transfer it to another tape. then i met Julie Self, also a preserver of The State series. in high school, i took the bus to her house after school (if the bus driver didnt catch me) and we would nerd out to The State, even episodes of The Tom Green Show, and made home movies of our ridiculous humor. it is unknown how many tacos we put in how many mailboxes. After Julie died, it was interesting to see how many people knew about the tacos and the mailboxes.

when Jason was alive, he would tell me about going over to a friend's house after school so they could all watch MTV. Jason was ten years older than i am and thus, remembered all the old shows much clearer than i do. it brought back memories, previously only familiar to me, and made it clear how well we went together, confirming my hunch that he was the right one. there is another right one out there, maybe older, maybe not- but they'll remember those old MTV shows.

******************************************************************************

this morning i went to starbucks to use their wi-fi then found out i had to pay for it. i call shenanigans. i might as well hang out at the airport or in a hotel lobby, they'll give it to me for free. my mechanic has free wi-fi. "my" mechanic. it was shocking to find out and i had immediate regret for purchasing a $5 coffee, after i had them removed $2.50 of it: no whip, half pump, lite ice, soy milk. was it the soy...?

at any rate, lunch was good, the weather was perfect, and i attempted to listen to Memphis Sound Library (wevl.org, fridays @noon) but the music on the patio was too loud. i turned up my computer, but it made everything worse. defeated, i ate lunch with Richard and enjoyed the conversation.

Things To Do:
Miniature Tigers tonite @modified arts
drink water, brush teeth
consider bills paid

if youre asking for my time, there isn't much to give you

2008-12-29T15:27:00.000-08:00

im still convinced lists are the only thing going straight in my life. you're my only friend.

it's that time of year for...NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS!! welcome. its been some year, with the highest of the highs and the lowest of the lows, never quite able to plod my way back to where i started. in the meantime, let's get started.

1) move to memphis
2) take a bus tour
3) learn french/japanese
4) write a book
5) go to san antonio (march=sarah laws/road rage awareness)
6) have s e x*
7) cook home meals
8) hang out with more kids
9) visit peru
10) own a macbook
11) buy new shoes
12) call THE BEST SHOW**
13) stop interrupting or "talk less, listen more"
14) get published
15) throw a going away party
16) tell zach braff to grow up
17) BE A LADY***
18) be friendly to andy earles
19) learn to love, stop hating
20) buy more vinyl, steal less digital
21) start playing video games
22) be nice to girls
23) shave my legs more often****
24) resolve any conflict with estranged former friends(a)
25) become a tea snob
26) take a pie to the face
27) attend at least three basketball games
28) grab tickets to my favorite 90s band reunions
29) remember that jason wants me to be happy.(b)

*find a boyfriend?
**meet Steve from NoHo.
***this has been a resolution for years. years! one day this will lead to fulfilling resolution #6
****also a resolution for YEARS.
(a)ew boy, thats going to be hard. let's do this!
(b) i had a dream last nite that jason and i were in the car, inexplicably, and i told him, "i wanted to let you know how much i love you. i dont feel like i tell you enough." or something along those lines. he kissed me. i love it when that happens.

"nice ponytail"

2008-12-23T09:27:00.000-08:00

normally, i post my annual Christmas Wish List 2008, knowing that none of those things will find their way to me, but because i love to wish. this year, without giving any slight of hand that im interested in christmas or its gift giving practice, i was showered with awesome booty yesterday- post 5:11 (p.m.)

my pal, richard, specially wrapped my gift- it was red. it was brilliant the color he picked and it worked splendidly in building the anticipation that builds in destroying perfect taped corners. there was no bow needed because he drew one, and spelled my name correctly. i wanted to open it at work but i knew the calls and the emails and the slow dragging tick-tick-tick of the clock would ruin a moment that had the potential to last for hours, widdled down to mere moments. when i left work, it was raining, but not pouring, and me, my magazines, and the red gift from richard made our way to the car. i could feel the rain making my sock wet; there is a hole in the bottom of my left shoe. i put new shoes on my christmas list this year.

i drove home, thinking about the gift, then thinking about what makes wet streets driving music. i messed with the ipod a little longer, only one hand on the wheel. ive always been of the mind that if i died, i wanted to be listening to an album i wouldnt mind dying with; my last moments should be savored. (essentially, now is not the time for vampire weekend.)

i made it home safely and when i walked into the door, i saw another box waiting for me on the table. it was addressed from: (dfk) my secret santa, from knoxville, had sent his christmas gift. i placed my things on the barstool that meets the countertop every day, holding onto richard's red gift. i slipped my finger underneath one of the sharp folds, sliding it towards the taped, triangled ends. slowly, the paper began to unfold, beginning to skew onto its own original path once intended. beneath the red paper revealed a flat white box, very familiar to the flat boxes from the out of town record stores who mail me slick, black vinyl. there was an address that did not belong to me on the front, the top of the box battered just enough for me push my fingertips into the lid and pull it back, revealing tissue paper and then the goods: a record.

it made the long day disappear and i was happy. i set the record, still settled on top of the flat box that remained tangled in red wrapping paper, next to my things and made my way to the closet for a camera. we had plenty of camera bags in the closet, but finding a camera was the true sense of accomplishment. i fished out the first camera i could find, bringing it to the table where my (dkf) box rested and began tearing away shrieking packing tape. almost immediately i could tell the top was different, it was in pieces. once all the tape was removed, a small sheet of cardboard covering the folded box top fell off and the underside revealed algebra equations.

he can be brilliant for a man old enough to be my father and is a math teacher at the local college. inside was a treasure: 15 CDs filled with various albums, books about math, comedy books, how-to books, and the local weekly headlining, "S & W SALVATION" which seems fitting for our little inside job this season. i brought the box to my room and displayed all the contents on the spread to admire in its entire glory. it was near time to leave for travis' place, something about football, i dont know. i hate football but he's a good guy to hang out with and listens while i ramble. we argue a lot about the order of things. i grabbed the camera from the table i had placed it on earlier and began snapping macro photos of each item, grouping the CDs in a pattern on display. i posted them online for the friends of tom to admire and walked out the door.

it was now POURING rain and i was without an umbrella, of course. i survived the walk to the car, the drive to travis' apartment, and the drive home. before leaving, travis made me open my gift from him- david sedaris, live at carnegie hall- the perfect gift and nothing less.

when i got home, it was time for bed, but the evening was magical and i couldnt go to sleep. going to work the next day meant that everything happened yesterday, leaving nothing for today. i didnt go to bed until 3am and i nearly finished my sewing project. i walked into work fifteen minutes late and its been a good day for pandora. i cant wait for my new year's resolution list! im asking for new shoes.

today's topic: I CAN'T GET OVER BLANK

2008-12-08T07:21:00.000-08:00

i cant get over how sore i still am from roller skating yesterday.
i cant get over how much fun Wilderness at the modified was last nite.
i cant get over how delicious this water tastes.
i cant get over the death of polaroid.
i cant get over the big deal about one hit wonders, BLACK KIDS.
i cant get over the cost of music festival tickets anywhere.
i cant get over this heat in december.
i cant get over the kanye west album, 808s & Heartbreak.
i cant get over audacious behavior.
i cant get over watching Bonanza with Grandpa.
i cant get over daydreaming about being a radio DJ.
i cant get over my stammering in the morning.
i cant get over the idea of leaving cancer mom.
i cant get over how funny The Best Show is.
i cant get over missing Memphis Sound Library, every friday.
i cant get over capitilization.
i cant get over listening to hip-hop this week.
i cant get over reluctance seeing Australia without Craig Pearce.
i cant get over my movie knowledge.
i cant get over cold morning air.
i cant get over how stupid boxing, UFC, or any MMA nonsense is.
i cant get over this Thomas Function album.
i cant get over the taste of Cheerios in cold milk.
i cant get over Amber's alzheimer's.
i cant get over the big deal with Of Montreal, even though i love them.
i cant get over the overwhelming amount of movies in my Netflix queue.
i cant get over sleeping on the couch with christmas tree lights on.
i cant get over how gross make up feels on my face.
i cant get over Woody Allen.
i cant get over why chocolate makes my teeth hurt.
i cant get over swearing.
i cant get over this candy cane im chewing on- the highlight of my year.
i cant get over all the cameras on the freeway.
i cant get over this wait for californihateyou in january.
i cant get over how much fun board games are.
i cant get over 2008; what happened to all my friends?
i cant get over how tired i feel after work.
i cant get over this writer's block.
i cant get over Twilight. (ew boy)
i cant get over my love for lists.
i cant get over what's so unfunny about Jerry Seinfield.
i cant get over learning these piano chords.
i cant get over how long it's taking to grow my hair out.
i cant get over my anticipation to receive WALL*E for christmas.
i cant get over O-BA-MA! O-BA-MA! O-BA-MA!
i cant get over playing video games with my favorite 8 year old.
i cant get over feeling sad when i see heath ledger.
i cant get over wanting to learn how to fly a kite.
i cant get over what Museum of Jurassic Technology "means".
i cant get over how cute my nephew is.
i cant get over the cost of a movie ticket.
i cant get over "Chris in Astoria." "Christmas Story?"
i cant get over wanting to dress up proper for new year's.
i cant get over how slow time is dragging.
i cant get over tailgating.
i cant get over the wait; im moving to memphis, june 5th.
i cant get over how nice my boobs look in these new bras.
i cant get over The Ponys, "I Wanna Fuck You" 7" on ebay.
i cant get over how much i hate ebay.
i cant get over wanting to buy scarves.
i cant get over the gifts im making for christmas.
i cant get over Daniel Craig in Quantum of Solace.
i cant get over how long this is taking.
i cant get over Jason Rhea.

it's becoming harder and harder and harder to find people who will listen to you tell the small history of their new favorite taco joint.

2008-12-02T13:56:00.000-08:00

in the "lunch room" at work, there is a book shelf filled with endless rows of books stacked on top of books, and it's mostly mindless crap, really. the bottom shelf is filled with crappy magazines.

but three weeks ago i wandered in early in the morning, when the television is turned off, hanging silently in the corner, sleeping. i picked up a DRAFT magazine, which is great for browsing through, checking out what beer looks good, what beer sounds good, then i throw it back in the pile lying on the bottom shelf. but recently, issues of GQ have been piling up.

i picked one up and let it marinate on my desk for a week. this morning i placed it in front of me, forcing myself to look at it when i wasn't working on something or answering any phones. i studied the designer ads slowly, then sped up as i realized that the next ten pages and the last twenty were merely ads. by page 120, i had the "Letter from the Editor" and skimmed the first paragraph. and that's how i read this GQ magazine.

while i was skimming through, however, i was overcome with colognes, waiting between the pages for someone to open them up and take a sniff. you could tell, from their stiff stock that it was begging for me to peel back the edge of breathe it in, nice and deep. although i didn't take the time to smell the cologne, it did remind that i enjoy the smell of it. i like associating a scent to a familiar face, which reminded me: with my newfound interest in men's magazines and a recent comment that looks aren't everything, i am inspired to make two lists.

that's right! a double whammy for you. one list will describe everything i like about myself that has nothing to do with looks. the second list will involve everything i like about who i hang with. the latter list will consist of characteristics perticular to boys and girls; we're pulling out all the stops.

and to switch it up some more (also procrastinating the inevitable), here is the latter list.

LIST 2

their smell
opening doors for others
picking up the tab, no paybacks
hating scary movies (but you'll see them)
will sip from the same straw
will eat from the same plate
going to the drive-in
owns a VHS collection
doesn't mind reading together on the couch
growing up in the same town
weathered features
gray/white strands of hair
enjoys talk radio (hates Tom Leykis, loves Tom Scharpling)
dresses well
enjoys holding hands, strictly platonic
doesnt mind not having a dishwasher
has kids/doesnt have kids
wears makeup but doesnt smell like makeup
has read a chuck klosterman book so we can argue about it
doesnt find the "n" word offensive if used in the proper context
would take a road trip over a plane ride
knows who laurence sterne is
wants to go to peru
is honest to my face without fear of hurting my feelings or retaliation
has a dislike for Rachel Ray/Guy Fieri/Olivia Munn/local news anchors
has a dislike for network television and music played on the radio
enjoys guilty pleasures
enjoys sleeping late/waking up early
will talk until we fall asleep
doesnt take work too seriously
doesnt slouch
despite looking better asthetically, doesnt make me feel like a slob

LIST 1

chivalrous
giving
self sacrificing
writes notes on my hands
enjoys the biological architecture of giraffes
dislikes tori spelling
ecstatic about the surge of 90s band reunions
enjoys other people's kids
takes a decent photo (behind the camera)
drinks in the look of a well-fitted suit
my handwriting
message board goon
clips coupons
couch surfs
loves board games
wont sing karaoke, but sings along to karaoke
doesnt drink more than 3 beers in one nite
moved to a new city to live with a stranger, fell in love
types fast
cant do anything in silence
autumn is a favorite season
scarves are a outfit staple (given appropriate conditions)
doesnt have a lot of keychains
only owns three pairs of shoes
loves indie rap and Jay-Z
would drink mimosas every morning
loves being vegetarian but misses meat
well spoken
reads the dictionary every day
watches more movies than television
has owned more records than CDs
like birthday parties more than birthday presents
writes in pencil, not pen
doesnt shop at the mall
calls her grandpa every weekend
humble as pie

a two way tie for last

2008-11-13T16:20:00.000-08:00

there are many times, and more often than not, that i say "i wish". i wish i was in memphis. i wish i was with jason. no, i wish jason was with me; he is greatly missed. i wish it was cold more often. i wish i was smarter, faster, stronger. i wish i could live in all the places i wish to live at least once. i wish i was the roaming nomad i claim to be. i wish i was born at least 10 years earlier. but seriously, i spend more time saying i wish than i do actually wishing.

this leads me to this morning when i realized that my mind was still heavily occupied with my movie trek last nite. i started lightly with Zack Galifianakis: Live At The Purple Onion; any bizarre musician with a sense of humor and mental hangups is alright by me and worth dreaming about. before i went to bed, i drowsily pulled through Pan's Labryinth. i sleep like an angel when i watch little girls shot by WWII military monsters right before my head hits the pillow. unfortunately, i also didnt have a dream either- strange.

im fighting sleep while i sway from the bed to the dresser to pick out my clothes and brace myself for the blinding effect of indoor lighting from a deep sleep. by the time i get into the shower, im still asleep but the water is still warm and thats all i can ask for. when im done showering, and im done toweling off, theres only one thing left to do and thats get dressed in front of a mirror because ive got nowhere else to go. i HATE mirrors. nobody can claim theyve ever seen me look into a mirror, let alone my reflection from the passing window of public establishments. as i start to hate myself, making a point to face the wall instead, i think about what i would rather look like and im struck with the doo wop dittys of Little Shop of Horrors, the meat and cheese of my cinema sandwich.

i wish i was ellen greene. ellen greene had style and class, a sick figure, and she created a character who has such an insane lisp that it somehow morphs into being sexy and i imagine how my life would be different if i had a mouth like that.* instead, im rick moranis with his bad posture (it's all you can look at sometimes) and nerdy charm that serves especially well for platonic friendships and that's it. in the end, rick moranis ends up with ellen greene, but who else would she end up with? the dentist is gone and no other love interest was introduced into the plot. at the end, its a no brainer that she would end up with the dopey kid from skid row. and in the spirit of comparison, as rick moranis, i wish for what i cant have under normal circumstances.

in the meantime, im still rick moranis, working the rat race, trying to get ahead and killing dentists to make it happen. all he wants to do is take care of the person he loves, wishing she would love him back, and eloping to the set of edward scissorhands. all i want is to listen to records, write nonsensical stories, and have someone read me to sleep. i come from the school of hard knocks, nothing is easy, and everything is defeating, pushing down on you, ever constant. but i still want to be ellen greene. or...i wish i had seymour's dedication and conviction but audrey's good looks. i wish i had seymour's courage but audrey's heart of gold. i wish i had seymour's chopping skills and audrey's back seat balancing act.

however, upon hindsight, i realize that ellen greene also had perfect, porcelain skin and perfect ping pong breasts and not a hair misplaced on her head. ive also come to realize that i was so intent on seeing steve martin chopped up into little pieces and fed to an alien venus fly trap who survives on fresh human blood that i completely forget that he's worthy of this because he's a pretentious tool who likes to beat women. abuse isnt always easy to leave, but you slug me in the face, sleep with one eye open, jerk. i'll make your life so miserable youll regret ever slapping the shit out of me again. the police cant help you, ellen, and neither can rick moranis or Mr. Mushnik- help yourself.

you know what...lightbulb. forget it, i take it all back. i dont need the make up or the clothes, its all money and effort wasted. i dont need the black eye or the heart ache. i dont need the gutter or the dead end job. not to mention, have you seen her flower arrangements...weak. and suddenly, im seymour.

*i dont fantastize about girls. in fact, i think v a g i n a s that dont belong to me are disgusting. however, ive only ever had ONE person tell me they thought i was the most beautiful girl theyve ever seen. (ladies, you dont count and you know why.) either way, its been made very clear by male peers/non-peers that looks come first, brains/funny/maturity come second. i have no hard feelings, but ask me how much tear beer ive bought in my life. trust me on this one.

i saw you in the bookstore today

2008-10-24T11:50:00.000-07:00

last nite, i went to Carly's and ate delicious food, tried delicious beer, and had a good time with old friends and their mother. it truly was a great nite that i didnt want to end, despite the beautiful plans we have for today/tomorrow.

there remained low lighting and not enough seating for six of us, i dragged the adjacent table to join our small table. come to find, that was the most embarrassing thing ive ever done- with every scrape across the floor, it was nails on a chalkboard (at 11). five "old dudes" turned to look at me, bothered and disgusted. once everyone had arrived, the food was ordered and conversation lulled. i spent the early minutes listening in on the "old dudes" who spoke about sam rockwell and gogol bordello like they were paul newman (RIP) and CCR. i wanted to jump into their conversation SO BAD, but after my embarrassing table fiasco, i just smiled and our waiter/bartender saw that. there were accents, lots of "love", "sweetheart", and "mate" played as terms of endearment (informalities to say the least), a cowbay hat, and no need for a shower. i was in love three times that nite.

by the time we left, i was ready for Time Bomb High School. i drove home, unafraid of police cars parked on the side of the freeway or the overbearing bass at the red light. every day is another day that i accept my hungry appetite for the awkward, weird, and uncomfortable things i say and do. i hate the rolling eyes that come my way. prepare for the worst from yours truly.

im on my way out this weekend. if i die, cremate my body and spread my ashes in the muddy mississippi. i want mike schey to have "A Fellow of Infinite Jest: A Biography of Laurence Sterne", by Thomas Yoseloff and "I Love You More Than You Know", by Jonathan Ames and "It Came From Memphis", by Robert Gordon. the rest of my books are up for grabs, as well as my records; theyre all trash anyway.

your pal,
Leah

PS now that i think about it, i lie: give my records and record player to Rachel Eliza aka Eliza aka le narrateur est humain après tout!

that's what you asked the first time

2008-10-21T13:02:00.000-07:00

i developed THREE rolls of film. i also found a great 3 volume collection on vinyl. it's a good evening before work tomorrow.

the rest of LA:

mini golf:

my pal, blake:

my first trip to the fair:

in my haste

2008-10-21T12:30:00.000-07:00

if you havent yet, go find The Rock Bible: buy it, read it.

not to mention, three minutes ago i found out about this:

it's not available, but is currently accompanied by the following disclaimer:

Because of overwhelming demand, we’re setting aside even more T-Mobile G1™ phones as a special thanks to you, our loyal T-Mobile customers. Supplies are limited, so this is your chance to order yours today before it hits the streets and guarantee you don't go without.

because there's no such thing as restocking.
go get'em, you vultures.

proposals that beg for a reply

2008-09-19T03:44:00.000-07:00

Will you marry me?

"really Leah Crickees...Have you seeen the Prenup? You can have the houses but not the boats nor the help...I grew up with them(the help that is) The land in Wales is yours but Wheat gets the the Mother-in-Law Suite. The Castle Rhea on the southside of the moor we will share if tthings dont work out but you will be alloted a stipend for the service(including cooks, in three shifts, maidens for dresssing, seamstresses for social events when the holidays approach and we both indulge; you know how we indulge darling Leah...) Most importantly my bedroom will always be unlocked, as will the largest privet Bar in Wales, so you know tact is uneccessary...just knock once and this extremely long post will end. Me and you both are modest."

soap inside your beer

2008-09-17T15:02:00.000-07:00

i can smell jason. i was only biting my nails at work.

mixed messages

2008-09-16T08:32:00.000-07:00

according to the internet:

You're a CREATOR

Key Words: Nonconforming, Impulsive, Expressive, Romantic, Intuitive, Sensitive, and Emotional

These original types place a high value on aesthetic qualities and have a great need for self-expression. They enjoy working independently, being creative, using their imagination, and constantly learning something new. Fields of interest are art, drama, music, and writing or places where they can express, assemble, or implement creative ideas.

Suggested careers are Advertising Executive, Architect, Web Designer, Creative Director, Public Relations, Fine or Commercial Artist, Interior Decorator, Lawyer, Librarian, Musician, Reporter, Art Teacher, Broadcaster, Technical Writer, English Teacher, Architect, Photographer, Medical Illustrator, Corporate Trainer, Author, Editor, Landscape Architect, Exhibit Builder, and Package Designer.

Consider workplaces where you can create and improve beauty and aesthetic qualities. Unstructured, flexible organizations that allow self-expression work best with your free-spirited nature.

Suggested Creator workplaces are advertising, public relations, and interior decorating firms; artistic studios, theaters and concert halls; institutions that teach crafts, universities, music, and dance schools. Other workplaces to consider are art institutes, museums, libraries, and galleries.

including,

You're a SOCIAL MANAGER

Key Words: Tactful, Cooperative, Generous, Understanding, Insightful, Friendly, and Cheerful

This very social type enjoys working in groups, sharing responsibilities, and being the center of attention. Fields of interest are instructing, helping, nurturing, care giving and instructing-especially young people. They discuss and consider feelings in order to solve problems, lead, direct, persuade, guide, organize and enlighten others.

and there you have it. i picked some colors, i'll probably get some junk email in the next month, and it hasnt told me anything i dont know already. hold on...

i have to get the phone.

cats: the thinking man's pet

2008-09-09T14:54:00.000-07:00

i'm a fraud. i still read Failed Pilot considering i havent had a reason to for more than a year. maybe i believe in self mutilation. maybe i enjoy train wrecks. maybe im a jerk.

im too busy to keep up with the things that ive been waiting on, so luckily, Andy Earles dropped shameless self-promotion at the right time:

do yourself a favor and go buy this book. you'll be keeping money out of chuck klosterman's wallet.

after four years

2008-09-03T12:45:00.000-07:00

as a girl i have a tendency to speak too much. that's right: i talk A LOT. surprise! at any rate, i want to take this time to speak the internet's praises again. not only does the internet allow me to save money on nonsensical establishments like college (another topic, another time) with up-to-the-minute edits on wikipedia and videos of family guy impressions, it helps me with my social idiocy.

then i go to california:

doing the math

2008-08-21T14:46:00.000-07:00

Dedicated to my pal, "Rachel Eliza"

eating off the other end

2008-08-13T15:22:00.001-07:00

go to Goner Records for details.

how to: writing without smoking but listening to vashti bunyan

2008-08-10T12:32:00.001-07:00

what the hell is going on? bernie mac died (i found out over spinach pitadillas, hummus, and guinness last nite) and right when i was about to quit my job, my boss tells me i got a raise. a raise!

to set things straight, i woke up this morning to a missed phone call, a text message, and someone telling how pathetic i am that i dont go to church. meanwhile, the dryer is humming away and my belly is full of generic brand cheerios. all week ive been trying to bring back punctuation (apostrophes mostly) and learn how to capitalize. its all a very awkward time for me. however, to get rid of this pathetic feeling in my chest i went outside to smoke a cigarette and talk with kellie about bernie mac being dead because she's the only one who cares. while im smoking outside in the million degree heat (it's only 9 o'clock in the morning) on my porch, she is smoking pot in her room that is sitting under a grey sky right now. i drink water so i dont feel so sticky and somehow this works. we talk about drugs, smoking pot, bernie mac, and jason before i decide its time to go inside. i put a Who record on and pace the living room while she talks about the absurdity of badminton in the olympics. i rebuttal a weak quip about table tennis (a.k.a ping pong) being in the olympics, but it goes unnoticed. we hang up with a promise to call each other later and i contemplate getting in the shower.

instead, i brush my teeth and get a call from travis. i missed his call last nite. we talk about batman and the dark knight movie. it wasnt great, but it was awesome. i give it a four out of five; travis acknowledges this score, but gives no sign of approval. im struggling to find a way to say goodbye but before i could flounder any further he says he has to pick up his kids. rather than take this opportunity to bow out gracefully, i bring up his ipod being stolen at work, obviously opening a still fresh wound and he says, "alright, leah, well, i have to go now." welcome to my life.

the pathetic feeling i have inside is still there, with the exception of my two phone calls of the morning (undoubtedly, for the day), although now sweetened with the taste of my foot in my mouth- delicious. for me, its all too common so the feeling of embarrassment has yet to climax; but this pathetic feeling solidifies my intentions of getting where i need to go and quickly. i saw pineapple express yesterday, and while i left feeling happy, i also felt like getting in my car and going north, never stopping. however, with all my clothes and pictures of jason at home, i decided it was easier for me to shovel shit here for a little while longer than to explain why i was packing up so unexpectedly and never looking back. alas, the low road remains the easiest; see you all in hell.

Books White People Read

2008-07-31T09:29:00.000-07:00

chances are, youve seen this book peeking from the tote bag of the cute girl next to you in math class (college-level, please). even more likely, she likes everything the book discloses (especially if you live in California, Austin, Portland, or Boston). im pulling the cheesecloth off your eyes: this isnt POSTSECRET.

youre not bringing anything to the surface. youve got to get there early, like the rest of us. unfortunately, i dont have the foresight to cash in on the obvious. time to get back on the horse.

west coast sounds

2008-07-28T13:54:00.000-07:00

i was intrigued by an article posted on msn.com about the spike of alcohol+RX drug related deaths in the united states. it was mostly a no-brainer.

my favorite part: "Still, she added, Jeffrey didn’t fit any imagined profile of a drug addict.

'He wasn’t the guy with the tattoos, the purple spiked hair,' she said. 'He was just an all-American good kid.'"

Lady, youre a fucking idiot.

GONERFEST V

2008-07-18T11:32:00.000-07:00

smoking seeds kills your brain cells

2008-07-07T11:48:00.000-07:00

i spent the weekend in memphis. it was the happiest and the saddest ive ever been. from now on, its the counting game. im counting the days until i go home.

also, ive been reading a lot on the music festivals this summer. i realize now that its not the (sometimes) bad music, or the (sometimes) awful weather, or the (sometimes) inability to wash my hands or flush a proper toilet. all in all, it comes down to reliving 1997 for the rest of my life, never being able to run away from Jnco-style pants, braided hair/pigtails on girls, chokers, and on and on and on. im sure Jason could describe worse.

as for My Morning Jacket, do any one of you remembering seeing them in 2003!? good heavens. nonetheless, it explains why i continue to have a hard time jumping on that wagon. i live vicariously through pitchfork. and stereogum. hipster: what does that even mean?

LIONS!!!

2008-06-26T19:17:00.000-07:00

admittedly, i cried.

also, i further admit, i hate the music. and the message at the end. kind of. listen, dont take it personally- there are far worse things.

what seems unfair

2008-06-25T14:22:00.000-07:00

my alarm went off, this morning, right as Jason came in for a kiss.

ive got to get out of this rut, you guys. something has to happen. you know what? it kind of is. im going to play my records as loud as i want, watch so much television i get sick, and figure it all out. concrete floors and brick walls!

who cares about gas.

a comprehensive study on the behavior of

2008-06-23T19:49:00.001-07:00

ive become fully aware, at this instant, that Jason does not exist anymore. that makes me very sad.

file above: BrooklynVegan

2008-06-19T12:20:00.000-07:00

i get nervous when i read negative reviews on an album i like. especially when it degrades the reader (that's me!) as someone who is nothing short of a real snore merely because i took genuine time out of my life (watching television, eating cold cereal, hours on the internet) to enjoy an album they hated. i want to shamefully hide under a rock, embarrassed that i am alone in my room not only figuratively, but now literally. admittedly, i took pride in what i liked and its limp impression of "being exclusive" to my blooming indie, hipster (whatever that means) palette, but not to discredit that i was still an overly awkward, chubby, teenage girl who just wanted to be accepted by the kids who listened to alice in chains and smoked pot at school. i still smoked pot like a cowering junkie in the corner of my room, blowing God's green herb at my neighbor's house, hugging the window sill. im a lemur in my own mind.

that being said, checked out today's post on FAILED PILOT.

The Order of Things

2008-06-18T13:05:00.000-07:00

geese crossing street
adopting an older animal from the shelter
dogs sitting in the front seat of an empty car
sports at their best
people watching a camping movie while camping
bill belaceck post super bowl press conference
the perfect waffle
getting blown away by an opening band
randomly ordering something amazing at a restaurant
seeing a movie at the drive-in
hugging a lion cub/panda/koala/chimp
sixty minutes of Columbo
Werner herzog TV interviews
black jeans
text messaging
blue jeans
ninety minutes columbo episodes
a call from spike
what is this, reservoir dogs?
blocking the fast lane on the escalator
cooling off in the universal studios fountain
BQE traffic
traffic on the BQE
stubbing your toe
paying for things above a dollar with just change
sitting around the campfire with your son
sex and the city movie according to laura
the cook's revenge at the triple rock social club in minneapolis
any garfield subversions
giving tom the attitude
a tie between:
*that which cannot be said and
*the guy in short shorts looking for tiny tim records
white people with dreadlocks
the dave chapelle/dane cook stand up marathon battle
delivery men who smoke in the car and pollute my food order
creeps on missed connections on craigslist
smell of a lit cigarette where it is neither welcome or expected
debilitating sinus headaches
listening to the band at the drive-in
person taking off shoes in public
CGI in movies
professional gamers
clipping fingernails on subway
brooklyn vegan commentors

the second half

2008-06-10T09:24:00.000-07:00

vinyl is "coming back". i dont see this going very well with the audiophiles or hipsters (whatever that means).

"Independent music stores, which have been the primary source of LPs in recent years, say many fans never left the medium."

exactly. welcome to 2008, people.

"Cool Breeze"

2008-06-06T11:57:00.000-07:00

open letter to a friend

2008-06-06T11:06:00.000-07:00

dear _____,

i wish this was me stopping by to say hello. rather, this is me saying i want to strangle you. make up your/my mind. besides, if you feel alone, thats ALLLL you. next time, answer/return my phone call(s) and maybe i wont stop calling.

best wishes,
your friend L.A.

how to laughing at how i laugh at what i laugh at

2008-06-04T21:18:00.000-07:00

i came across these familiar clips from last year @SXSW that i think you should watch. its exhausting, so enjoy.

(the) former astronauts drink coffee

2008-06-02T10:26:00.000-07:00

i went to starbucks this morning.

while i was in LA, their billboards were everywhere! i broke. im waiting in line, taking in all the little things i cant stand about starbucks (CDs, expensive pastries/water/organic milk/coffee, the phoned in "we-love-the-community" polaroids posted on the bulletin board showing 'becky' fixing a leak under the sink (uh-ohhh!), and i hear jangly jewelry behind me.

i am immediately uncomfortable.

at some point, i reach the front of the line, give my order and pay. while im waiting for my boring ass coffee (with room for cream), Jangles, behind me, gives her order, "Can i get a venti/tall/grande _______ non-fat _______, with only four pumps of syrup, please?"

only FOUR pumps??! disgusting. later, while im waiting for my vegetarian-friendly, breakfast sandwich, i hear her talking with the barista. she's a regular. theyre giggling about how she thought she always got FIVE pumps, not FOUR. bleghh.

i get my sandwich and out of everyone's way. i open the door and hear what sounds like an engine running. this is strange because one thing i notice about starbucks is its attraction to boring, white-collar "loners". these people can afford to sit quietly in the sunrise, read the paper, and drink their coffee in the cool morning breeze the desert serves up hours before it reaches the triple digits (103, today). i'd kill for that job.

when you exit a starbucks, you dont hear cars running because the ONE person who was in the car is now inside, waiting in line. carpools dont visit starbucks in the morning unless it a soccer mom running through the drive-thru, taking the kids to school/day care and grabbing them a little something on the way- whipped cream (sugar!) on top of chocolate coffee (sugar+caffeine!!). i found out it was the car parked next to mine, RUNNING. oh, brother.

listen, i heard a story this weekend from a lady who was pumping gas at the station next door to my house. she left her windows down and her purse in the passenger seat. she was standing at her car, pumping gas, when some guy walked up, opened her door, grabbed her purse and jumped into another car, peeling out of the filling station. i was shocked. at both accounts.

i took some fotos while in LA also: http://www.flickr.com/photos/27048297@N05/show/

im still experimenting. i should return this month to exploit my new acquaintances further. enjoy.

so, youre telling me...

2008-05-23T00:32:00.000-07:00

flyers, bands, shows that look good and are approaching.

and by the way, check this out. i dont know, but i think its weirdbrilliantavantgardeian while remaining innocentwrecklessphiladelphia.

im going to LA now. see you all when i get back. if i dont make it, things you should know:

*i wear glasses in real life
*i keep a bag of jasons 3 favorite shirts buried in my dresser drawer
*TB shares a brain with me. he doesnt know it.
*i have a favorite pair of jeans
*josh, give my radiohead ticket to someone cool!
**p.s. and sing happy birthday to jason

*my favorite band is (still) the get up kids (im such a twerp)
*participate in WORLD WIDE MOMENT v6.0
*buy JUST FARR A LAUGH VOL. 1 & 2, just "farr" $12!
*i dont take sugar in my coffee
*richard is usually wrong

also

*ive never liked peas, driving in the rain when its dark, summers, the color green, or wearing make up.

they get in!

2008-05-21T11:11:00.000-07:00

alright, you guys. i found a couch to sleep on in LA (thanks, kris). i dont think my best pal will be in LA (she's still at cannes) but im going out nonetheless.

and a few shows at the UCB LA (Jr.) are happening. with Paul F. Tompkins on Saturday! (if i can get in)

also, The Museum of Jurassic Technology is a staple that ive heard VERY good things about (even from my favorite comedians!) and have wanted to go to since le narrateur went. so...i think i must go:

WORLD WIDE MOMENT v6.0
JUST FARR A LAUGH VOL. 1 & 2 (THE GREATEST PRANK PHONE CALLS EVER!)

still on hold

2008-05-20T13:38:00.000-07:00

a few pictures from las cruces, nm

trish, aunts who are twins

uncle, by marriage

jack of diamonds

cranes=jasons favorite

crazy kanasta (sic)

our host has a habit of doodling. later, we wrote song titles under each one.

remember: WORLD WIDE MOMENT v6.0 and JUST FARR A LAUGH VOL 1 & 2 (THE GREATEST PRANK PHONE CALLS EVER!)

also, im going to LA for the weekend, then Las Vegas. i will be taking lots of pictures. the heat is getting to me, ive got get out for a few days. in august (on jasons birthday) i'll be at a radiohead show in santa barbara with my friend, josh.* its going to be fun. call/text me (901) 361-9906 if you want to meet up in LA/vegas.

*dear josh,

finally, after SIX years, you+me+radiohead+hugs=jackpot

you call me madam from now on

2008-05-20T11:33:00.000-07:00

the arboretum, in the desert;

i admit it was greener than i expected but still had a lottt of desert.

that's not the clinic, that's big star!

2008-05-16T09:27:00.000-07:00

"You don't choose your life, your death chooses you."

(i couldnt disagree with this more.)

you can all thank the lady at the one hour photo counter. this is how it went:

"am i too late for the one hour photo drop off?"
"i just got three rolls in."
"so does that mean im late for the one hour photo drop off?"
"we close at eight."
"sooo...does that mean im late for the one hour photo drop off?"
::stare::
"im going out of town tomorrow and i need to drop this off, am i late for one hour photo?"
"well, we leave at eight."
"i dont know what time it is."
"youre late."

needless to say, i walked across the street to my lady amanda and got my hair cut. the first thing i looked for when i walked in was a clock (too little too late, leah) and it was 6:30. i vented with amanda for a bit, called the one hour photo lady a cunt, and left with a nice haircut. jason should be here, he'd love the shit out of this fucking haircut. oh, and if you havent heard, mr. pancakes is a big deal- but he hasnt shuffled with wheat the cat.

JUST FARR A LAUGH VOL. 1 & 2 (THE GREATEST PRANK PHONE CALLS EVER!)
WORLD WIDE MOMENT v6.0

stranger danger

2008-05-15T03:33:00.000-07:00

does anybody know who ryan beck is?
and why i would maybe/not know him?

there is nobody on

2008-05-13T09:28:00.000-07:00

dont buy your (Mother's Day) flowers from 1800FLOWERS. they suck.

for the weekend of May 9th-11th, i was in san diego. i made two new potential friends (one gay roommate, one horny red head) and drank A LOT. for shame. we played A LOT of Wii, i learned how to wield the axe in guitar hero (favorites: sonic youth, the killers, and my name is jonas/weezer), and i own tennis. i destroyed Wii. it was my first time. i enjoyed the weather, the time away from the desert, and being with people who think im just as funny as i do.

dont forget:

JUST FARR A LAUGH: VOL. 1 & 2 (THE BEST PRANK PHONE CALLS EVER!) available here.
WORLD WIDE MOMENT v6.0